#second chapter woohooooo!

[cheriedivine]

𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫

chapter I | next

꩜ synopsis: you’re best friends. just best friends. except when she lingers a little too long at your door. except when she calls you her favorite, and it doesn’t feel like a joke. except when her fingers graze yours and neither of you pull away. except when you start to wonder if she’s wondering, too…

꩜ Pairing: Ellie Williams x fem reader (no use of y/n)

꩜ CW: swearing, weed, creepy guy, slightly suggestive, tension (if u squint).

꩜ WC: 4.9K

꩜ A/N: okayyy soooo, i’m starting a new series, it will be a slow burn so bear with me. Im excited for this and all the yearning to come woohooooo! just your typical loser lesbians who are best friends and there’s tension but they don’t know it yet alright…

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How can we tell something is complicated? Is it because the easy way isn’t available — or because we crave the possibility of more?

Life is full of complex things like the human brain or death or love. Especially love.

The line between love and codependency is blurry, if it even exists. Do we cling to the people we love because we need them — or because we don’t know who we are without them?

Still, love is more than need. It's more than survival.

Of course the easy way is not to feel.

But then again — what’s the point of life without love?

Without being consumed by it? Without being absorbed?

Ellie always felt like love wasn’t meant for her. Yeah sure she had been in a few relationships in the past, casual summer flings, but nothing that got too serious. The moment someone wanted to put a label on her she was out the door.

Maybe she was doomed from the start, sentenced to suffer in loneliness for the rest of her life. Maybe it was karma for all the shit her ancestors had done.

Or maybe... she was just twenty-one, and spiraling.

But then she met you.

Her best friend. Her whole world.

You brought sunshine into her life like it was nothing. Like it was easy.

She smiled more. Went out more. God — she even made stupid jokes just to hear you laugh. Saying you made Ellie’s life better was an understatement.

How it started?

It was a casual Thursday. Ellie was tired — the kind of tired that settled deep in her bones. She’d been up since 5 a.m., chasing the sunrise for an early shoot, and stayed late at the studio the night before, hunched over rolls of film, watching images slowly come to life. Now, all she could think about was the couple she’d photographed that morning — mid-twenties, freshly engaged, smiling like they had the rest of their lives mapped out. Some people had it all figured out, she thought. Settled. Steady. Meanwhile, she was here — at her usual breakfast spot, an old fashioned diner, squinting at her laptop, scrolling through photo edits with aching eyes. Her camera bag sat beside her on the booth seat, worn and stickered to hell — Savage Starlight, Sleater-Kinney, a faded rainbow sticker that had started peeling at the corners.

She yawned into her tea, hood up, headphones loosely slung around her neck, when someone placed a plate down in front of her. chocolate chip pancakes, soft scrambled eggs and bacon — her usual.

Ellie blinked up, and you were standing there, wiping your hands on a dish towel tucked into your apron. Your eyes flicked toward the camera case.

“Savage Starlight,” you nodded at the sticker. “God-tier taste.”

Ellie froze for a second, then smirked. “You read that?”

“Duh,” you said like it was obvious. “Issue 8 ruined me emotionally for weeks.”

That pulled a laugh out of her, the first real one she’d had all morning. “Same. Still not over that ending.”

You smiled, shifting your weight to one foot, clearly not in a rush to leave. “Cool camera, by the way.”

“Thanks, she’s my baby” she said, suddenly aware of how wrecked she must look — messy bun barely held up, camera strap indenting her neck. “—I’m Ellie, by the way.” She stuck her hand out, immediately second-guessing it.

Was that too old-fashioned? Joel really was rubbing off on her.

“I know. I take your order every other Thursday.” you said, shaking her hand.

She blinked, embarrassed. “Right. Sorry. Early mornings kinda melt my brain.”

“No worries,” you grinned, and Ellie noticed the little pin on your apron — a tiny, pixelated spaceship with your name on it, stupid stupid stupid. she thought to herself for not noticing it earlier.

And since that moment, something shifted. It wasn’t anything loud or life-altering, not some cheesy movie moment with music swelling in the background. But it was something. A small click, like a puzzle piece sliding into place.

Ellie became obsessed with you, in a way that she needed to be around you or her day wouldn’t be complete, she needed to hear your voice, your laugh, you calling her stupid for a dad joke she made, she just needed you, her best friend.

From then on, Ellie started showing up more often — not just on Thursdays anymore. Sometimes it was Tuesdays. Sometimes Saturdays, right before the lunch rush. She claimed it was for the pancakes, and not the terrible service (she earned herself a playful smack on the head for that). She’d sit at her usual corner booth, camera bag by her side, flipping through photo previews on her laptop, waiting for your shift to end.

Ellie would usually show up with the latest issue of Savage Starlight, sliding it across the counter like some sort of sacred offering. It became an inside joke — your “weekly trade deal,” she'd say. In return, you’d draw ridiculous little faces into her pancakes with extra chocolate chips — crooked grins, wonky eyes, sometimes a very unflattering interpretation of Joel. She thought it was hilarious.

You’d complain about the usual chaos — rude customers, shit tips, kids treating the floor like their personal warzone. Ellie would listen between mouthfuls of bacon, eyes gleaming.

“Sounds like you need a cig break,” she’d propose, already halfway out of the booth.

And that’s how most of your breaks ended up — at the back of the diner, sharing a cigarette with your best friend, the smoke curling into lazy spirals between your fingers. Who would’ve thought the best thing to come out of this job would be the quiet girl who used to sit in the corner booth alone, camera gear spilling across the table and making it a logistical nightmare to serve her food?

