#one of her good dresses she already had dyed for mourning in the past few months as the death of her husband died with aegon rather than a

[seaworthit]

The black brides

[andvys]

Fine line part eight

warnings: fluff, angst, violence

pairing: ellie williams x reader

Ellie didn’t even register the sound of thunder rumbling or the rain pattering against the window in the early morning hours.

The first thing she noticed was the comforting feeling of you clinging to her as her arms were wrapped safely around you. You were laying on top of her, with your head on her chest.

This wasn’t the position you were in last night, no, this was much more intimate but Ellie wasn’t complaining, she liked the feeling of having you in her arms, the urge to protect you was big, to give you comfort and warmth.

Looking down at you, she wondered how she could ever hate you, you looked so sweet and precious, as if anyone could actually hate you.

But you didn’t just look that way, you were sweet and precious. You always helped everyone around you, you cared for other people more than you cared about yourself, you always put the needs of others first. You didn’t care about yourself and that worried her, she knew you would sacrifice yourself to save others. You were always out there, looking for supplies, looking out for people who needed saving but you always neglected yourself, you wanted to do good for others. You always had to be the hero.

Maybe that’s why she tried to convince herself that she hated you when in actuality she cared deeply about you and she knew this would get her heart broken because you were gonna get yourself killed sooner or later.

So she thought, pushing you away and hating you to get rid of her feelings was the only way not to get her heart broken but she was wrong, so wrong. The more she pushed you away, the more she tried to hate you, the more intense her real feelings have gotten. 

Ellie was snapped out of her thoughts when you began to stir in your sleep. Her heart began to race under your palm, this time you were gonna wake up together. The few times you ended up cuddling in your sleep, one of you would always be up first, so it was never weird or uncomfortable between you but this time there was no running away from it.

“morning Ellie.” she heard you whisper softly as you stayed in that position.

“morning y/n.” Ellie whispered back, nervously.

‘that’s not what friends do right?’ Ellie thought to herself.

‘we weren’t even friends and we cuddled already..’

“it’s still storming.” you pointed out when you heard thunder crashing.

“yeah.. we’re still gonna be here today.” Ellie said.

You didn’t know what it was about her but she made you feel safe and warm like no one else did before. You weren’t one for cuddling or hugging but when you woke up in her arms for the first time, it felt like the most comfortable place in the world.

You never thought you’d end up in the arms of your enemy and yet here you were and you wouldn't want it any other way.

Well, you weren’t enemies anymore you were friends now but still.

-

Two days later you were on the way back home to Jackson, the storm hasn't fully passed yet but just enough to drive, luckily it wasn't raining too heavily.

You and Ellie spent the past two days playing cards and talking about everything and nothing. You thought it would be boring and dreadful being around her for this long but you were surprised to find out that you actually liked talking to her and spending time with her. Maybe you even liked it a little too much.

“so.. you excited to go home?” you asked. 

“uh yeah.. I guess.” Ellie said “what about you?” she asked.

“not like I'm gonna stay for long.” you shrugged, looking out of the car window.

Ellie furrowed her brows, a dreading feeling set in her stomach.

“what do you mean?” she asked.

“I mean.. I’ll probably rest for a few days before Maria sends me off again.” you told her, looking at her you noticed she had a frown on her face.

“we found the supplies though, it’s enough, you don't have to go out there anymore y/n.” she stated anxiously. She didn't want you to go. Especially not alone.

“it’s never enough, Ellie.” you said “besides.. I don’t really have a home anymore and it’s not like anyone is waiting there for me.” you shrugged. Just thinking about being back in Jackson made you feel alone and miserable. 

You were surrounded by a lot of people in Jackson and yet you felt more alone in there than out here. 

Outside of Jackson, you knew there wasn't anyone but you, so it was okay to be alone, it’s what you chose for yourself but you had no one in Jackson.

No friends, no family, nothing.

Sure you got along with Dina and Jesse but they were Ellie’s friends and you only went on patrols with them. 

You were alone. 

No one would mourn you if you would ever die out here and no one would come looking for you if you went missing.

“that’s not true y/n.” Ellie sighed, looking over at you she noted the sad expression on your face. “there are people waiting for you.” 

You knew she was just trying to make you feel better but it was okay. You have made peace with the thought of being alone and dying alone.

“it’s okay Ellie.” you assured her. 

‘it’s not okay.’ Ellie thought to herself, she hated that you felt this way.

“y/n it’s- oh no fuck.. you gotta be kidding me.” she mumbled in anger, when the car began to slow down, indicating that you ran out of gas.

“shit.” you mumbled, looking out of the window, you realized you were in the middle of nowhere, it was a wooded area and you had no gas left. Great.

“that’s just great.” Ellie muttered under her breath.

Ellie grabbed the map, looking at it in concentration. 

It was raining outside and didn't look like there were any towns nearby or a gas station or something.

“there's a cabin close by and the next town is a few miles away from where we are right now.” she told you, showing the marked up area in the woods where the cabin was. “i bet we’ll find some gas there.”

“can we leave the car here?” you asked, worried about the supplies. 

You haven't run into anyone in the past few days but you could never know, people are everywhere. 

“we have no choice, staying in here isn't an option, we gotta go get some gas anyways, if we’re lucky we’ll make it back by tonight and if not then we stay in that cabin overnight and then come back here.” she said, eying you, she noticed that you were worried. 

“okay..” you sighed before you opened the car door, to get out. Luckily the rain wasn’t too heavy but you’d still be drenched by the time you’d come back.

Ellie opened the trunk and started to put some supplies into her backpack.

You came up next to her and started doing the same.

“here..” she offered you a switchblade, it was a black one. You looked up at her before you accepted it, eying it. You talked about needing a new one a few days ago.

It warmed your heart that she remembered it.

“thank you.” you smiled at her, noticing the blush on her face.

“it’s nothing.” she said, smiling back at you.

-

You were walking for an hour now, your clothes were wet, water ran down your hair and your face and you just felt very uncomfortable. Luckily it stopped raining a few minutes ago but you were sure it wouldn’t be long until it would start raining again.

You managed to find the cabin and checked it out to make sure that it was safe for later before you kept walking towards the town.

You were finally getting closer when you saw the first buildings up ahead.

“look..” Ellie said, pointing to the first store. It was a clothing store or at least it used to be one.

Sighing out in relief, a small smile appeared on your face “we should get rid of these clothes and get some new ones.” you said, walking inside the store.

“yeah..” Ellie mumbled, following you inside.

After you made sure the store was safe, you started looking at the different types of clothes. A dress managed to catch your attention, a smile broke out on your face before you started chuckling to yourself. The thought of wearing a dress in this world, while killing some infected seemed ridiculous to you.

“you okay?” Ellie chuckled, when she saw you laughing while holding a dress in your hands.

Looking over at her, you noticed she had a slight smile on her face.

“yeah it’s just..” a smirk appeared on your face “i’m trying to imagine you in this dress right now.” you said as you began laughing when a disgusted expression appeared on her face.

“please don’t.” she groaned as she rolled her eyes.

You chuckled at her before you put the dress back and started looking for something useful.

You managed to find some suitable clothes, you were about to ask Ellie if she was done when something else caught your attention.

You picked the items up and held them up in front of you.

“hey Ellie.”

“yeah?” she asked, turning around to face you, her eyes widened when she saw the lacy underwear in your hands.

“the black ones or the blue ones?” you asked, smirking at her when a blush appeared on her face.

“uhhh-“ she started, scratching the back of her neck “black.” she mumbled before she turned around again, closing her eyes, she took a deep breath.

Now she couldn’t get the picture of your half naked body out of her head.

You chuckled to yourself at how flustered she’d gotten. You never thought you’d see a blushing Ellie someday, let alone you being the reason for it.

You put your backpack down and took your wet flannel off, cringing at the feeling of wet clothes against your skin.

“ugh.. i’m so wet.” you mumbled as you grabbed the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head, leaving you in a black bra.

A smirk appeared on Ellie’s face at your words “are you now?” she chuckled turning around to look at you, her eyes widened once again when she saw you pulling your shirt off.

She couldn’t help but stare at you, at your soft, beautiful skin. Eying you up and down, she gripped the shirt tightly that she held in her hands.

Your eyes widened as well, when you saw the way she was looking at you. A weird feeling shot through your body.

But for some reason you didn’t mind having her stare at you.

“we uh- we should-..”

“yeah..” Ellie mumbled, turning around again.

-

Leaving the store, there was a weird tension between you and Ellie, something that hasn’t been there before.

You tried to ignore it and rather focused on trying to find gas but you weren’t that lucky this time. You tried to siphon some gas from the cars that were left standing around but they were all empty.

You were beginning to get frustrated, if you wouldn’t find any gas you would have to keep going into the next towns and you weren’t sure if there was any gas.

Ellie was about to say something when you heard the sound of car coming closer.

You and Ellie looked at each other wide eyed before she grabbed your hand pulling you behind a car. You crouched down and gripped your shotgun tightly in your hands.

You hoped whoever was coming your way would drive by but you weren’t as lucky as you hoped you would be, the car stopped close to where you and Ellie were.

Peeking out from behind the car, you could see four men getting out of the car, a dreading feeling set in your stomach. Running into a group of men never ended good. 

“shit..” you mumbled, you felt your heart beginning to raise, this reminded you to a similar setting when you and Ellie ran into a larger group back in Colorado when you were on your way to Texas. You almost got yourself killed trying to keep one of the guys off Ellie when he tried to throw his knife at her and instead threw at you when you moved in front of her, the blade pierced through your shoulder. The wound was still healing and you knew it would leave a big scar.

“it’s just four y/n.. we fought more before.” Ellie whispered behind you as she put her hand on top of yours, squeezing it.

You nodded, trying to calm your racing heart. 

It’s not that you were scared to fight them or kill them, you’ve done this a dozen times before. You were worried that things would go sideways and they’d manage to hurt Ellie or worse. You knew she could handle herself but still.

That’s why you liked doing these things alone, you didn't have to worry about anyone else, you could just focus on yourself and get it over with.

“spread out.” a voice shouted “find them.” 

You and Ellie glanced at each other in curiosity. Who were they looking for? They couldn’t be looking for you could they? As far as you knew, no one was after you. But something told you these men didn’t have good intentions.

You saw all the men, going off into different directions, this would make it easier for you to kill them.

You and Ellie nodded at each other before you went to get up but Ellie put her hand around your wrist and pulled you back making you look at her “be careful, please.” she whispered, looking at you with a worried expression. 

You nodded, “you too Ellie.” you whispered, smiling at her before you got up to follow one of the men who went into the gas station. 

You saw him going into the backroom so you went inside hiding behind the large shelves to avoid being seen, pulling your shotgun back by the sling you grabbed the new switchblade Ellie gave you earlier. 

You walked towards the backroom slowly, you could hear the guy opening the drawers in the room, clearly searching for something. 

Taking a deep breath, you looked inside but you couldn't find him, furrowing your brows you turned around only to run into a hard chest, startled you stepped back and looked up to see the tall man in front of you.

“looking for me?” he smirked at you. 

You didn't even hesitate before you tried to stab him but he managed to catch your wrist, gripping it tightly, you tried to pull your hand back but he overpowered you in strength. He put his other hand around your throat and pushed you into the room harshly, throwing you over the table. 

You fell off the table, down to your knees, you grabbed your shotgun quickly and turned around, falling back against the floor the man was about to shot you but you beat him to it, the loud shot went off, throwing him back against the wall as blood splattered everywhere.

“fuck..” you mumbled, this alerted the others. 

You quickly got up and grabbed the man’s gun before you ran towards the entrance of the store, you peeked out to see one of the men running towards the gas station. 

You didn't hesitate to get up and aim your gun at his head, he looked at you with eyes, clearly not expecting that but before he could react you already shot him.

His body dropped to the floor.

You heard a shot go off not too far from you. Your heart began to race at the thought that it might be Ellie that got shot instead of one of the men. 

You ran out and hid behind one of the cars, trying to find the rest and Ellie. You looked around but you couldn't see anyone. 

Your hands started shaking and your breathing got heavier by the second. For some reason you felt the deep fear of losing her all of the sudden. All sorts of pictures started running through your mind.

This moment reminded you of when you lost your mom, it happened in a similar setting, you were looking for her but couldn’t find her until you heard that gunshot.

“calm down y/n.” you whispered to yourself, trying to take deep breaths. 

You heard glass smashing in one of the old stores on the other side of the street, you got up and ran towards it. 

You ran inside to find Ellie standing over the dead body of one of the men, looking into the corner of the room you found another dead body with a bullet in his head. 

You felt relieved to see that she was alright but you had to make sure.

You didn’t know what came over you but you couldn’t help but run towards her, hugging her from behind.

She stiffened at first but relaxed once she realized it was you. Warmth engulfed, feeling your arms wrapped around you but she asked herself what caused you to hug her, you were never the one initiating the hugs, she was the one that pulled you in at night.

“y/n?” she whispered, putting her hand on top of yours that were resting on her stomach, she grabbed them and turned around to face you, looking at you in worry as she noted the anxious look on your face.

She grabbed your face gently “are you okay?”

You were about to respond when you noticed the fresh cut on her face, blood was running down her cheek. Anger and worry filled you at the thought that one of them managed to get this close to her.

You put your palm against her cheek, eying the wound. “Ellie..” you whispered.

“it’s fine y/n.. it doesn’t hurt.” she assured you “are you okay?”

You didn’t respond and instead pulled her into a hug, hiding your face in the crook of her neck. She put her arms around you, holding you tightly against her.

You calmed down when she held you, she gave you the warmth and the comfort that you so desperately craved all these years, to think that it was her who made you feel this way overwhelmed you, you could’ve had this a long time ago and yet you decided to waste all these years.

You decided that you wouldn’t waste them anymore with acting like you hated her or with trying to push away your true feelings.

“come on, let’s get out of here.” Ellie whispered, rubbing your back softly.

You nodded before you pulled away from her, she grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the store, leading you towards the car the man came with.

You looked up at the sky, noticing the dark clouds, it was about to start raining again. This day just kept getting worse.

Ellie opened the trunk and sighed in relief when she saw a two gallons of gas standing there.

“fuck yeah.” she breathed grabbed one of them handing one to you before she grabbed the other one.

You siphoned the rest of the gas out of the car, you needed all you could find. Before you left to get back to the cabin.

-

Once again your clothes were drenched from the rain as you ran inside the cabin. Ellie shut the door and locked it. Darkness engulfed the room, the only source of light were the bolts of lightening.

Both of you were shaking from the cold rain and you didn’t have any spare clothes with you.

Ellie walked towards the fireplace and crouched down to start a fire.

Light appeared in the room after a few moments. The flames in the fireplace made the room appear warm and cozy unlike how you were feeling right now. You were shaking, water was dripping from your clothes and hair.

Ellie noticed the state you were in, she wasn’t feeling any better but you were out of clothes but she knew you’d get sick if you didn’t get rid of the wet clothes.

“take your clothes off.” Ellie told you.

You looked up at her, a surprised expression appeared on your face “huh?”

“take them off, we’re gonna get sick.” she said before she started taking her clothes off.

You looked at her with wide eyes as she took off her shirt, showing off her toned stomach and her strong arms before she started taking off her shoes and her pants.

She looked so beautiful, the light from the flame highlighted her beauty even more.

The rumble of thunder snapped you out of your thoughts, shaking your head at yourself, you looked down, hoping she didn’t catch you staring at her.

You bend down to take your shoes off before you started taking your clothes off as well.

You could feel Ellie’s eyes on you but you didn’t mind. You looked up at her, noticing that she was staring at you.

You looked at the open cut on her cheek, remembering that you still had to take care of it.

You grabbed your backpack and two blankets from the couch, handing one to Ellie. You sat down on the soft carpet in front of the fireplace and looked up at Ellie, motioning for her to sit down in front of you.

She sat down and put the blanket around her shoulders, still shaking from the cold rain. She eyed you as you poured some alcohol on a cloth. She couldn’t help but stare at your beautiful face, the way you hugged her earlier made her want to feel you even more. Her eyes fell to your lips.

You grabbed her chin softly and started to clean the wound on her cheek, making sure to be gentle.

Your heart began to race when you felt her hand on your thigh, biting down on your lip you looked at her to find her staring at your lips.

“all done.” you whispered, glancing at her lips.

She moved closer and grabbed your face gently.

You gazed into each other’s eyes before you both leaned in, smashing your lips together.

You were overwhelmed with emotions the moment you felt her lips moving against yours. The kiss was passionate yet gentle, her lips were so soft and the feeling she left you with was unlike anything you have ever felt before.

She deepened the kiss and pulled you into her even closer. Caressing your cheek with her thumb.

You pulled away from her, the kiss left you breathless.

Leaning your forehead against hers you opened your eyes to look at her, you didn’t even know what to say, the kiss left you speechless and by the way she was looking at you, you knew she felt the same way.

You didn’t need to say anything to know what the other felt, right at this moment.

Looking at each other was enough.

[ijustwant2write]

Brought Together-George Weasley x Reader

(GIF credit to @tanrininsonteki​)

(I’ve written loads about Fred, George needed some love too!)

Summary: Who ever gets over the death of their brother? The death of their son? A friend? (Y/N) and the twins were always together, as if joined at the hip (or hips rather). But once the trio became a duo, one person had to become stronger than the other, pushing down their emotions and feelings to help the person they loved; because when things are put in perspective, it’s so obvious who their soulmate should be. 

Characters: George Weasley x Reader, Weasley family x Reader (platonic), mentions of Fred Weasley

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Lots and lots of fluff, death, mourning, suppressed feelings/emotions

                                            *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

My body was numb. Whether it was from exhaustion, shock, trauma, fear or the wounds scattered across my body, it didn’t matter to me, I couldn’t bring myself to move. With my knees hunched up to my chest, my hand tightly gripped onto my wand, showing how much I was shaking. A shadow cast over me, but I didn’t move my head. In my peripheral vision, I saw someone sit next to me, gently taking my wand away before I snapped it in half.

“You haven’t moved. It’s over now (Y/N).” 

George saddled up to me, slowly put an arm around my shoulders. I leaned into him, letting him rest his chin on top of my head. My hand grabbed his free one, guiding it to wrap it around my waist, pulling him close for a hug. It felt relieving to have human contact, to feel someone else’s heartbeat, knowing that they were alive here with me. There was too much blood, too much crying, too many friends lying dead or unconscious on the stone floor. Although fear had been pulsing through my body throughout the entire time we were fighting, my mind wouldn’t accept the concept of anyone dying; yet here I sat, having watch the life drained away from one of my best friends.

“George?” I suddenly gasped, pulling away from him.

His eyes widened at my movement.“What?”

“You’re here, aren’t you? George, please don’t tell me I’m imagining you?!” my voice raised as I panicked, and George tried to shush me. I was disrupting the first sign of peace.

“Yes, yes, (Y/N) I’m here. I’m real,” tears started rolling down his cheeks, but he attempted a smile,“I’m not leaving you. I won’t ever leave you.”

I groaned as I picked up another box, feeling the pain in my back. At ‘Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes’, we were re-stocking for the beginning of the Christmas season, changing around the shop to give it a fresh look. George was rolling up his sleeves, stepping back from the display he created. I approached him, standing with my arms crossed as I admired his work.

“I like it.” I simply said.

“Just like?” George nudged me with his elbow.

I smiled, rolling my eyes.“You know what I meant.”

“Come on, I’ll help you with the last boxes.”

“You don’t have to George. Have a break.”

He walked past me.“Nonsense. We’ve got places to be.”

“What do you mean?”

“Drinks after work of course. Seeing as it’s just us today, I thought we could head to the Three Broomsticks, like we used to.”

I blushed, happy that he turned away from me to not see it. Following after him, I tried not to stare too much as he decided how we should set out the certain product. When he was engulfed in his work, something that he was so passionate about, it was like I was seeing the old George, the cheeky chap from school (not that he wasn’t cheeky anymore). These small moments were captured in my memories, pushing back the old, terrible ones. He deserved to be happy, especially when all he wanted to do was make other people laugh with the jokes and pranks they sold.

We managed to finish the new displays within the next hour, meaning it was time for us to relax with a good drink. It wasn’t going to be a night of getting drunk, just two...friends enjoying each other’s company. Wrapping up warm, George locked up, holding out his arm to me as we hurried to the pub, wanting to be out of the cold as soon as possible. Once at the Three Broomsticks, we were easily able to find a table, being served instantly as it wasn’t busy, only a few locals filled the space.

“Actually,” George started after setting his drink down,“I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

There was that blush again. It seemed that words didn’t want to form.“Hm?”

“Well, obviously you’re always welcome round mine. But I was wondering if you wanted to come over for Christmas? Not the actual day cause I know you’ll be with your family, but just before-”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“What?”

He chuckled.“That didn’t take much persuasion, did it?”

“I love your family. You didn’t even need to ask. But you sounded nervous.”

“Did I?”

I nodded, taking a sip of my drink. 

“W-well, I...I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he looked everywhere except in my direction.“You ever seen me nervous?”

I giggled.“You don’t remember asking me to the Yule Ball-”

He waved his hands dismissively, which only made me laugh harder.“We said to never speak of that again, remember?”

I shrugged, a grin still on my face.“I still think it was more cute than nervous.”

Now it was his turn to tease me.“You think I’m cute?”

“Thought, I thought the whole idea was cute. But you can’t deny that it wasn’t a good night.”

“No, that was fun.” we were both in thought.“You looked beautiful in that dress.”

I waited for a snarky remark, but nothing came.“But?”

“What do you mean, ‘but’?”

“Oh, usually you just...never mind.” 

“Anyway,” George cleared his throat,“you know mum wouldn’t take no for an answer, so you’ll have to pack a bag to stay a few nights.”

I laughed.“I would expect nothing less. Gosh, what to get all you Weasley’s for Christmas?”

“Don’t be daft. You don’t need to get everyone presents.”

“Of course I do!”

“Tell you what, why don’t we join up for presents? Buy them together.”

“You know what George, that’s probably the best idea you’ve had for a while.” I smirked.

He scoffed a laugh.“Right, I know I offered to buy the drinks, but that stops now!”

We had a few weeks before my time at the Weasley’s, meaning we were able to think and buy everyone’s presents. During lunch breaks or on days off, we would scour the shops, coming out of them with bags and bags hanging off our arms. I was always excited to see my second family, and Christmas was a fun, special time of year for everyone. The night before we were set to visit them, I stayed with George as we had to set off early the next morning. It was lovely when we stayed with each other.

"I know you only clean this place up when I come round, just admit it!" I giggled as we laid in bed facing the other, discarded chocolate wrappings scattered between us. 

George laughed with me, rolling onto his back, looking up at the ceiling. As we calmed down, I bundled up into a tight ball, feeling a slight chill, which George noticed. He said nothing as he leaned his upper body off of the bed, grabbing a blanket from who knows where before wrapping it around me. My gaze remained on him as he tucked me in, enjoying the small amount of attention. Feeling hands on me made butterflies emerge in my stomach, and the caring side to him was the sweetest thing I had ever seen. 

"I will admit, I did buy that blanket just for you. You complained about being cold enough to drive me mad." he smirked. 

I clutched onto the soft fabric."Well, if you're going to speak to me like that, then I guess I'll just leave." 

He tucked his arms beneath his head, closing his eyes slowly."Go on then. See you later." 

When neither of us moved, we tried to contain our laughter, both failing miserably as our cackles rang out in his bedroom. It was like our sleepovers we had when we were much younger, they stopped as we...changed at a certain age. 

“Are you sure everyone will like their presents?" I wondered. 

He sighed lightly."We've been over this. You could pick up a weed from our own garden and they would fawn over it. It's not the gift they want, it's you." 

My mouth open, prepared to protest against him as he teased me again, but I was stuck for words."George...that's a lovely thing to say." 

His head lolled to face me, his face scrunching up in disgust."I take it back." 

"No!" I quickly said."You can't pretend you didn't say that!" 

"Say what?" he teased.

"George!" 

Carrying everyone’s presents in our arms, George and I prepared ourselves for the onslaught of hugs and kisses we would be attacked with before we could even set down any of the presents or our bags. We were still a few steps away from the door when it was fiercely pulled open, Molly squealing and throwing her arms up in joy.

“Oh, you’re here! Arthur, they’re here!” she was beaming.

She hastily took the presents from George’s arms, impatiently ushering him inside as Arthur (who was a bit more reserved) took my presents, before I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek as a greeting. Once all of our belongings were set down, proper hugs were given, just as bone crushing as they usually were.

“Oh, it’s so lovely to have you over dear.” Molly gushed.

“Mum, she was here a month ago.” George said.

“Well, it wouldn’t matter if it was just a day, I would miss her the same amount.” 

I smiled at her.“Thank you Molly. See George, maybe you should be as kind as your mum.”

“I see you everyday, that’s almost too much for me.”

“Well, Ginny and Harry should be arriving tonight, Ron is already here, I think Hermione is supposed to be coming tonight too, but I’m not sure when, Bill and Fleur-”

Molly continued explaining the plan for the next couple of days, but I was distracted by George talking to his dad. Their voices were hushed, they kept side glancing at us as they spoke, before a shy smile emerged on George’s face. I somehow went back to Molly’s explanation, pretending that I had heard everything she said. Politely nodding, I was relieved that she started asking me about myself, changing the topic of conversation, even though my mind was occupied with someone else.

Everyone had arrived as the evening came, squeezing into the house and around the long table. As we sat down to eat, I noticed an empty chair besides George, realising who should have been there. My breath got caught in my throat at the sight, not hearing George call my name until he placed his hand on top of mine. 

“You OK?” he whispered.

“Um...” my head slowly turned to face him.“Yeah, sorry. I’m fine.”

“It’s strange, isn’t it? What I mean is, it’s weird to think he’s...he’s not here.”

I squeezed his hand, but before I could say anything, Arthur stood, preparing to make a speech. Keeping my hand in George’s, I listened just like everyone else, trying to push away the flashes of Fred filling my mind.

“Well, I know it’s a bit early to be celebrating Christmas, but we know that you all have your own plans for this year, now that you’re grown up. But it is important to ensure that we get together, especially during this season about love, giving gifts, drinking, eating, and spending time with family and friends, because...because you never know what the future holds. And I think...no, I know that the last year has taught us all that.”

People were either getting teary eyes, already crying, or had a solemn look on their faces. Glances towards the empty seat were common. I didn’t wince as George’s grip tightened, strongly pinching my skin. Keeping my head down, I suppressed any tears, taking in a deep breath as Arthur managed to carry on.

“I just want you all to know, that I love you, your mother and I love you. And for those extended family, (Y/N), Harry, Hermione, Fleur, Audrey, we love you just as much. You’re our family too. We need to make every moment count, make every moment special. So, with that being said, let’s have some fun tonight!”

We raised our glasses, clinking them all together before drinking. I took a big gulp, and then another as the chatter built up again. Once we were done with food and the conversations afterwards, we were going to start playing games, lifting up the atmosphere in the room. Before it started, I excused myself, not that anyone took much notice. Scurrying upstairs, I tried to slow down my breathing as I shut myself in my designated room, covering my mouth to silence my cries. I collapsed back onto the bed, head in my hands as I felt tears try to stream down my face. My shoulders shook as I forced myself to make no noise. The door opened, causing me to flinch back, even though it was George.

“(Y/N)? Why are you crying?” he panicked, immediately kneeling in front of me.

I shook my head that was back hiding in my hands.

“Hey, come on, you can talk to me. Did someone say something?”

I sniffled, looking away from him.“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be crying, it’s not fair.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just seeing Fred’s chair...without him in it, it was heartbreaking. And, and I know you and your family have to deal with that every day for the rest of your lives but...but I miss him so much George!”

“It’s alright. Hey, I’m here.” he moved to sit beside me, holding my close. 

“I’ve always wanted to make sure you were happy, and I knew that if I started crying like this then it would make things worse. He was your twin brother. What right do I have to be like this?”

“Listen to yourself,” he softly said, gently pushing me away so that I would look him in the eyes,“you’ve never mourned properly. You heard my dad downstairs, you’re family. Fred loved you, you loved him, we were the best of friends us three! The fact that you’ve not let out all of this makes me worried. It’s not healthy.”

“I know, I just couldn’t stand to see you upset anymore. I wanted to make you happy.”

“You do make me happy (Y/N). You make me extremely happy by just being with me, by just being you. You’re right, all those times I saw your smile, I smiled. Making you laugh is one of the best things in the world, and the fact that I can see you everyday, well, I couldn’t ask for anything more. I just wished that you had been able to talk to me about this, you know I’m always here for you.”

“I should have, I realised that now. But when you would start to let everything out to me, I couldn’t bring myself to say anything, I felt like I was adding to your trauma and making it about myself. And after relentless weeks of nightmares, nightmares that involved you dying alongside Fred, it would all disappear from my mind once I saw you.”

His hand pushed away the hair stuck to my wet face, sadly smiling.“I understand. Promise me that you’ll tell me about these sort of things?”

I nodded.“I promise. I’m sorry that I didn’t speak to you sooner.”

“Don’t apologise. You have nothing to apologise for.”

Strangely, we both leaned in towards each other, quickly kissing. We didn’t pull away a lot, kissing once again, though this one was firmer and more confident. It wasn’t leading to anything, it was something we both wanted but knew tonight wasn’t the right time to go too deep into this. After a few seconds apart, I couldn’t help it, I had to kiss him again.

“My dad asked about us earlier. After hearing that we bought presents together and stayed with each other, he was wondering if something had finally happened.”

“Glad he’s not the only one wanting something to happen between us.”

“We’ll definitely talk about this tomorrow. But just so you know, I enjoyed that.” George said.

“I did too.” I mumbled, suddenly becoming shy.“And thank you for always being there George. I will get better at expressing my feelings in the moment.”

“I just hope you know that it doesn’t matter how you’re feeling; happy, sad, excited, annoyed, you can tell me anything. And also, if Fred was here, he would have certainly burst in and ruined the moment.”

I giggled.“You’re not wrong there. Perhaps he’s watching down on us know, wishing he could have put some sort of plan into action to embarrass us.”

“I bet he is. But I know he would have also been happy.”

“And we’ll be happy too. We are happy.”

“Yes, now that I’ve got you, I’m going to cherish every moment, just as dad said to.”

I hugged him close.“Don’t ever leave me George.”

“I won’t, not ever.”

[rocksandrobots]

Phantoms of the Past: Ch. 5 - Best friends, Boyfriends, and Barons Part 1

"Hey Miss Itamae! Ready for a whole new school year? Hee...hee...eeeh.... yeah, fine." Hiro gave up trying to make small talk with the lunch lady as she unceremoniously slopped meatloaf onto his plate.

Today was the first day of the fall semester and the start of Hiro's second year at SFIT.  It felt odd to him, to look back and realize just how much time had passed; how much things had changed during the previous year.

A year ago, today, he had been attending Tadashi's funeral and now he was going about his life as if everything was normal. Well, almost normal. He was also moonlighting as a superhero, adopting an out of time teenager as his new big brother, and befriending deadly robots.

Life was weird.

Of course it wasn't as if he could ignore his loss completely. He had noticed the flowers and cards placed at the foot of Tadashi's memorial over by the exhibition hall. People still remembered that his brother had died a hero. Folks that he didn't even know had left their condolences today, though most of the gifts were from Tadashi's teachers and friends.

Hiro had particularly noticed a painting Honey Lemon had left, of her, Tadashi, and the rest of their friends. He also spotted Gogo sitting out there early that morning, lighting a candle in his brother's memory. He had given her her space, choosing not to interrupt. Gogo and Tadashi had been especially close.