You ducked behind the counter, catching your co-worker scribbling down an order on a pad.

“Taking five,” you whispered into her ear, already slipping off your apron and tossing it over the stool.

Ellie was waiting by the door, cigarette hanging from her lips, hands in her pockets, grinning like an idiot. Moments like these, quiet, in company of you, were the highlight of her day.

The metal door creaked behind you as you stepped out into the alley, greeted by the smell of old grease, cigarette smoke, and freedom.

“You have no idea how much I despise this uniform,” you groaned, tugging at the stiff collar of your work shirt like it personally offended you. “Why do they make us wear these stupid skirts and hats?”

Ellie chuckled, flicking the lighter and shielding the flame with her hand. “You look cute, very… militant barista chic”

You gave her a flat look. “It’s a literal open invitation for creepy dudes to stare”

“In that case I’ll beat them to death with my camera tripod” she said around the cigarette, grinning as she passed it to you. “I would like to see you try honestly.”

You took a drag, leaning your back against the brick wall, bumping your shoulder into hers lightly. “I’m just saying, Hooters uniform has more coverage than this… thing.”

Ellie nodded solemnly. “Oh yeah? Are you a Hooters expert now?”

You snorted, passing the cigarette back. “Certainly more than you. I wish I could just spend time with you in your stinky little studio instead of serving Ice lattes to Karens”

Ellie blinked, a flicker of something crossing her face — but she masked it quickly with a laugh. “Obviously. I’m way prettier.”

“Thats certainly one way to put it.”

“Rude.”

You both stood there for a while in comfortable silence, trading the cigarette and small complaints about the day, until your five minutes were definitely more like ten and your co-worker cracked open the back door to glare at you.

Ellie just winked and mouthed bitch. She checked her phone, winced, then let out a dramatic sigh like the world was ending. “Shit. I’ve got a shoot in twenty minutes.”

You blew out a stream of smoke. “Ugh, fine. Go be artsy and productive or whatever.”

“I will. Gotta make the girls look ethereal in a field of flowers or something,” she joked, already stubbing the cigarette out on the wall and stuffing it into an empty Altoids tin she kept just for that purpose.

You rolled your eyes. “Tell them to pose like they're not better looking than me or I’m gonna have a problem.”

Ellie gave you a look, smirking as she slung her camera bag over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’re the muse.”

You flushed but covered it with a sarcastic bow. “Obviously. Anyway, I’m stuck in hell for two more hours, but I’ll text you after. You still down for the movies tonight?”

“Dina threatened me if I bail. Jesse’s picking the movie, though, so get ready to watch something with car chases and unnecessary explosions.”

You groaned. “He has the worst taste. I swear if it’s another Fast and Furious sequel I’m leaving.”

Ellie laughed and started backing down the alley, walking backwards. “You say that every time and yet you stay. For the family.”

You threw your apron at her. She dodged it.

“Text me when you're done,” she called out before disappearing around the corner, entering her beat up truck.

Back inside, the rest of your shift crawled by in a blur of clinking mugs, whiny toddlers, and low-tip customers — but it was easier to survive knowing you had a movie night waiting, with your best friends, and Ellie sitting next to you in the dark, probably whispering dumb commentary in your ear the whole time.

You smiled to yourself as you cleared a table. Just two more hours.

The field was nice. Golden-hour kind of nice — warm light slicing through the tall grass. Ellie adjusted the settings on her camera, peeking through the viewfinder at the group of girls twirling in their flowy pastel dresses, laughing like they were in a Greta Gerwig film.

“Alright, ladies, pretend you like each other!” she called out, grinning.

They laughed and did that overly-exaggerated cutesy pose thing, arms slung around each other, a couple fake-kissing cheeks. Ellie snapped the shots effortlessly, stepping around them with practiced ease. Her brain clicked into auto-pilot when she was shooting — light, angles, timing — the rest of the world faded.

Except for one of them.

Cat.

Bridesmaid number three. Mid-20s, pretty, clearly knew it — and knew how to work a camera. She'd been giving Ellie a look since they started, the kind with too much eye contact and a little too much lower lip biting.

"Should I hold the bouquet like this?" Cat asked sweetly, lifting it chest-level and tilting her head just enough to make it obvious.

Ellie didn’t skip a beat, snapping the shot. “Sure…unless you’re auditioning for a rom-com in which case, maybe tilt it a little more—yeah, that’s the angle. Nailed it.”

The girls laughed and whooped like they were in a music video.

Cat winked at her. “You’re kinda funny, camera girl.”

Ellie smirked but didn’t look up from her camera. “Only kinda?”

The flirting kept bouncing like that for a bit — harmless, surface-level, the way Ellie always played it when she wasn’t invested, just bored. She never let it get too deep, not like with you. After wrapping the shoot and handing off her card to the bride, Ellie was stuffing her camera into her bag when Cat came up to her, twirling a piece of her hair between her fingers like she practiced that in the mirror.

“Hey,” she said, kind of sing-songy. “You should give me your number. You know, in case I wanna book you for something… personal.”

Ellie bit back a grin, already zipping her bag. “Oh, totally. Here—”

She grabbed a pen from her tote and scribbled a number on the back of a coffee receipt. Not hers, obviously. Some random number she made up.

Cat took it, all flirty and hopeful, and Ellie gave her a small salute before heading toward her truck.

As soon as she was out of sight, she cracked up to herself, shaking her head.

“Yeah, good luck with that one.”

She wasn’t mean. Just... not interested. Not in Cat. Not in anyone lately.

Only person she actually wanted to hear from was probably just clocking out of that stupid diner, peeling off that stupid uniform and texting her with some dumb meme or a rant about someone leaving syrup on the counter.

She checked her phone.

No text yet.

She leaned against the side of her truck, thumb tapping lazily against the metal, waiting. Like clockwork, her phone buzzed in her back pocket. A text from you.

It was a photo—your middle finger proudly raised beside your diner uniform, crumpled and defeated on your bed. “im out. pick me up at 6?”

Ellie chuckled, typing back: “Only if ur wearing the uniform.”

Your response came quick: middle finger emoji.

Still grinning, she climbed into her truck and headed to her studio (which, technically, was also her apartment—but calling it the studio made it feel a little more like she had her shit together). She was planning on washing off the day and changing into something comfortable for movie night at Dina’s.

Meanwhile, back at your place, you kicked off your shoes the second you walked in. Your roommate wasn’t home—probably still stuck at work—so you shot her a quick text letting her know you’d be out late. You peeled off your uniform, and threw on your robe before texting Ellie again: “home. picking me up at 6 still right?”

You stepped into the shower, determined to scrub off the smell of burnt bacon and sticky syrup, letting the steam pull the exhaustion out of your bones. Afterward, you got caught up scrolling on your phone, time slipping past unnoticed… until there was a sharp knock on your door.

“Shit,” you muttered. Then louder: “HOLD ON, I’M COMING!”

Still wrapped in your towel, you darted to the front door and flung it open. Ellie blinked, caught off guard. Her eyes flicked over your towel-wrapped frame a second too long, before she quickly covered her grin with a hand, trying (and failing) to play it cool.

“I am so, so sorry,” you said, pulling the towel tighter around yourself, suddenly feeling too exposed. too self conscious. “I got distracted and totally lost track of time.”

Ellie raised her eyebrows, but her voice stayed teasing. “You sure you’re not trying to seduce me?”

You rolled your eyes. “Ten minutes. Swear.”

You vanished down the hallway. Ellie flopped onto the couch, pulling out her phone and texting the group chat: running late but grabbing snacks first. don’t start without us.

She shifted to get more comfortable—and caught a glimpse through the crack in your bedroom door. Two inches. Practically nothing. Not on purpose… right?

You were slipping on a hoodie, back turned, still in just your bra and pants. Ellie’s face flushed instantly. She snapped her head away like the door had personally scolded her. “Jesus Christ,” she muttered, burying her face in her hands. “Fuckin’ creep.”

Before her spiraling could get worse, you emerged from your room, hoodie on, tugging on your shoes.

“Okay,” you said, grabbing your keys and swinging the door open. “Let’s go.”

Ellie followed, still flustered, and absolutely not ready to unpack any of what just happened.

The sky was starting to turn soft and purple as Ellie pulled out of your complex’s parking lot, her tattooed arm flexing, hand grasping lazily on the wheel, the other fiddling with the volume knob. Some old indie playlist was shuffling through the speakers—Ellie music, as you called it. You leaned back in your seat, hair still a little damp from the shower, hoodie sleeves pulled halfway over your hands.

“So?” you said, glancing at her. “How was the rest of your very glamorous day?”

Ellie let out a snort. “Oh, you know. Just got aggressively flirted with by someone named Cat.”

Your head turned so fast it nearly cracked. “Cat?”

“Bridesmaid number three. Said I looked like I’d be good with a camera and my hands.” Ellie smirked.

You groaned, but came out more like a failed laugh. “Ew. Who says that?”

“She did. With full confidence. Honestly? Kinda impressive.”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “Tell me you didn’t flirt back.”

“I mean, a little. For the bit.”

You gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to your chest. “You’re shameless.”

“Hey—she asked for my number, I panicked and gave her Joel’s landline. So I think I redeemed myself.”

That made you burst out laughing, and gave you a weird sense of relief. “Oh my god, imagine her calling and Joel picking up.”

“‘Hello, Miller residence.’ And then just click.”

You were still giggling when you turned toward the window. “You’re evil.”

Ellie looked over at you for a second too long, a crooked smile tugging at her mouth. “You’re just jealous.”

You scoffed. “Jealous of Cat? Please. I wear a dumb visor and serve bacon to men named Dennis who tip in nickels.”

“That’s hot.”

You rolled your eyes. “My shift was hell. I had a kid throw a hashbrown at me and scream because I gave him the wrong syrup. Like. What syrup could he possibly need at age four? It’s all just sugar.”

“Future criminal behavior,” Ellie said. “I would’ve drop-kicked him.”

“Oh believe me, I considered it. But then I remembered I’m trying not to go to jail this year.”

“Personal growth,” she nodded solemnly.

There was a comfortable silence after that. The kind that didn’t feel like it needed to be filled. The kind you only got with someone who knew you well enough to not need noise. But still, Ellie spoke again, a little quieter this time.

“Hey,” she said, eyes on the road, voice soft. “We still have to get those snacks.”

You turned your head, smiling without really meaning to. “7-Eleven stop?.”

“7-Eleven it is.”

The buzz of fluorescent lights and the faint hum of the refrigerator coolers welcomed you as the door to the 7-Eleven swung open with a mechanical chime. Ellie held it open for you with a sarcastic bow. “After you.”

You rolled your eyes smiling. “Wow. So chivalrous. All for a bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos.”

“What can I say?” she shrugged, grabbing a plastic basket. “I’m a provider.”

You split up for a second—Ellie going straight to the drinks section while you scanned the candy aisle, already filling your arms with too many options. Gummy worms. A Kit Kat. Those sour blue raspberry straws Ellie claimed she hated but somehow always ended up buying.