Hiro remembered how excited his brother had been when Gogo finally agreed to go out with him. Tadashi had hurried about their bedroom, a couple of days before the fire, fretting over where to take her on their first date. A date that they had never gotten to go on. At the time Hiro had teased him relentlessly, never passing up the chance to deflate his brother's ego. Now it was just another bittersweet memory to look back on.

Fred abruptly snapped him out of his mournful reflection. "Steve." was all he said as he grabbed Hiro by the shoulders.

"Steve? Uh, my name is Hiro, remember Fred?"

"No, no, no, Steve was the name of the ninja robot that Trina found. She said he was held in a warehouse downtown, along with all the other ninjas. Don't you see, that's our big break! We find this warehouse and then we can track down the mysterious bosu!"

Hiro wearily placed his tray down on the table and took a seat next to Wasabi.

"Fred, it's the first day of school. Can't this wait for later?"

"But-"

"Hiro's right Fred," Wasabi interrupted, "Just because you have all the time in the world to play superhero doesn't mean that we do. We still got our own lives to take care of."

Fred looked hurt at that. "I'm not playing! This is important work. We have a city to protect and this crime boss is just going to keep coming after us if we don't figure out how to stop them."  

Wasabi rolled his eyes. "Then you just go on and do that. In the meantime the rest of us have class to attend. I'm heading early to set up for my first lab."

"But labs won't open for like another hour." Hiro pointed out, confused. "They're still cleaning up from the robot attacks last week."

"Ah, he just wants to get there early so that he can see his boyfriend again." Fred complained.

"Sam's not my boyfriend. He's just a colleague, and at least I'm doing something other than obsess over superheroing." And with that Wasabi stormed off, while Fred slouched into the cafeteria chair with a huff.

"Listen, Fred, why don't you go on patrol with Minimax for a while. I'll help you track down this warehouse after school is over with." Hiro said.

"Okay," Fred reluctantly agreed, "but I'm not 'obsessing'."

"I know Fred, but the rest of us also have school to worry about. We just don't have the same amount of free time as you do."

"I know." Fred sighed before walking off.

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

"Sorry Hiro, but we're kind of busy right now." Honey Lemon regretfully informed her friends.

Fred and Hiro had met up after school as promised. Wasabi had declined to join them on their quest and so they had decided to recruit the girls instead. Though this also seemed to be a fruitless endeavor.

"Yeah, we're kind of in the middle of something." Gogo finished as she leaned back in a reclining chair and placed two cucumber slices over her eyes.

They had found the girls at a spa. Honey Lemon sat next to Gogo with curlers in her hair, and they apparently weren't the only ones out having a beauty day.

"Can't you see we're having some girl time?" Karmi asked, annoyed, as she examined her nails.

"Yeah, Hiro, go take your weird superhero hobby elsewhere?" Megan added.

"It's not weird!" Fred insisted.

"If this is supposed to be a girls only event, then why is he here?" Hiro said, pointing to Varian, who sat next to Megan.

"Uh, getting a manicure obviously." Varian rolled his eyes and then leaned over to show Carol, who was beside him, two bottles of nail polish. "Do you think I should go with the midnight blue or just stick with black?"

"Hmmm... I think either would be nice," she replied.

"Ooooh, have you tried the seaweed wrap they have here? It's great." Fred chimed in.

Hiro rolled his eyes, "Okay, so what are you two doing after this? Could you take up patrol tonight?"

"Nope." Gogo said.

"I promised my brother Carlos that I would help him move into his new dorm room. He starts at UCLA this week and Gogo's offered to drive me there. We won't be back till tomorrow morning." Honey Lemon explained.

"Okay, well, we'll just-"

"Alright, I'm ready." A voice called out, interrupting him.

Trina walked out from behind a door at the back of the spa. Her bulky gigantic metal body was gone and in its place was the frame of a young woman, dressed in a t-shirt, pants, and a cropped jacket. She looked very much the same as the day Hiro had first met her, at the bot fights. Only this time her hair had been cut and styled into a short mohawk and dyed a light purple.

"What do you guys think?" She asked as she twirled around.

Everyone shouted encouragements to her, and Varian cheekily whistled.

"You look nice, Trina." Hiro complimented.

Trina snorted and rolled her eyes. "In your dreams, Hiro." She said, leaving the teenage genius confused by what he had said wrong.

Ignoring him, Trina walked over to the rest of the girls, "Thanks for the clothes... and for everything else." She sheepishly added.

"Hey, no problem." Megan replied. "They look good on you."

"Yeah, and if you need anything else just ask." Karmi added.

"Not to mention it's always fun to have a spa day," Carol piped in. "This was a good idea Varian, thanks for inviting me along."

"Sure thing. When Trina said she wanted help with finding a new wardrobe, I figured all of you would like to go shopping too.... and also y'all know more about clothes than I do."

"Hey, Trina," Fred interjected, "that warehouse where you foun- I mean, met 'Steve', do you happen to remember where it was located?"

Trina gave Fred a frown.

"Oooh, who's Steve?" Karmi asked, happy to gossip, "Is that your boyfriend Trina?"

"No." She said, "The place you're looking for is over in Good Luck Alley, next to Louie's."

"It must've been a bad breakup." Karmi whispered into Honey Lemon's ear, she wasn't very good at keeping her voice down.

"Yeah… he kind of... broke alright." Honey Lemon nervously added, unsure what to say.

"Uh, yeah, well thanks for the tip Trina. We'll be going now, bye." Hiro said as he hurried Fred out the door. He had had enough of awkward conversations and makeovers.

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

"Fred, wouldn't it be better if we brought our robots along at least?" Hiro whispered.

"You want to sneak around an abandoned warehouse with those two?" Fred whispered back, "I love him, but Minimax doesn't know how to be quiet, like at all."

Hiro sighed, Fred had a point. Baymax also wasn't the best at stealth missions. Hiro slid into the alleyway and peered through a dirty window. He couldn't shake the sense of deja vu as he remembered how he and the robotic nurse had tracked down his missing microbots a year ago at a similar warehouse. They had both been nearly killed by Callaghan when the villain had caught them snooping around. He would prefer to avoid such a scenario again.

"It doesn't look like anyone is here." He said.

"See any ninja robots?" Fred asked as he also pushed by to get a look, pressing his nose against the glass.

"No… Fred, this may be a dead end. Trina already raided the place and no doubt this Bosu would have abandoned the hideout if it was compromised."

Fred pouted, "Maybe… Buuuut, we could always man a stake-out and find out for sure!"

"Fred, I have homework to do. Maybe some oth-"

"Oh please! Just for an hour, or two? Please, please, please? Pretty please? I'll do your homework for you."

"I don't want you doing my homework."

"Okay, chores then; I'll wash Varian's dirty socks and underwear for a… a week… no, a month! Come on, I know how much you hate doing laundry."

Hiro sighed and watched his friend crawl on his knees and beg. "Does it really mean that much to you?"

"Yeeeesss."

"Okay, and no, you don't have to do the laundry either."

Hiro turned to walk out of the alley and Fred got up and followed him.

"That's good, cause I don't actually know how to wash clothes. Usually, Heathcliff does all the laundry. Last time I tried to, I just flooded the washroom."

"Do you have any survival skills? Like at all?"

"Nope. Unless it's kicking bad guys' butts! Ooh, hey, we can host the stake-out at Louie's across the street. I'm starved."

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

Hiro and Fred took up a window booth inside the restaurant. The establishment had recovered from the police raid from a few months back and was now serving food as usual; though Hiro had already spotted the advertisement for the next upcoming 'bot fight.

A couple of hours past and they had both eaten their meals, plus dessert, along with Fred going back for seconds. Now they were both nursing a couple of cups of coffee, though Hiro's was going cold; it wasn't great coffee.

"Fred…"

"Yeah."

"It's been three hours now."

"I know."

"No one's showed up."

"Not yet."

"Look it's been… 'fun', but I'm going home now."

Hiro got up to leave but Fred grabbed him by the sleeve.

"Oh but… uhh… we haven't even tried the uh… hot dog sushi special. I hear it's really good."

Hiro leaned his head back slowly and closed his eyes in frustration. He didn't want to snap at Fred, really he didn't, but he was quickly losing his patience.

"Fred… no one is coming. Let's just call it a night and try again some other time. Okay." And with that he yanked his hand away and began to walk off.

Fred didn't follow. Instead he sat in the booth, his eyes downcast, staring blankly at nothing. It wasn't his usual pout either. It was something else. Some deeper sadness that few saw from the usually optimistic teen.

Hiro began to worry. He walked back, and stood there waiting for Fred to jump back up all excited again for his return, only he didn't.

"Fred, what's wrong?"

Fred sighed but couldn't bring himself to answer.

"Look, I know that this superhero business is important to you, so much so that you'll probably wind up making a career out of it, which is great, but the rest of us are not going to be doing this for the rest of our lives. We also have to keep up with our studies, chores, our jobs, and what little shred of a social life we have."

"That's not it… I mean yeah, it's a part of it, but that's not why I asked you to come along."

Fred finally looked Hiro in the eye and tears threatened to spill.

"I just miss my best friend, okay."

Hiro looked at him confused.

"I didn't want to say anything, cause… cause he's your brother and I didn't think you'd want to be reminded about him being gone any more than you already have… but today has just been really hard… remembering what happened… I just thought getting out and doing something fun, getting both our minds off everything, might be better than just… just being alone. You know? Especially today."

Fred didn't even have to say Tadashi's name for Hiro to know who he was talking about.

Hiro sighed and slumped back down into the booth.

"I'm sorry…. I… I guess I just… I don't know. I didn't think...."

"No… no, don't. Of course you didn't think. I mean who wants to be reminded of that. The whole idea was to not think about it. And I just ruined it all by bringing it up. Gah…. I'm so sorry."

Fred put his arms over his head and brought his knees up to his chest as if trying to make himself as physically small as he felt. Hiro just had to laugh at the sight in spite of himself.

"It's okay Fred. You're not going to upset me just by talking about Tadashi."

Fred peaked his head out from between his arms. "I'm not?"

"No. I mean he was your friend too."

"My best friend! Man, Tadashi and I, we got up to all sorts of trouble. He was always down for anything. I mean, did he tell you about the time we crashed my cousin's bar mitzvah? As in, we literally crashed. He drove the sport's car into the buffet table by mistake… We couldn't find the parking and then there was this wet patch in the parking lot and we skidded… Oh and then there was the time Mole dared us to a drag race using scooters and Tadshi had the idea to attach rockets to mine and I went flying.. I tell ya, man, Mole wouldn't live it down for a whole week after. He kept demanding a rematch, but I mean it was fair. He was using his butler to ride for him in his place."

Hiro could barely contain his laughter, "Wait… wait… you and Tadashi did all this?"

"Yeah."

"Why have I never heard of any of this before?"

"I don't know, but he's the whole reason why I got the mascot job in the first place. I knew I could never get into the school myself, but I thought we could hang out together more if I went. He's also the one that introduced me to everybody else."

"Then how did you two meet?"

"Oh at the grocery store."

Fred said this as if it was the most obvious of explanations but Hiro looked as confused as ever. So Fred continued on.

"He was there getting chewing gum and I was buying a shopping cart. Like an actual shopping cart."

"Why?"

"Yeah that's what he asked too. So I told him, 'I'm going to ride down Dead Man's Hill in one.' And he said, 'Dude, that's so rad. You're totally going to die.' And I said, 'Yeah, I know. You wanna join?' And he did. We rode all the way down from the top of Lumbar Street to the docks… and landed right in the bay. It was awesome! We screamed our heads off the whole time. It was so awesome, in fact, that we walked back to the store and bought another cart just to do it again. That was back when we were both still in high school, and we've been best buds ever since. You know… until…"

Hiro looked at Fred sadly. There so much about his brother that hadn't known about, hadn't even thought to ask. What else had Tadashi not shared with him? Probably a lot, I mean why tell your kid brother about your social life? And there's no way that he'd have brought those crazy stunts up around Aunt Cass.

"I never knew any of that… Those are some really cool stories. Thanks for sharing them."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and you know, you don't have to drag me on some superheroing mission just to hang out and talk."

Fred looked guilty at that.

"I… I know… but it's like what you and Wasabi have been saying. Everyone else has something… something to motivate them, and y'all all do all these really cool things and I'm… I'm just me. I don't really have anything but superheroing. Unless you just need someone to make a mess."

"That's not true. Fred, you're great at a lot of things. You could go to school or get a job, if you wanted to. I just thought superheroing was all you wanted."

"Hiro, I can't even do laundry without messing up. I mean all you do is throw the clothes into a machine and push a button, and yet somehow I managed to screw even that up. All I know is comic books, and superheroing, and I'm not even the best at that! What would I even go to college for? I can't… I'm not a genius. I'm not a businessman. I'm not an accountant, or an artist, or an athlete. I'm not anything. I've no talent. I'm not even good at being rich. I've never fit in with the socialite crowd."

"Fred."

"Yeah?"

"You're good at being a friend, and if I have to sit here list off everything else you're good at then we'd be here for another three hours or more. So how about we head home and tomorrow I'll show you how to work a washing machine, and you can teach me how a stake-out is supposed to really go cause we're not getting anywhere here."

"Or are we?"

"What do you mean?"

Fred was no longer looking at Hiro but past him. He pointed to the window behind Hiro, and Hiro turned around to see for himself.

An elderly gentleman, dressed in an old fashioned military outfit, complete with a monocle, was entering the warehouse. He had a giant mechanical arm and a steam boiler strapped to his back.

"Baron Von Steamer."

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

Fred and Hiro found themselves standing in the alley peering through the warehouse's dirty windows for a second time that day. They saw Baron Von Steamer stomping around inside. He seemed irritated as he grumbled to himself and knocked boxes out of the way, as if searching for something.

"What's he doing?" Fred loudly whispered.

Just then Steamer found what he was looking for, a tea cup. He poured himself a cup out of a teapot he had placed on an old fashioned stove that was hidden towards the back and then sat down on top of a crate to sip his drink.

"It must be 'tea time' for him." Hiro said dryly.

Fred narrowed his eyes, "I bet he's just hatching his next nefarious scheme. Planning on how to take us and the city down. What do you think he wants with portals?"  

Just then Steamer stood up and ruefully kicked away a busted up robot that had fallen out of a storage crate in his previous hunt for the tea cup.

"I don't think Steamer is our guy." Hiro said, "He hates modern technology, so why would he build ninja robots? Also, like you said, what would he want with portals? All he's after is your dad, and so far the Bosu hasn't gone after Boss Awesome yet."

"But they might. Remember what Roddy said? That Kensei guy used to be active during Dad's heyday but never got caught. What if, it's because Steamer had two villain identities!"

"That seems like a stretch."

"Okay, well, what if Steamer works for this Bosu? Like Sue and Sparkles?"

"That's more plausible, I guess."

Hiro turned to peer through the window again, but Streamer was gone.

'Wait, where did he go?'

"Well, well, well, what do we have here? A pair of interlopers." A curt British voice  came from behind them.

Steamer must have noticed them and snuck around the back, cutting them off.

Hiro grabbed his phone in order to call his super suit, but Von Steamer nabbed his hand and yanked him off the ground, causing him to lose hold of his phone.

Fred was just as unfortunate, as Steamer held him in a choke hold in his metal arm.

"Waaaait," Steamer said as he eyed them both up closely, peering at them through his oversized monocle, "I know you two. You're friends of Boss Awesome's baby child!"

"I am Boss Awesome's baby child!" Fred protested before Von Steamer gave him a hard squeeze with his cyborg arm. Fred wheezed in pain.

Hiro reacted quickly and kicked the steampunk baron in the shins.

Von Steamer howled in pain and dropped Hiro in surprise, though he managed to keep his grip on Fred. He also had stepped on Hiro's phone while nursing his injured leg.

Hiro ducked and ran as Steamer regained his senses and pulled out a brass gun that was connected to the boiler on his back with a hose. He pulled the trigger and scalding steam shot out. Hiro ducked again to avoid it.

As he ran out of the alley way he heard Steamer shouting after him, "Yes, run back to Boss Awesome little one. Tell his baby child I have their friend, and either he, or they, must show up to face me or else!"

Hiro spared a glace backwards and saw Baron Von Steamer dragging Fred back into the warehouse.

"Fred!"

"Hiro!" Fred called out to him before being pulled into the darkness.

Hiro panicked. What could he do? Finally, he decided that getting help was the best option. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him, fighting back his worry.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 140

And here we have the last chapter of the Food Festival!  This is one part I was pretty excited to write - The Closing Costume Party.  I wouldn’t have been able to get this one squared away without @baelpenrose and @charlylimph-blog... Both of you caught a few things I didn’t that kept it from making sense from a reader perspective. So thank you both, very much.

I growled softly to myself as I twisted my arms behind my back to pull on my costume. Normally, I was more than flexible enough, but the amount of leverage I needed right now just wasn’t happening unless I was willing to seriously dislocate something. Dropping my hands, I frowned as I jiggled my arms a little to work feeling back into my elbows.

“You really should have fitted this sooner than now,” Conor laughed against the back of my head as he pulled the laces tight on the blood-red corset.  Getting one made while laying low and avoiding Hannah had been a nightmare, but it was going to be worth it. I just knew it.

“You just wanted to see me try this entire costume on sooner,” I joked as I felt everything fit snugly - but not too tightly - into place.

Maverick flicked a lock of my hair over my shoulder and positioned it just-so. “It’s not his fault that you couldn’t fit this over your scrubs and have it work for tonight.”

“Who wants to see a corset over scrubs?” I scrunched my nose at the thought while smoothing my sleeves and adjusting my collar. “So far so good?” I asked, slightly louder.

As a credit to their maturity regarding the matter, both men looked me over earnestly before glancing at each other. Conor finally broke the silence. “Aren’t the slits in the skirt a bit… high?”  Maverick whispered in his ear, and an expression of utter comprehension glowed on his face. “Oh! That’s… Love, that’s clever.”

I grinned hard enough to cramp my jaw. “Thank you.”  Despite how daring the outfit looked, there was exactly zero chance of any wardrobe malfunctions more serious than a hole in my stockings  - a near-indestructible nude bodysuit under everything made sure of that.

“Your turn, now,” Maverick insisted, eliciting a groan from Conor, who he had turned toward while brandishing eyeliner.

“Isn’t it bad enough I let the two of you do this?” He gestured at his hair, which was styled within an inch of his life and would sustain an EF4 tornado with minimal loss of glitter.

“Nope,” I popped, still smiling as I sat down to put on my boots.  Parvati and Hannah had envisioned tonight to be a sort of return-to-our-roots in a very feral, primitive way, complete with costumes. “We’ve been imagining since before we could cook,” Hannah had pointed out.  Between that and the multiple hints that I wasn’t capable of costuming myself, I had gone a bit more over the top than I had originally planned. Hence the corset, the boots, Conor’s hair… although the leather pants the guys were wearing had been decidedly Maverick’s idea and I resisted the need to fall at his feet in gratitude.

Once we were finally costumed, we managed to arrive just-fashionably late to the last hurrah of the Festival. I don’t know who gaped harder - us at the party, or the people who managed to recognize me when they saw me leading the men in. Parvati’s incredible, winding mural was noticeably weathered and patchy, giving the overall atmosphere a post-apocalyptic feel.  The only noticeable lighting came from the braziers, and deep, almost subsonic music thumped in my chest, driving my adrenaline just high enough to overwhelm my anxiety.

My nose led us over to the first stall of the night, the smell of charring meat fitting the tone. Per a previous discussion around our costumes, I did not reach for anything but instead Conor took my portion and fed it to me - his idea, this time, though Maverick had readily agreed. It was just enough to set off a few murmurs before I heard a familiar laugh cut through the air.

“Councillor Reid!” Jokul’s voice crowed, turning our heads his direction. Warmly, he clasped my hands when offered, trembling with the laughter he was trying to suppress. “This is an unexpected but pleasant surprise.”

I took a moment to take in his fur trousers and tunic, with rough metal covering vital areas. “The dirt is a nice touch,” I offered, squeezing his hands in greeting. “And Ivan! Well done, sir!”

Ivan rubbed the freshly-buzzed back of his head and grinned. “He actually already had the furs, I just made the armored parts.”

“I meant all of it,” I admonished softly, waving at his work throughout the event.

“Antique, yeah?” Conor asked, gesturing to the furs both of them were wearing.

To his credit, Jokul scoffed. “Absolutely not. Quality synthetic.”

“Don’t let Hannah find out.”

A silver brow arched high enough to impress even Tyche. “Who do you think I commissioned?”

“Clever boy.” I winked at Ivan, eliciting a grin.

In response, Ivan did a runway-twirl, his fur kilt flaring just slightly. “What do you think, Councillor? Can I pull it off?”

With the cheekiest grin my soul could ever manifest, I stared him down. “I think I am the wrong person to ask that.”  Even in the dim light, I could see Jokul’s face turn bright red.

“I smell goat,” Maverick interrupted, entirely off topic and completely unabashed.

Ivan’s nose twitched. “Oh, you’re right!” Sniff, sniff. “And it’s on a spit! Let’s find it before it’s gone!”

With that, he snagged Jokul’s wrist and dragged him less like he was an easily two-hundred pound man and more like he was a kite.  When I snickered, my former enemy leaned over and murmured “I like the chains, very nice touch.”

I shook the wrist that connected to Conor’s belt and whispered conspiratorially. “Your idea, really.  You were so convinced I was leading the entire Ark like this…”

He had the decency to snort. “Seeing it in reality, I was a complete idiot. But it’s quite poetic, and I like it.”

“Poetic?” I asked as I tried to keep pace in the six-inch heels I had elected to wear.

“Are they chaining you down, or are you leading them by their gonads? Or, perhaps, are they saving you from yourself?” He gave a very pointed look at the delicate chains going from the shackles on my wrists to the links attached just above Maverick’s and Conor’s hips.

“Saving me, definitely.” My confession was unashamed and completely sober, the result of the primal music and smells surrounding me.

“Gods agree, someone needs to.”

I didn’t have time to argue before we arrived at the source of the enticing smell - a Jamaican barbecue vendor, who had oxtails, saltfish, and…

“Grilled goat!” Ivan crowed triumphantly. As he started handing out portions from the dancing, grinning vendor, he raised an eyebrow when he noticed that the portion he tried to hand to me was intercepted by Maverick first, and then fed to me rather than feeding myself.

“Not my idea,” I managed around an insanely delicious bite. “Swear.”

“Kink tomato,” he insisted, holding up his hands.

Conor almost choked laughing. “Not our kink either, mate. Just set dressing for the Queen over here.” Taking another bite, he winked at me.

“Ah, Conor’s idea then,” Jokul nodded sagely before erupting in the closest thing to a girlish squeal I could imagine coming from him. “Miss Harper, we’ve been looking for you!”

Shit, I thought to myself. I hadn’t thought of what Charly would say when I discussed this idea with Conor and Maverick, and I was just realizing it was a monumental oversight.  Plastering a smile on my face, I turned in the direction Jokul had shouted - 

Only to be confronted with what looked like a fox with antlers, a rakish Anansi, the Queen of the Dead, a blind healer, and… a walking shrine? I wasn’t sure what exactly Arthur was dressed as, but I could clearly identify a shabby tweed suit, his sword, a tome that I hoped was faux-moldy, breastplate, shin guards, along with various tchotchkes that looked like they came from high-schoolers and were a bit too beat up to be faked.

“Arthur, what are you?” I asked. Where anyone else would find it rude, I knew my bluntness would be either appreciated or ignored entirely.

“The Ghost of Classes Past.” He swept into a near-Shakespearen bow, gesturing at the bits and bobs that adorned him. “Humans protect, and we mourn those we could not to ensure they live on in memory.” The thump of the music did not change, but his costume gave it a sepulchral tone, like a dying heartbeat.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, the antlered fox bounced familiarly before looking at the Queen of the Dead. “You did a fantastic job on their costumes! They look amazing!” Her antlers were, of course, somehow illuminated from below, but damn me if I could figure out how.

Despite the fact that I knew damned well that Tyche wanted to erupt into laughter at the suggestion, she managed to, quite impressively, tamp it down to a savage smile of silver fangs and blood-red lips. Flapping a hand at myself, Conor, and Maverick, she gave her bell-like fake-laugh, fully in character. “Oh, I had nothing to do with this. Darling Sophia and her merry toys conceived it all on their own.  This is the first time I’ve even seen it, darling.” She turned to me, tipping her chin down in respect. “Well done, dearest sister.” Tyche was on peak display, with kohl lining her glowing grey eyes, a black bodysuit covering her from  collar to feet, fitted vest and cardigan vest, all partnered with a skirt that could be ten inches thick or ten miles of ribbon - who knew with all the darting and layers? Not me, but I was surely impressed with what looked like ten miles of black feathers flowing from her waist to her hips.

“Why, thank you, Your Majesty.” I swept my leg back in a daring curtsy, forcing Conor and Maverick to smother their laughter at Jokul and Ivan’s faces.

“Ma’am! Ma’am ma’am ma’am!” Charly demanded as she pulled me upright. “You blushed at the concept of kink night, and here I find you leading your men around by their hips!”

I tossed my hair and winked at Jokul. “They aren’t being led, they are saving me from myself.” To Charly’s credit, I did look one deep breath from embarrassment - a black dress with red trim, sliced from floor to ribs and collar to navel, over what appeared to be just fishnet stockings and cavalier boots. The only thing, visibly, retaining any sort of deceny was the corset sealing me in the dress. To go with it, I sported chunky, silver cuffs chained to both Maverick and Conor. Ducking in, I whispered, “I probably will have to be cut out of this bodysuit, no worries on me flashing anyone.”

“Ooooo… well played, madam, well played,” she cheered, twirling me around, forcing both men to pivot with me, laughing, before  giving me a very concerned look. “How fucking tall are those?” This was clearly directed at my heels, which she was staring at like a shark presented with a steak.

“Six,” I admitted. “But I did pointe ballet for a little while, so… This isn’t that bad.”

Maverick ducked into the center of the circle we formed. “They’re a full size too big to allow for swelling and she has the toe boxes lined with impact foam.”

“How the hell else am I supposed to wear these things?” I asked with a glare that had him standing ramrod straight and barely restraining a laugh.

Tyche, to her credit, patted my shoulder. “While sitting.  Or, if you have to stand, with a platform in the toe.”

“No shit,” I hissed, setting the mummified healer doubling over in laughter. “But I’ve done enough damage to my feet, thank you, so… there may be foot braces involved.” One of which was currently digging in just in front of my heel, which I made a mental note to pass on to the development team.

A thick, French accent set me shaking my head when it came from the very-not-French looking mummy. “Well played, Sophia.  The sling and calf brace design I saw recently get approved by medical?”

I groaned as I realized that of course this was Antoine. Life and Death, forever partnered. “Yesssss,” I hissed. “Grey created the design.” I unzipped one boot down far enough to roll it below my knee, exposing braces above and below the kneecap before running further down. “The weight is distributed throughout the leg, before terminating across the front and back of the arch of the foot, to even out the pressure.”

I could almost see numbers whirling beneath the six-foot-plus candy-pink bowler hat. “That… sounds like it might actually be comfortable,” Coffey intoned. I couldn’t help but grin at the tilt of his hat and the feather arching behind him.

“More comfy than actual heels, yes,” I admitted before deflecting attention as far from me as possible. Which, considering how much weight was normally put on the ball of the foot in heels like this, wasn’t a lie…. “But we aren’t here for this! We’re here for food!”

Cheers erupted, and we set off dragging each other to what bits we had discovered.  The theme of the night was firmly set around protein, grilled if possible, with wicks of smoke dancing through the flickering light along with the thump of the music.  Some were spicy, others unexpectedly sweet. As I laughed, and ate, and sweated, and danced, I could freely admit that there was exactly zero percent chance that I would have imagined this in my wildest dreams. And even better? I could enjoy every second, every smell, every beat of the music. I made a point to wink at each camera I could spot, to the point that, first Tyche, and then everyone else felt the need to comically push down my thumbs-up and cover my face.

Clearly, Parvati and Hannah, who I hadn’t seen all night, were monitoring what they would later discover to be a flying pass on their final exam. 

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[leftonraed]

The Night We Met - Episode 1

pairing : Taehyung x OC genre : bodyguard!au, singleparent!au, idol!au word count : 2.4k summary — Taehyung gets terrible news and finds himself in a delicate situation

Prologue | ep.1 | ep.2 | ep.3 | ep.4 | ep.5 | ep.6 | ep.7 

The past month has been a complete blur. If you asked Taehyung to narrate the course of events after the moment he had been in charge of his niece, he wouldn’t be able to, especially when that small time frame included the one event he thought he’d never attend this quickly in his lifetime —

Hwiin got a little startled after he answered the door. While gauging his mood after several weeks of silence, she couldn’t take her eyes off the sullen man who seemed absent.

He was dressed in a dark suit. His hair was fully covering his eyes and had been dyed black, she was just at that moment able to notice it’d never been that long before.

The small heels of his shoes echoed loudly inside as he shuffled towards the living-room.

The gloomy winter sky, visible through the wide windows, narrowed the penthouse and gave the impression they lived in a black and white movie.

The shades of grey clashed unpleasantly with the barely audible cartoons displayed on the wide flat screen where Hina was sitting in front of. She hardly glanced Hwiin’s way.

She removed her purse and coat and put them on the couch while Taehyung kissed and whispered words to his niece. He didn’t get any response either. He stood up and joined Hwiin.

“I didn’t know how to do this-” he trailed softly as her eyes followed his hands feebly unfolding a paper with her eyes. He cleared his throat constricted with sorrow, “I wrote a couple of things down. If I forgot anything, send a text.”

She took it from him and realised she hadn’t said anything yet. What were you supposed to say in this situation, she wondered. The man she thought she knew so well almost struck her as a stranger and left her struggling for the right words.

Hwiin carefully looked up at him and felt her heart hurting at his sight. She should’ve been there for him those past weeks. She became angry with herself the longer she stared at his forlorn expression.

“Taehyung...” She hugged him tightly, as her way to make it up to him. He remained still. He didn’t want Hina to see him break down and cry.

“Thank you,” he only managed to whisper before she took a step back.

She quietly watched him walk out and never before had she felt a greater need to be by his side. She didn’t do anything of this sort.

She walked around the couch to sit next to the little girl she had been requested to look after for the day and tried to empty her mind. All she wanted was for this day to end.

So did he.  

___________________________________________

He didn’t seem present during the entirety of the funeral.

His parents, he used to be so close to but had drawn away from after his debut as an idol, didn’t even manage to make him say anything. They didn’t bother him about it and respected his own way of mourning the family loss.

Taehyung could sense his brother’s in-laws itching to ask him about Hina but held themselves.

While he made other attendees think he looked elsewhere and “too expressionless” in their opinion, he’d actually been doing his best to keep it to himself. He couldn’t tell what helped him hide his emotions, it was so unlike him but he had held steady.

He was right behind his home’s door when he heard Hina’s cries before he even walked in.

Worry instantly frowned his face as he found Hwiin holding the little girl in her arms, soothing her.

“She’s been crying the whole time since she woke up from her nap,” she informed him with a hint of despair. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Hina looked at him and he felt his feet naturally pulling him towards her when her arms stretched outward in his direction.

He held her closely and she tightened him to herself, burying her face in his neck.

He would never know for sure but she sounded grief-stricken and gave him the impression that he was the only one left capable of assuaging her.

Taehyung felt his legs give in and knelt down.

He was finally giving in.

Tears, held deeply back within, coursed down in an unbroken stream to dampen her dress. His body hiccoughed his ache so violently, it seemed it wanted to retaliate for the strains he’d inflicted himself.

Hwiin watched silently with sorrowful eyes as the two of them sought comfort in each other. She caught herself wondering if his niece somehow understood she’d never see her parents again.