You were just about to decide between a regular-sized Snickers or the obnoxiously large King Size when a voice behind you broke the silence.

“Damn,” the guy said, eyeing you up like you were on sale. “If I was your man, I’d never let you out the house looking that good.”

You didn’t even turn to look at him at first, just dropped a pack of sour candy into your basket.

“If you were my man,” you said, glancing over with a tight smile, “I’d move states and change my name.”

He scoffed. “Damn, you don’t gotta be a bitch about it—”

“—And you gotta be stupid enough to not take a hint” Ellie appeared behind you, sliding an arm around your shoulders with a lazy grin, completely playing into the moment.

The guy blinked, probably about to say something else, until Ellie looked at him, really looked at him and whatever speech he had left drained from his face. He turned and walked off without another word.

“You find the sour blue raspberry straws?” she asked casually, like nothing had happened.

You nodded, leaning into her like it was muscle memory. “Yep.”

Something always shifted in Ellie when guys like that got too close. She didn’t make a scene, didn’t have to, but her jaw would clench just a little, her voice would drop, and suddenly she wasn’t just your best friend. She was your shield, your protector. And no one got to talk to you like that when she was around.

Once he was out of earshot, you burst out laughing, nearly dropping your armful of snacks. “Babe is new”

“It felt right,” Ellie said, grinning. “And also hilarious. You should’ve seen his face.”

You were still laughing as you dumped your haul on the counter. “Thanks for the save, my prince charming.”

“Anytime,” she said, tossing a couple of sodas beside your loot. “Protecting you from weird dudes is in my contract.”

“Oh yeah?” you raised a brow. “Where’s this contract?”

“In my head,” she said.

You shook your head, still smiling. “We should make it a real thing. Ellie Williams: official candy mule and creepy guy repellant.”

“I prefer the term bodyguard,” she said, pulling out her wallet. “But yeah. Works for me.”

Dina’s apartment smelled like buttery popcorn, weed, and that vaguely sweet candle she always left burning on her windowsill—something with a name like Midnight Fig or Velvet Moon. The TV was already on when you walked in, credits of some old romcom playing, Jesse sitting cross-legged on the floor, halfway through a bag of gummy worms.

“You’re late,” Dina called from the kitchen, not even looking up as she stirred something in a pot. “Movie night rule number one: punctuality. Rule number two: bring snacks. Did you guys bring snacks?”

“We were on time,” Ellie said, kicking the door closed behind her. “But somebody forgot I was picking them up.”

You shot her a look. “I was in the shower. I told you to pick me up at six, not barge in at six.”

“Oh my god,” Jesse muttered. “Just make out already.”

“Shut up,” both you and Ellie snapped at the same time. Jesse loved to poke the bear when it came to you two, claiming it was funny how flustered you both got.

That only made him grin wider.

You dropped onto the couch with a dramatic sigh, pulling a throw blanket over your legs and tossing a bag of hot cheeto chips onto the coffee table. “There. Snacks.”

Ellie flopped down beside you, her thigh barely brushing yours. Not enough to say anything, not enough to move away—but enough to notice. She leaned back, hands behind her head.

“So,” Dina said, walking over with a bowl of something that looked suspiciously like boxed mac and cheese. “Ellie, how’d your shoot go? You flirt with any bridesmaids?”

You groaned. “Don’t encourage her.”

Ellie smirked. “Told you already. Bridesmaid number three. She winked at me and called me ‘camera girl.’”

Dina wheezed. “Wait. Wait. Did she give you her number?”

“She asked for mine,” Ellie corrected, proudly. “I gave her Joel’s landline.”

“Are you trying to get disowned?” Jesse asked, taking a handful of popcorn.

“I’m trying to avoid drama with a woman named Cat,” Ellie said, dead serious.

You shook your head, “You’re impossible.”

Dina squinted between you two, then looked at Jesse. “Tell me they’re not already dating.”

“Not yet,” Jesse said, popping a gummy into his mouth. “But they will be. I give it, like, three months. Maybe two if there’s a karaoke night.”

You threw a pillow at his head. Ellie snorted and leaned closer, her arm grazing yours again.

“Anyway,” Dina said, tossing a remote into Jesse’s lap, “are we watching Jennifer’s Body or are we letting Jesse pick another sad man movie again?”

“Jennifer’s Body,” you and Ellie said at the same time.

And just like that, the night rolled on—warm, loud, stupid. Full of bad jokes, half-eaten snacks, and shared glances neither of you really knew how to deal with yet.

Not tension, exactly. Not yet. But something.

The movie had long since faded into background noise, replaced by gossip and stolen bites of popcorn. Jesse and Ellie kept chucking snacks at each other like overgrown children, until Dina groaned from the armchair, "You idiots are cleaning all this shit up. Y’all are like toddlers when you're together."

They both laughed, Jesse flinging a pillow in her direction, which, of course, kicked off a full-on war. You were winning—striking Ellie with a pillow like your life depended on it—until she fought back three times harder, knocking you onto the couch and sending the whole group into hysterics.

This was your group. The best friends you ever had.

You’d all met not long after you and Ellie did. Jesse and Ellie were practically siblings, bonded since childhood, while you’d known Dina since high school—trauma-bonded over shitty exes and academic burnout. She knew you like the palm of her handl You definitely were an incredibly different group of humans, but it’s what made things more genuine with y’all.

You and Ellie had a secret running bet about Jesse and Dina. After one drunken party makeout they swore never happened, they’d been in full denial mode, sneaking glances and pretending it meant nothing.

Ellie bet $20 and a month of free rides that they'd never admit it. You, being the romantic, countered with a month of free pancakes and $10 that they would.

(Not that they needed to know about it.)

A blunt or two made its way around, leaving everyone pleasantly buzzed, limbs heavy, laughter echoing off the walls. Jesse and Ellie were laid out flat on the floor. You sprawled on the couch with Dina nestled between your legs, her back to your chest. It was warm, hazy, perfect.

You glanced at your phone—2:57 a.m. Saturday. No work tomorrow, thank god. You’d definitely get fired for showing up this stoned.

Your fingers idly played with Dina’s hair while she giggled at nothing. Jesse and Ellie were arguing about something in the background, their voices fuzzy through the weed fog. Eventually, Dina stretched and yawned, announcing she was going to bed.

“If anyone’s crashing, cool. Just don’t open the windows and don’t trip balls in my apartment,” she mumbled.

Jesse followed behind, only to get a very loud, “GET OUT OF MY ROOM, I’M NOT HIGH ENOUGH FOR THIS.” He retreated to the guest room in defeat.

Ellie dropped down on the couch next to you, head tipped back, eyes glossy.

"You don't have an early photoshoot with your kittycat tomorrow?" you teased, glancing at her sideways.

"You wish. I might as well just cave and give her my real number," she said with a lazy grin.

“And forget about me?” you said, bumping her shoulder.

"You know I would never."

"Oh, I know. Im just fucking with you" you smirked.

“Oh yeah?,” she shrugged, grin widening. “I think you would like that.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Your favorite one.”

“I think that’s why we’re best friends.”

“Yeah, you’re my best-best-best-friend-ever-in-the-world,” she said, slurring it like a spell. “But shh, don’t tell Jesse. Sensitive guy.”

She held a finger to her lips like she was sharing an FBI top-secret, you laughed, shaking your head.

Shortly after that, you dozed off on the couch, your head resting on her shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. She could smell your shampoo, faintly sweet, and the ever-present scent of maple syrup that always clung to you no matter what. Like it was just… yours. Branded in her brain.

Your thigh was warm against hers, and yeah—it wasn’t weird. You were always like this. Close. Safe.

But then Ellie’s mind flicked back to your apartment. That two-inch crack in the door. The sliver of skin, the bra strap, your back. She’d looked. Not on purpose—but she’d looked. The weed was fucking with her head.

Her chest tightened. Was that weird? Creepy?

But best friends think about stuff like that sometimes… right? Like, it wasn’t a big deal to know your friend was hot, and protecting her from creepy guys knowing you’d treat her so much better In a normal, totally non-weird, completely platonic way. Right?

She tilted her head slightly, watching you breathe, peaceful and soft beside her. Her brain finally quieted.

You were her best friend.

And that would always be enough.

Right?

[slasherkisss]

Cabin Fever - Jason Voorhees x Reader [Chapter 2]

Summary In an effort to remove yourself from your previous life in the big city, you move to Crystal Lake. The cabin you had inherited from your father makes the perfect place for a fresh start, however, there is a secret in these woods (and within yourself) that you must come to accept…and to love.

A/N A second chapter up now! The reader meets Jason for the first time on a snowy walk and, well, things go...less than expected for either of them.

Autumn faded to winter, which came and went before you could register its mere existence. You had contented yourself with tidying up for the first few weeks, clearing away snow from your yard and unpacking the majority of your knick knacks to organize vagrantly around your home. You had stocked up on firewood to keep yourself warm throughout the snowy days, lived off of canned vegetables and you made a silent promise to yourself that, when the snow calmed itself down and the roads were deemed drivable yet again, you would head to town and procure some fresh meats and fruits when you had the chance. While the idea of removing yourself from the isolation of the forest was anxiety inducing above all other emotions, you knew that it was necessary. Just until you were capable of rebuilding the home you were slowly chewing through to its original, self-sustained glory of gardens and animals meandering about your legs. All good things took time, you had remembered your father’s words echoing in your heart, and hard work. They would be worth it, though.

Your eyes traced the droplets of snow that fell, the beginning of a second bought of storms slowly making their way through the Crystal Lake area. Snow had fallen early this year, you noted, starting in the middle of November just after your move and continuing on without reprieve until the middle of December.

Your body ached with the need to stretch. To stand and walk and enjoy the peace so close to you in the form of frosted forest trees and nipping wind. The bite of the cold helped to remind you that you were alive and well, constantly needing to move and shift in order to be kept warm and free of the hypothermia that dared nip close to your heels. It was because of this aching need that constantly sung its cravings in the peripheral of your mind that you found yourself slowly sliding on your snow boots and parka, fingers wiggling into gloves while you made sure the layers of shirts along with the long scarf you wore underneath remained in position. You had scarcely recalled getting dressed for the cold until you found yourself standing outside of your home, eyes fixated on the endless forest before you.

With one last fleeting look to your home, you gave a nod to yourself before pushing forward into the misted woods.

Each step crunched as your weight pushed against the snow, most of it fresh and having never been stepped on before. There was a sense of pride in being the one to christen it with your heavy set boot, finding yourself walking as carefully as you could. If the snow was alive somehow, as you felt all things were in one way or another, you didn’t want to hurt it. Perhaps it was a silly thought to most people but here, now, who was there to judge you for it? The freedom to think so openly about life caused a sense of prideful delight to fill your stomach as you walked carefully against the forest path, weaving between ice stripped trees and avoiding stepping on any rocks and roots that just stuck up against the inches of snow piling up around you. Your breath decorated your front like a pixie, helping you to push forward and constantly singing to you to follow it. Your mind could just hear the voice in your ears, jingling like wind chimes as it whistled to you.