__________________________________________

Taehyung never questioned his brother’s wish to have him take care of his daughter if something were to happen. He isn’t living the ideal kind of life to raise a toddler and there are many to criticize him about it, his manager being the first of them, but having Hina feels surprisingly right.

He’s grateful to have her keeping his mind off things but she also reminds him unintentionally of her father and the other way around will inevitably happen.

He sometimes ponders the doubts he has as a caretaker, unpleasant thoughts that come flooding his mind every time he’d fail doing the right thing or get rejected by her; he gives a chance to others scenarios playing out different outcomes but they never satisfy him.

He seeks comfort in the reality that he needs a lot of time to get better at it and that there’s no reason to rush. It’ll give him enough to make his mind about the way he’ll have to address their reality one day.

One of his priorities is to make sure his home has everything his niece would need. This meant visiting his brother’s empty house. Hwiin had asked him if he’d need her but he preferred to be on his own and planned not to linger longer than necessary.

__________________________________________

“You didn’t tell me what you’re planning to do about the few shows left,” Hwiin suddenly initiates, locking her phone.

Taehyung sighs when Hina whines at his umpteenth attempts to keep her from drawing on the wall. Defeated, he stands up to show his manager out.

“Did you hear from Seojun?”

“Nope. I sent him a text a few days ago. He never answers my calls.”

“I can’t see myself going anywhere with her. And I’m definitely not bringing her with me.”

It’s Hwiin’s turn to sigh, although she does it out of light exasperation. “What about my babysitter idea?”

“Out of question.” She lifts her head at his sudden firm tone. “I don't want her to be around strangers.”

“What will you do if you don’t hear from him anymore? Taehyung, you can’t stay at home indefinitely.”

“If I have no choice-” He cuts off himself. “I’m sure everyone will understand.”

She pinches her lips and cranes her neck up to stare somewhere in the empty hallway, keeping her calm.

Leaning on the hand he’s holding the door with, Taehyung tilts his head to glance at her with a hint of amusement.

“I’ll call him myself.”

She looks back at him and blinks slowly, thankful. They say their goodbyes and he closes the door.

When he comes back, Hina’s still putting the finishing touches to her art and Taehyung ponders the thought of throwing the felt tips away once she’s done with them.

He plops himself down on the couch and takes his phone out of his pocket. He quickly finds his bodyguard’s number and makes a phone call. The line rings once.

“Taehyung!”

“H-hi,” he answers, surprised at the man’s quick answer. “It’s been a while. How are you?”

“I’m happy you called! I’m doing really good. What about you?”

“I’m okay- I think.”

“I know you’ve heard it when we last talked but I’m really, really sorry.”

“Thank you. I’m doing okay, ‘promise.”

Seojun doesn’t need to see him to doubt his words but gives him the benefit of the doubt. He tries to change the subject, “How’s the little one doing?”

“Good…” Taehyung’s gaze is directed at Hina's long hair. “I still didn’t get one word from her though.”

“Don’t worry about it, she’ll talk when she’s ready. You shouldn’t force these things.”

Taehyung hums in thought. “How did your break go? How’s everyone ?”

“Very good. Everyone’s doing great.”

“Glad to hear that!” Taehyung smiles a lazy grin and remembers the purpose of his call. “Seojun, I’m sorry I bring this a little abruptly but- when do you think you’ll be coming back? Hwiin told me she tried to contact you-”

“Ah yes,” he suddenly exclaims. “I actually wanted to talk to you directly.”

Amused, Taehyung’s brows furrow slightly. “Right.”

“I’ve never liked the way she looked down on people. But you do well to bring that up.”

He frowns a little more, anticipating.

“I… I don’t think I’ll be coming back anytime soon, Taehyung.” There’s a short pause. “I've been thinking about it lately and we’ve talked a lot with my wife… The fact is that- my family misses me and I miss them.”

Taehyung doesn’t know what to say immediately, “I’m sorry to hear that... But I understand.”

“Really? It’s just that- they’ve barely seen me the past six years and I thought maybe I needed to extend that break for a little longer while.” Seojun feels terrible now that he’s brought the news. As if the death of his brother wasn’t enough of a change.

“I totally do- I just- I don’t know what to do to keep working and look after my niece at the same time. I mean, th- there’s no one else I trust equally to look after her when I can’t.”

“I know and I’ve made sure you guys wouldn’t be left hanging.” He’s quick to reply, “I found someone to take over. Your agency’s already abreast of it. They’re okay to hire that person but they told me they wouldn’t make any decision until they get your last word.”

“Can you tell me more about him?”

“It’s actually a woman, she’s around your age. She’s attended the same security school I did and was the top of her class. I know her personally and was the one who offered to take the helm. I wouldn’t recommend anyone else to stand in for me.”

Taehyung would never doubt Seojun. They regard each other as family, so if Seojun trusted that woman enough to take charge of his responsibilities, he wouldn’t question him further.

“Okay.”

And it’s not like he could think of a better solution to tell Hwiin.

Seojun is relieved when he hears his answer, however he can feel he doesn’t seem totally convinced.

“I promise you, you won’t miss me once she starts.”

___________________________________________

“Hina,” complains Taehyung. “Why are you being so difficult? I thought you liked mashed carrots.”

He’s helpless and covered in what once has been her lunch. She’s on the verge of crying and shaking her legs, irritated. Her arm sways her small plate and Taehyung catches it before she makes an even bigger mess. She starts whining loudly.

“One second,” he mutters while cleaning her stained face before standing up to take her out of the high chair. She stops crying and leaves to watch cartoons still on T.V.

“I’ll go change. I’ll be in the bedroom,” he announces like he doesn’t know he’ll be ignored and leaves.

The doorbell rings a couple of minutes after, taking both Taehyung and Hina by surprise.

Seeing her uncle nowhere around, she stands up to totter toward the entrance holding onto her soft toy. Taehyung just got rid of his dirty clothes when he decides to come out only dressed in a pair of red boxers, remembering he’s expecting Hwiin to come by.

He finds Hina trying to reach for the handle, perched on her tippy-toes.

“Let me help you,” he smiles lightly at her when he looks down, seeing her small face after she craned her neck to the fullest. He taps in the security code and opens and she hurries to push it wide open.

“Hello.”

Hina walks to go behind him at the sight of a stranger. There’s a short silent while that lasts awfully long the second Taehyung understands he’s in his underwear and that he doesn’t recognize you.

“You’re not Hwiin,” he trails quietly.

You shake your head looking back at him very calmly.

From the corner of your eye, you notice his niece hiding behind his leg, peeking shyly at you. You squat at her level and blood rushes up Taehyung’s cheeks.

“You’re Hina, right?” You look at her. “This is for you.”

He pulls himself together. “You didn’t have to,” he chuckles abashed.

His niece stares at the toy piano you offer her. You press one key to make a sound and lit it up in hopes to get her pleased with it.

Taehyung can’t help but think a gift is the last thing she deserves after the tantrum she threw just minutes ago. “Say thank you, Hina.”

She carefully takes it from you and there’s a hint of a satisfied smile on your lips.

“Who’s Hwiin?” You gaze up at Taehyung.

Shit. You need to get up. He needs to put on some clothes, he thinks.

“My manager. Are you-”

“Y/N, your new bodyguard.” You straighten up with your hands behind you.

“Taehyung. Nice to meet you.” He feels Hina, pulling the hem of his boxers and swiftly takes her in his arms. She keeps an iron grip on the toy. “Uh- Please, come in.”

You step inside when he moves away and closes the door behind you. He stares at you as you take a look around, surprised you remain unaffected by his lack of clothing but still thinks it’s not the appropriate way he should have welcomed you in.

“I’m sorry about the mess, I didn’t know you’d come home so early.” He explains as he puts down Hina. “Make yourself at home. ‘Be right back.”

You watch him disappear without a word, his niece follows him while gazing curiously at you. You bring your eyes back on the splendid view the penthouse overlooks.

When Taehyung comes back, closely followed, you’re still standing nearby the window. He’s intrigued and curious as to what made you so special in Seojun’s eyes.

///////////////////////!\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Feedback very much appreciated  Reblog if you wish to read more

[viltrumitesuperboy]

Like Real People Do (Eleventh Doctor x Reader)

Gender neutral. Somewhat inspired by Like Real People Do by Hozier, aka immortal pagan god. The reader dies when they first meet the Doctor, and he seeks them out afterwards. Haha River Song who?

Word count: 2000 (I edited so it would be perfect, that’s right i’m a Writer™)

The Doctor stared at the psychic paper in his hands, the words "HELP, DOCTOR" and coordinates neatly displayed on it. Whoever left him this message had abilities, ones he didn't know about. He didn't like not knowing. So he navigated his TARDIS out of the time vortex to those coordinates and swung open the door to a blaring alarm with a few people panicking in front of him.

"Hello, I'm the Doctor! What seems to be the trouble?" he introduced himself cheerily.

"Doctor! Good, you're finally here. I would kiss you, but rules. Can't do that when we're in danger."

He turned to look at you, completely confused. You were dressed as if you were blending in with the ship's crew. You had clearly established yourself as the leader of the group because they looked at you like you would save them. It was the same way everyone desperately looked to him for answers in any of his life-threatening adventures.

"There is an attack on this ship, and every few minutes the other ship is firing at us. It's leaving holes and breaking the shields. There's not enough power to get them back up completely. I've only put them where they've broken the ship so that we don't lose oxygen. Like patching a hole in your pants but they just keep ripping somewhere else. Don't give me that confused look. Keep up."

"Sorry, ah... who are you?" he asked, following you as you led the group out of the area.

"Seriously? Time travellers. Forget that kissing thing. Anyway, no time to lose. We're going to try and communicate with the other ship because that's what you would do."

"Did you send the message on my paper?"

"Yes, of course. Like I said, keep up."

The other members of the group were questioning both the new person and the current leader of their group, and the Doctor went over a plan of what to say. You all moved forward into a narrow hallway, the Doctor following right behind you. Just then, a loud crack sounded as a shot landed right in front of you, and you cried out as the Doctor tried to grab your hand.

"No!" he shouted.

He wasn't close enough, and you were pulled out of the ship and into empty space against his will. He spotted a pad across the hallway and used his sonic screwdriver on it, bringing the shields back up where you had flown out. The hole was replaced by a dark film that covered the damaged area. It was a small blessing that he didn't have to see someone dying again.

"Who was that?" he demanded.

"We only just met-" began one of the group members.

"A name!"

"(Y/N) (L/N)," said a teenager standing in the back of the group.

"We can't mourn. Let's go."

As usual, the Doctor was able to fix the situation. He made a compromise with the other ship, led the ship with his TARDIS to the closest planet, and gave comfort to those who needed it most with his hundreds of years of wisdom. As he stepped back onto the TARDIS, he felt as though he had lost something. Well, he did. Another person's life. He searched for your name everywhere until he found you. A younger you. He didn't think you were human, but as you went about your every day life, you were blending in with the humans. You weren't wearing the clothing that blended you into the crew, and he liked your personal style. As usual, trouble came along and he was pulling you out of danger just in time.

"Hi, I'm the Doctor. Run!"

You followed him and didn't question him once. And when you followed him into the TARDIS after the threat was gone, you didn't ask about it. He knew you'd make one hell of a companion.

"Time Lord technology. Infinite space in an object," you mumbled, more to yourself.

"You... yes. And you're an empath with a telepathic field, according to the TARDIS's scans," the Doctor responded, and you nodded. "Lonely."

"One of the last of my kind. And so are you," you responded.

There was an understanding between the two of you that seemed to pass. You asked nothing about him, and he asked nothing of you. He didn't know much about your past, just the present you and what you were like. He decided you were one of the most beautiful mysteries in the universe. And for once, the Doctor didn't mind not knowing.

You traveled with him for a long time. He sometimes brought along his best friend Amy Pond and her boyfriend Rory. They became your friends as well. The Doctor would sometimes look at you with pain in his eyes, and Amy would notice. Whenever she asked what was wrong, he would instantly smile and brush it off. It was difficult for him to tell her that he was in love with a person who he already knew would die.

He taught you how to fly the TARDIS. Your smile that day seemed to brighten the room. It was either that or the ship felt the same way that he did about how wonderful your presence was. Your first idea was to bring him to a peaceful planet inhabited by only animals.

"I came here many years before I reached Earth. It's quiet and few know about it," you said.

You pulled him to a small hill to observe the field of flowers and small mammals running about in the grass. You sat down and plucked at the grass beside you.

"One of the few planets that hasn't been destroyed by another civilisation," the Doctor said.

"Oh, no, it does. In the future. Endings bring beginnings. I just liked coming here before that because I was around when other aliens started moving onto this planet. Good for us, you have a time machine, and we can come back here as many times as we want as long as our timelines aren't interfering."

He snorted and placed his hand on top of one of yours, moving it to his lap. He pressed his lips into your palm, and you gave him a small grin as he looked into your eyes. He didn't return it.

"I won't ask, but you always look so sad, Doctor. I wish I could help you."

"You look sad a lot of the time, too," the Doctor accused, "but I'm old. I'm allowed to be sad."

"I'm not as old as you, but I'm also not human. My lifespan could exceed yours and neither of us would know."

He smiled as you laughed, pressing his lips to your hand and keeping it there. Then he told you that he loved you for the first time. He giggled when you returned it, as he usually did when he was excited. There, on that field, he kissed you for the first time. And he realised what a curse it was to love someone dying.

You stayed with him even when he lost Amy and Rory. He let himself feel the pain of losing a companion for once and decided to retire. You joined him, of course. It seemed that he was experiencing many firsts with you around. You joined him as he found his Impossible Girl, who ended up becoming your Impossible Girl. This only became an issue when Clara stepped foot in the TARDIS after a few days of your own adventures, and you both shouted "Impossible Girl" at the same time. You coined her "our Impossible Girl" and the Doctor proceeded to be very mushy and soft with you, to which Clara pretended to gag and walked out of the blue box.

He never took you for granted, as you never did him. Every moment he could, he told you that you were the best thing to ever happen to him. Once in a while, when he was feeling particularly anxious after an adventure, he would face you and put his hands on your cheeks and give you a few words of love. You knew he was afraid of losing you, and you would return his worries with a squeeze of a hand or a kiss.

A day came when you told him you had some business. You entered some information into the TARDIS console and showed it to him.

"We've traveled a lot and I promised some of the people we've met some things. You can just drop me off, pick me back up when I call you," you said.

When he went quiet for a moment after checking the monitor, you started to step towards him. He looked back up to you with a grin on his face and ran around the console, slamming buttons, pulling levers, and sliding around on his boots.

"You need shoes with better traction. I love you, and I'll call you in a bit, okay?"

"(Y/N). My (Y/N)," the Doctor said, his hands now holding the sides of your neck in a gentle caress. "The best thing that has ever happened to me in all the universes. You are the best companion any Time Lord could want, and the best lover any being could ask for. I love you with your strengths and your flaws. I love you more than I could ever imagine. You finish that business, and you do it well."

"Hm. This is hardly the longest I've left you. We had a whole Earth month when I had to be there for a bit. I love you."

"I love you," he whispered back.

He pulled you into an embrace, which you returned automatically. He kissed you and you chuckled, taking the steps out of the TARDIS that would mark your final exit. This was a walk towards your death.

You, with your intelligence. You, with your empathy, no matter how well you showed it. You, with your timer ticking down. You, with both the Doctor's hearts. You, taking the Doctor's love with you.

It would only be a few days for you now, he knew. He put the TARDIS into the time vortex. The love of his life, gone within minutes upon meeting him and dying while trying to save other people. It was a death worthy of a companion and worthy to be his own. He remembered the room you shared. Bunk beds. You hated him for it.

"Doctor, we've been together for hundreds of years! Can you please, for the love of all the universe, tell the TARDIS to change it?"

"You're the empath. You talk to her."

"You're my lover, and she's your ship! Fix it!"

A bit of fiddling with the console redesigned the room. No bunk bed. Of course, you never really minded that much. You knew how much he enjoyed the human invention of a bed with a ladder. He could only laugh sadly, but it was much too early for him to be shedding tears. Perhaps he never would. He hurt and loved all at the same time. He knew the risks he took when he found you all those years ago, and he took them anyway. He never could resist a mystery, and you were his favourite one. He set his course for the first peaceful planet you brought him to, just one last time.

He pulled out the psychic paper. You began and ended your journey with him in just minutes, and began it again when he went back for you all because of the paper. His brows furrowed when he noticed that it wasn't blank like it should have been.

"HELP, DOCTOR"

Coordinates. Just a fraction of a number's difference compared to the first time he saw the same message. An empath with a telepathic field.

This was your call.

"Oh, you're brilliant. You are amazing."

He changed his course, the last lever pulled with the one word that he always used in a time of need.

"Geronimo!"

[marshmallow-phd]

Heart of Thorns

Genre: Beauty and the Beast!AU, Romace, Angst

Paring: Tao x Reader

Inspired by: These moodboards created by @xui-n-soowillbethedeathofme (x) (x) and my absolute obsession with Beauty and the Beast

Summary: Lost in a forest during a storm, you find shelter in a crumbling castle that had been hidden away for years. The master of the house shut himself away, refusing to engage with the world. Too intrigued and running away from your own fears, you refuse to leave no matter how much he tells you to, wanting to try and find the heart within the beast.

Part One I Part Two I Part Three

**

Everyone knew the story of the man in the forest mansion. He’d once been the son of a prominent and just lord. The people of the land praised the lord’s name as he was always fair and practiced justice amongst all his subjects. It was a month of mourning when he passed away from sickness, but there were high hopes for his son to carry on his legacy. And at first, all was well.

But something happened that changed his heart.

A woman appeared; beautiful, alluring, and sweet. She captured his heart and they say he adored her, showering her in gifts of gold, jewels, and fine cloth. No one knows what happened for sure, only that the lord’s son went mad. There was a fire and the woman died. Most say that he started it with the intent of killing her.  

Soon after, the son turned out all the servants and secluded himself from the rest of the world. Whispers popped up that the woman he killed was a fairy or a nymph and for killing her he was cursed. Some say that he was now a beast, sporting fangs and claws where his human teeth and fingers once were. Others say he was now a creature of the night and stalked the forest when the moon is high for wandering prey.

No had seen the son or the castle where he supposedly lived in years. The excuse that the grandmothers gave was that the forest had grown too thick from the trees and vines for the castle to be found. Since the son had turned out all the servants and land workers after the fire and there was no one to keep the paths clear.

You didn’t believe a word of it. A man with fangs and claws hiding up in a castle to terrorize anyone who came too close was utter nonsense; a fairytale to scare the children and keep them within the town walls. Even if there were such a man, you hardly considered the possibility that he was cursed.

“It's only because you moved here a few months ago,” Mrs. Mooney crooned. As the wife of the town butcher, she was privy to all the gossip that passed by the family shop. She often stood outside, keeping the stall for the smaller scraps or animals they hadn’t managed to sell to the more prestigious customers. “But we older folk remember the little boy who used to run around here while his father conducted business. Spoiled little thing. Always had a pretty pony and the finest clothes. Stuck his nose up at playing with the other children just because they had dirt on their sleeves. Serves him right, what he got.”

“You don’t know what he deserved and what he didn’t,” another graying woman chimed in haughtily. Her dress, though still rough like a peasant’s, was much nicer than the other villagers. Silver curls spilled out from under a white bonnet. Her hands looked coarse from hard labor and her skin kissed for years under the sun. Crinkles stayed permanently in the corners of her eyes, letting you know that she did smile on occasion. You’d never seen her before when you came to the market, but Mrs. Mooney seemed to know her well.

“You would know better than anyone, Feifei,” Mrs. Mooney sneered.

Though now you were intrigued, Mrs. Mooney did not elaborate how the other woman would know anything about this make-believe man.

“That tongue will get you into trouble someday, Johanna.” Adjusting the basket hanging from the crook of her arm, the old woman spared no glance at the meat as she walked away.

Mrs. Mooney clicked her tongue. With a shake of her head, she turned back to you. “So, milady, do plan on any wares today?”

“No, my father already sent Claudette earlier this week,” you said. The smell of the meat was starting to get to you, but you tried your best to keep it off your face. “I simply came down to escape the confinements of home.”

A huff pushed past her lips. “Oh, yes. I’m sure that large stone house must be suffocating.”

Though lashing out would have been easy, you bit your tongue. This butcher’s wife didn’t know your history. She didn’t know that compared to your previous home in the city, this new place was a shack.

It was your mother’s inheritance that kept you, your siblings, and your father afloat. The home, bought long ago by your grandfather who was now passed, was a honeymoon paradise for your parents. After your mother died giving birth to you, the house was locked up to be a refuge only to spiders and rodents since your father couldn’t bear visiting the place alone. He’d poured himself into his work, curating business as he brought investors and merchants together. When a major client lost his ships at sea, one of his managers took off with most of the assets and funds, leaving debts and loans in their place. To pay off the leeches, most of your possessions had to be auctioned off and the home that had sheltered you since childhood was sold to a new family.

Life away from the bustling city wasn’t too awful. You didn’t have to worry about being run over by a carriage since most of the residents here couldn’t afford one. Everyone seemed to know everyone, which was both intriguing to you while also a little bothersome. At first your family, being new, was the center of all the gossip. Rumors of your father or brother gambling the fortune away or you and your sister having scandalized the family and caused you all to hide away ran rampant. Eventually, the mill settled down and you were left in peace. Some of the villagers still gave side eyed glances, but you’d learned to brush them off.

Thinking it was time to head back home, you said goodbye to the butcher’s wife and followed the brown dirt street beyond the wall that surrounded the town until the scenery turned to fields of wildflowers and small farms. You took a right at the fork, already seeing the two-story country home come into view. The tan brick was a bit faded from the sun and thick vines grew up the sides and around the windows. A small garden grew out in front. There was a fairytale essence to the home that made you love it more. In the back, Claudette would be hanging the laundry to dry in the subtle breeze. Father was most likely in his study, shuffling through papers and letters to find a way out of this place. Cosette was probably lying on the old couch in the front parlor, constantly fanning herself as she whined of the woes she was forced to live through. Your brother, Lu, would be sitting on a log, writing in his journal when he was supposed to be chopping wood.

Cosette was right where you had guessed she was. As soon as you walked through the door, she jumped up and hurried to you with her skirt crumbled in her hand.

“Where have you been?” she screeched, her dark hair pulled back into an intricately braided bun. You tried not to be annoyed. She must have had Claudette do her hair when both of them were supposed to be helping with the washing. “Father has news that he’s been dying to share with us, but he refused to divulge what it is until you were here.”

You rolled your eyes at your sister’s impatience. “Surely, you must have known I would have been home eventually.”

She “hmphed” at you before whirling dramatically and stomping off towards your father’s study. You followed her slowly, your stomach swishing with nerves.

Truth be told, you didn’t mind it out here. The country was a great deal quieter than the city, the air cleaner too. The greatest unexpected gift, however, was how often you saw your dear father. As a child, you had to savor every dinner, every private concert in your living room, and the short moments you were able to spend with him in between his travels or meetings. Claudette never carried as she was more invested in the connections she was making with the other well-to-do families and Lu was often tagging along with your father as the eldest and heir apparent. Now the four of you felt more like a family. If you were, by some miracle or fashion, to go back to the city, routine would fall back into its previous structure and you would be alone again.

Lu surprised you by already being in the room when you entered, seated in a corner with a hardened look on his face. It was strangely out of place given his boyish looks often kept his expression soft. Your father looked up from the papers that were neatly piled up on the desk. “Aw, (y/n)! You’re back from town. Did you have a nice walk?”

“Yes, I did,” you aswered cautiously. “The market was full today.” Your eyes flicked towards Cosette, who had taken the only other chair, continuing to fan herself even though the temperature wasn’t anywhere near that drastic. “I heard you wanted to see us all together?”

“Yes! Yes! Um.” Your father looked around, perhaps to see if there was another place for you to sit. As there was none, he went on. “I received a letter from Lu’s old friend, Lin Gao.” Lu perked up at the mention of Gao. None of you had seen him since you came here, thinking that he, like the others, had abandoned you all when the money was lost. Now, that didn’t seem to be the case. “He has worked with several connections and can bring us back into good standing with society. He’s even convinced a few merchants and investors to allow me to broker deals again.” Your father cleared his throat. “There is, however, one condition.”

“What is that, Father?” Lu asked.

“He asked for (y/n)’s hand in marriage.”

The quietest gasp escaped your lips. Gao wanted… to marry you?

As the baby sister, you tended to follow your brother and his friends around, begging for attention and often they obliged you, as long as the setting was appropriate for a child. All of his friends had treated you as their own sister, equally protecting and caring. You’d never suspected them to have thoughts that led into the contrary as you’d grown up.

Lu’s eyes landed on you for a split second, studying your face enough. “Did he say (y/n) specifically?”

“Yes, why (y/n)?” Cosette scoffed. “I would be more than willing.”

“He specifically asked for (y/n)’s hand.”

Cosette closed her fan with a snap. “Well, then. Arrange the wedding so we can get out of this dumpy town.”

But wait. Did you not get a say in this?

Your father leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “The help from Gao would be tremendous. But I will not force anything on to any of you. (Y/n),” he looked at you with conflict in his eyes, “if you do not wish to marry Gao, I will send him a letter politely declining the offer. I can find other means on my own.”

He was giving you a way out, if you so wished. But you couldn’t deny the help this would bring for all of you.

“Can I think about it?” you asked in a quiet voice.

“Yes, of course.”

“What do you mean, think about it?” Cosette nearly flew out of her seat. “What is there to think about? If we are to get our fortune back, then (y/n) must marry him. I would in a heartbeat if he had asked for me.”

“But he didn’t ask for you,” Lu said.

Your father insisted. “Let your sister think about it. To force this upon her would break my heart. I will not have her live unhappily.”

“And what about me! Why should I live unhappily?”

“Enough!” Your father stood to his feet and he slammed his fist down on the desk. You flinched at the noise the collision created. Rare was it for your father to get upset like this. He was usually very levelheaded. “I am still head of this household and you will accept my decision. Now, go!”

With a stomp of her foot, Cosette stormed out of the room like a spoiled child told that she couldn't have a piece of candy. Eyes trained down on the floor, you quietly excused yourself and went upstairs to your room.

Your favorite place in the house was your room, the smallest besides Claudine’s on the first floor. But the trade for it was the reading crook by the window, overlooking the garden. You liked the isolation you could feel when you sat on the bench, knees pulled up close to your chest as your skirts fell over the side. The window was cold as you laid your forehead against the glass. A breeze was moving through, swaying the leaves in the trees and rattling the vines against the stone walls of the house.

What would living with Gao be like? You had never thought of your brother’s friend in a romantic light. Would there be any romance between the two of you? Or would you be condemned to a loveless marriage like so many other girls? Could you live like that?

You had no answers at the moment. You weren’t sure if you would ever have an answer. But a compromise was coming to the forefront of your mind. You didn’t have to say yes right away. Maybe you could meet with Gao, get to know him more, in a different way that how you knew him before. And, if you decided that he was not the kind of man you wanted to spend your life with, if there was no possibility of love between the two of you, perhaps you could convince him to help your father anyway, for sake of his friendship with Lu.

You pictured Gao’s face in your mind, willing yourself to love it. But all that did was churn your stomach.

**

Your father had sent the letter asking if a visit to the city would be possible for you. Gao’s reply came back quicker than expected: yes. He made all the arrangements; he hired the carriage, sent money so you could rest in an inn for a night before arriving in town the next day. Barely a week had gone by since you were first told of this offer and now you were traveling by yourself for the first time in your life.

Cloak wrapped tightly over your shoulders, you kissed your father goodbye on the cheek. Tears were swelling behind your eyes, but you refused to let him see them.

“Be on your best behavior,” he teased. You were the last out of the three to get into trouble. “Write to me as soon as you arrive. Alright?”

“Of course,” you smiled.

Lu patted your shoulder. When you were a child, he showed you affection freely, but now that you were grown, he’d become a bit awkward when other people were watching. Cosette didn’t say a word. She simply fanned herself at a quick rate as smirk rested on her lips. All she carried about was getting back to high society, to the parties and the searching for a husband who possessed a fortune large enough to keep her satisfied.

Your father glanced up at the sky. “Better go now, my dear. The clouds are growing darker. I want you at that inn before the storm comes through.”

“The only way to do that is to go through the forest,” the driver commented from atop the carriage.

Your father seemed unnerved by that observation but gave no protest. “I will wait to hear from you.”

You gave one last kiss to his stubbled cheek. “Goodbye, father. Take care of him, Lu. Will you?”

“Naturally,” Lu said with a chuckle.

You merely nodded to Cosette before stepping into the carriage. The cabby lurched forward and you allowed the small smile that had been straining on your lips to fall away. Anxiety settled in your stomach. You wanted to have a positive outlook on this whole thing. It was better to possibly marry a friend of the family rather than a complete stranger twenty years your senior.

Unclasping the hook that held your cloak together, you let the soft fabric fall behind you on the seat. The literal weight off your shoulders helped you to breathe easier. You closed your eyes and leaned back. There was still a long journey until you would arrive back in a city that you hadn’t seen in months, although it felt more like years. That was another life to you, a past self. One you had been okay with letting go. And now you were uneasily walking back into its arms.

The ground shook, rattling the walls of the carriage. You pushed the curtain out of the way and peaked out the window. Flashes of lightning so bright that not even the thick trees of the forest could keep them back splintered across the sky. The storm had come quicker than anticipated. Raindrops splattered against the dirt floor, starting out slow then growing in pace. Soon it was impossible to see more than five steps in front of you.

The wind grew untamable. The carriage rocked from side to side, the thin wheels ricketing against the strain. A bolt of lightning screamed too close for comfort. The horse reared back in fright as the carriage passed by a ravine. It was all too much. The carriage toppled over, falling down the side of the ravine. You were tossed around the cabby like a rock between a group of children. When the falling finally stopped, you let out a cry of relief. A second cry left your lips, this time for the driver. But no reply came.

The carriage had landed on its side, but thankfully, it had another door to escape through. You clasped the cloak around your shoulders once more and pulled up the hood before pushing the door open and climbing out.

You were soaked as soon as you stepped out of the carriage. The driver was gone. You didn’t know if he was dead or if he had ran away. The horse, the poor thing, didn’t move or whine. Water was slowly rising in the creek from the rushing rain. You had to get out of here. With what little strength you had, you managed to climb back up the side of the hill. A chill froze your fingers and chattered your teeth. You walked in the opposite way that you thought the carriage was heading. Getting back to your home was your only hope. You had never been in these woods and the sky was too dark to tell directions from the sun. The rain was pouring down harder. Each step you took grew weaker. An unseen tree root stuck out of the ground, catching your foot. Shock ran up your arms as you tried to catch yourself when you fell. You couldn’t go anymore. You were too cold, too tired. So you lied there in the mud, wishing for a miracle. The rain soon came to a stop, but you were still too exhausted to push yourself up. Your eyes grew tired. Finally, the lids closed. The sound of horse hooves against the mud grew near, but you couldn't be sure if it was real or simply your imagination clinging to hope.

“We can’t just leave her here, Xao.”

“But what would the master think if we showed up with her?”

“So, you would leave her to die?”

“No, of course not!”

“Then we take her with us! The castle is big enough that he would never even have to know.”

“I guess you’re right.”

Someone lifted you up from the ground, but before you could discover who it was, you lost consciousness completely.

**

You weren’t sure what woke you up. It could have been the splitting headache that pounded at your skull. Or it could have been the shouting coming from the other side of the door.

“Get her OUT of here!”

“My lord, please, see reason. The poor child was dying in that storm.”

“I don’t care. She’s alive now, so get her out!”

“But she’s still sick. The poor thing has a fever. She’s been sweating all night.”