This way...this way! The forest is beautiful this way…

Your pace picked up. You found yourself nearly skipping through the woods, a laugh bubbling on the tip of your tongue and spilling forward as you broke soon into a run, the cold air burning your lungs as you wove between the trees. You spun to doge some. You twirled to dodge others. You shifted to avoid rocks and ducked to avoid fallen logs. The snow seemed to pick up with your excitement, twirling and dancing around you as if it were indulging in your laughter with you. As if it was playing with you as well. You paid no attention to where you ran or how fast you went, simply having the urge to move forward and focus on the path ahead of you, not daring to look back or follow the traces of what was.

Faster, you urged yourself, and faster and faster and faster and-

You skidded to a stop, your lungs aching and begging you to let them catch themselves a breath. Each inhale felt like a stab to your throat as you panted, open mouthed, trying to gather up as much oxygen as possible in the moments you froze. Leaning over, your gloved hands found your bent knees and you took a few seconds to compose yourself, eyes closed so that you could feel nothing but the droplets of snow landing on your heated skin and melting away within mere seconds of touch. You took in the air, the snow below you, and the feeling of cold nipping at your nose for a few moments for heaving yourself upwards to stare at where you had ended up.

The sight of Crystal Lake greeted you in return, the entirety of its top frozen over and sparkling like glitter in the sunlight. The tree line on the other side was spattered with greens and whites and some reds from the remains of stubborn leaves still clinging to certain trees. The untouched snow on the docks and the lake was something out of a painting or fairy tale booklet. It looked so untouched. So undiscovered. It made sense, considering that Crystal Lake was mostly popular in the summer along with no one wanting to particularly visit it when such murders and legends hung around it like a cloud of morbid fog at a constant rate. It was sad to think that no one had ever enjoyed this view as much as you had, but, also it was exciting to know that you were the only one who ever did. That you were the only one here, now, to enjoy this secret nature had offered you.

At least, you had thought you were the only one.

You turned away after casting a lingering look at the frozen lake, deciding it best to find your way back to your cabin before night fell and it had gotten any colder. As you did so, your eyes met with a sight that made you still in your movements, feet cementing themselves to the ground while your heartbeat hammered loudly in your chest, stomach curdling like spoiled milk as the sweat on your brow grew more from surprise than from your previous marathon.

He stood-no- towered before you with a frame well touching the 7 feet mark. A height beyond any human you’ve ever met. His frame was broad, taking the length of a whole tree (maybe two) as it heaved with an apparent effort of breathing. As if his lungs did not have enough capacity to fully fuel the oxygen intake he needed. What was most striking about him, however, was his face. It was the face you had seen not weeks earlier in your first week in the area. A mask, white but cracked in several spots, covered a face that was dull gray in coloration. The straps held onto the head like a parasite, almost growing into the flesh where bits of hair attempted to grow but made it only a certain length before tapering away to nothingness. Bits of ice had formed on both his clothes and mask, a likely result from the cold surrounding you both, but he didn’t seem to shiver at it.

The silence was thick between the both of you, forming a film of discomfort that sat like a raw yolk atop a warm beverage, obscuring the reality of what was underneath it in favor of moderate unease. You felt your breaths come in short, attentive sort of gasps. As if your mind didn’t quite want you to breathe too deep or too heavy, least it attract a negative attitude from the man you almost immediately knew the identity of as you shared eye contact with one another.

The boy who had drowned in the lake over sixty years ago was still here, now, in the visage of a man who smells faintly of ice water and moss. Who matched the forest in stillness and unknown hostility as he towered unmoving before you. The legends and various murder cases you had heard take place throughout the area had all clicked into place for you now, your mind understanding the links with this single meeting yet...for some reason...you did not feel completely scared. Startled? Perhaps, but, who wouldn’t be if you turned to see someone so large so suddenly sneaking up on them? The teenagers he had killed in the past were fooling around, undoubtedly, in the quiet of the abandoned camp they were sure they were alone in. If a group of horny strangers fucked on your front steps, you’d certainly raise a fuss about it yourself.

You had shown no signs of debauchery to him yet, and that was the only reason you were still alive at this point you were sure. He was staring at you, hollowed eyes boring into your soul. Your stomach swelled with something...something you couldn’t put a finger on. It crawled like a parasite up your esophagus and died on the tip of your tongue as you watched him take one large, careful step towards you. The words you spoke next were unplanned as you blurted them as fast as you possibly could:

“You look cold!”

He stopped in his movements, as if the force of your words had startled him. His head tilted, a sign of disbelieving curiosity that you could feel emanating from his personage. A blush of embarrassment heated up the already rosy areas of your cheeks as you cleared your throat, gesturing to him with unsure gloved hands as you dared to continue in a mumbling sort of voice.

“Uh-Well! I j-just mean...that...you’re not exactly dressed for this weather! I don’t-um-well-I think wearing something warmer would feel nicer, right? If you catch a cold, that would be bad...Colds aren’t fun. Have you had one before?”

Silence echoed in return, his head fixing itself upright but he still did not move. Did not talk. Could he talk? You weren’t sure. You also weren’t sure why your hands were going up to your neck, slowly unraveling the scarf from around it. You slid the band of fabric off from your body, shuddering slightly at the chill of exposure brought up to your neck, and folded it neatly between your fingers. Once it was in a straight band of fabric you guessed would fit around his neck, you did what most would assume would be the stupidest movement of your life.