“I do not want her here. No one is to come here, you know that!”

“Let me take care of her. Once she’s on her feet again, I’ll take her back into town.”

“Fine!”

Heavy foot stomps echoed off the floor. One side of the double doors opened and inside stepped the old woman from the market.

You?

“You’re awake,” she sighed. “I can only imagine what had woken you up.” In her hands was a silver tray of different morsels and a tea kettle slowly letting out a flow of steam. Seeing you struggle to sit up, she hurried to set the tray down on the nightstand and help you. “Don’t overexert yourself, miss. You’re not fully recovered from that awful storm yet. You’ve been asleep for two days now.”

Two days! Your father must have been losing his mind when he never received word that you had arrived in town. A coughing fit of your own started up. The old woman gave you a glass of water to calm your throat before adjusting the pillows behind your head. You took in the bedroom that you were housed in. The light gray drapes that hung from the bedposts were old and a little faded but still made from an expensive velvet fabric. The blanket that covered you was soft and warm and smelled of lavender. Cosette would squeal at the size of this place. It was even bigger than her room at the old house in the city.

“Where am I?”

The old woman’s hands stopped before she could pull out the warming pan from the foot of the bed. “You're at the lord’s estate.”

You frowned. “What lord?” As far as you were aware, the closet lord was at least several days ride from town. And you doubted he would have allowed a room to go untouched like this one obviously was.

Sadness fell upon the old woman’s face. “He’s a good man. A good man with a tragic past.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, the old woman folded her hands and laid them in her lap. “Do you remember the story Mrs. Mooney was telling you at the market?” You nodded. “This is his home.”

“He… exists?”

“Yes. Though the awful rumors….” She shook her head. “Anyway, yes. But his lordship isn’t accustomed to visitors. I apologize for what you might have heard.”

Perhaps it was the fever, but your curiosity was now out of your control. “Why doesn’t he want anyone here?”

The old woman stood up. “Never you mind. We’ll get you back on your feet and then Mr. Chan will take you back into town.” She poured a fresh cup of tea, handing it to you carefully.

“Do I have to go back to town?”

“We don’t really have a choice, dear. You heard the master.” She eyed you as you sipped on the warm, caramel colored tea. “What is it? Why don’t you want to go back to town?”

You finished off the tea before explaining. “My family wants me to get married, to help the financial situation. At first, I thought I was willing to at least try, to see that man again and find out if I could love him. But… now I’m grateful for the storm.”

“If you don’t wish to marry him, why not say so?”

“Because if my father never restores his reputation and our family falls further into ruin, it will be all my fault.”

The old woman shook her head. “You poor thing. That’s too much weight to bear.” She let out a long sigh. “Try to eat and then get more rest. Your eyes look heavy. We’ll see if we can’t delay your being cured by a few more days.” She headed for the door. After opening on side, she halfway turned back around. “I’m Mrs. Chan, by the way. If you need anything, pull on the cord by the bed. I’ll hear the bell and come to you. Now, rest.”

As soon as the door closed and you were alone again, you felt the weight of your lids growing. Reaching over to the tray, you tore off a piece of the bun and chewed on it slowly. Eventually, you nodded off into a dreamless sleep.

**

Over the next several days, you passed between peaceful sleeps and uncomfortable awareness. Your fever broke on day two, but you still felt weak. Mrs. Chan checked up on you often, keeping you well fed and making sure there was a fresh pitcher of water or tea for you to drink. When you stopped sleeping as much, she brought you a book to occupy your time. But you read through the comedic romance quickly. A tingling was coursing up and down your legs. They needed to move, to be used. You’d been lying in bed for so long you weren’t sure if they even worked properly anymore.

Earlier, Mrs. Chan had stopped by to say she was going into town to pick a few things up at the market. Mr. Chan was to be out on the grounds so if you needed anything it would have to wait for her return.

Curiosity was a dangerous thing. On one hand, you could find nothing of interest in this ancient castle. On the other hand, you could find yourself in the absolute wrong place and have yourself thrown out into the cold before Mrs. Chan could come back and rescue you.

Silly. All of it was. A little walk wouldn’t do any harm. You would make sure to stay near your room and if you heard footsteps, you would run back here in an instant.

With your feet bare and the nightgown Mrs. Chan had given you made of a thinner material, you were a bit cold as you left the comfort of the blankets. But you pushed forth with your curiosity. This grand room was all you had seen of your haven. You wanted to know more about the home of the lord whose memory haunted the village. You stuck your head out first, looking down the hall from either side. It was empty save for the polished suits of armor that lined the sides, sitting between old portraits previous tenants. As quietly as you could, you closed the bedroom door behind you and softly stepped further into the hall. Through the long space you made your way, glancing at every painting as you passed. Some had chipped paint while others’ frames had dulled over the years, but each one was still magnificent, the subject stunningly beautiful in their own unique ways. You weren’t sure if it was the magic of the artist or if the family was truly blessed in that manner.

Every so often you would peer into a room when the door was unlocked. Most of them were bedrooms or small studies. By the collection of dust gathered on most of the furniture, they hadn’t been used in quiet a while. Soon, the hall took a turn, spilling out into the Grand Hall where the other hallways met. You started to go right when a set of double doors down a shorter hallway in the other direction caught your eye. They were bigger than any of the other doors you had seen so far. You hurried to that one instead, intrigued by what might be behind it. Barely able to get it open with your weak arms, you squeezed through the space and stumbled inside. Then you gasped.

When Mrs. Chan had described the library to you, she had said that the family had a fair collection of books. You might have to clarify with her what a “fair amount” really meant.

The library was housed in the back most tower, the shelves built into the walls and going higher than your eyes could see. Ladders made of wood and metal were attached to the spaces between the shelves. They moved freely from side to side to put any book within reach. As a child, you thought your father had the biggest collection of books by any one person in the world. How silly you were. This place could hold twenty of your father’s old library. You whirled around and around, taking in every detail. It was like a fairy tale.

You stepped closer to the wall and ran your hand over the leather bindings. It had been so long since you’d been able to take in the smell of old books. You had only been able to save two of your favorite novels from the auction. They were currently hidden under your bed. If Cosette ever got a whiff of them, she’d sell them to pay for a new dress. As you made your way around the library, you spotted another door, one that nearly blended in with the shelves. Feeling brave from your latest discovery, you tried the handle. It turned with ease. You pulled the door towards you. Sunlight spilled into the library. The secondary room was mostly empty – save for one object. A piano.

Bang!

The door shut in your face, startling you backwards. You stumbled into something hard. Turning to see what it was, you gasped in fright

A tall, dark hair man with the left half of his face covered in a white mask glared at you.

“What are you doing in here!” he shouted, face glowing red with fury.

“I-I-I’m sor-sorry,” you stutter as you scurried back. The door to the room stopped you from going any further. You were trapped with no way to escape. “I didn’t mean to-”

“You were supposed to say in your room,” he continued to bellow, not concerned at all with your fear. “Stay away from this room! Go!”

That last command was enough to send you running, passing the man and leaving the library. You hurried to the Great Hall, to get back to your room as quickly as possible. Looking back over your shoulder, you checked to see if he was coming after you. The hallway was empty behind you. Once safely back in your room, you scurried under your covers as if they would protect you from the masked man.

**

Mrs. Chan gave no indication that she was aware of your little adventure. If the masked man – the lord of this castle, you presumed – had told her, surely you would have been thrown out by now. She did, however, seem upset about something.

“Is everything alright?” you asked before she could leave the room with your empty food tray.

“Oh, it’s nothing I want to trouble you with, dear,” Mrs. Chan said.

You smiled at her. “I’ve been told I’m a very good listener.”

A second went by and then Mrs. Chan sighed. “It’s just the master. He wasn’t been sleeping well. He’s been wondering through the west wing lately and I’m worried about him.”

The west wing? That was where you were headed before the library stole your attention. “What’s in the west wing?”

“Nothing of importance,” Mrs. Chan snapped. It was a harsher tone that you were used to. You lowered your gaze remorsefully. “Oh, dear. I’ve upset you. Don’t worry about and try to get more rest. You need color back in your cheeks.” She left the room, blowing out the lamp before shutting the door and leaving you in darkness.

You woke a few hours later to a loud bang. At first you thought of ignoring it. Then the thought of something happening to Mrs. Chan came into your mind.

Throwing a blanket around your shoulders, you carefully relit the lamp and stepped out into the hallway.

“Hello?” you called out softly. Another bang answered you. It was faint, not coming from this hallway. You followed it, occasionally calling out again. No human ever replied.

You passed through the Great Hall and into the west wing. You should learned, really, from your earlier excursion. But the thought of someone being trouble refused to let you turn back. Now that you were closer to the source, a soft moaning could be heard among the silence. You pressed your ear from door to door, trying to see if it was coming from behind one of them. It was the door on the very end that held back the sound. With enough moonlight coming from the wide window at the end of the hall to see by, you put the oil lamp down on the floor out of the way and went inside.

Even in the darkness, you could see the smoke and soot stained walls. The remnants of a bed stood in the middle of the wood. Hanging behind it was a portrait of a beautiful woman with golden hair and rich brown eyes that stuck out even with half of the painting burned and curled.  

“What are you doing in here!”

You gasped as the lord of the castle stepped out of the shadows. His mask was gone, but he kept the left side of his face covered with his hand. In his other hand was a small torch. With its light you could see the scars on the back of his hand, the tight and lifted skin usually caused by fire. You said nothing, too stunned to find words.

Dropping his left hand, he reached out and grabbed you by the wrist. The scars on his face were now partially visible, but still mostly hidden in shadow and by the locks of hair that had fallen. From what you could see, they matched the scars visible on his hand. “I asked you why you are here!”

“I’m sorry!” Your voice came out in squeaks, fear running you cold despite the proximity of the flame. “I heard noises. I thought someone might be in trouble.”

He sneered at your answer. “If you’re well enough to walk around then GET. OUT!” He practically threw you out of the room.

You landed on your knees but didn’t stay there for long. You scrambled up to your feet and took off down the hall, leaving the oil lamp behind. The nightgown caught on your foot in your haste as you passed the staircase. You went tumbling down the marble stairs, a scream piercing your throat. You couldn’t stop no matter how you tried. When the bottom of the staircase finally came, you were out cold.

[albino-whumpee]

An old thing 3

First Continued from here

Look, I´m embarrassed of how I came up with something as fucked up as this. I´m very sorry to the people who read the first version of this and I do hope you´re doing ok. It´s never my intention or objective to make anyone feel wrong with the things I do. There´s a reason my art style is soft.  So I send anyone who felt uncomfortable about this, an apology.  However, I wanna believe I can share this under the “No matter how rough and dark, stories need to be told” And well. I failed to process not ALL parts of the story need to be told. So here´s the censored version of it.

CW// public humilliation, Degrading language, Non Con, Dub Con, NS*W at times, dehumanization, past CSA mentioned and threatened/implied, grooming, electrocution, along, slavery, human trafficking, forced breeding, blood, whump of minors, attempted murder, manhandling, muzzles, creepy and explosive whumpers, physical and emotional abuse.

Everything will be tagged and if there´s tags to be added, tell me please.

Five months later, Layo didnt wanna touch Roahn as he was disgusted to touch pregnant women. Roahn had a big bump already. A medic had come over and had done analysis to her. Apparently she was expecting twins. Two boys. Shy was handcuffed in the other side of the cell, but he couldnt decide to be happy or horrified. His master, Dánae, looked beyond pleased.

“What if we keep one? We can educate him as if he was ours. But we gotta make sure he knows his place. And maybe when he’s older we could use him”

Layo looked delighted by her plan.

“What about the other?” He had asked her.

Danae reflected, looking at no point in particular and then said with a stone cold face “we will sell him just after he doesn’t need his mother’s milk anymore”

Listening to that conversation were the medic and the two slaves. Roahn started sobbing. Quietly almost unheard.

And Shy jerked on his restraints. He had a muzzle on, restricting his talking. But his eyes showed rage.

“What? The doggy feels sad for being separated from his pup? Dont make me laugh, Shy” Layo grinned “ahh, well its just ironic for you right?” He started, Shy picking up, jerked aggressively. His muscles getting tense. “Your twin brother… I had my eyes on you for quite a while. Its a shame you were split” Layo sighed Shy stood up pulling on his restraints. Danae was amused by his reaction. Shy was, well, shy. He never showed that aggressive part of himself. And certainly, Roahn was the most amused of them.

“What were you called at the club? The two stars? Oh! The twin stars! always with your star painted on your cheek. you looked adorable. You were like 12?”

Shy stopped revolving. The stage name having an impact on him.

“Quite the performance between you two and other people” Layo laughed “Then you were sold. Alone. To that old man, what was his name? He raped you often didnt he? Before dying he told me you would scream your brothers name: Ivan.”

Shy was silent again. His legs shaking.

“Ivan and Dimitri. The twin stars. Lovely names for just two slaves born from another slave and sold to do exactly the same…” Layo paused dramatically, eyes on him. “You went full circle didnt you, Dimitri?”.

Shy/Dimitri had lost it. If there was one thing that pushed all his buttons was his past. He pulled on his chains, so much he shattered them.

Layo and Danae were just a feet away from the cell. So before the man could even react Dimitri had already grabbed his white hair.

Danae screamed and went to help his husband but he was faster and slammed his head in the floor. Danae took out a teaser and pinched Shy, who brutally convulsed on the ground.

“SHY!” Roahn yelled in her chair as the doctor held her down. Trying to convince her it was too dangerous. She looked at the man’s face as he shook his head in a no. “Ill take care of this lady” the doctor told her. She was surprised by his kindness.

The man went to stop Danae from shocking his slave any longer.

“Please miss Dourson! Stop it! Miss Dourson you’re going to kill him!” The man said grabbing her.

“Shut up!” She shoved him away, the teaser flying off her hands.

“My love…” Layo said with his bloody nose “stop it”

Danae pulled him to her not minding the blood on her dress. “Dear! He was trying to kill you!”

“Yes…he was…” Layo said putting his head backwards. When the bleeding stopped he added “I loved his face” the man spat “rage…Ah~ what an adorable expression from the pup” Danae wanted to make some sense enter his head but was stopped before that “Ill teach him a lesson Dánae, leave it to me” he said in a smirk.

-

Later that night Roahn was on their mat, stressed out about Shy. He had been taken by two men. Unconscious and limp. Her pleas fell in deaf ears.

She massaged her bump, trying to sooth her anxiety.

The door slammed and Shy walked in with bruises on his face and shackled. He was with Layo who didnt have the decency to cover his dick.

He threw him to the ground, Shy barely having time to put his hands in front.

Layo kicked him in the back making him fall for good. He sat above him and grabbed him by the collar choking him a bit.

“Never forget you’re mine, Shy. If you want to live of course” he said letting his head hit the ground. He stood up grabbing him by the arm and threw him back to the cell.

“Dont you dare try to take off the shackles woman. Or you will have his corpse instead”

The man said going away.

Roahn looked at his body, and understood what had happened in those hours.

“Sh- Dimitri…?” Roahn held his face. He gave her a sad look. Roahn felt the cold metal of the shackles on her abdomen when she hugged him.

“Im sorry baby. Im sorry. Im so glad you’re back” she cried.

“C’mere” he said, Roahn stopped and Shy passed his linked arms to her back into a hug. “Dont cry, Roahn. Im ok” he said. His bruises were purple and enormous.

“We need to run away. We need to…”

“Yes we do. But we gotta wait. Can you wait?” He told her.

She doubted.

She didn’t want to wait.

But she said yes.

-

The twins were born. One after three minutes. Three minutes where Danae took the newborn on her arms.

Shy allowed it but in his heart he wanted to kill her.

The second baby was put into his arms. He saw him and started crying. He showed him to Roahn. And told her,

“For them. Soon”

—

Destiny works in mysterious ways.

Their plan was to escape the week before Cal was put up for sale. Taking Kit and running away through the basements windows.

However the night was going down smoothly when suddenly, at the garden just beside the basement, one of the guards of the auction place beat Dimitri up and dragged them back with the baby twins on his coworkers arms.

Roahn was beaten up this time too.

When she woke up, Kit was with Danae screaming and crying loudly, as Dimitri was receiving a CPR. He came back to life but the medic guarded him for two months.

During this time, Cal was sold.

Layo told her how much.

50,000 euros.

That was how much their baby was worth.

During those nights, Roahn mourned her son. She wasnt allowed to see Kit. Or Dimitri.

She was alone. And she was desperate.

When Dimitri healed and a few scars were added to his face, he came back to her. And they hugged for their children had been stripped away from them.

But he promised this wouldn’t happen again. This time they would think it through.

And they would be free.

[breanime]

Helpess (Part Eight)

This part’s a wee bit shorter (maybe 800-1000 words shorter) than the others have been, but I hope you like it!

*banner by @starkrobb​*

Billy was never the romantic type. He didn’t pine, didn’t lose himself in a pretty girl’s eyes, didn’t beg, but damn…

…You were making him want to.

He was watching you sleep—something he never imagined himself doing—and all he could think about was the last thing you’d said before you’d fallen asleep. Disappear. You were going to disappear on him—again.

“Don’t,” he had said back, his heart—of all things—speaking up before his brain could even get a grasp on what you just said, “Don’t.”

Shit had moved fast when he first met you; Billy went to picking up a pretty girl at a bar to burying himself inside of her for days on end. He never did that—he wasn’t a repeat offender, not unless there was something in it for him (intel, prestige—shit, even bragging rights were enough of a motivation for him). But with you… Man, Billy had just liked being around you from the get, had liked the ease of your relationship. It was just so… natural between the two of you, and he had never experienced that before. He liked it, as much as he tried to downplay it and pretend he didn’t; he did. He liked having you in his life.

But when he left, and came back to find you gone, things had slowed down to a crawl in his life.

He had still been busy—Anvil was just getting on its feet, he had paid his debt to Rawlins, he was his own man—but his life had just seemed so… slow without you in it. Which was ridiculous, given how little he’d known about you, and how little you knew about him. But it was true. And now that you were back in his life, shit was moving fast again. Except this time, he was determined to keep up with you.

He woke up before you, and Billy spent a good fifteen minutes arguing with himself over whether or not to wake you up. He wanted to be inside you, wanted to kiss you and caress you and hold you. He wanted—needed­—to make you stay with him, and the only way he knew how to do that was to convince you with his body, because he wasn’t at all confident that his words could do the trick. But he also wanted you to rest. You’d gone through so much so quickly—and he knew, from the moment you’d propositioned him for sex in the safe house, that you still hadn’t had the chance to properly mourn your brother. He could see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice, and feel it in your touch; you were hurting, and it killed him that there was nothing he could do to fix it for you. All the money and power and success he’d accumulated, and yet he still didn’t have the power to take your pain away.

Newly agitated, Billy decided to let you rest. He got up, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead—another thing he usually didn’t do that he easily did with you—and got dressed.

Frank was already up—not that Billy was surprised. He was drinking a cup of coffee (black, Billy knew), and staring at the monitors. He was watching a woman and two kids, and it took Billy a second to recognize them.

“That Micro’s family?” Billy asked, coming to stand beside his best friend.

Frank nodded. “They have no idea he’s alive,” he said, eyes still on the monitors, “They have no idea who I really am…”

“Ah…” Billy put his hands in his pockets. “They know you as Pete,” he guessed.

“Yeah.”

Billy moved, made himself a cup of coffee, and then came back to stand next to Frank again. The mom was fixing the kids breakfast while they sat at the table, and Billy wondered if that was how things were supposed to be. Frank’s childhood had been like that; Frank’s family had been like that. But Billy never had that. You did, though, for a little while. That was probably worse, Billy thought; having a family, parents who loved and cared for you, and then not having them. He’d never had that, and he was never let down by his foster parents because he had no expectations of them. But you did. And you’d gotten Joe Yakavetta, a man who used you as a tool, putting you in danger and painting a target on your back so he could get rich.

Billy was itching to kill him.

“You never told me about her,” Frank said, breaking Billy out of his thoughts.

Billy took a sip of his coffee. “There was nothing to tell. We were… a thing,” he explained, “and then we weren’t. I honestly didn’t think I’d ever see her again, but then…”

“Then this happened.” Frank nodded. “Small world.” He turned to Billy. “It’s almost like it’s—”

“—don’t say it,” Billy groaned.

“—Fate,” Frank finished, grinning.

“You know I don’t believe in that shit,” Billy said back, turning back to the screens, “You see me being helpless to something like fate? Nah,” he shook his head, “fuck that.”

“I dunno, man,” Frank went on, “only you would pick a girl who was raised by a crimelord and drives like Ghost Rider. And only you would be involved with a girl who happens to be on the shit list of the guy who’s pals with the guy on our shit list.” He swallowed a gulp of coffee. “Seems like fate to me.”

“Kiss my ass, Frankie,” Billy turned to Frank, “You get Madani to see sense?”

“About putting Rawlins and Yakavetta and whoever else gets in the way in the dirt?” He shook his head. “Nah.”

“Eh,” Billy shrugged, “she’s in for a rude awakening.”

“Yeah,” Frank agreed, “This gonna be a problem for you? Workin’ with her? I know things didn’t exactly end well between you two.”

Billy grimaced. Madani had been a fun distraction for a short while for him, but she was predictable. He’d seen her coming a mile away; he knew her type. Self-righteous and born with a silver spoon, a bleeding heart with a strict moral code and lack of life experience. He’d known she wanted something more than sex when she first approached him, but it took him a few days to figure out what. But he did. He always did, eventually. He didn’t mind her using him to get to Frank, he was using her right back, after all. She hadn’t been happy when she put two and two together, and she was really unhappy when she inevitably realized that Billy walked away with much more intel than she had by the end of it. “That ain’t the problem,” he said, “the problem is with Y/N.”

“Fuck Bill, I thought you aged out of love triangles.”

“I did,” he said, smirking despite himself, “but this isn’t that.” He took another sip of his coffee, frowning now as he thought about the way you’d asked Madani about your brother, the hurt and disappointment he’d heard in your monotone voice… “Madani treats Y/N like a pawn,” he explained, “Like she’s just a case, not a person. And if she keeps pulling this ‘pillar of justice, I’m here to protect you’ shit,” he shook his head, “I dunno if I can keep it together, Frankie.”

Frank laughed, and Billy looked at him, an eyebrow raised. “No, that’s… It’s cute,” Frank said, “It’s nice—seeing you like this over a girl. I never thought the Beaut…” He shook his head, lips on the rim of his mug. “Didn’t really know if you had it in you, but Maria did.” His eyes shimmered the way they always did when he was thinking of his wife—not the corpse, but his actual wife, when she was alive and vibrant and his perfect mate. “She said there’d be a girl who could get you like this. She knew.”

“Like what?”

“Like… this.” Frank gestured to all of Billy. “Man, we’re maybe hours away from killing Rawlins or dying trying, and you’re thinkin’ about Y/N. Not yourself, not what happens to Anvil if you die, not what kind of power you inherit if we kill Rawlins—you’re thinking of Y/N and how she’s been treated. I just…” He smiled, the look soft on his face. It made Billy think back on their days in the Marines, that look. When Frank smiled like that, he looked younger, lighter… “I want that for you. I really do.”

“Thanks,” Billy said, looking down into his coffee, “I… Fuck, man. I want that, too.” He looked up at Frank. “I want that with her, and I’m not even sure what the hell ‘that’ even is.”

Frank laughed. “Oh, man, I can help you out with that—it’s love, man. It’s fate,” he patted Billy on the shoulder as he walked past, “It’s letting yourself be helpless.”

It took you a minute to figure out where you were when you first woke up. But when you did, the first thing you did was reach out for Billy, but he was gone.

What else was new?

Sighing, you got up and got dressed, your muscles burning from last night’s activities. You and Billy had… You shook your head—there was no you and Billy. There was Billy, and there was you. And if things took a turn here, if Joe saw you coming and gave you the same treatment he’d given Ronnie… there wouldn’t even be a you anymore. But, in all honesty—you were fine with that. As long as you took Joe down with you, you’d be happy. You opened the door—

—and jumped. Billy was standing on the other side, one of his perfect eyebrows raised as he looked down at you.

“You hungry?” Was all he asked.

You followed him into the main room of the warehouse, and you sat down to breakfast—toast, eggs, and the strongest coffee you’d ever had—with Billy freaking Russo and the Punisher. It was weirdly nice, though, and you enjoyed watching the easy back and forth between the two men. Micro woke up next, and he plopped himself down next to you, much to Billy’s chagrin. For a few minutes, as you sat and talked with the guys, you forgot that you were on the run, you even forgot how hollow you were, and instead, you could pretend you were just having breakfast with your friends and… someone who was more than a friend to you.

Then Madani walked in, bringing the crushing weight of reality with her.

“I can deputize you,” she said as a greeting.

“The fuck does that mean?” Frank grumbled around a mouth full of eggs.

“It means give us temporary badges,” Billy answered for her, frowning, “It would make us temporary Homeland Security agents and her our boss.” He took a sip of his coffee. “It’s a joke, and she’s not authorized to do that anyway.”

Madani’s face scrunched up the way it did whenever Billy called her on her shit. “It would be retroactive,” she explained, “but it would allow you to bring Rawlins and Yakavetta in without—”

“Are you still on that?” Frank shook his head. “There’s no bringing them in, Madani—none of ‘em. At best, Rawlins is getting a bullet in his head, at worst, he goes slow—but either way, he goes.”

“That’s against the law, Castle—”

“You think I give a shit about the law?!” Frank boomed, standing up so quickly that his chair toppled to the floor. “My family’s dead, Madani! Micro’s a fucking ghost, Billy sold his soul—that’s all on Rawlins’ orders! He doesn’t get to walk away! He doesn’t get to rot in a jail cell. He rots in the grave,” his eyes were wide and wild, “and if you want to stop me, Madani, you better make sure your aim is good.”

“You’re gonna have to kill me, too,” Micro declared, standing up. When his chair didn’t fall, he kicked it to the floor.

She turned to Billy, who just continued drinking his coffee. Defeated, Madani turned her attention to you. “I can’t protect you from this,” she warned you, “If you join up with them and kill Rawlins—”

“To be honest,” you interrupted, “My chances of killing this Rawlins guy are pretty low. But Joe?” You shook your head. “If anyone but me kills him, I’m gonna be disappointed.”

She sighed, taking a step closer to you. “Y/N,” she tried again, “if you do this, I can’t grant you immunity. The robberies and heists and everything else—those I can get you immunity for, but murder?” She shook her head. “They’ll put you away for life. Can you imagine that? Four walls and a cement bench being your only privilege? No drag races, no chases,” she took another step, “No more roar of an engine or smell of gasoline. Is that what you want?” She was right in front of you now. “Is that what your brother would have wanted for you?”

Your response was immediate. “Ronnie’s dead. He doesn’t want anything anymore.”

“You can either get on board,” Frank said to Madani, “or get the hell out. We don’t have time for this.”

“I can’t let you—” she started.

“For fuck’s sake,” Billy groaned, whipping a gun out and pointing it at Madani as he stood up, “Let’s just make this easier, huh, Frankie?”

“Bill…” Frank said, frowning.

Madani pulled her gun out, too, and pointed it at Billy. “Put. Your. Weapon. Down, Russo.”

“Madani—” Frank tried.

“C’mon, Frankie,” Billy said, his eyes still on Madani, “We ain’t got time for this. Every second we waste on this same argument is time Rawlins and Yakavetta have to get away. I’m not lettin’ him disappear on us again.”

“She’s a cop, man!” Micro said, eyes wide. “We can’t—she’s—we—”

“Give the word, Frank,” Billy said, his tone even.

You looked at Frank. He seemed to be considering it, but he shook his head. “She’s just tryin’ to do her job, Bill.”

Billy clicked his tongue, clearly unhappy with the decision, but lowered his weapon.

Madani did the same. “I could have you arrested for that, Russo,” she hissed, “How are you gonna run your business from prison?”

“Can we get to the part where the cop leaves and we get on with this,” you drawled, still in your seat, “Because Billy’s right—we’re wasting time here. So, Agent Madani, you’re either with us, or against us. You can come with and try that divine justice thing out for the .5 seconds before we kill them, or you can fuck off and let us do what has to be done. Which is it?”

She tucked her gun away, sighing. “I’m coming with you,” she said, “because I… I owe you, Y/N. I’m want… I’m going to protect you.”

Billy was in front of her in a second, his dark eyes narrowed dangerously as he glared down at her. “I’m telling you right now,” he growled, “you do anything to get in the way here…”

“…She’s dead,” Frank said, stepping over to them and putting his hand on Billy’s shoulder, “she knows, Bill. Don’t you, Madani?”

She nodded, eyes on Billy. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he was serious. Billy made an aggravated noise and moved away, sitting back at the table with you.

“Let’s get started, then,” he said, voice low.

For the next three and a half hours, the five of you sat at the table and planned out what was going to happen. By the time that it was over, you were ready to go.

“We got one hour before T-time,” Frank said, standing up, “Gear up.”

Madani turned to you, opening her mouth to speak, but was interrupted when Billy stood up, taking your wrist in his hand. “Come on,” was all he said as he dragged you back to your room.

Billy kicked the door shut behind him and turned to you. “I want you to stay here,” he started, “but,” he went on, his eyebrows raised, “I know you won’t. So I need you to at least make me a promise.”

“Okay…?”

“Promise me that you’ll listen to me when we’re out there,” he said, “Just… There’s gonna be a lot going on, and I need you to stay safe.”

“Aw, c’mon man,” you waved your hand in the air, “You’re gonna get paid either way; Homeland’s good for it.”

“I’m serious, Y/N. I need you to be safe, I can’t—” He stopped, taking a step back. “I just need you to be safe.”

Normally, you would have let Billy deflect. Hell, you were a grade-A deflector yourself, but considering the fact that you were only 59 minutes away from a possibly violent death, you figured you’d push. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you need me to be safe?” You asked. “You told me you took this job because it was personal to you, and I get that, I do, but… The job’s done, man. Homeland is compromised, and even if it wasn’t, Madani is gonna wash her hands of me after this, I know it. So why does it matter to you if I stay safe or not?”

“Because,” Billy answered, glaring, “it does.”

“Yeah, but why? You have your own fight with Rawlins, why are you worried about me?”

“Because.”

“Because what, Billy?” You glared up at him. “Because what? Tell me. Say it.”

“Because I fucking care about you,” he growled, grabbing you by the shoulders, “Jesus, Y/N, I was hypnotized by you from the moment I first saw you, and when we hooked up, I thought that would cure me, but it didn’t. Fuck,” he sighed, “You think I wanted this? To care about you like I do? Cause I didn’t—but I do, so here we are.”

“Billy…”

“And I know,” he went on, dropping his hands, “I know you want to disappear, and I… I get that, but…” He sighed. “Fuck… I don’t want you to.” His eyes were staring into yours, and you felt your chest tighten as you looked at him. “I’m not—I need you to be safe, regardless of what happens, but… If we survive this, I don’t want this to be the last time I see you.”

“So…” You licked your lips, unsure of what you were feeling, but knowing that it was distinctively related to Billy. “What… What do you want then?” You knew it was hard for Billy to be open like this with you, and you weren’t trying to push him (anymore), but you had to know. So much of your back and forth with Billy was unsaid, and you just… you needed things to be said. Just in case. You didn’t want to die not knowing what you meant to him—especially if you meant something to him.

He shrugged one shoulder. “You,” he answered, “I just want you.”

Once he said that, it was impossible for you to do anything but kiss him. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and let yourself melt against him. Kissing Billy, being in his arms, made everything else fall to the wayside. “You want me?” You whispered against his lips. “You want me?”

“I want you,” he repeated, his tongue slipping into your mouth, “and I need you to stay glued to my side this whole time, alright?”