You dared to take a step forward, shaky hands offering out the being before you. An offering to the god of the forest, in a way. A gift of peace you hoped would convey your meaningfulness in the kindest way possible. A signal that you were swearing not to be like those who had come before you because, truly, you were not like them. He would most likely choose not to believe you, however, and you were okay with that. There was a sort of peace in your situation that most would call you morbid for accepting the moment you had laid eyes on him. The acceptance of death was much more sure than the possibility of staring paranoid at the forest for the rest of your time here. You prefer its reassurance over the thrum of dissociation you would have experienced otherwise. It was one thing you appreciated about the concept. You had known your father’s boss would die. You had known it was only a matter of time before your father’s disease took him. Now, like them, you would experience your assured death here and now. A sign of a curse long enveloping the bloodline you carried against your veins. You could only wonder if he’d make you suffer, or, perhaps spare you and snap your neck easily.

As you wondered what kind of sound your bones would make in the echo of the quiet forest landscape, Jason lumbered forward. You watched him, doe eyes wide as you wondered what he might do to you.

Instead of snapping your neck or reaching for a weapon to run you through like you had well assumed he was going to do, however, he simply reached out with a slow hand and gripped the scarf.

He didn’t pull it from your grip, instead just holding it along with you. His head tilted again to the side, a silent inquiry as to what to do next. The smile on your lips was unintentional as you tried to bite down the laughter that threatened to appear. You focused instead on giving him an encouraging nod.

“You can take it...if you want. Um...do you...know how to wrap it around your neck?”

He gave another nod, this time fully taking the scarf from you and, more or less, throwing the fabric around his neck. He made no show of tucking it in like you might have or readjusting it so that it wouldn’t fall flimsily around his shoulders and cling to his  existing coat. You couldn’t blame him, however, and seeing him with at least a new layer of warmth on gave you some sense of motherly relief you didn’t expect yourself to have for the massive forest dweller. Silence overtook the both of you again as you simply stared at one another. You dared to make the first move again, hands fiddling with the edges of your coat as you stared back out at the lake.

“It’s really beautiful this time of year, I think...Is it as peaceful as it looks all the time?”

A long silence. You looked up at him to see if he would make a nod or gesture to show you. Instead he was quiet, simply staring at you. From this angle you could see his eyes, or, one of them rather. It bore into your flesh, glinting with a silent curiosity. A hesitant sort of watch. A sign that, should you do anything he didn’t like, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill you. You looked back over the lake, deciding that you’d at least like a view before you died...A sad sort of smile touched at your lips now as you remembered the origin of his story...the thought of him being alone here all this time…

“I visited here a lot as a kid,” You stated, “Always during the winter...My father and I really loved waking walks around the forest in the winter. When we came home we’d make hot chocolate and help one another keep up the garden we had. Though, nothing much grew during winter...I didn’t mind, though, it was always peaceful. Though, I bet you’re pretty used to it…”

You held his gaze again, watching him as he watched you. Half of you craved asking if he was going to kill you. If he was, then when? The other half of you would rather keep it a surprise...if he did at all. Instead, you found yourself asking the single inquiry you had longed for since you had gotten to the edge of the lake. Tilting your head towards the pathways lining the sparkling structure of water, you called out, “I’m Y/N, also...Your name is Jason Voorhees, isn’t it?”

He gave a nod.

“I see...It must’ve been really cold around here all these years...I’m sorry you’ve had to put up with it. With the people that have been around.”

You gazed out again before turning back to the forest, your tongue clicking against your teeth as you gave a nod of affirmation to yourself.

“Would you...like to walk with me back to my house?”

Another series of silence echoed between the both of you. He didn’t respond. Slowly, ever so slowly, you reversed your steps and gave him a curious look. As you meandered back to your home, you eventually turned to face the way you were walking, figuring that if he had truly wanted to kill you, then, he would have done it already. There was a sense of surprise, and moderate anxiety, as you heard footsteps fall in the snow behind you. As heavy boots echoed against the snow, without a doubt overshadowing your smaller footprints in his own. Still, you continued to walk.

The two of you strolled through the forest, you occasionally commenting about things you saw and him saying nothing in return, only giving you nods or adjusting the scarf you had offered him around his neck carefully. The walk had changed something in the dynamic of the air. It had gone from heavy, filled with the threat of blood and death, to something akin to two strangers...simply walking together. To a person leading and a dog following. Not to say Jason was a dog, of course, he was his own person...was that what made it so interesting?

You mulled these concepts over and over again in your mind, touching at trees as you passed and soon continuing the walk you two shared in silence. You wondered why he walked behind you, his strides long enough to easily overtake yours at any moment. Maybe he had decided you weren’t a threat, since you hadn’t shown any signs of debauchery or interest in such things in your time there. Perhaps it was because you had offered a gift instead of screaming, appeasing him into curiosity of what else you might have had for him...Perhaps, perhaps. The word echoed like a rapid drill in your head. It slid from your lips once or twice, testing its pronunciation on your tongue before dying away with ease.

Eventually you stopped, the view of your home slowly sinking into your line of sight.

“Oh,” You blinked, “We’re here.”

Jason was at your side now as you stopped, sharing in your gaze of the snow covered cabin. You looked up at him, watching him as he stared straight ahead. He had nuzzled himself in your light lilac scarf now and you could not help but admire the stark contrast of the purple against his otherwise darkly colored palette. You’d almost dare say that he looked...handsome.

“Well,” You hummed, “I better get going inside. It’s cold, after all.”