You wanted to argue, but how could you when he was kissing you like that, and his hands were on you? You couldn’t. So instead, you just kissed him back, trying to bring him closer.

He was smiling when you pulled back. “I need to hear it,” he said, his lips ghosting over you chin, “I need to hear that you’ll stay safe and listen to me out there…”

“I’m starting to think this whole ‘listen to me’ thing is some kind of secret kink…” You grinned.

He bit your neck, and you squealed. “Say it.”

“Okay, okay,” you giggled, “I’ll listen to you and stay as safe as I can.”

“As you can?” Billy titled his head to the side. “That the best you can do?”

“I dunno,” you purred, “Can you make me cum in less than an hour?”

Billy grinned.

Five minutes later, you were on your back with your pants around your ankles and your chest heaving. Billy was next to you, propping himself up on his elbow as he grinned down at you. “Any other requests?” He asked.

You shook your head, your body tingling from the force of the orgasm he’d given you—using only his fingers.

Chuckling, Billy leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “Let’s get you dressed,” he said.

You let Billy dress you—again—and you smiled when he lifted you up and sat you up, propping your back on the pillow. You closed your eyes, still smiling, as he helped you into your shoes, feeling pampered, but frowned when you felt something heavy on your lap. You opened your eyes to see a bullet-proof vest. “Oh.”

“You need to wear that at all times,” he said, all-business.

You pouted.

Billy flicked his tongue out and licked his two fingers, chasing the taste of you.

You put the damn vest on.

Later, you, Billy, Frank, Micro, and Madani stood in the garage of the warehouse. Billy and Frank were armed to the teeth, you’d been given a gun, Micro had his… computers and stuff, and Madani had her guns. Your skin felt too tight; you were excited and anxious and scared and ready; you still had the taste of Billy’s lips on yours—you were ready to get this done.

“Micro’ll take the van,” Frank said, clarifying the plan for the benefit of no one, “Y/N, you’re driving the rest of us. We follow the plan,” he said, glancing over at Madani with a scowl, “and if we die…”

“…We die,” Billy finished for him. He looked down at you. “But we’re not gonna die.”

“Look at Russo, the optimistic!” Micro cheered.

“Alright,” you grinned, running your fingers across the hood, eager to be behind it, “Let’s fucking do this.” You looked over at Billy, a man who you’d met in a bar who was now the only person you had left in the world.

No matter what happened—you refused to be helpless. You wanted a life after this, wanted to work out whatever you were with Billy with Billy, wanted to be a permanent fixture in his life. But more than that—

—you wanted revenge. And if you had to die to get it, well…

…you’d die.

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

Ruh roh... things are about to get DARK. And action-packed! Let me know what you think of this chapter, please. Thanks for reading! 

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[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Blue Eyes Part 27

Summary: After the Garrison is shot up, the youngest Shelby daughter finds a new home in London. She strips herself of her last name and tries to live a peaceful life far away from her brothers’ chaos in Birmingham. But fate leads her right back into it after she runs into Alfie Solomons.

Part 27: Ella and Alfie discuss their potential family. At Lizzie’s party, Ella grows exhausted by her brother’s lack of common sense. 

   “Crucified, Ada. Fucking strung up on a bloody cross and shot.” Ella was smoking on the front steps of Midland with her sister. “It’s all going to shit. Tommy’s gone mad.”

           “It’ll be okay.” Ada tried to assure her. She wanted to have faith in their brother. Wanted to believe that he could crush the fascist movement. If there was a man to do it, then Tommy Shelby was the one.

           “Mosley is trying to get to my fucking husband. I swear to God if anything happens to Alfie…”

           Ada hushed her as their sister-in-law came out. “We’re here to take you to the clinic.” She stopped Gina.

           Ella took the woman in. She was beautiful, and no doubt that was what drew Michael to her in the first place. Dressed smartly, she looked like a movie star. “Nice to meet you, sister.” She said and flicked her cigarette to the sidewalk.

           Gina didn’t appear pleased. “I already told Michael, my husband or no one.”

           Ella frowned. The retort put her off almost instantly. “Well, Michael’s not here and we’ve got a car.”

           “There are taxis, even in this fucking city.”

           She scoffed. “This city? Our family owns this city, so you might as well give it some respect.” Sure, Birmingham had some bad memories and maybe Ella preferred London or Margate. But she highly disliked Gina’s tone when talking about Small Heath.

           Ada stepped in before Ella got nasty. “Look, if they don’t hear a heartbeat, they’re going to give you options, none of which are nice.”

           Gina didn’t listen to her appeal. “My husband may do as he told but I don’t.”

           Ella’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe you should be a little more accommodating to your new family?” She spoke tersely. “We’ve come as support.”

           “I don’t need support,” Gina replied.

           Thoroughly finished with her dismissive attitude, Ella couldn’t hold her tongue even though Ada gave her a warning glance. “Some of us don’t have the privilege of getting pregnant.” Her voice full of venom. “So why don’t you accept the company and stop being so fucking cold?”

           Gina’s mouth popped up in disbelief. But Ada spoke up again to try and stop the situation from becoming hostile. “C’mon, let’s all just start over again.” She said gently. “We genuinely want to be here for you and Michael.”

           Gina held her purse close to her body and took a deep breath.” Fine.” She agreed and continued down the steps toward the car.

           “Relax,” Ada whispered to her sister before she followed Gina.

           “If she’s going to take an attitude with me…”

           “Just leave it.” Ella’s older sister warned. “This isn’t the time to create rifts in the family.”

           “She’s not family,” Ella muttered under her breath but held her tongue for the rest of the day.

~~~~~~~~~

           “Special delivery.” Alfie came into the sitting room and handed Ella an envelope.

           “Hm, I don’t remember the postman being so lovely.” She teased and drew him close for a kiss.

           He chuckled against her lips. “Cheeky girl.”

           After he pulled away, Ella carefully tore open the thick envelope. “Let’s see…” She pulled out the cream-colored invitation with careful penmanship. “It’s an invitation to Lizzie’s party.” She’d been expecting it ever since her brother mentioned the occasion.

           “Right, penned it my diary.” Alfie agreed and settled into his armchair with a heavy sigh. “Just a dinner, right?”

           Ella frowned. “No.”

           “No?”

           “There’s going to be a ballet. A ballet?” She read over the words a few more times in disbelief. “A ballet at Arrow House? How on Earth…”

           “Now hang on, I didn’t agree to go to a ballet.” Alfie protested, a look of grief crossing his face.

           “Well, I didn’t either!” Ella exclaimed and tossed the invitation to the table. “Bollocks.”

           He chuckled. “What? I thought you’d like a ballet.”

           “Why would you think that?”

           The man shrugged and cracked his knuckles. “You’re a woman.”

           His wife scoffed and raised an eyebrow at him almost in a challenge. “So, I should automatically enjoy ballets?”

           Alfie knew when he was beat. He’d made the mistake of underestimating his wife before, so he decided to admit defeat. “I supposed an abhorrence for ballet can be universal.”

           Ella grimaced at the invitation as if it was leering at her from the table. Typical of Tommy to try and get his family to obey the social laws of Britain’s elite. He wanted so desperately for the Shelby family to fit into the social standing. They weren’t made of old money. None of them had inherited a cent. Instead, they made their way, something that most of Britain’s old money would never understand. What was the use in trying to pretend they were one in the same with people who were born in estates and never went hungry? In Ella’s eyes, they were weak and weren’t cut out for the real world like the Shelbys were. They could play both cards, mingling at a social function and wouldn’t be afraid to walk home through every dark alley. The streets were more afraid of them.

           “I need to walk.” Ella stood up. “I don’t want to think about this.”

           “Do you want some company?” Alfie offered.

           She nodded. “If your hip isn’t giving you too much trouble.”

           He heaved himself up out of his chair and whistled for Cyril and Anthea. “Of course not.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

           After bundling up properly and getting the dogs on leads, Ella and Alfie left their flat. Arm in arm, the two were a familiar sight in Camden. The couple frequently took walks together either during Alfie’s lunch break or in the evening when he returned home. Passersby tipped their caps and gave a polite greeting. Sometimes they stopped to chat with neighbors they were close with. It was a familiar landscape and Ella appreciated that. Camden had been her home for so long that she didn’t feel like an outsider as she used to. She wasn’t Jewish but the community had accepted her best they could. Whether it was out of their good graces or fear of backlash from Alfie, Ella wasn’t too sure. But that didn’t matter anymore.

           Passing through Camden Gardens, they arrived at the canal. The dogs tugged on their leads, barking at the ducks that swam past them.            

           “Tommy asked whether we would ever consider adoption,” Ella told Alfie.

           “We’ve already got two dogs, ain’t got enough space for another one.” He replied his mind clearly elsewhere.

           “Not adopting dogs, silly, adopting a child.” She prodded his arm.

           That snapped Alfie out of his daze. He glanced over at her in surprise. “Adoption…what’d you say?”

           “Well, I said we hadn’t thought about it much.” She replied with a shrug. “We haven’t talked much about children at all.”

           Alfie chewed on the inside of his cheek. He had thought about children after the miscarriage. He thought frequently about the things they’d lost and how their children would be nearly three years old had they survived. He tried to imagine how different their lives would be. Chaotic, perhaps, with two toddlers and two dogs. But how lovely it would’ve been. Other than ruminating over what could have been, Alfie hadn’t considered the future of having a family. The doctors pretty much assured Ella that she wouldn’t be able to have children after the shooting. So, they could mourn, but Alfie hadn’t considered the option of adopting. Maybe he’d been caught up on the idea that he wanted children that were his own blood. Was it selfish? Maybe, but it was something he often thought of.

           “I didn’t want to upset you.”

           Ella nodded in understanding. “It’s been a while though.” She reminded him. “Maybe we should talk about it.”

           He met her eyes and considered the possibility. "We can talk about it.”

           There was a silence between them as they stood by the canal. Anthea sat between them, her ears perking up every so often with passing sounds of cars and other people walking.

           “I would like children.” Ella broke the silence. “And wouldn’t it be nice that we could give a child a good home?”

           It did appeal to Alfie’s altruistic side. The man that would take home any pup he found discarded in the street. And to make his wife happy, well there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do. “Right…but m’fraid that once we adopt one, we won’t stop. Soon it’ll be ten kids all running ‘round the flat because we couldn’t turn them away.” He grinned.

           Ella smiled and touched his chest. “Well, we’ll start with one, how ‘bout that?”

           He nodded and kissed her forehead. “Tommy’ll help us out then?”

           “Well, he owns several orphanages so I’m sure he would.”

           Alfie smiled and hugged his wife close. “I want you to be happy. You being happy makes me fucking happy as can be. You want ten kids; we’ll adopt ten kids.”  

           She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I think you just want a big Jewish family.” She teased.

           “Well, it were destined, weren’t it? ‘Ccording to me mum at least.”

           “You’ll be the perfect father,” Ella confirmed. “Any child would be lucky to have you as a father.”

           Alfie rested his chin on top of her head as she cuddled into him. He wasn’t quite sure about that. But it didn’t diminish the desire to have a family with Ella.

~~~~~~~~

           The idea of a ballet was nauseating for both Ella and Alfie. But Shelby family events weren’t to be missed unless you were dying in a hospital or going into labor. Since the couple was neither dying nor delivering a baby, they had to attend. Alfie, at least, had the joy of seeing his wife all dressed up like a member of the royal family.

           “Happy birthday, Lizzie.” Ella kissed her sister-in-law’s cheek. “Hope you’re well.”

           “So glad you could make it.” She replied and greeted Alfie. “I hope the drive wasn’t too much of a bother.”

           “Not at all.”

           “Where’s Tommy then?” Alfie looked around the room of elite members of British society.

           “I saw him going into the big room to talk to Mosley,” Polly answered after hugging her niece.

           Ella bristled. “He invited that man?” She snapped. “On what grounds?”

           “On the grounds that he wants to get closer to him,” Lizzie replied with a less than pleased expression on her face.

           Ella looked to Alfie but he just shrugged. She took his arm with a sigh. “Just don’t leave my side.” She mumbled to him. The last thing she wanted was to be caught alone with the MP.

           “Of course.” He replied softly. But secretly, he was hoping to get time alone with the man. Time alone to warn him that if Alfie ever caught him sniffing around Ella, he’d end up buried alive. “Oh look, there’s Michael.” It had been a while since Alfie had gotten a chance to harass the young man.

           “Ella, stay behind for a moment.” Polly requested.

           Reluctantly, Ella let Alfie slip away from her on the promise that he wouldn’t venture too far for too long. “Yes?” She asked her aunt.

           “There’s a woman here asking after your husband.” She directed her niece’s attention toward the blonde woman standing by the fireplace.

           Ella almost would’ve laughed at the absurdity. “Oh yes, we’ve met.”

           Polly frowned. “Who is she?”

           “Why don’t you ask Tommy and his best friend?” She stopped a waiter and grabbed a flute of champagne. “She apparently wants to conduct business with Alfie. She was sent by Tommy but she works for Mosley.”

           “What do you make of it?”

           Ella downed the champagne and made a face. “All I know is he better stop.” She snarled. “This isn’t about Alfie.”

           Polly sighed and kissed her niece’s temple. “Well, you look beautiful. Just try to keep your chin up.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

           Alfie kept his promise and stayed by his wife. He stayed by her when Tommy waved them both over.

           Ella’s grip tightened on her husband’s hand when she saw Oswald Mosley standing beside her brother and sister-in-law.

           “Am I gonna hafta hold you back, love?” Alfie teased. But inside, his blood was boiling. Oh, what he wouldn’t do to take this poor excuse for a man out back and blow his brains out.

           She gritted her teeth. “Perhaps.”

            Tommy cleared his throat as the two approached. “Alfie, I’d like you to meet Oswald Mosley. Mr. Mosley, this is my sister’s husband, Alfie Solomons.”

           The MP put on a nice smile but there was a hint of smugness behind it. As if he knew he already won. “Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Solomons.”

           “Does it? Well, I s’pose people talk, don’t they?” Alfie was on edge but didn’t show it. He could walk into the belly of the beast with a self-assured smile on his face and a laid-back demeanor. It’s how he called the bluff of so many men who wanted to destroy him. “But this night is about me sister-in-law. Mazel Tov, Lizzie.”

           The Hebrew seemed to cause an involuntary twitch in Mosley’s face. But he recovered quickly. “Yes, the birthday girl. In an effort of being honest with each other, I believe it was a bottle of champagne and an evening well spent.”

           Ella’s jaw dropped. “You little-”

           Lizzie stopped her from going off on the man. She reached into her purse and pulled out a coin. “Actually, it was an evening wasted.” She plopped the coin into Mosley’s drink. “For the champagne and brandy you bought me. I appear to recall it was the booze that put you to sleep prematurely.”

           Tommy, Polly, and Ella all hid their smiles in their drinks. Alfie, on the other hand, wasn’t as good as holding back. He burst out laughing and clinked his glass with Lizzie’s. “I tell ya, Mosley, you ain’t never known a strong woman ‘til you’ve married into the Shelby family. Mazel Tov, Lizzie. Happy birthday, love.”

           Before tempers flared, Tommy stepped in. “The dance will be beginning soon.” He explained and began to direct them towards the back door.

           Ella pointedly looked a Mosley before leaning in to kiss Alfie. “I love you.” She murmured adoringly.  

~~~~~~~~~~~

           Alfie was close to falling asleep. He wasn’t quite out cold like Arthur was, but he was dozing off. Ella was a bit more attentive but wasn’t completely taken by the ballet. If anything, she was a bit concerned, she didn’t think humans could be so flexible. It was quite alarming.  

           Bored, she glanced over to see her aunt had disappeared. At the same time, Tommy was trying to get Arthur’s attention.

           Ella kicked her eldest brother awake. “Psst.” She pointed over to Tommy once Arthur stirred. She noticed a pair of headlights flooding over the lawn and became a bit unnerved. It was unlikely to be a late guest.

           Alfie grumbled under his breath when he felt his wife shift in her seat. “El, where’ya going? Is it over?”

           “No, stay here.” She whispered and quietly slipped out of her seat and out of the tent. She tried to catch up with her brother but his strides were much longer than hers. Halfway across the lawn, she paused to try and see who was standing in front of the headlights. Before her eyes

could adjust to the blinding light, she heard a loud gunshot crack across the dark night. Instinct brought her to the ground. Curling into herself and protecting her stomach.

           Everything went quiet for a moment. In the distance, she could hear the music from the ballet as it came to a bloody conclusion.

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Masterpost

Masterlist

[sadaboutniall]

something about you;

introduction | masterlist | tag | wattpad

Seventeen. April, 2015.

‘Hey, has everyone got a minute to talk?’

Harry pokes his head around the corner into the dressing room and Niall, who had been lying back on the couch scrolling aimlessly through Twitter, nods, kicking his feet down off the couch to make room for Harry. On the other side of the room, Louis picks up the football he’d been kicking at the wall, and Liam puts his phone down, too. It’s still a little weird, being a foursome—Niall always finds himself feeling like someone is missing. 

‘Great show tonight,’ Harry starts, taking the spot Niall’d cleared for him. They’re in Dubai, the final show of this leg. Ahead of them the boys have two months free before kicking things off again in Cardiff. Niall’s already thinking about sleep. 

‘Was sick, yeah,’ says Louis, skeptical already. ‘Have you got something you actually want to say, or?’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Harry sits up straight, runs a hand through his hair. It’s getting way too long and Niall keeps finding random strands of it all over the place, but it suits him, at least. ‘I just feel like—well, I feel like things are going really fucking brilliantly for us right now.’

‘Okay…’ Louis doesn’t look convinced. Niall bites back a laugh. 

‘I mean, we’re on top of the fucking world’ Harry runs his hand through his hair again. ‘And I just think… wouldn’t it be a better idea to quit while we’re ahead?’

-- 

The sun is rising in Dubai and Niall is drunk. After Harry’s suggestion—which seemed more like a decision he’d already made for all four of them, really—he and Louis went out, just the two of them, to celebrate, to mourn. They did shots high above the city, in some exclusive sky bar that looked identical to every other exclusive sky bar Niall’s done shots in over the past few years. They screamed over loud, thumping music and Niall made out with a stranger in the lounge in the back for a little while, letting her kiss down his neck while the room spun around him. They held up their drinks and cheersed to what they lost, to the impossible, beautiful, improbability of the last five years. They stumbled into a cab as the sun began to peek over the horizon, Louis reeking of smoke and alcohol, Niall feeling like the entire world was about to fall out from under him.

And now he’s here, lying on his back in the middle of a massive bed in an indistinguishably expensive hotel room in an indistinguishably expensive city that just happens, this time, to be Dubai, staring up at the ceiling. He can’t help but think about the fact that his entire life is over. 

He doesn’t know what comes after this, if anything. He doesn’t know what’s left for him, if anything. Harry’s got a solo career in the pipeline, Niall can tell that much, and Louis is the best songwriter he knows, and Liam has a better voice than Niall could ever dream of having. There won’t be space for all four of them, plus Zayn. There won’t be anything left for Niall. 

Slowly it dawns on Niall that this could be it for him—that he’s already lived his best years, that it’s all downhill from here. He peaked as a teenager and wasted it all, completely unaware. He’s going to have to live the rest of his life thinking about what he lost. 

Niall bolts upright in a sudden burst of nausea, sure he’s going to throw up all the alcohol in his system. He makes it to the bathroom in record time but relief doesn’t come—instead he hunches over the bowl on his knees, forehead pressed to the cool porcelain to keep himself from overheating, for what feels like hours. He dry heaves a few times, his body convulsing painfully and, eventually, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes from the physical effort of it all. His heart hammers like a thunderstorm and every move feels like running a marathon, every breath like a pathetic triumph. 

Eventually his knees protest painfully and he forces himself to stand up, one hand on the sink for support, the other holding his throbbing head. Body prickling with heat, oversensitivity, pain, Niall makes his way back to the massive bed and strips down. Lying on his back in the middle of it once again, he realizes belatedly that he’s just had a panic attack. 

He wonders if the rest of his life is going to be like this. 

It takes him a few moments of wallowing in self-pity to realize what he’s feeling. It hasn’t happened to him in a few months, and he wasn’t expecting it now, of all times. Now, when his entire life is falling apart. Now, when nothing is working and he needs to come up with a Plan B that he’s never had. Now, when he feels like the world is ending. 

All he wants to do is call Isla. 

In the logical part of his brain—which feels like it’s quickly dying—Niall knows he shouldn’t. He knows this isn’t fair. He knows Isla deserves better. 

On the emotional side, he doesn’t give a shit. 

He gropes around the bed for his phone, finds it buried under the folds of the duvet, and dials. He doesn’t let himself think about what he’s doing. 

‘Niall?’ Isla sounds a million miles away. Belatedly, Niall realizes that she is. ‘Are you okay? What’s going on?’

‘Happy birthday,’ he says. Talking makes his head spin. 

‘My birthday is in January. It’s April.’ Isla sounds annoyed, and Niall hears a door open, then close, on her side of the world. 

‘Yeah, well, I didn’t call you then so I figured I’d tell you now.’

‘Are you drunk?’ The sound of a faucet turning on. 

‘A bit,’ Niall admits, closing his eyes. He wishes he had it in him to get up and close the blinds, too. ‘A lot.’

‘I can tell,’ a click, Isla turning on an electric kettle. ‘Thank you for the birthday wishes, but we probably shouldn’t be doing this.’

‘Why not?’ Niall turns his head, presses his cheek into the pillow to block out some of the rising sun. 

‘Well, for starters, it’s four in the morning in London,’ says Isla, and Niall feels a pang of guilt, on top of the anxiety. ‘And my boyfriend is sleeping, so.’

‘Right,’ Niall slurs, squeezing his eyes shut tighter. ‘Sorry to wake him.’

‘It’s not that,’ Isla’s pacing around her kitchen, Niall can tell from the sounds of the floorboards underneath her. She sighs. ‘Sorry I said it like that. That was shitty of me.’ 

‘S’alright. You’re not wrong.’

‘Where are you? You sound a mess, are you somewhere safe?’

‘Yeah, Dubai. I’m in my hotel room.’

‘Is it not, like, seven in the morning in Dubai?’ Niall can hear Isla pouring the kettle. He wonders if she’s making one cup or two. ‘Why are you drunk at seven in the morning?’

‘Not gone to sleep yet,’ Niall says around a yawn, his heart rate finally starting to settle down. ‘Went out last night.’

Isla hums, and Niall can imagine her, the way she curls in on herself when she’s got a fresh cup of tea, holds it against her chest to breathe in the warmth. He thinks of her on the couch, in a flat he’s only seen tiny pictures of on Instagram, phone sandwiched between her ear and her shoulder, wearing that Derby jumper he gave her a century ago. She says, ‘it was a good night, then?’

‘No,’ Niall admits, without even thinking about it. ‘We broke up.’ 

‘Oh,’ Isla coughs a little, then: ‘I didn’t know you were seeing someone. I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘No, no,’ Niall shakes his head into the pillow, even though she can’t see him. ‘Not seeing anyone. The band.’

‘The—what? The band broke up?’ 

‘Yeah,’ he doesn’t have it in him, he thinks, to explain the stupid hiatus idea right now. He’s so fucking tired. ‘But don’t say anything. We’re not announcing it yet, like.’

‘I won’t,’ Isla promises, but Niall already knows she would never. He lets her carry on: ‘Maybe it’s a good thing, though. You deserve some time to rest. You could work on some golf stuff, or write your own music, even?’

‘Dunno that anyone wants to hear my own music.’ It feels okay to say it to Isla, to let it out of his racing mind and into the space between then. He knows she won’t throw it back at him. ‘Dunno where I go from here.’

‘I’m interested,’ says Isla. Niall hears her slurp at her tea on the other end of the phone.

‘You’re interested in everything I do.’

‘Not true. I really don’t give a shit about golf. Like, at all.’

Niall laughs, and it’s a shooting pain behind his eyes and in his head, but he feels better for it. His mouth is dry, and his stomach is starting to grumble. He thinks he might be feeling a bit more human. ‘Maybe if you gave it a shot.’

‘Don’t want to, if I’m honest. Maybe you should give going to sleep a shot.’

‘S’why I called ya,’ Niall yawns again. ‘Talk to me about law or something. Bore me to sleep, Boyne.’

But Isla doesn’t answer right away. Instead, Niall hears the phone jostling, muffled speaking, a deep, tired, masculine voice. He hears his own name, a quiet sigh, retreating footsteps. Bile rises in his throat again.

‘Sorry,’ Isla’s voice is full volume again. ‘Listen, Niall, I should go. It’s really late. Or early, whatever, and you’re drunk. And this is… we can’t keep doing things like this.’

‘What do you mean, doing things like this?’ There’s a flame of aggression in his stomach—not aimed toward Isla, but toward Jack, who he’s sure is the reason she’s hanging up so quickly. ‘We haven’t spoken in ages.’

‘I know, I know, but. This… this thing, Niall. Always coming back to each other. We’ve got to move on.’

‘I’m not—’

‘I’m sorry, Niall,’ Isla sounds small. He thinks of her, back in school, stressed about exams and uni. ‘I shouldn’t have picked up. Take a sleeping pill and make sure you drink a load of water. You’ll feel better in the morning.’

‘Isla—’

‘Whatever comes after this, it’ll be the right thing for you. You’re brilliant, Niall, you really are,’ he can hear Isla standing up, moving the phone away from her ear. ‘Sleep well.’

She hangs up. 

--

Fourteen hours later, Niall wakes up. He has a headache, a dry mouth, a sore chest, and one, singular text.

Isla (9:49am): Let me know when you wake up so I know you’re okay. You’ll be grand. Xx

He flips his phone over, screen pressed into the mattress. He needs to take a shower. He needs to eat. He needs to get laid. 

He needs to fall out of love with Isla.

####

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[daybreak-delusion]

Chapter 1

Introduction: Whitney Goodwinson was planning on inheriting one of her deceased grandmother's properties, but not a little house off the coast of North Carolina.  As she struggles to meet new people, fix up her new property, deal with troublemaker JJ Maybank, and perfect her grandmother's infamous lemonade she might just find that the Outer Banks has more to offer than it seems.

Series Masterlist

It was just like a regular family gathering. Aunt Elizabeth was wearing something that was completely inappropriate for a 50-year-old, cousin Will was shaking from cocaine withdrawals, and my mother was whispering more family gossip into my ear. Not the best circumstances for my grandmother's funeral, but she wouldn’t have expected much from us.

“This is ridiculous,” Mother hissed/whispered into my ear, “your grandmother always said that she wanted white roses not white lilies at her funeral,” she finally finished, sitting up straight in her chair. I just kept staring ahead trying to ignore the fact that my family is insane. Grandmother was the only thing keeping us all together and after her will reading, we would probably never see each other again. Allow me to explain, Grandfather was the highest paying heart surgeon in the L.A. county by the age of 30. He met my grandmother at a yacht club off the coast of North Carolina and I guess it was love at first sight. A load of bull that was, Grandfather had countless affairs and they barely stayed in the same home together. I guess that’s love.

“As we celebrate the life of Victoria Goodwinson, daughter, mother, and friend, we ask that the family come forward with their flowers,” said the perspiring priest gesturing towards the first row to step up.

“Come on,” grunted Father, leaving a laughable sweat mark on his seat. Honestly, who picked black for the color of death and why did Grandmother have to die in June? Whatever, we all got up and gathered our white roses, which triggered another comment from Mother, and headed to the casket. I adjusted my black dress and moved my straightened brown hair over my shoulder. I could tell from the look on my mother's face and the sweat on the back of my neck that my hair was probably frizzing up and going back to its waves. There goes another hour of straightening down the drain. Just like we practiced Uncle Richard and Aunt Elizabeth's family went first, followed by Uncle Charles and Aunt Anne’s family, and finally our little whirlwind. Oldest to youngest, straight backs, and mournful looks on our faces. Sadly this meant that I would have to hold a sad face and stand with my shoulders back the longest. By the time it was my turn I had started seeing black dots. I placed my rose on top of the others and actually started to think about Grandmother for the first time since she died. It’s not like I was granddaughter of the year or anything but I still felt a close connection with Grandmother. She would always talk about her glamorous life in London, New York, and Singapore, the Channel fashion shows, and the exquisite champagne imported from Paris. She was the only adult that let me drink in her presence, so she was basically my favorite human being and ultimate role model. Then about two years ago Grandfather died. After that, she stowed away to the place where they met, and then she died. Snapping back to reality I realized the service was over. Let the games begin.

My relatives looked like lions chained up in a meat locker. We were all in the family mansion in L.A. patiently waiting for the attorney to show up. As patient as a bunch of spoiled rich children can. When the clock struck four minutes past 3 Uncle Richard started to pace, causing Aunt Elizabeth to convince him to sit down which caused an argument which caused an awkward feeling to rise in the room. Normal stuff. Thankfully the attorney walked in right as Uncle Richard was criticizing my father's necktie after he tried to stop him from throwing a vase. Everyone quickly shut up and put on their best phony smiles. This was it the real reason we all left our luxurious homes and spent 3 hours in the hot blistering California sun, the will. Now, Grandfather has left all of his assets to Grandmother and hopefully, the most valuable assets will be given to MY family. Personally I was hoping to be given her flat in London. Every summer I would spend a month there walking through the gardens, having tea in ancient places, and just spending time with her. It was my favorite city in the world and I couldn't wait to live there.

“Thank you all for gathering here today for the reading of Mrs. Victoria Goodwinson’s will and testament,” said the monotone attorney, “please save your questions for the end of the reading I’d like to begin.”

I kinda zoned out the beginning, but then he started with the good stuff.

“The mid-size private jet, Amazon shares, New York apartment residence and all that is in it, and a 5 million dollar allowance goes to Mr. Charles and Mrs. Anne Goodwinson,” continued the attorney, his voice becoming a little hoarse from all of the talking. Uncle Charles and Aunt Anne looked satisfied with their lot.

“The large size private jet, the L.A. mansion and all that is in it, and a 5 million dollar allowance goes to Mr. Henry and Mrs. Mary Goodwinson.”

I know Mother was hoping for the yacht that was given to Uncle Richard and Aunt Elizabeth, but getting the L.A. house, the house that Grandmother and Grandfather lived in, was enough to make her satisfied. The mansion had countless paintings that could sell for millions, plus the location was ideal and would sell for double what Grandfather had originally bought it for. 

“Now for the client’s grandchildren,” said Mr. get-to-the-point finally getting to the point “to Mr. William Speakman the London flat and a 2.5 million allowance is given.”

I just sat there in shock. What?! Are you kidding me? Crackhead Willy got the London flat and not me! This is absurd. Despite my outrage, I kept a smile on my face and my shoulders back.

“And finally to our last recipient, Mrs. Whitney Goodwinson…”

I leaned forward a bit just waiting for what the old man was gonna say. Since I wasn’t getting the London flat, maybe Grandmother had a secret cottage in the French countryside or another apartment in Italy. Anything would have been better than what Mr. bad news Bob said next.

“The Outer Banks, North Carolinian residence and a 3.5 million allowance will be given. This closes the end of the reading of the will and testament. Any questions can be asked now.”

Oh boy did I have questions. First off what the hell was Grandmother thinking. Outer Banks!? A dingy island that I had never been too?! I had never heard Grandmother speak of it and had to find out from Father that it was the island where Grandmother first met Grandfather. That meant it was also the place where she died, which did not seem right.

“Whitney she didn’t die in the house, she died in a hospital on the mainland,” said Mother while lighting a cigarette, a “once in a while” habit of hers. We were on the balcony of my parents’ new mansion looking over the Los Angeles skyline. Mother and Father wasted no time kicking everyone out and moving into their new home. In the distance, I could see the sun setting into the Pacific Ocean. It hurt me that in a few hours I would be leaving this perfect place and would be looking at a completely different ocean on the other side of the country in a town where I didn’t know anybody and was unfamiliar with. “And don’t complain it was your grandmother's dying wish to give you her old shack in North Carolina, the least you could do is visit it before you sell it.”

“Fine,” I said rolling my eyes, “I just hope someone is willing to buy.”

“Don’t worry honey we already have a list of possible buyers and I have a personal friend who’s a realtor there who said that she’d help you out. I told her you would be arriving tomorrow and she’s gonna come by the house.” Ah yes, my mother ladies and gents all ready setting up people for me to meet. I swear she knows people in every state, but at least I’ll have help selling the shack.

“You’re sure I can’t take the private jet?” I pleaded with my best “please take pity on me because I got screwed out of a London flat” face.

“Honey you know that your father and I need to go to Sweden to pick out new furniture for the house. Flying first class will be fine and I’m sorry you have to take a red-eye, but it was so last minute You know what’s funny? Your father and I already had a plane ticket to London for you,” she laughed, “we were so sure the flat was yours!” I did not in fact think it was funny.

“Yeah me too,” I said miserably.

“It’ll be fine honey, who knows,” she said snuffing out her cigarette,” you might even like it there.”

I highly doubt that.

 a/n: First chapter is finally up! Thank you for reading and not dropping out after the first sentence! Second chapter should be up shortly, for the time being I’m going to be posting two chapters at a time every other day. I figure this will motivate me even more to write! I am so excited for you guys to see where the story goes and all of its twists and turns! Stay tuned for the next chapter! 

[waternilly]

The End of an Era

Ship: Blackleg Sanji x f!OC Language: english Word count: 1.5k Warnings: none Ao3 link: here | Wattpad link: here Summary: Musicals! But what if this time the rivals were lovers in real life?

Many weeks and hours of hard work had come to their end. Tonight was the big finale of the musical Florence had built with both old and new friends over the semester. It hadn’t gone without troubles, but they had made it in the end.

As she waited between the wings on the side of the stage, the young woman let her mind drift off.

She thought back about the moment Mozart l’Opéra Rock had been announced as this year’s project. How all the students who would graduate in June shared the same excitement and thrill at the prospect.

She remembered the audition and how learning the lyrics to “Si Je Défaille” had been easy, being engraved in her memory ever since she was ten. She also remembered when she had to show up at the next audition to sing “Tatoue-Moi” on demand of her professor.

Florence had already performed as a male character in a previous project and she knew the professor’s demand was far from innocent. They had something in mind.

And she was right. The next week, once auditions for both singers, actors and dancers alike were over, the results were published.

1. Florence Moire ..... Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

A smile had crept on her face instantly. But what made her even happier was the name just two lines under hers.

3. Sanji Vinsmoke ..... Antonio Salieri

Not only would she perform as the main character of what was probably her favourite musical. The one to act as her rival was her own boyfriend.

Images of her sweet Sanji in black hair and eyeshadow had immediately crossed her mind and she couldn’t wait to see it happen.

That evening, the entire crew had gone to a local student pub and celebrated all night long. Florence lost count of how many times she got congratulated or all the teasing her and Sanji had gotten for acting out rivals.

It was one of Flo’s favourite memories. Everything felt right. No pressure or stress related to the production, school or the internship yet. Only pleasure, joy, excitement.

Rehearsals had started the same week, beginning with a script reading. Songs from the original musical were played whenever they were reached throughout the session. A few voice cracks and poorly acted sentences were uttered, but they were laughed off.

Florence and all the singers then went through some coaching first. Even though they were all decent already, they were still merely amateurs. Some had gotten such lessons the previous years, but everyone welcomed the tips from the teacher with open arms.

While those were reaching their end, they simultaneously started rehearsing with the actors. Their friends had already started learning their lines and now it was time for them to do as well.

To help with that process, Florence would often play the entire musical as background noise while studying or working on anything, to Sanji’s greatest amusement.

He early on realized that the one he tenderly referred to as ‘princess’ was nervous about the pressure put upon her shoulders. He often reminded her that the professor wouldn’t have given her the part if they didn’t believe her to be capable of it. He also loved to add that she would make for a great Mozart and an amazing rival, which would often help her calm down, at least temporarily.

As the dates approached and the rehearsals became longer -every song being performed in their entirety, accompanied by the dancers- the pressure among the whole crew rose. People started worrying about costumes or set pieces not being finished on time, about black outs on stage, about wigs falling off or ladies tripping over their massive dresses.

All of these faded shortly after luckily and everything was done in due time. The final rehearsal in full costume and make up also reassured everyone about what they had created. Which meant, representations could start. But not without some last minute preparations.

Bonney was left with her bright pink hair despite the professor’s reclamations who feared she would steal the show. The young woman’s determination was stronger however and she refused to incline, making her the very first pink haired Constanz Weber.

Luffy, who interpreted everyone’s favourite comic relief, Rosenberg, got his hair coloured grey with sprays often used for Halloween. It was slicked back and his face was painted bright white with two outrageously red spots on the cheeks. All of it, topped off with pencil-drawn eyebrows and two fake moles.

Sanji agreed to changing his style for the occasion. He got his hair dyed in a dark brown and slicked it all back except for one rebellious lock. Needless to say he was a sight for sore eyes like this. But every evening, before the representation, the benevolent make up artists who were fellow students painted his eyes with black eyeshadow, crayon and eyeliner. Black lipstick had also been considered at some point but was eventually discarded. And aside from all of that, he also walked around with black painted nails for a week.

As for Florence, the main thing she had to do was get a haircut. Her pixie hair had grown out during the semester and it required some touch ups. She was the one who had the wildest, most natural hairdo. It only got comped and sprayed to create some extra volume, but nothing too perfect. Her eyes got the same treatment as her lover’s however, which they liked to point out.

And then it was time.

The premiere.

Everyone was nervous to their core while simultaneously trying to help their friends calm down. Singers and actors alike reunited back stage to warm up their voices, a loud buzzing sound filling the room. Dancers took that opportunity to stretch and prepare as well. The entire crew was in its own bubble, in symbiosis with each other. Any conflicts that might have existed before were forgotten for now.

“Are you nervous, my love?” Sanji had asked his girlfriend just before she had to walk on stage.

“Yes,” she admitted.

With a smile, he had said: “You’ll feel better once you’re up there.”

She thanked him with a smile.

“Maybe turn on your microphone before it’s too late though,” he had teased.

Florence agreed, flipped the switch and ran up on stage. Sanji had been right. Merely seconds later, as she was uttering her very first line, she was calm, confident, poised. Every movement, every sentence flowed naturally. She felt good, at home.

To everyone’s surprise, nothing went wrong during the entire first act, which their professor naturally pointed out backstage during the break. They also complimented everyone’s acting, singing and dancing, clearly ecstatic with the result.

Flo knew what would come next. Someone started playing music while another person shouted to turn off the lights. Everyone jumped around and loudly shouted in unison with the music. A few even climbed on the table in the middle of the room to dance on it in a silly way, making the whole crew laugh.

That little tradition remained during the entire week of run, lasting the entire entre act every time. A twenty minute break of partying halfway through the musical.

Except it was now time to walk back on stage for the last time.

A loud ominous music played and Florence stepped into the light.

She gave everything she had in her, jumping and running around on stage.

Sanji then walked up himself, followed by Bonney who gave her best vocal performance yet.

Before long though, they reached the end of the musical and with it, the famous “Vivre à en Crever” scene. The only time Flo got to sing with her boyfriend throughout the entire performance.

She started, careful to keep a steady and clear voice. Then Sanji joined in. And ultimately, they sang together.

It was always one of the most poignant parts of the show and Florence had lost count of how many times she had almost kissed Sanji during it, never giving in however. Until now, whoever didn’t know them personally couldn’t have guessed they were a couple.

But that was about to change as it was time to salute and Florence had an idea in mind.

Once everyone had bowed in their usual position, they all started singing the most famous song of the musical -”Tatoue moi”- to celebrate the final representation. Florence took advantage of the context to ask Bonney to switch places with her since she was traditionally between her and Sanji. Florence wondered if the audience would react and how if they were to. By now, majority of the public wasn’t even from their college.

She started by just tangling their fingers but soon enough they were smiling at each other while singing eye to eye. When they reached the end of the song, Florence stood on the tip of her toes and pecked Sanji’s lips. He only grinned down at her before kissing her back.

Audible gasps, soon followed by extra cheers, could be heard throughout the audience. The public’s reaction was even better than what Flo was hoping for. She imagined the surprise it could be to see two people you pictured as rivals during the past two hours suddenly kiss. It amused her as well.

It might have been her last performance with this great crew of people but Florence had no reason to be sad. They had all gone out with a bang; Ace, Kid, Bonney, Sanji, herself. That night wouldn’t be one of mourning the end of an era. It would be a night to celebrate what they had achieved.

A/N: Bit of a cheesy ending yes, but oh well ^^” Please let me know what you thought of it, I haven’t written 3rd person fanfics in English in literally so long! Also, yeah, OC! Long time since I last wrote one. Any comments are welcome ^^ Thank you very much for reading <3

[dennou-translations]

Violet Evergarden Gaiden: Chapter 3

Please feel free to message me about possible corrections. If you can, consider supporting the creators by purchasing the official releases here. Alternatively, please consider supporting the studio that animated this work with any of the options in this list.

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We’d held hands in the darkness. The only proof that we were alive had been our body temperature. Whenever she’d say that she was scared, I’d reply with, “It’s all right”. “Your Big Bro will do something about this,” I’d tell her.

The one who’d affirmed my existence was my little sister. I’d managed to get courage from the fact that I could be relied on. That, yeah, I was an older brother. That she was no good without me, so I had to keep on living.

But I didn’t remember. I didn’t know.

Had someone broken me? Had I broken on my own? I didn’t know.

Still, she definitely existed. If I met her someday, I’d know it was her for sure. Even if I had forgotten, even if I couldn’t remember her, I’d recognize her if I saw her. I wished the same to be valid for her.

That feeling alone stayed inside me like a bonfire.

Whether the continents scattered around the world were big or small made no particular difference for the people living in them. Any place was the same should there be humans living in it. They would plow and grow. Harvest, build and color. Create and fail. Hide, interact, destroy, starve, succeed. Become depressed. Shed tears, coerce. Sparkle, act immoral. Repent, depart, worship. Acclaim, breed, mourn. Become idle. Become nostalgic. They would love each other and kill each other.

And so would he.

Back when a certain continent put an end for once to a war that had extended for a long time, the “Continental War”, battles continued happening in another continent as if it were natural. On the topic of occupations that had deep ties with so-called “wars”, there were mercenaries.

Although there existed different types of them, the mercenaries who wandered that continent were in majority freely warriors who would join any faction depending on the pay. They would head east today and west tomorrow. It did not matter if, for instance, a fellow mercenary with who they had drank together turned into an enemy. They would also not care for whatever happened to the head of the lord whose favor they had earned, or to the village of the woman they had slept with, depending on the money.

And right now, too, a single mercenary was being led to the death that would certainly come to many others.

“So cold.”

Sandy blond hair swayed in the wind mixed with ashen dust. A man with looks that would be a waste should he perish in such a place lay collapsed the way he had been born. His ivory skin, in which golden hair stood on end, was exposed mercilessly to natural threats. The man groaned amidst his clouded memories, asking himself how on Earth things had turned out as such.

——Three days ago, I was killing. Two days ago, also killing.

He recalled several battles that he had surrendered his body to joining in a spur of the moment.

——Yesterday... that’s right, I was in the bar of a small highway town dancing with women, drinking...

The man could more or less understand what had happened. He had extravagantly squandered to his heart’s contentment the reward he received for surviving wartime fire and spent the night with an absurdly fine woman, who had taken notice of his lavish feasting. His lodging and the drinks he had consumed were arranged by said woman. She had most likely administrated some sort of drug into them.

“I feel sick... oeh...”

The fact that all of his belongings had been stripped off him, that the bounty he had earned at the cost of his life had been snatched away, and that he had been left to chance in such a place without anyone bothering to finish him off could not be called anything other than misfortune. Only that his body was not tied up was good luck, but even if it were, he would not have moved. It seemed he had by no means the energy to stand up.

“Some...” he attempted to say, but closed his mouth.

——Even if I call for somebody, there ain’t anyone around. Who even is “somebody” to me, anyway?

The man did not have comrades or family to aid him in such a time.

That was what it meant to live as one pleased. He would make his baggage as light as possible and simply move forward to wherever he saw fit. If he had some sort of grandiose goal, it might lead him to good results. A lukewarm existence would sometimes turn into a hindrance for life decisions. Those who had nothing could probably see a world far broader than those who had everything. However, having no one to grieve for them when tasting such final moments was lonesome.

A pain ran through somewhere in the depths of his chest – the spot that was called “heart”.

“Nope, I ain’t dying.”

The pain ran through, but the man did not have the spirit of someone who obediently perceived fate as fate. He balled his fists, exhorting his body and attempting to stand up somehow.

“As if I’d die... As if I’d die; as if I’d die!”

Perhaps because that roar had been the last of the strength he had left, from head down, the man collapsed onto his back once again after just yelling. Buried by sand, he lost consciousness. In his primary circumstances, he would have died there. Nevertheless, there was a certain number of individuals beloved by the Goddess of Fortune to the point of it twisting their destinies. The fact that a motorcycle was transiting the road-less way and that he met a passerby with a good heart who stopped upon finding him were all the work of the Goddess of Fortune.

The man opened his eyes again after few hours had gone by.

“Who... are you, seriously?” Due to the surprise, but also because he was sitting up, his voice was hoarse.

“I’m Hodgins, a veteran in the middle of a trip. I’m the one you owe your life to for picking up your butt-naked self from the desert.”

He was a bit of a rich man, an easy-going one who could easily chime in with others, extremely calculating and intrigue-loving, who scored a large profit in war gambles and had an upstart. He was an entrepreneur currently in the middle of stablishing his business. That was the man’s first encounter with Hodgins, his lifesaver.

“Why’d you help me, Old Man?!” his harsh voice echoed throughout the interior of the shop.

The two were in an open-terrace restaurant located at the first floor of an inn to which the man had been heading. It was too late for breakfast and too early for lunch. The man was conspicuous. After all, no matter how one looked at it, he was dressed in baggy, obviously borrowed shirt and trousers.

“Ah, I’m sorry. This kid is a bit ill-mannered. Yes, he’ll quiet down... Hm? Wait a minute. ‘Old man’...!? Me...?” Hodgins opened his eyes wide and leaned closer to the man.

That was what he was going to react to?

The youth and the overly cheerful man were a mismatched combination inside the refined inn. It was inevitable that the gazes of the customers would gather upon them in a natural manner, but at a growl of, “We ain’t for display!” from the young man, everyone looked away.

“Old Man, listen to me.”

“No, no, more importantly, how about we clear up the issue of whether or not I look like an old man? I’m indeed past my twenties already, but I’m younger than the people from my generation who are married, my stomach doesn’t stick out yet, and more than anything, I’m a fine man, right? Do I really seem like an old man? Not a big bro? How about you try thinking it over? Ready, set—”

“OLD. MAN!”

As if stabbed in the heart by his words, Hodgins clutched his chest and moaned. “What is it... young man...?” Even his voice was pained.

“Why’d you help me? You’re even treating me to food... What’cha after? I’m telling you I’ve got no money.”

It was true. If the man were billed for a meal in that place now, it would be the end of the line for him.

In contraposition, Hodgins waved his hand to the side. “Nah, I’m not after anything.”

“Then you want my body?”

“You’ve... got too much confidence in yourself. Well, when I first saw you, your body was buried in sand and I couldn’t properly see anything other than your face... so, I thought you were a naked pretty girl who had passed out.” After glancing fleetingly at the man, he turned his head to a different direction, eyes far-off. “When I lifted you in my arms, I noticed you had something extra there... but you were still alive, so I brought you back to the inn with me, stroked your body since you were with hypothermia... and when I realized, it was morning. I knew you had no money just by looking. You had nothing with you.”

This time, the one with an aching chest was the man. “My bad. For... not having anything.” As his voice tone changed quite a bit, perhaps what had been rubbed was a very sore spot.

“Young man, why were you asleep in that place?”

“‘Why,’ you ask...?”

Albeit hesitating to discuss his misfortune, he talked about his situation in a summarized way. Hodgins had listened seriously at the beginning, but from the middle onward, he turned his face to the side and his shoulders trembled as if he were holding back laughter.

“If you wanna laugh, just do it...!”

“Eh, can I? Ahah! Ahahahah! You’d finally earned some and lost all of it?! That’s too pitiful! My stomach hurts... Ah, hold o—hold o—wait up. How about you stop lifting that chair? Let’s calm down? It was terrible, wasn’t it? You’re hungry too, right? Eat up, eat up. Speaking of which, I didn’t ask your name either. Young man, what’s your name?”

Silence.

“Hey, hey, no matter how badly behaved you are, you should at least give your name.”

Pouting, the man muttered curtly, “Ain’t got it.” Seeming to have been made from the colors of the summer sky and blown into a glass ball, his remarkable eyes clouded over, and he defiantly spoke one more time. Crossing his arms, he rested his feet on the table. “I ain’t got a name. I might’ve been given one, but I don’t have any. Call me whatever you want. My registration name from when I used to be a mercenary was ‘Blue’. Since I dunno my name... I went with my eye color.”

Hodgins showed agitation for the first time in front of the man, who had turned into a lump of displeasure. “‘Don’t have any’... What do you mean?”

“Amnesia. My memory’s got nothing but what happened starting from a few years back. I dunno where I was, what I was doing, where I’m from or who I was before this. When I came to, I was lying on a riverbank at the borders of this continent. Back then, I was wearing an armor and a cape... If I hadn’t been picked by a woman gypsy, I’d have died just like that.”

Hodgins at last realized his own words to have been a verbal gaffe.

“You don’t remember anything? Not a single thing?”

Silence.

“Is there something you do?”

That might have been important to the man enough to make him falter even at putting it into words. After showing an expression of hesitation, he finally opened his mouth. “I probably... had a... little sister.” His attitude was almost that of confessing a sin. “Still, I don’t remember her. I just have the memory that she existed, and I dunno what kinda person she was. But she was definitely there. I remember that.”

Hodgins wound up gripping his own shirt at the chest area.

“I tagged along with the gypsies for a while, learning from them how to sing, dance and stuff. Then, in the end, I changed jobs to mercenary. Looked like fighting fit my nature better, y’see. ‘Battle-Hungry Freak’ is my nickname. I’m famous in the mercenary world.” Upon saying so, the man shrugged. “Well, that ain’t a name, though...”

He did not know who he was. Just how worrisome was that for him? The man did not seem to have a commendable personality at all, yet he was apparently concerned about not having a name.

“Hu~n... that so? So, you... were a mercenary, yeah?”

“That’s right. Is it bad?”

“I’m not saying that it’s bad per se. But even so, you got no money, no name or anything at all?”

“No”, “no”, “no”. The man’s rage towards his own life was present at the many sorts of “no”.

“You wanna get killed, Old Man? Just saying it, but I don’t have any sense of moral obligation, so if I don’t like someone, I’m fine with beating them up.”

“Yep, you’re like that. Not a single ‘thank you’. But I... don’t hate insincere guys like you.”

“What’s with that?”

“Also, you see, I have an acquaintance... it’s a girl who resembles you... Even though I’m her legal guardian, I left her with other people and went on a journey as if running away. I sort of got the feeling I couldn’t leave her by herself.”

——Someone who resembles me?

Was there any such person in the world?

“What kinda fella is she?”

Not answering the man’s question, Hodgins gave breadcrumbs to a dove that lay in waiting at his feet for his meal’s leftovers to fall down. Whatever he was thinking, he stayed quiet for a while and suddenly rose from his seat, chasing after the dove. The other doves could not stand his imposing action, batting their wings and fleeing into the sky.

“Hey, what kinda fella is she!?” his angry shout overlapped with Hodgins’s innocent laughter and the sound of bird feathers.

With the town that the doves had flown toward at his back, Hodgins turned around. His eyes seemed to be looking at the man, but were not.

“The strongest and weakest in the world.” As expected, Hodgins was smiling, but his eyes did not form an arc. Regardless of whether the person he referred to was evil or good, the air around him transmitted the fact that she was someone important.

The man frowned.

——What’s that...? A riddle...?

He became even less able to understand the lifesaver in front of him.

“I also have to just go and face her already.” Hodgins had said he was in his thirties, but he seemed older than that as he talked about the “strongest and weakest in the world”. “I can’t tell her... that it’s hard for me to look at her face when she seems sad.”

Eyes crinkling, the man thought:

——This dude... he pretends to be decent but something’s up with him.

He sensed a twist from the laughing other man. The latter spoke a lot at first, but he had seemed to be giving vent to his thoughts rather than having a conversation. Was he not burdened with some sort of enormous problem? One that he truly could do nothing about, no less.

“It’s settled.” Hodgins pointed an index finger at the man and snapped one of his eyelids closed. “If you aren’t anything, won’t you tag along with me?”

“Meaning... you’re gonna hire me?”

“That’s right. You lack too much of everything. Come to my place earn money. You need cash to search for your sister and to get revenge from the guys that threw you naked into the desert, don’t you? In exchange, can you lend me your life for a bit?”

“Hah?”

“Right now, you only have your life, yeah? I’ll buy that.”

At those words, the man’s heart started making astir sounds. He was supposedly used to having his life bought with money, but when asked for it face-to-face, his breathing felt as if it would stop.

“How much is it?”

Upon being asked so, the man was at loss for an answer.

Afterward, the man acquired a name.

“Benedict Blue”.

He also secured a profession and a place to sleep.

The CH Postal Company.

He had a lifesaver who was dear to him.

Claudia Hodgins.

He obtained comrades as well.

He had treaded a long prologue, but that was his story.

Benedict Blue

“The rough explanation ends here. The client who made this request just wants the letter sent definitively. Little Violet will do the ghostwriting. Benedict will do the delivery. It’s a sudden commission, but it’s good that you two were going to work in the same place. I can also count with Benedict for seeing off and meeting on return with Little Violet. I’ll give you a few days’ break when you’re done, so do your best. How’s that? Does it seem okay?”

Benedict observed the golden-haired girl who immediately answered, “Yes” with blue eyes similar to hers. They sat next to each other on a sofa in Hodgins’s room. It was a languid early morning. Work was about to begin that day as well.

The climate, atmosphere and food of Leidenschaftlich, which Benedict was once not used to due to having come from a different continent, now penetrated his body without any sense of displacement.

“Fine.”

He had no reason and was not in the position to refuse. The one in front of him was his lifesaver and superior. He did not show respect for the latter, but felt familiarity from him. Most likely, of the highest degree.

“V, don’t make your luggage too heavy. It’ll weaken my beloved bike’s movements.”

The girl beside the amnesiac Benedict was an individual who had only just appeared into his short life. From the time they had first met, to Benedict, she had rooted herself in the classification of people whom he “somehow could not leave on their own”. She was a stunning Auto-Memories Doll. Her impudence aside, she was an ignorant child unknowing of the ways of society. In the beginning, he had doubted that such a machine-like person come from the military would manage working in the service business, but she was currently the most popular figure of the CH Postal Company.

“That is true. I shall reduce the firearms to the minimum equipment. My body weight is also heavy due to the prosthetics, so it will increase the burden on Benedict’s motorcycle.”

Her fine appearance had always stolen the eyes of whoever looked at her, but lately, he had the feeling that her charm had increased. It was as if spring had been born from within her cold beauty.

“Even if the equipment is scarce, if I am with Benedict, I will probably not struggle in case of emergencies.”

She had become able to smile faintly on occasion.

The biggest incident amongst the ones that they had just recently experienced in person – the Intercontinental Train’s hijacking – crossed Benedict’s mind. And so did a man with an eyepatch, who had showed up embracing Violet sideways as she had lost an arm, and taken his leave.

He had not heard everything about the past of the two, but Hodgins had told him the general story afterward. They were in love with each other. There was no room for anyone to come in-between. Their colleague, Cattleya, had said that the two apparently started seeing each other on off days. “I’m glad,” Cattleya had laughed.

Benedict did not deem it as good.

That was probably the reason why looking at Violet felt somewhat unamusing as of late. He suspected that she was being deceived by a much older man who had conveniently vanished and come about once again.

Putting it positively, he was worried.

Benedict tautly flicked Violet, who had no idea about his feelings, on the forehead with his fingertips. “Not really; you’re light. It’s just that your bag’s heavy. Old Man, you ever lifted V’s luggage? Swing that thing around and it’s like a normal blunt weapon; a blunt weapon. There’s a ton of weapons in it under her clothes.”

Hodgins made an all but deplorable face. “Little Violet... you buy guns with your salary, right...?”

“They were distributed to us back when we were in the military, but now I have no option except purchase them myself. I can only take Witchcraft when President Hodgins grants me permission, after all. I have recently purchased a long-range shotgun. My hands are actually more accustomed to wide-swing maces, however...” Perhaps due to having a desire to acquire large weaponry, Violet moved as though wielding the real thing, staring fixedly at the imaginary weapon.

“No can do, no can do. I’ve gone through the trouble of getting you a cute look, so don’t take stuff like that with you aside from emergency cases.”

“Stop, stop. Giving you a ride would get even heavier.”

Completely shut down by the two men, Violet put on a disappointed expression, as if disheartened. “I am prepared to explain the advantage points of the mace, though...”

Without her having the opportunity to give said explanation, the two were set to depart in haste. Seen off by Hodgins and after Lux, who was on phone duty, waved at them, Benedict and Violet left the agency.

The blond duo swayed on the motorcycle towards wherever.

Autumn had ended, the seasons changing into winter. Leidenschaftlich usually did not witness snowfall, yet icy winds were blowing. Gloves, scarves, hooded coats – even if the protection measures against low temperatures were appropriate, cold was cold. As the one driving, Benedict had no choice but simply endure the chilly gusts head-on. Violet’s artificial arms around his torso were gelid as well. The heat from the part of her actual body that was in contact with his back was the only warmth. He could feel the hold of her arms more firmly than when giving her rides back in summer. Was it because of the coolness or because of her trust in him?

Feeling an itch, Benedict sneezed, “Achoo!” While vigorously speeding up the motorcycle over the vast land, he initiated a conversation for no particular reason, “It’s cold!”

“Yes.”

“V, your prosthetics okay? Ain’t there any downsides or something if they get too chilled?”

“It is bad if the joints freeze, but that will not happen as long as the coldness is not extreme.”

“Hu~n.”

“We mostly roamed around northern lands during the Continental War, so I am knowledgeable of the protections against cold.”

“Well, the place we’re going to – Lontano – is inside Leidenschaftlich, so for starters, it won’t be snowing there this time of the year. As long as the weather isn’t abnormal, that is. There’ll also be no obstacles to my delivery duties.”

“Yes. This is reassuring.”

“Hey, don’t say that.”

“Why not? The climate is stable. The one who said that there would be no obstacles to the delivery duties was you, Benedict.”

“That’s not it; it’s ‘cause you’re with me. When you say stuff of the sort, it feels like something will happen instead.”

“So the weather will become abnormal because of what I said?”

Benedict knew that Violet’s eyebrows were furrowing even without looking at her. He laughed aloud. “Stu~pid. You’ve got it wrong. I’m saying that ‘cause it’s easy for some kinda problem to happen when I’m with you. To make up for your luggage being lighter, we got ready to manage at least an interception if anything in general goes down, but... Lontano is a pretty big city, so there’s lots of thugs. Flashy towns also got many dark sides.”

“What an issue...”

“You got picked by some weirdo and it was fight on; you were attacked by a bandit and it was fight on; the motorcycle broke and we got stuck in some field. Also, what else...? You raise one small thing and there’s no end to it.”

As if to protest, Violet alleged, “I cannot agree with this. Benedict, the fights that you started one-sidedly are also included.”

“That so? Might be bad for me to get teamed up with you.”

After a short pause, Violet objected again – to the part about teaming up with Benedict being a “bad” thing, “I cannot agree with this either... Indeed, I can assume there is a factor in us that makes it easy to bring about some sort of conflict. However, we were able to deal with them. We, the two of us... can deal with it if something happens again.”

It was difficult to tell what she was thinking, and she might well have been merely protesting against the negative reputation of her own abilities. Still, Benedict somehow heard it as something other than that.

“Heheh,” laughter leaked from him in a natural manner.

Her breath coming out in white puffs behind him, Violet added as if just recalling it, “This applies to times of war and not to times of peace, but... we would have even less enemies if Cattleya were included,” she whispered intermittently and Benedict smiled.

“If that happened, there’d really be no match for us,” he chuckled.

From that point onward, the way to their destination took a couple of hours.

The place that the Auto-Memories Doll and postman from CH Postal Company headed to was Lontano. Small in comparison with the capital Leiden, it was the most prosperous city amongst the neighboring ones. The houses formed circles as if to surround an old castle sitting on top of a slightly elevated hill that extended itself for about a hundred meters, a river with the same name as the country flowing nearby.

Enshrined within a solemn atmosphere, said old castle was a famous attraction of the city. While holding the rights to it themselves, the clan that formerly owned it had handed its management over to the city, and the city allowed people to tour inside of it for cheap admission fees. The old castle had become a grandiose touristic spot, for the one who had built it was a well-known architect.

Places with renowned attractions that had cultural value were easy to turn into the aspired cities of young artists. Not an exception to this, Lontano had art and history museums, theatre venues and a market of ancient books, making the urban area into one where lovers of such things would be unable to help themselves just from strolling through it. Before entering the city gates, one could overhear music as young people played instruments by the road, and walking a little into the city, one would find bookstore after bookstore. The vicinities of statues and fountains were packed with people drawing sketches. It was city of gorgeous structure, yet gloomy and easy to get lost in if one wandered into an alley. Albeit a small ward, there was also a red-light district, which was more popular amongst those who had no interest in arts.

“Now...”

Benedict dropped Violet off at the city’s entrance. She would then rush over to the customer who lived in that city and ghostwrite for them. Benedict himself had several packages to deliver around the city. Once the work there ended, they would return to Leiden, where the submission of reports and delivery of more letters would be waiting for them. That was why Hodgins had ordered the two of them to go to that city. It was more efficient than going through the trouble of having Violet use public transportation, as it there was no fare and took less time.

The current time was right before noon, the tourists gradually forming a lively crowd.

“Where. Should. It. Be?”

Benedict’s sky-blue eyes traveled about in search for a good meeting spot. There was a bank, a bakery, a souvenir store, and a statue of a naked woman carrying a child. The bakery also seemed to have a café, and people could be seen enjoying the apparently warm interior and freshly baked bread from the glass windows.

“It’s settled. V, let’s make the bakery our meeting spot. No matter who arrives first, we wait inside.”

Violet nodded curtly. “You want to eat bread, right?”

“I do. That bakery’s bread is tasty. I never went inside to eat it, though. But it’s delicious enough that making sure to buy something there and bring it over if we have deliveries to do in Lontano is almost common sense among fellow postmen. That one with melted cheese on it... let’s make it a souvenir for Old Man.”

Hearing Benedict talk about purchasing a souvenir, Violet blinked. “I comply. But Benedict, did something happen?” Her reaction all but asked if he had gone crazy.

“You’re being the rudest possible to me with that, y’know?”

“I apologize... Well, did anything happen?” Benedict’s act of buying souvenirs for Hodgins purely out of goodwill seemed unbelievable for Violet. Therefore, she uttered her concern for a malfunction in either his body or mind.

Benedict struck the top of her head with a light knife-hand in an expression of sympathy. “Nothing’s up! You just don’t know it, but I sometimes give the Old Man souvenirs! Even Auto-Memories Dolls buy souvenirs to the agency if they go to some exotic place, right? It’s the same as that. The Old Man treats me to food and stuff before payday too... Like lunch, well, pretty often...”

“President Hodgins tends to give Benedict a special treatment.”

——Don’t wanna hear that from you who he treats like a daughter, Benedict thought.

He spoke while turning to the other side, “Welp, he went as far as taking in an amnesiac like me and giving me a name... He might be special to me, and I to him.”

He accidentally, unintentionally voiced it.

“Is that so?” Violet threw in an interjection quite like normal and Benedict was taken aback.

It was not as if he were hiding the fact he had amnesia or that the name “Benedict” had been given to him by Hodgins, but he had never talked about it to his work colleagues. That was because he had until now no trials of explaining he had amnesia in which he had received a decent response. He would either earn uncalled-for looks or have condolence-like words of pity spat at him. Whichever it was, Benedict was the kind of person who would end up irritated at the other party.

He already had a name and social position. No longer was he the “Blue” who had nothing. He did not want to feel ashamed of back when he had lived by his eye color’s name.

——I wonder...

He was not proud of it either.

——I wonder how she’ll react.

She would certainly not make a big scandal, but would probably say something annoyingly depressing. While embracing uncomfortable feelings, Benedict waited for her response.

However, no matter how long he waited, there was no reaction after that.

Their blue eyes repeatedly exchanged stares. A prolonged silence ensued between them.

Finally, Violet tilted her head slightly as if to ask, “Is something the matter?”

Benedict wound up delving into it without thinking. “Hey, anything to say on me having amnesia?”

Violet’s golden eyelashes batted. “‘Anything’...?”

“There is, right? It’s amnesia we’re talking about. That’s rare, ain’t it?” Saying it himself was somewhat embarrassing and pathetic.

Did that mean she was not too interested in his past? He felt a little let-down.

“That is not true.”

The next words he heard changed his feelings.

“It is indeed uncommon, but in my personal subjectivity, this is not odd.” Violet susurrated with a tone that sounded somehow happy, “I also do not have any memories from before a certain point in time. I did not know how to speak, either. Major bestowed me with the name of a flower goddess. Benedict, what meaning was yours given with?”

——That’s right.

It seemed that Benedict having amnesia was not a big issue for Violet.

——That was it.

The girl so-called Violet Evergarden also used to be not even a person, but a weapon, during the time she had no name. And she spoke of it without any pretension. She did not think of it as a shame.

“This is President Hodgins who we are talking about, so he must have given it with some sort of meaning. The two of us can be said to be very fortunate, right? If I had been used by anyone other than Major, I do not know what would be of me as of now.”

If anything, she thought of it as merely a process for until meeting the person she loved most.

“Oh.”

Violet, who was innocent and indeed lacked something somewhere, felt sorrowful and precious.

“So, what is the meaning of your name?”

“I forgot!”

“Then, let’s ask President Hodgins when we return. I want to know.”

“No, no, no! Don’t ask! Well, I’ll go do the deliveries, so you go to your client too! See ya later!” Benedict mounted the motorcycle once again and waved a hand at Violet.

“Understood. I shall leave the name matter for later as well.”

“You’re stubborn.”

Thus, the two headed to work, each on a different direction.

Benedict’s deliveries did not take too long. One house received a package with an assortment of supplies from a mother living in Leiden to her son working in Lontano. Three buildings received documents exchanged between offices. Five residences received letters. In case of absences, he would have a little bit of work either taking the delivery back with him or asking the person’s neighbors about where they had gone to, yet he finished earlier than he had presumed without the need for such things.

He soon entered the meeting-spot bakery, taking a seat from where he could see the situation outside through the glass and drinking coffee. It seemed Violet’s ghostwriting job would still take some time.

——Guess I’ll pick the souvenir first, then.

He was not able to imagine Violet enjoyably choosing a gift, so picking one by himself was probably more efficient. Thinking so, Benedict selected a few items that he had deemed savory from his own experience eating them. As per a request to the clerk, he had Hodgins’s part of the bread wrapped.

“Is this all?”

Sensing the plainness in color of the goods that he had chosen, Benedict tilted his neck. “Hn~, anything else you recommend?”

“How about a pie or tart? Also, these aren’t bread, but I recommend our cookies as well. There are people who come here just to buy them.”

“Ah~...”

“They’re popular among girls. The ribbons are cute, too.”

One woman surfaced in Benedict’s head.

“I’ve got someone who’d like them, but she’s far away now. All right. Just add this pie.”

In the end, he had an apple pie as addition. He then returned to his seat and calmly savored the coffee.

While observing the packet in which he had requested it to be wrapped, he faintly wondered if the person on the receiving end would be pleased with it. He was soon able to imagine Hodgins smiling broadly and taking into his hands the souvenir offered by his brusque self. He could picture the other being a little surprised, and then slowly breaking into a smile after being told what it was. Even the other saying, “Thanks, Benedict”, and himself turning to the side while replying, “It’s nothing”. He would have also been glad to take money out of his deserted wallet for the cookies if there were anybody to receive them, yet...

——She’s hella far away right now, huh.

The one who came to his mind was a girl of dark hair and purple eyes, Cattleya Baudelaire. Much like Benedict, she has been a colleague from since CH Postal Company’s foundation day. She liked sweets, was bad at dealing with hardships, was a scaredy-cat despite looking daring and fearless, and had a childish side as opposed to her appearance.

——Well, guess she wouldn’t be too happy if she got them from me.

They would quarrel as soon as they saw each other. Enough to turn it into a common occurrence within the CH Postal Company. It was easy to tell just by looking that they did not actually do it due to truly detesting one another, however...

——I wonder if she hates me.

...they could not tell it so easily themselves. Although they were in the same agency, they had different occupations, therefore missed each other often. Theirs was a repetition in which dawn would break after the previous time they had fought, and they would forget that the fight had happened and start another fight yet again. Regardless, they would end up talking to one another on sight, unable to ignore each other, and so he thought of pleasing her with something.

——I don’t hate her, though.

For Benedict, the sense of distance between himself and she, who was worthy of being considered a new breed of human being, was something complicated.

——Things just kinda don’t go well with us. I can’t treat her like other women.

As he had never experienced a proper romance, he had no way of knowing what that meant.

After he reflected on all sorts of things, a big yawn left his mouth. He stretched both arms towards the sky with a jerk and arched his body like a cat. And then relaxed once more. Thinking of taking a break from work had all of his strained feelings and body slackening up.

——I’m getting kinda sleepy.

As he had to work since early in the morning and his daily duties had overlapped, the sense of satisfaction from having a full stomach and the gently warm room caused his eyelids to naturally lower. His body was slowly, slowly stolen by drowsiness and he wound up unable to keep his eyes open. The scent of the shop’s interior was fragrant, people’s conversations sounding fun. The elements composing an atmosphere that could be understood from one’s heart loosened Benedict’s caution.

——Even though... V’s coming...

A golden-haired girl surfaced in Benedict’s head.

——If it’s her, well, guess she’ll soon find me.

The café inside the shop was crowded. Still, he believed that, since it was her, she would come to that place at full speed.

——She’ll... look for me.

After he became amnesic, no matter whom he asked, there was no one who knew him.

——It’s okay if I nap, right?

No one had looked for him.

——It’s okay, right?

However, Violet Evergarden probably would. Thinking so, Benedict closed his eyes. He yawned sudden and widely, falling asleep altogether as if he were dead. Consciousness distant, his line of thought floated into the air. He forgot what he was thinking about midway, invited into the realm of dreams.

Calling them “dreams” might be a faulty form of expression. In his case, they were reproductions of memory fragments that he had ended up shutting down. Once released from the real world, the past would come chasing after him and softly tap on his back.

A film that felt like an old friend returning from far away played in his mind. “Why, welcome back, my mate who no longer remembers his own name,” it said. The film would repeat itself over and over inside Benedict’s head.

His reunion with his friend named past would begin with a night sky.

It was a beautiful nighttime, in which a full moon had appeared. His memory version crawled out of an extremely, extremely dark place, and so he was startled at the bright light of said moon for an instant and shuddered.

There was a sandy beach under his feet. Stomping onto it, his shoes were blemished with mud and bloodstains. The dull ache in his entire body was agonizing. He might have earned himself a serious injury. Nevertheless, his legs moved without him being able to mind the pain.

His hand was holding onto something. Something smooth and small that had body temperature.

He looked back. A little girl came into sight. The girl had blond hair much like Benedict, but of a slightly different shade. Her hair was bundled up in a black velvet ribbon.

As their eyes met, she nodded as if to say, “I’m fine”. After confirming so, Benedict ran faster. He trusted the girl following him.

Eventually, his gaze moved ahead. A single boat was fluctuating on the surface of the sea.

——There, we can escape with that, he thought.

He did not know what they were fleeing from. However, if it was something frightening enough to scare him, whether it was someone horrifyingly strong or a large-numbers-against-small-numbers situation, their circumstances were that they had to run away. But that was not the issue.

Benedict turned around and said, “We’re escaping on that thing,     ”

As if having erased it, he was unable to hear her name.

“     , you’re coming too?”

He also could not hear his own name as spoken by the other.

“That’s right. I won’t abandon you. We’ll end up ————. ‘Cause that’s ————’s way of doing things. Without that drug, you ————.”

The color of her hair, eyes and lips – he could see those splintered things.

“But... But even if you ————, even I stop recognizing you as my little sister, even if you stop recognizing me as your big brother, it’s fine. We’re siblings, after all.”

But he could not see her face.

“Even if we forget, I’m sure we’ll recognize each other on sight.”

He could not tell how her face looked. The hues of her ribbon and orbs were fragmented.

“Isn’t that right? If we’re together, even if we forget, we can remember each other as many times as we need. If you find a man that you like or something, you can forget and throw me away. But until then...”

The shades of her hair, her voice and intonation – he could only tell those kinds of things apart.

“...don’t let go of this hand no matter what. If you do that, we’ll really end up forgetting everything,” the past Benedict said as if making a threat.

“I understand,     .”

The two boarded the boat and started rowing toward the open sea.

At last, things would always end at a point where he was looking up at the boat from the bottom of the ocean. And so, he would think that, aah, they had failed.

His body convulsed with a start. The film reproduced inside his head did not go for more than a few minutes, yet Benedict awoke accompanied by a sense of fatigue, almost as if he had gone on a long journey.

Eyes half-open, he looked about the surroundings. Violet was nowhere to be seen. He checked the shop’s clock. Not even ten minutes had passed since he had begun drinking his coffee.

Poising himself calmly, he took the only slightly cold coffee into his mouth. Upon drinking a mouthful of it, he became unable to settle with just a little and downed it in gulps as if it were water.

“One more,” he asked for another of the same thing, raising his hand to one of the shop’s waiters. He had wanted the bitterness of reality, enough for him not to be invited by sleepiness anymore.

——You’ve seen this so many times, yet you’re still scared of it?

Although he had been thinking until just a moment before that she did not have to come, he now wished to see that blunt girl very much.

——It’s fine.

Not even he knew what was fine exactly, but he told himself so.

——It’s fine.

He needed those words.

——I’m... fine. Ain’t that right?

He himself did not give an answer to the question asked.

Benedict wound up sneering. He did not use to be so agitated even back when he worked as a mercenary for the first time.

He looked around again. Nobody was a target of dread. Nothing was currently happening. It was not as if he were rushing through a battlefield in order to earn money either, nor had he been abandoned in a desert completely naked. He could tell as much even without sorting out the situation. He was blessed now and nothing was terrifying. Things were finally peaceful. Too peaceful.

However, Benedict did not know that, the more peaceful times were, the more often would the pain of the scars marking him end up coming back.

——Ever since he took me in, haven’t I grown weak?

Oddly enough, be it mental or physically, wounds were not curable. Their visible parts would heal. However, even if they healed on the surface, just by the atmosphere and the people and things involved when the injury happened overlapping with one another, the truth that “a wound was earned” would return. The figurative scars would chase after people forever like the Moon floating in the sky. And they would ache.

Even if the injury took but an instant, the truth that one had been wounded was eternal.

——When... will I get to remember everything?

The scar from forgetting the one person that he absolutely should not have forgotten was causing Benedict’s heart to self-mutilate without him realizing. If the replaying of his memories had already happened thousands of times, then for those thousands of times, Benedict had been attacking himself.

Without knowing why he would become so flustered, he reproduced his recollections again. They were a repetition of the previous ones. As seen from the sidelines, things were obvious to those who knew of his circumstances.

A new coffee was brought over, but he did not feel like drinking it in that warm place. It was Benedict who had come up with the arrangement, saying that one should wait for the other inside, yet he had decided to wait in front of the shop mounted on his motorcycle. Breathing in amidst the coldness, he calmed down a little. The perfectly clean, icy air within his body cooled down his head. Even if his body shook, it was because of the chilliness.

Suddenly, Benedict looked straight to the side. It was due to him feeling a stare for some reason.

A short-haired blonde girl was standing there. Hers was an unnatural shade of blond, so it was most likely a wig. She was dressed in a milky white satin dress similar to the tone of her skin under a black trench coat. She seemed like the kind of woman who led a life of having her praises sung by men in that city of artists. With a cigarette between her fingers, she blew tobacco smoke out of her bright red lips. Being in a bar surrounded by men all around and laughing elegantly would suit her. The front of a bakery was not fitting of her...

“Y-You—” the woman mustered out at Benedict, with an aspect that seemed to say she had done so unwittingly. Her voice was husky.

Benedict returned her gaze. The woman gave him an odd feeling of déjà vu. Had they not met somewhere before, his sixth sense whispered.

Subconsciously, his eyes went to her hair. If that sister of his had grown up, was a woman with such appearance too old to be her? Still, women could change the age suggested by their looks however they wanted with make-up and clothes. Benedict knew the morning-to-night faces of the women he had spent time with until now. Should he not discard the possibility that she was his younger sister?

Perhaps because the glint in Benedict’s eyes had sharpened, the woman took a step backward, and then threw the cigarette away, leaving the spot. At first, she walked slowly, gradually going in small trots.

“Hey,” when he realized it, Benedict had hopped off his motorcycle and was calling out to her. “Hey, wait.”

He pursued the woman as she ran, grabbing her arm by force. Not liking it, the woman attempted to shake free from him, but Benedict bound her arms behind her back. As she smelled of sickly sweet perfume, it felt as if he was about to suffocate.

“Let me go!”

“You know me, right?!”

“I don’t!”

“You definitely do, don’t you?! No, I... I...!”

——I feel like I know you.

“You... Are you...”

He might have been jumping to conclusions. He was fine with it being a misunderstanding. However, if that was not the case, then he certainly did not want to lose such information by mistake.

“Are you... my little... sister?”

Upon being asked so, the woman covered her mouth with her two hands.

The way back was extremely quiet on that day.

Having finished the ghostwriting for her client, Violet called over to Benedict, who was exhaling white puffs outside. It took him a few seconds to react back, and his face looked almost as if he had seen a ghost. She noticed he had nothing in hands despite having said that he would buy Hodgins a souvenir, and as they went back into the shop, the clerk was looking after it. As Benedict said nothing, Violet was the one to thank her.

Even as she told him, “Well, then, let us go home,” while mounting on the backseat, he was out of it and did not take off.  And even as the motorcycle finally moved, he stopped driving without as much as one minute passing.

“V, my bad. I’m... feeling awful right now. I might cause an accident and get you hurt.”

Violet did not ask if something had happened. As he was certainly pale-faced, Violet changed seats with a, “Then, I will do the driving”, adapting to the necessities of the moment. She had learned how to ride horses and vehicles to an extent during her soldier days. Even as it had been a while since then, she had confidence that she could do it.

“Benedict. You will fall like this, so please hold tighter.”

“My bad...”

“No, if you feel sick from the swaying, I will stop. Please say it.”

“Aah. My head’s kinda hurting a lot. Can I... close my eyes for a bit?”

“That is all right.”

After saying so, Violet looked up at the sky. As dusk approached, the sky was shrouded in clouds, but it did not seem as if rain, snow or abnormalities in the weather would occur.

It was awfully rare of Benedict to candidly bask on people’s goodwill and apologize. Since he was feeling unwell, it was impressive that he had not yet lost only his judgement of having her replace him as the driver. However, the fact that Benedict, who normally had but a big attitude, stayed silent the whole trip, clung onto a girl younger than him and sat on the backseat would be considered a state of emergency by the staff of the CH Postal Company if they saw him.

Of course, Violet Evergarden also understood that it was an emergency.

Somewhat tired as he might be, drowsy as he might be, that man would never let someone else drive his beloved bike. It was a personal vehicle given to him by Claudia Hodgins when the latter was starting his business.

Violet merely spoke to him dispassionately, “Benedict, were you talking to anyone before I had arrived?”

“Yeah.”

“I have good ears.”

“Yeah, you’re like a wild animal.”

“‘I want to run away from here’. ‘I want you to buy me time’. ‘I want you to help me’ – things like that?”

Rather than being a poor talker, Violet was not as proficient at conversational skills as most people, and so she did not know the right way to speak to him at such a time.

“It’s got nothing to do with you,” Benedict replied coldly in a low voice that sounded as if he were repelling her.

As the talk ended there, a curtain of silence descended upon them once more.

Violet was deep in thought. She almost never put effort into conversations. If she was told not to speak, she would not speak. When asked a question, she would answer. She would inquire what was necessary. That was what conversations used to be about. For her, at least.

However, the grown-up Violet now understood things could not be that way.

She spoke to Benedict again, “That lady called you her brother, Benedict, but you have amnesia, right? Is that person your younger sister? Rather... did you really have a younger sister?”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“I was observing from nearby as you were binding that woman’s arms behind her back. I learned from President Hodgins that no one should intervene on male-female relationships. Therefore, I stood in waiting on the spot and watched over you, so as to mediate if it were necessary.”

“What’s the Old Man doing...? Speaking of that, this kinda thing’s called ‘eavesdropping’.”

“Was that person your younger sister? Your appearances when you were side by side did not strike me as...”

The motorcycle passed over a rock while she was speaking, and so the vehicle’s frame floated buoyantly for an instant. It landed roughly and started running once more.

“She did not seem to be your younger sister to me. This is but my assumption, but I believe she is older than you are. To begin with, you have amnesia, so even if you did have a younger sister living separately from you, is there no need for further investigation since you do not remember her?” Violet was much too indifferent. Without any compassion or curiosity regarding whatever was happening to Benedict, she levelly stated her conclusions. Even if should it rub Benedict’s nerves the wrong way.

“Shut up! You don’t know that! She might be the one!” Benedict hit Violet’s back with his fists. “I have a little sister! I have memories of her! That’s the only thing I’m definitely, definitely, definitely, definitely, definitely, definitely, definitely, definitely, definitely, definitely, definitely, definitely, definitely, definitely, definitely, definitely, definitely, definitely sure of!”

“How come? You don’t have memories.”

“I can tell!”

“How?”

When asked so, he had no choice but speak sentimentally.

“‘Cause I feel love for her!”

Violet dry-swallowed curtly at the word “love”.

“It stayed in me! Even if I don’t have my memories, I have this!”

It was embarrassing and foolish.

“It’s the only thing that’s definitely, definitely not a lie!”

He normally never spoke of love, yet he desperately resorted to it only for now.

——I mean, we held hands in the darkness. The only proof that we were alive was our body temperature. Whenever she’d say that she was scared, I’d reply with, “It’s all right”. “Your Big Bro will do something about this,” I’d tell her. The one who’d affirmed my existence was my little sister. I’d managed to get courage from the fact that I could be relied on. That, yeah, I was an older brother. That she was no good without me, so I had to keep on living. Still...

“I had a sister, and I don’t really get it, but I was protecting her! I was thinking about protecting her no matter what, no matter what...! I don’t know why I’m living by myself like this...! Memory—I don’t have memory!”

——I don’t remember.

“Protect her from what...?”

——I don’t know. Did someone break me? Did I break on my own?

“I don’t know! Could be anything... That’s—That’s not what’s important to me! I don’t care about how I used to live when I was a brat... I supposedly used to have a sister, and the fact she’s not here is a problem for me! I’m amnesiac, and when I woke up, my sister wasn’t by my side; I’d turned into an idiot who didn’t know anything about myself or my sister! I have nothing! But...!”

——I don’t know. But...

“But, I definitely... have a little sister.”

——She definitely existed. If I meet her someday, I’ll know it’s her for sure. Even if I forgot, even if I can’t remember her, I’ll recognize her if I see her. I want the same to be valid for her.

With that thought, all along, he had lived on as if praying.

“That woman said she knows me... I’ve also—I’ve also seen her before somehow. I don’t know whether she’s my sister or not. But even if she isn’t... when that time comes, I don’t wanna have regrets!”

After saying so, Benedict had his face slammed against Violet’s back. That was because the motorcycle came to a sudden, abrupt stop. Benedict’s nose, neither too high nor too low, was smashed, and he anguished for a brief moment.

Violet, the driver and the cause of his pain, turned backward and reached a hand out to Benedict. Their faces were close enough that her golden hair, burning against the madder red sky, brushed the tip of his nose. Violet gripped Benedict’s shoulder as if to tell him, “Don’t run away”.

“Benedict.”

Her eyes – her blue orbs – pierced him like a blade.

“Please listen. I have told you before that I am also an orphan, was taken in and raised, and do not know who my parents are, right? From my experience, individuals who ‘tend to presume on their memories’ will come in contact with vagabonds attempting to do inexcusable things. Those who invited me into the dark by claiming to know me and proposing to discuss it in detail were neither one nor two people.”

Violet Evergarden desperately trying to convey her own words to the other party was just as unusual as Benedict entrusting his beloved bike to someone.

“During my days as a soldier, Major always bore the full brunt of it and protected me.”

That was precisely why, with her rapid-fire speech, Benedict could not seal her lips using stern persuasion.

“After growing up, I was almost murdered by a cultist organization that claimed I was not a human being but a demigod. I know nothing of my past, so even if I am told such things, I find myself thinking that they might be true. Benedict, are you not the same as me in this aspect? There are probably many women who know you. The women that you have dated, the people you have spent the night with until now – do you recall every one of them? You and President Hodgins are similar. In the past, President Hodgins came to the hospital room where I was hospitalized in a state of having drunk his regrets away and talked torrentially. Have you never done something like this? Even if you leave out the likelihood of being deceived by that person... if you are still thinking about doing something...”

Violet’s words were not gentle in the slightest.

“Benedict.”

However, within her own possibilities, she was thinking, thinking and thinking.

“Benedict, do you need back-up fire?”

Currently, she was attempting to do whatever she could to the maximum degree.

“I do not... know whether or not I am your friend. Lux seems all right with being my friend. Cattleya called me a friend too. Benedict, I do not know about you. We spend a large amount of time together, but even now, I still cannot say for sure what definition I should give to others. To me, the people who have told me that I am their friend are my friends as of late.”

What lay between the two of them was their time spent together. From the moment they had first met until now, they had built a relationship of trust.

“That is why, for me, even if you are not my friend, in case there is anything troubling you...”

Just as the forgotten nurturing between Benedict and his sister, it was something precious.

“No, regardless of what the definition of our relationship is, I... I... if there is something causing you to be like this... and if... it is an enemy that I must fight...”

Even if he did not have a past, Benedict had a present.

“...then I will attack it with everything I have.”

He had an ally named Violet Evergarden.

Under the dusky sky, the still young duo lay themselves bare to each other and made one decision.

“Hoo, hoo, hoo,” the low whispering of birds staged the night as something somewhat eerie.

The evenings at Lontano were like those of night-less cities, in which the lights of bars did not turn off even in the dead of the night. What a place so resplendent needed were attention-grabbing buildings, high-grade alcohol and beautiful women. Until the men went to sleep, the women hired to entertain them could not sleep either.

At present, a lone woman was coming out of a bar that still had its lights on, clad in a black trench coat that could as much as melt into the nightly darkness. She was a captivating blonde beauty.

“Where you going?” asked a man who stood by the entrance of the bar with a fierce look.

The woman showed him an empty box of tobacco that belonged to a regular costumer of the bar. “Cigarettes.”

The women who worked in bars had to report everything they did. Their bodies themselves were the merchandize. Unlike normal goods, bodies could walk on their own will.

Should they disappear somewhere, there would be no business.

“Linda’s store is still open. I was told to go buy more. If you don’t hurry and let me go, you’ll get scolded for stopping me.”

She had intended to speak nonchalantly, yet her frame trembled underneath the trench coat. The man eyed her body from head to toe.

“It’s nighttime. That’s not like the middle of the day. I’ll go. Can’t let you go by yourself.”

“I want to smoke outside for a bit.”

“You, it can’t be that you’re planning to run away again, right? You were almost killed before, weren’t you? If you haven’t learned the hard way after that, you’re an idiot. Until you pay your debts, you’re the same as livestock.”

The woman’s lips trembled at being called “livestock”. “It’s not my debt.”

“It’s your man’s, right? He’s the worst kind of bastard who sells women from a continent he never even walked on.”

“I don’t care about him anymore.”

“Even if he no longer comes to see you, you brought this upon yourself. Got no choice but make up for it. Don’t go thinking of stupid stuff... Hitting women ain’t our thing either.”

The woman thrust the empty tobacco box at him as if to hand it over. “I really was asked to get the cigarettes. If you think it’s a lie, go ask about it inside. If you believe me, you can come along. Then I can breathe the air outside a little, and you don’t have to worry about me running away. We’re settled with that, right?”

The man clicked his tongue at the provocative wording, yet seemed to have complied. He asked another employee to take over his post and made an agreement.

“If you take too long...”

The woman waited stiffly as the men talked. Eventually, the two started walking down the stone-paved road illuminated by streetlights.

The woman observed the man. She was there due to being sold by the person she used to be in love with, but she suspected that the man was also being made to work in that shop because of some reason. She might be wrong.

Even if that were the case, in her present condition, she did not have the compassion of others. If she wanted to break free from her current state, which, as the man said, had unfolded from something that she herself had done...

“It’s cold... Aren’t you chilly?”

...she had to act on her own. Even if she was counting with the assistance of a savior, since she had devised the plan by herself, it was her own power.

The lights of the tobacco store became visible. Just a bit more and they would reach it.

——Please, please, please, help me, God.

“You can smoke one cigarette, but we’re going back as soon as you’re done.”

——Help me, help me, help me!

The reason why the woman firmly squeezed her eyes shut was to deliver her wish to the God that resided somewhere out there, but even if she were not doing so, she surely would have closed her eyes either way.

That was because someone had abruptly come running from an alley and whispered, “Yo, the meeting spot was here, right?”

Since the one who had spoken was of a much shorter stature than the man, the kick lunged at him crushed his nether regions, and so the former immediately put a hand over his mouth. As she recognized the face of the person applying force so that the man would not let out a single scream, the woman said, “P-Please! Stop! He’s not a bad person!”

Until a while before, she had not cared for the other, but upon actually seeing something terrible happen to him, that feeling flew off the nest. Perhaps listening to her plea, the lout who had appeared so suddenly took her hand and vanished into the alley from which he had come.

The golden hair of the man running in front of her shone glisteningly even at night, within an alley that did not have illumination. Unlike her wig, it was a natural sandy-blond.

“B-Big Brother,” the woman called the man going ahead with a tone mixed in rapture.

However, what she received in return was gunfire, “Drop it; that’s gross.” While running, the lout – Benedict Blue – clicked his tongue. As the woman was slow at running, he pulled her forward roughly.

A shoe came off the woman’s foot. It was a high-heel one. She wore it because it made the shape of her legs seem bewitching and pleased men. It was not suited for running.

“My shoe came off!”

“Take off the other!”

Being yelled at, the woman did as told and took off the other pair while crying. They were shoes that gleamed silver of which she was fond. However, at the moment, she did not need beauty. She resumed running with all her might.

“H-Hey. W-Why... are you being so cold? You’re going to help me, right? I’m your sister, after all.”

At the question asked with restraint, Benedict answered with a disappointed voice, “Ah, about that: it was my misunderstanding.”

After taking off her shoe, she was fast at running. The woman increased her speed, as to be side-by-side with the one pulling her arm. “Eh?” Her voice reversed to her original one in lieu of the extreme course of events.

“I kinda thought I’d seen you before... but my colleague told me to trace back the few memories I have of my life, and when I tried doing that, you were there. I did know you. But you ain’t my sister.”

Silence.

“You’re the one who ripped off everything I had on me and threw me away in the Inkar-usi desert, aren’t you?”

Still silence.

“I remember until the point where I slept with a fine woman. I don’t recall her face. But, this... blond hair that looks fake... tangled in my fingers big time when I stroked it; that’s the only thing that stayed in my memory. I was mad drunk, wasn’t I? I’d earned the biggest amount of reward money until then, so I guess I got cocky.”

The woman tried to halt on the spot. However, Benedict forcefully pulled her along.

“Don’t stop! Run!”

“I don’t want to! You’re telling me you’ll make me yours next!? I won’t be anyone’s any longer! I hate men! I don’t want to live through being used by someone anymore! I want to go back to me homeland!”

There were tears surfacing in the woman’s eyes, but Benedict was not the type of man to falter at such a thing. He grabbed the woman’s dress by the collar, and after snapping his head backward at once, he followed the momentum and head-butted her.

The two writhed in pain.

“That’s why I said I’m taking you back! Who needs someone like you, shithead!? It’s not like I’ve forgiven you! If I hadn’t been picked up by one hell of a good guy after that, I would’ve killed you a long time ago!”

“If you’ve found out about my lie, then why...!? I pretended to be your sister and asked you to break me out, y’know!?”

“I just told you, didn’t I!? Thanks to you abandoning me in a desert, I’m the most blessed ever now! If I hadn’t met that guy back there, I wouldn’t even have a name and would be sleeping with women somewhere and waking up completely broke! All because I ended up scoring a fate good enough to rewind my life until that point from a shitty goddess like you! It only so happens that you almost tricked me, but I felt like saving you! Okay?! I hate you, so keep just that in mind! Once I help you out, be careful of the roads at night!”

After spitting out abusive language again with another “shithead”, Benedict made the woman run. The woman could not believe it. Up until now, she had told countless men who had slipped into her body about her personal history and attempted to earn their help. However, she had no one.

“You’ve got a terrible look in your eyes, huh. Mine’s pretty terrible too.”

She had no one.

“I have amnesia. I used to have a little sister... but I can’t remember her.”

She had no one.

“Hey, your hair reminds me of my sister’s; can I stroke it?”

She had no one.

“I’ll raise your pay if you stay until morning, so be here. It’s been a while since the last time I wasn’t alone.”

She had no one, and so, she had thought it would be all right to deceive somebody.

Her tears poured incessantly. They flowed down as if to block her mouth and nose. It was hard to breathe. Even so, she had to say it.

“I’m sorry!” while sobbing, the woman apologized to Benedict.

“Aah!?”

“I’m sorry for lying to you! I’m sorry for those two times!”

“Shut up! I told you I wouldn’t forgive you, didn’t I!? Those two times! I won’t forgive for the rest of my life!”

“But—But, I’m sorry! Sorry for pretending to be your sister!”

In the middle of passing through the alley, they heard gunshots from behind for some reason. The ones who monitored her – a merchandize – had probably come chasing the two. Benedict took a peek backwards, but continued running without minding it.

“They’ve come after us!”

Benedict was already replying to the woman’s shouts with a, “Shut up!” as easily as breathing.

Bullets went past their feet and sides. However, the gunning that was intense at first gradually diminished as the two rushed through the alley. Benedict shot back behind his shoulder as a diversionary action, but did not attempt to hit the other party at all.

Once they reached the end of the alley, Benedict kicked off the half-open lid of a skewer route and opened it fully. “Now, fall!” He kicked the woman into it. He did hear her scream, but having climbed the way up, he was aware that it was not too great a descent. Before going down as well himself, he looked at a certain direction. “V...”

Beyond his gaze was a comrade of his, who had promised to hit his enemies with all of her power as an interceptor.

She was on the top of a tree far away from the current position of Benedict and the woman. Violet Evergarden, who was sniping the group that chased after them, had taken aim upon confirming that gunshots were coming from said group. She targeted the firearm in their hands and pulled the trigger. The perfect trajectory of her bullets passed by Benedict and the woman’s sides, hindering the people that obstructed their way.

Realizing that his own gun had been flicked away by someone, the man who had fired the first shot raised his voice in astonishment, “You’re kidding me, right!?”

While he was in shock, the unseen sniper continued attacking. One of them attempted to target and shoot at the back of the woman, who was falling behind as she ran, but also had his weapon destroyed before he fired, and although he was attacked, he was easily able to defend himself against it.

“Don’t shoot without thinking! We’re under aim!” another yelled, but on such a dark night in an alley like that, the panic of having someone snipe only their weapons so precisely caused the men to lose their normal nature.

“STAY AWAAAAY!”

A legend of the battlefields, unknown to those who lived in cities through making women into food, was making them insane. They blindly faced the sky and shot at random. Bullets came flying to Violet’s direction as well, but did not as much as touch her body.

Guns had something called “effective range distance”. The guns used by the men were not suited for long-range shooting. Things also depended on the skills of the person using it, so differences in distance occurred even with that type of gun.

With a long-range rifle adopted by the military, Violet was taking aim from her position on a tree that the men absolutely could not see. “Target seized... Fire.”

The sounds of shooting echoed.

From far away, she could see someone’s gun falling down from his hand. “Fire, hit.” She moved mute and quickly, as if carrying out a simple job. “Fire, hit, fire.”

It would be fine if her face distorted in pain from the impact of shooting.

“Fire.”

However, Violet’s facial expression bore no emotion.

“Fire.”

Eventually, as everything became quiet, while exhaling a deep breath, Violet ceased to shoot and descended to the root of the tree. It would seem that the long-range shotgun she had bought just recently with her own salary had done a satisfactory work for her.

As she succeeded at the “back-up fire” in the literal sense of the term, she immediately left the spot.

The shooting battle that took place in the city of Lontano over the night turned into a much bigger occurrence than Benedict and the others had imagined, and the situation got to the point of the military police being dispatched. It so happened that people other than the woman behind the scandal had blended with the confusion of the turmoil and fled the city from the shadows, but those were stories unknown to Benedict and Violet.

A few hours had passed since the troublesome escape feat.

“Ouch!”

“Shut up! Hurry and put them on!” In a world wherein flowed the light of dawn, Benedict threw the shoes he had been wearing on the woman’s face.

While muttering complaints about him flinging the shoes at her, the woman tied them on. She had been running around the whole night and shaking off their chasers with Benedict, so her feet were injured and wet with blood. The pain was severe, but the exhilaration of managing to escape allowed her to feel as if it did not matter. Moreover, as she put on Benedict’s shoes, although they were too big, it became easier for her to walk in comparison to when she was not wearing anything on her feet.

Benedict was shoeless instead. He had cut wounds in his entire body. His clothes were ripped everywhere as well.

“Hey, why?”

“Shut up... Don’t ask so many times.”

“But, it’s just... I keep wondering why. Until now, nobody had helped me out, so it’s very strange to me.”

At those words, the face of Claudia Hodgins crossed Benedict’s mind. His good-natured employer and lifesaver. He, too, had bestowed Benedict with clothes and shoes when the latter was naked.

——I also kept asking why, I guess.

People who had never been treated kindly would think of unconditional love as the beginning of something terrifying. They firmly believed that everything others would bring them was either reprimanding or abuse.

“I told you, didn’t I? It’s ‘cause I was picked up by a good guy. That’s why.” A small smile escaped him.

“Benedict.”

His name called from behind, Benedict turned around.

With leaves on her head, their accomplice of the day, Violet Evergarden, was holding out tickets for the first train of the morning, which would now depart. “Also, take this as well.” Together with the ticket, she left in the woman’s hands a bag of freshly baked bread presumably bought in a nearby shop.

The woman eyed the bread and Violet alternately, tears forming in her eyes. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Be careful on your way...”

“You’re the one that had least to do with this... Thank you, really.”

“No. It has to do with me. I was his ‘back-up fire’, after all.”

Hearing that, Benedict laughed loudly. When she had talked about being his back-up fire, the connotation was simply of lending a hand, and he had not thought she would actually put it to practice.

As Violet and Benedict were the only ones who knew the meaning of that, the woman tilted her neck. “Benedict... you too.”

“Use ‘Mister’.”

“Mr. Benedict, you too, thank you very much...!”

“Again, be careful on the roads at night,” Benedict replied with a threat incorporated to it.

The time of depart had still not come. The duo, having decided to leave her there and disperse, finished their farewells with a “see ya” and started walking away.

“H-Hum! Mr. Benedict.” Perhaps still having something to say, once Benedict turned around, the woman was smiling, her blond hair fluttering in the morning wind. “You see, I had an older brother... I haven’t seen him for years now, so I can’t remember him, but when I was a child, I used to call him ‘Big Bro’... I really did have those feelings in mind when I called you that.”

“So what?”

“If I were your little sister, I’d definitely search the whole world for a big brother like you!”

“You ain’t her, though.”

“I’m not! But one day, for sure—!”

One day, you will find her, the woman smiled faintly.

At that moment, Benedict’s sky-blue orbs opened wide. An indescribable, strange feeling rushed throughout his body. If so-called memories were provided to people by traveling across not only their souls but also the particulars of their bodies, and if they could be remembered through a small trigger in case something was forgotten, it might turn out as that sort of feeling, like a tingle from an electric shock.

The woman waved, still smiling. He did not tell her to shut up.

“Stu~pid.” His voice trembled. Turning roundly on his heels, Benedict started walking.

Violet followed him from behind.

——Aah, I…

His vision was shaky.

——Why? Why did I think she was my little sister?

He could now clearly tell. She was not at all like his sister. Firstly, although both were blonde, the shades of their hair were completely different, and although his sister was also fine-looking, she and that woman had different characteristics.

“Benedict?”

Yes, his sister was not such a lustful beauty, but instead had more of a fickle appearance. She had a well-behaved voice tone and demeanor, and was not the kind of person who would refer to others as “you”.

“Benedict, please wait.”

To begin with, she rarely ever called him “Big Bro” and mostly called him by his name. He did not remember that name, but he remembered her calling it.

“Benedict, you will trip if you walk like this.”

——Aah, out of all things... out of all things...

“Benedict, why are you crying?”

Out of all things, he just had to remember his little sister because of a smile from the woman who had knocked him off into hell.

“My, welcome back, my friend who no longer knows his own name.”

——She was a crybaby and a scaredy-cat. She’d always hide behind my back and follow me in trots. I liked the most when she’d come running at my direction after spotting me. That’s why I’d make her look for me on purpose sometimes. The times when we were together were happy, and he rest was hell.

I did have a little sister. She was there all the time. That’s for sure.

In my oldest memory, she was by my side. It was really cold when we woke up. We were in a place that was like a stone tower. She was the closest to me, and was shivering too. The adults hadn’t given us any blankets, so I called her over and the two of us clung to each other. When I asked, “Who are you again?”, her face looked like she was about to cry and she said, “Don’t forget me”.

I was told afterward that she was my little sister, so I thought, “That’s right”. She said I was in a pretty bad condition. That I’d almost died because of a head injury that apparently I myself had earned. That I was quick to want to die when my ego blew off. I’d get disposed of if I went crazy just one more time. That’s why she cried to me, begging me to stay sane.

My sister remembered a lot more than I did. We actually didn’t live in that place and we did have a family. But people would forget things little by little in that place. When I asked if she was certain that I was her older brother, she replied that she was. “You’re forgetting stuff too, right? How do you know?” I asked. When I pressed with a, “That’s right, how can you know?”, she cried even more that, “I have the feeling of love left in me, so we’re family”. She had a weird personality, but after those words, I thought I just had to protect my sister.

The adults called the tower “home”. At “home”, small children were recruited to do adult works. There were all kinds of jobs. Like delivering things, or retrieving them. Jobs in which someone would die when I performed that sorta labor. Those who were good at work were also ordered more direct stuff. It seems I’d gone nuts when they piled up. If you failed your duties, your little brother, little sister, older brother or older sister – the smallest numbers of each of our family members – would get killed. The people that knew and loved us were hostages. Well, that does make people go mad.

“Home” was like a tiny military unit. We always went to different places. From what the adults would say, “home” was a temporary employee placement livelihood. They were preparing human resources able to endure any type of battle mission from scratch. Come to think of it now, they’d give me medicines and incense without a break every day for some reason.

My sister, myself and the others, who were forgetting a lot of things, were apparently human resource pupils. From what my sister told me, in that jumble of children, I was the most apt for those jobs. It seemed I was the one who took the biggest amount of medicine, so my forgetfulness was pretty bad.

Could humans be created from scratch after being made to forget everything? On top of that, could they be raised into the strongest human resources? The answers were “yes” and “no” – you could say both.

We’d end up going crazy at just one cogitation. We were quick to become suicidal. There was no meaning in soldiers who couldn’t be used for long. I was probably insane but pretended to be normal for my sister’s sake.

The adults would say that they’d hire us once we grew up. That, for the moment, we were livestock.

It seemed that the adults monitoring us had lived like us in the past. “Aren’t there only idiots here?” I thought. They hadn’t learned anything even after those horrible things were done to them.

I decided that, if we had to become adults in that hell, we’d better run away. My sister was crying. If we tried to escape, the adults would come to kill us for sure.

The feeling of wanting to die had always been in me. If I was gonna die anyway, I’d wanted to die for my sister. Whoever did something to her that she didn’t want to was shit. I wanted to kill them.

She was the only pretty thing in that pathetic world. I don’t know if she was really my sister. But even if we just happened to have the same hair and eye color, she was my everything. She was the girl I’d wanted to protect the most in the world. Even though she was all I had...

“Your Big Bro will protect you,     , okay?”

Even though she was all I had... I’d surely failed to set my sister free.

Tears poured from Benedict’s eyes.

“Shit…”

The tears that poured from them flowed continuously, eventually penetrating the earth and disappearing without fulfilling any purpose. They would nevermore return. Never would they go back to the eyes that had produced them. Similarly, the important person who had poured out of Benedict’s life would surely not return.

——Life... is shit.

In his memory of taking her by the hand amidst the night, running away and, lastly, watching the boat from the bottom of the sea, if his sister was on that boat, just how would her young self have survived afterward? Had she drifted and been picked up by some kindhearted person? Had his overprescribed sibling survived just fine after forgetting about him and about herself? Was she living well somewhere under that same sky even as they were unable to see each other?

That was but a dream story.

The world seemed filled with happy stories, but they were actually very few. Stories and real life were...

——I didn’t need a life like that.

At the very least, Benedict’s life tasted of the sea. It was too salty and undrinkable. Such was it even now. The tear droplets that spilled down his cheeks, passed by his lips and dripped from his chin had the flavor of the ocean. Benedict’s past was chasing him and strangling his neck, so as to kill him from sadness. He wanted to scream and break into wails, asking, “Why?”.

——End it right now. God, why’re you doing this? End it right now. God, there’s no salvation for me. Please help me. End it right now. God, I can’t breathe because of the pain in my chest brought by this sadness. Hurry, as soon as possible, right now, bring this life…

“Don’t go crazy; don’t die,” she had asked of him.

——...to an end...!

Yet he chose death. After all, surely, his sister had already died long before.

He had always fled from such truth. He had merely forgotten about it. Things such as wishing that he would not die in a desert and thinking about eating bread with someone had stemmed from his made-up other self. He was simply a fake that had pretended to be sane and survived somehow. Even if he was in the past, his original self had yearned to die for a long time. It was false of him to be currently living and showing gratitude to somebody. He certainly had forgotten what should not have been forgotten because it was easier that way.

The painful and the easy. When sorting them out, he had picked the easy. There was no mistaking that he had wanted to try forgetting everything and live freely.

He was cursed for it.

“Was it fun?” If he were asked so, he could answer that it was great fun.

——Yeah, all of it was fun.

In his new life, after meeting that man, the humidity and temperature of the of the continent he was brought to upon being picked up were different, and everything was fresh. The motorcycle that he was granted in place of holding onto a gun or sword had showed him many worlds.

He merely delivered things. He had thought it was only that, but upon seeing it for the first time, being a postman was difficult. Every day, he was at loss from being scolded by the clients or receiving excessive gratitude. It was strange for someone like him, who had never gotten a letter, to be delivering them.

Oddly enough, whenever he saw the smiles of the people on the receiving end, he would feel as if he were doing an extremely good deed. He had found it weird that a postal agency had been chosen for starting a business and was unused to it, but he had come to understand that the reason for being of such job was to perform labor.

It was simply delivery. If one was able to walk or to ride a motorcycle, be it a woman, man, child or elder – anyone could do it. It did not have to be him. It was not a work that only he could do. However, he thought that this mere delivery was not bad. He deemed it as fun. Deliveries in which he was able to please others were enjoyable.

No matter what he did, the sights he would see were unlike the ones from when he was a mercenary. The small discoveries that he would find during a delivery – minor things such as there being a delicious bakery or going faster by taking a certain road – were fun. But more enjoyable than anything else was that he had a place to go back to, no matter to what part of the world he went. Even as he returned in tatters, once he opened the office’s door, there was someone who would say, “Aah, welcome back, Benedict. Good work”.

In the world where he had started walking as if he had suddenly been born, ever since he had met that man, yes, it did seem foolish, but the world had gained colors as though he had met his fated woman.

——It was fun, it was fun, it was fun, it was fun, it was fun. I shouldn’t have enjoyed himself, and yet, I had so much fun. What have you been doing? Why were you enjoying it? You weren’t in position to. You’re a person who should’ve died without knowing what “fun” was. Be over, be over, be over, be over. Everything should come to an end. Let’s end this version of me now. Ain’t that better for everyone? There’d be no harm for anybody if there was one less person like me, with no family or lover, in the world. I’ve had enough fun. As for the people who’ll be sad for me, it’s enough if I can count them with one hand. I’ll erase myself and make this dirty world clean in the end. You shouldn’t be having fun. What you gotta do is just one thing: go face your sister, who’s smiling inside your head.

That was why Benedict impulsively searched for his gun with one of his hands.

Surely, people died that way. Sorrow would seal their throats and they would die unable to breathe. They would die from having more sad moments than happy moments.

He felt that he would not be able to live even if for another second. It was not that he wished to die. Rather, he was taking a decision for himself that he had to die.

Was there any living being that wanted to die as soon as it was born? Most of them supposedly wanted to live. Yes, they wanted to live. Live a wonderful life, if possible. A life that would make being born worthwhile.

However, it by no means went well all the time. Life was not something that one would prepare beforehand.

“Ugh... uuugh...”

As a result of choices made, there were countless changes. There were times in which only grievous things would happen. A series of things such as regretting being born.

Hardships were like gelid rain that God would pour over anyone. It would be great there was a place to take shelter from it or an umbrella, but there were times when one could not find them. The prolonged rain would cause one’s body to grow cold and the roots of their teeth to shake. For people, it was something difficult to endure. When it became impossible to withstand, people...

“Sto... p.”

...would crave death.

“St... o...”

When living became hard, they tended to look for what was easier. It was nothing strange. What was wrong with running away? The least amount of pain was better. The shortest suffering was better.

The purpose of living creatures was something that they decided on themselves.

“Sto... p.”

Still, yes...

“Stop.”

...the same had happened when he was in that desert.

“Stop it; why...?”

A certain number of people, beloved by the Goddess of Fortune, were able to filter out of such instance. If one thoroughly prodded into it, they would find it was but the result of something that had been piling up.

The work of the Goddess happened in a vivid way. If one were to ask what exactly that was...

“V...”

...it would be somebody showing up to hold whoever’s hand when they attempted to die.

At the cliff of his life, the one who had acted as his back-up fire appeared.

What the Goddess brought about was different for each person. For Benedict Blue, in the present moment...

“Benedict.”

...it was Violet Evergarden.

——Why’re you holding my hand, out of all things?

Just as the older brother who had grabbed onto his younger sister’s hand in the darkness, Violet gripped Benedict’s. Upon squeezing it once, she changed her hold into that of lacing fingers together and walked on, guiding him. “Benedict, let’s go home.”

Even though he had been unable to take a single step, he wound up walking.

“That is no good.”

He could not take his gun while she was holding his hand.

“If you are crying, you cannot see what lies ahead.”

Although he wanted to shoot a bullet into his head, he could not.

���I will pull you by the hand, yes?”

Upon being told by that girl, who resembled his sister, to return home…

“Let’s go home.”

...he wound up thinking that, aah, he had to live.

“V...”

The reason why he had not been able to leave her on her own one way or another from the first time he had seen her was that their appearances were similar. Both had golden hair and blue eyes, and were somewhat lonely. He felt as if he had always, always made of her something like a substitute for his sister.

“V... I...”

He was unable to take his eyes off her and even referred to her by a nickname.

“I... probably... killed... my little sister... I’ve remembered it...”

Although he had forgotten his sister, some part of him ended up thinking that, if she were alive, she would have turned out that way. His tears became unstoppable at his own idiocy. He would wonder, “Why did my past self fail if she was so important to me?”

“We abated halfway, and I got separated from her... U-Uugh... It’s... It’s like I killed her...”

Violet clasped his hand even tighter. “You do not know that yet, right?” Rather than like a younger sister, she was like an older one. “Just as that person said, you might meet her again one day,” she whispered as if to admonish him, as if to soothe him.

“Impossible... Impossible... I was definitely the only one... the only one who survived... I... I was...” He shed too many tears, the words cut off by his weeping. It was suffocating. He wanted that suffocation to end.

“Benedict, nothing is definite. My Major was alive too. Who can 'definitely’ say that your sister is dead?”

The hand that she had joined fingers with throbbed. However, were it not for that pain, it felt as if he would soon let go and kill himself.

“But... But y'know...”

“We have dealt with quite a lot today. We can deal with it from now on too. Is that not right?”

“I was... I was... better off dead...!”

Crying that way, just like a child, was foolish, Benedict thought. There was no turning back anything anymore.

“I was better off dead!”

Even if he cried, he had already lost her. He had no idea where in the world to look for her either. Should joined hands let go, if the other party was not nearby, they could not be joined again.

“Benedict.”

Violet’s legs stopped completely. Did the crying Benedict look like a little boy to her? She came closer, forcing his head over her shoulder. “Let’s go back, Benedict.”

“Where to?”

“To the company. You and I only have that place.”

Silence.

Indeed, they did not have anywhere else. The people who would wait for them and hold their ground without going insane were indeed nowhere but there.

——But is it okay for me to go back?

“I’ve... done horrible things in the past. It’s just nobody knows that I... when I was mercenary...”

“Yes.”

“I did a lot of stupid stuff. It’s not forgivable just ‘cause I was a kid.”

“Yes.”

“I... But...”

The face of Claudia Hodgins crossed his mind.

——I shouldn’t... go back.

The sense of exhilaration as he walked for the first time with the loose-fitting shoes that man gave him. The jokes the other would tell while spewing complaints when hanging out with him. The laughter from when they would drink and make a ruckus together.

——But...

His eyebrows lowering whenever he was troubled. His back arching whenever Lux was angry with him. The sweet voice he used only for women. The strength he showed to him. He was the only good-natured person in the world that could become attached to an amnesiac man who had nothing.

——I do wanna go back.

He wanted to return to that good-natured person so, so keenly that it filled him with tears.

“But even so, you will live, right?”

Benedict dry-swallowed. Those words almost felt like a bullet shot into his chest. He was so surprised that he became wordless. She was normally a taciturn and did not use decorated words. But she would sometimes boldly bring the truth to light.

“You will live, right?” A little bit of pleading was mixed in Violet’s voice.

The hand that Violet had joined with his. Her artificial fingers.

“Let’s count the things you have done and the things you will do from now on, so that you shall not forget.”

They were proof of the things she had lost and the things she had broken. As well as a symbol of regeneration. Such fingers delicately laced him in place.

“Until you die someday.”

The girl in front of him had accepted that agony much sooner than he had, without running away or averting her eyes from it, and simply stayed amidst the sadness.

“Today... For today, let’s go home.”

That was Violet Evergarden.

“Now, let’s walk. Do you recall that our shift was only until morning and that our day off would start at noon?” Gradually, but still by pulling his hand, she guided Benedict. “Yesterday, we wound up going back to Lontano without finishing our reports. We had promised Lux that we would submit them today without fail. We are too tattered to go to work looking like nothing happened. Surely, if we show up to work like this, there might be a huge scandal, right?”

As Benedict was told so, they surfaced in his head – his quarreling comrade from the founding day, Cattleya; Lux, who had been picked up from an isolated island; their colleagues from CH Postal Company; the city of Leidenschaftlich; his own past; his current occupation; his new name and the man who had given it to him.

“I wonder if Old Man will be mad...”

Claudia Hodgins. The man who gave him everything he had now. He wanted to see the other very much. As he reminisced to the other’s voice and face, his chest seemed about to burst.

In Benedict’s life, his past included, Hodgins had been the only adult to provide for and protect him.

“You were able to meet President Hodgins because you were alive. You can find your sister as well. Surely... People like us are no good if we do not believe so, Benedict.”

He had enough strength to live by himself, no matter where.

“Today was very tiring, right? Let’s go home.”

However, the warmth of having a guardian changed Benedict, who used to loathe ties of obligation. The CH Postal Company, which Violet said to go back to, had already become his place of return.

Benedict looked at the sky. The Sun was rising. Behind him, the shadow that the night had melted into was now reflected richly. The road ahead was brightly illuminated. Just like the past and the present.

“Hey, V.” As Violet asked what the matter was, he muttered while wiping his tears with the sleeve of his shirt, “The thing about me crying is a secret between us two.”

The figures of the two as they walked on holding hands probably looked like that of siblings who got along well.

   “Right now, your life is all you have, isn’t it? I’ll buy that.”

At those words, the man’s heart started making loud noises. He was supposedly used to exchanging his life for money, but he seemed about to stop breathing at being asked for it face-to-face.

“How much?”

Upon being asked, the man was at loss. “Dunno.”

As he answered seriously, Hodgins laughed, “What a fool; give a high price.”

“Why?”

“You could give a sum that I can’t pay for, so that I’d have to hire you for the rest of my life.”

For an instant, he had not understood what was said, and so he answered after a moment, “Don’t wanna! Whatcha saying!?”

“I mean, you have nothing, right?”

“Don’t keep saying 'nothing’!”

“We’d be like a family if we’re together, even if we aren’t related by blood. Just give a price that I can’t pay.”

“Hah?”

“Like I said, we could be like a family. Well, that’s fine. More importantly, your name.”

“No, no, hey, you’re definitely a weirdo, right?”

“It’s come to me!”

“Old Man! It’s like you’re not listening to what I say, ain’t it!?”

“All right. Listen ve~ry well.”

“You listen well!”

With an extremely happy-looking face and little shyly, Hodgins said, “It might be a bit pretentious. I understand his feelings now. Ah, no, y’see, it’s my own feelings, so to say. I’m putting into it my wish of wanting a young one like you to be this way.”

At that second, the only one in the world who witnessed the shine in those blue eyes was Claudia Hodgins.

“It means ‘blessed’; how about ‘Benedict’?”

He knew for the first time the joy of having his life blessed by someone at that moment.

“Let’s take it after the god that administers divine protection. Leave ‘Blue’ to be your surname. The name you gave yourself plus my ‘Benedict’. ‘Benedict Blue’. Yup, it’s a good name. Nice to meet ya, Benedict.”

Even as he became hurt when replaying his memories, he would be blessed whenever someone called his name.

“Stu~pid.”

 He did not want to let go of that blessing ever again.

“Aah, Benedict and Little Violet. Welcome ba... Hey, this isn’t okay! What happened...!? You two come here! Little Lux, the first-aid kit!”

Albeit a little long, that was the story of Benedict Blue.

[cupidmarwani-archive]

Summary: Sarah didn’t know she was going to get married, but now she has a wife from a bitter country and a palace that no longer feels so friendly as her coronation approaches.

Warnings: Smut, Mild Violence, Implied Past Abuse

(1/13)

Sarah finds out about it exactly six days, three hours, nine minutes, and thirty seven seconds ahead of time. She’s just enjoying her breakfast and looking over an unusually busy schedule for the day when her father clears his throat across the table.

“I’m dying,” he tells her.

“I’m aware.”

“You need to get married before you ascend to the throne.”

That part she doesn’t even deign to respond to. They’ve argued about this since she was old enough to conceptualize marriage. Some arrogant, irritating man with a heart of greed and a mildly favorable position in another court will be chosen for her. They’ll marry. They’ll have kids whether she wants them or not, as she was so unkindly told when she bled for the first time and cried to one of the maids because she thought she was dying.

“Sarah.”

“Father.”

“I’ve arranged for your nuptials.”

“I’m not getting married.”

“You’ll be married on Sunday.”

“No.”

She stabs a bite of her omelette rather viciously with a fork, and after a long moment of consideration, doesn’t bother to eat it. The conversation has sent her stomach rattling with butterflies, and for all she’s worth, she can’t shake a mixture of nausea and terror at the mere thought of a wedding, let alone one orchestrated by her father. She knows what sort of man he is. What he did to his first wife. Her mother. His third wife. His string of mistresses, here and there. Who’s to say the husband he has chosen for her will not be the same?

The first thing on her schedule is a dress fitting. She assumed it would be another for her coronation dress, the royal colors stitched together in the finest silks from kingdoms abroad and perfectly tailored to her, held for now by safety pins on the back because eventually, she will be hand-stitched into it by Natalie’s careful and gifted fingers. Natalie’s mother before her made Sarah’s mother’s wedding dress and all her ceremonial gowns. The gift, the talent was passed from mother to child. Sarah doesn’t know much about her own mother outside what’s on the photos lining walls and newspaper clippings that spoke of a great and noble woman from the court.

But this will be a wedding dress, and when she walks into the fitting chamber, Natalie has a spread of fabrics draped across the tables pushed against each wall. Some are a crisper white, others tinted a pale snowing blue, others falling toward a tawny cream. Fabric choices for the dress. Natalie herself sits on a stool finishing up a sketch.

“This is all we’ll be working on this week, the coronation dress is                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         going to have to be on hold,” Natalie says. She sounds a little panicked. “I’ve narrowed it down to three designs already, and then we’ll choose a fabric and I’ll make a quick muslin to make sure you like it.”

“Did you know?”

Her lips pull into a sympathetic frown. “I just found out an hour ago. I’m sorry, Sarah.”

“Just show me the designs.”

The three thumbnails are all on the same page. One is mermaid style, Sarah recognizes that much. The next has a straight, but not form-fitting or puffy skirt that seems to be more conservative and catered to what her father would want her to wear. And there’s one with long sleeves and a mildly flared skirt, drawn with a slit up the center that reveals what appear to be pants as opposed to the plainly exposed feeling that skirts often leave her with. And it reminds her of something her mother would wear when walking among the people in old reports.

“I like this one.”

“I thought you would.” Natalie turns to a new page and marks it with her pencil before standing up and reaching for the thin muslin to get a thought on shaping. Tighter on the bodice, flaring at the waist. The pants look in the sketch to be more like leggings, or tights, so that’s something that will probably be a separate piece from the rest. Sarah’s not certain, she doesn’t know much about clothes. “Arms out.”

The fabric wraps around her waist and cinches tight before being fit with pins to make sure it’s proper. Sarah can’t breathe, but it’ll be slightly better once she doesn’t have this gown in between. Another of Natalie’s creations. She’ll likely be stuffed into a corset, too, and that’ll come into play during fittings later on. An assistant comes in to start pinning long sleeves. Another starts on her skirt. There isn’t time to leave this to just Natalie, no matter her talent, because they’ve been given less than a week’s notice about what will become of her.

“Warm, cool, or neutral white?”

“What will the groom be wearing?”

“Something traditional from his country, probably.” Natalie loosens the fabric right beneath her shoulder blades. “Rumor has it he’s from Jenia, so we’re expecting red.”

“Fertility and passion.”

“Something like that.”

Sarah hums and decides she wants a cool toned white. Maybe even a pale blue or mint, a subtle expression of her displeasure at this whole affair. Marriage. She’d rather die, if she had any idea what would happen to the kingdom in her absence. Any other successor her father could think of naming would destroy them.

“I want something green. Dark, actually. Think forest.”

“The king-”

“Isn’t getting married,” Sarah says firmly. “If I have to do this, I’ll do it my way, and I’m not going to wear white. He should be happy I don’t dress for mourning.”

“I’ll send someone for fabric.”

Natalie comes around to her front and pins the muslin around her chest before taking her pen and marking out a seam allowance and a line to throw a gathering stitch to better accentuate her body. It’s just for this awful wedding.

“I’ll have the muslin and final sketch done by dinner, if you want to come by this evening to look over everything before I start the real thing. And I’ll have fabric by then, too.”

“Yeah.”

She spends the next half hour getting fitted before she’s off, leaving a kiss to Natalie’s cheek and a handful of bills in her palm to make up the difference between a meager seamstress’ salary and the expenses of a single mother trying to do right by her young son. There had been a time it was refused, but now, Natalie knows that Sarah won’t take no for an answer, and this is worth it. Owen is a happy kid in daycare, much more so than perpetually playing by himself in a pen or crib at the corner of the room. It’s good for both of them.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

Natalie smiles one last time as Sarah steps out and there’s a guard at her side to accompany her into town. Some fountain she’s dedicating in her last few weeks as a figurehead before someone else has to take her place. Freedom, fresh air, might help her with this stifled feeling rising in her chest and making her want to scream for any kind of release from this. At least it’s Ethan. He’s nice to her, makes her feel safe no matter what. And he’s polite to her, really, unlike some of the others. He doesn’t make comments about the way she looks, and he keeps a respectful touch when he must make contact. Gloved hand on her inner elbow to escort her, endlessly gentle when he pushes her behind him in a moment of danger. She trusts him.

“Apparently I’m getting married.”

“I’ve heard. Your father made the official announcement broadcast this morning. Apparently invitations were sent out a month ago.”

He waited so long to tell her. Sarah fucking hates her father and his underhanded manipulation to force her into what he wants. It’s too late to back out, however, and so she has to go along with it as much as possible. Once she’s queen, she’ll be able to find some way out of it.

“Your betrothed arrives on Friday night,” Ethan says, helping Sarah step up into the car. “I’m supposed to go to Jenia in the morning as part of the escort. A gesture of goodwill, I suppose.”

“You’ll be gone for all the planning? I can’t do this on my own, I-”

“You’ll be just fine, your highness.”

He shuts her door and comes around to the other side, slipping in just before the engine purrs to life and they’re off to the new fountain. Say some pre-prepared speech that someone else wrote for her about what it means for the country and the people. Cut a ribbon. Take a few photos. Kiss a baby. She hates the meaningless press jobs like this, but someone has to do them, and right now, that’s her. She’s been trained since birth to rule, but her control freak father won’t give her the slightest bit of influence. She’s just a pretty face for PR.

And as she winds up standing in bright sunlight, overheating in heavy fabric and reading off a fucking prompter for the cameras, she wishes that she could leave all this behind and be an actual ruler. Take care of her people instead of waste her time on all this petty shit.

By the time she gets home, she’s exhausted and her cheeks ache from false smiles, but she still has hours of responsibilities to fulfill.

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