You walked a few steps forward, stopped, and thought about your options. If he was truly allowing you to get away with this for a moment, perhaps you should count yourself lucky and continue forward, never to speak of it again. But...what if this could be something more? What if this could be the chance for something else...a friend...a confidant...someone only you could see and speak to in the deep quiet of the woods? There was a greediness that overcame your stomach. A wanton need to create more reason to stay. More reason to cling. To grab and to suffocate and to cherish...to cherish…

You turned despite yourself.

“Did you want….” You trailed off, licking your chapped lips before continuing, “Did you want to come in, Jason? You could warm up yourself before going...um...wherever it is you needed to go.”

There was a hesitance in him you hadn’t seen before, as if he didn’t know what to do in this situation. He took a step forward, then back, as if rethinking the offer. You waited, patiently, as he seemed to pull into himself with the effort of vexing over the situation. Feeling slight guilt on your part for presenting the issue in the first place, you waved your hand forward to get his attention with an apologetic smile, “I’m sorry, I was too excited. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to...but um...if you ever do decide to visit, I’ll be open okay? I don’t have a lot of work to do around here until spring anyways, so…”

The offer faded into silence.

Slowly, Jason’s hands reached up to undo the scarf around his neck, slowly sliding it off in an effort to offer it back to you. With wide eyes, your hands shot up with a laugh.

“Oh, no, it’s okay! I have more than one scarf. You should keep it, to make sure you stay warm for the rest of the winter okay? Consider it a thanks for walking me home…”

And not killing me, you added the last part in your mind. He stood up straighter, as if surprised by the fact you had offered him a gift. Had anyone offered him a gift before in his life? Your heart ached to imagine it. He pulled his hands back, examining the scarf, before extending it again curiously. As if double checking. As if ASKING. Were you really sure about this?

“I’m sure, don’t worry,” You smiled, “Please, keep it...I’ll um...See you around then?”

He didn’t say anything. He only gave a slow, ghost of a nod against his mask. You took that s a sign the transaction was over. A signal that it was time to go in. Your nose was near numb with the nip of the winter air, the snow making its way through your boots and into your socks. You uttered one last goodbye to the man before you while you shut your cabin door. You didn’t lock it, though...For whatever reason, it didn’t seem appropriate to do in the situation. He could get in if he really wanted to, anyways. What was the point?

You slid down on the back of your door, your spine catching on the old and splintered wood while you bit your lip to stop a yelp of successful relief echoing from between your lips. Well. You had survived an encounter with an esteemed ghost killer. No applause or victory music followed this revelation. Instead there was...a sense of melancholy pity, almost. To say that the view of the entire situation was warped beyond its realities within the landscape of your mind was an understatement. Then again, you had never viewed things the same as other people anyway.

Your mind had found beauty in the grotesque. Home in the quiet. Warmth in cold….A handsome face under a normally terrifying visage.

Half of you doubted he would return. You realized this as you made yourself stand and went to the kitchen to prepare a warm batch of hot chocolate for yourself with deep and even breaths. He would probably leave and never come back, focusing on the hooligans running around his lake instead. If he did come back, maybe it would be to kill you? You tried not to dwell on it, but, your mind constantly bombarded you with thoughts and considerations. On questions you would have loved to ask Jason Voorhees should you have maintained easier conversation with him. Not that he would answer...you didn’t think he could.

You wished you could have told him your opinion on the lake itself. Your thoughts of the woods. You wanted to tell him your favorite color and how you liked the feeling of wind on your skin because it reminded you that you were flesh and bone.

You wish you could have told him you were sorry for how counselor’s treated him before he drowned…

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't bother to stare out the window of your kitchen. If you did, you would have seen him amongst the trees again, hiding behind some while patiently observing you through the dark eyes of his mask. You would have also caught the fluttering ends of the lilac scarf he had re-wrapped around his neck, tucking it close into his flesh to keep the cold at bay while tilting his head to watch every movement you made within your walls.

You would have seen curiosity.

But you didn’t.

[youkaigakkou-tl]

Chapter 97 Extended Translation Notes

first off here's the spread without the text at the top. the stuff at the bottom, well..... see if i feel like it

this is mostly just unorganized thoughts nothing like my analysis posts

(future op after writing the whole post: this got kinda long lol)

ok now that im hidden in the readmore i can act insane. RAHHHHH AMAAKI ON THE COLOR PAGE RAHHHH WAHOOOOOO WOOHOOOOO BIG WIN FOR AME NATION ok got that out of my system im normal now

Rain or shine

In case you forgot, ame = rain, haru = sunny. I lose my mind every time this is relevant, like the ending of renren arc.

Whose mom is this

the other 3 are pretty obvious, but the 2nd one isn't immediately recognizable.

(also, 2 checks for "the couple's parents are meeting" for fujiogo and momo and gida)

just for fun, i process-of-eliminationed this

(cover page of chapter 57 my old friend)

everyone greyed out's parents statuses are confirmed, (other than akibe and koizumi, but given the physical features...)

though, i say i did this "just for fun", because i already kinda knew who's mom it was

(from this tweet)

it's mujina's mom. she's beside tamao's mom, the appearance matches, it makes sense.

Haha Sano what the fuck does this mean

the japanese says he "分からん" (wakaran), meaning "i dunno", and the chinese translation outright says "i don't have parents" which SEEMS to be what the jp is implying anyway

sano get back here you're not dunnoing your way out of this one

Also renren realised they don't share a surname. ebisu explain that you're not :>ing your way out of this one either

Shrines, huh

the plate over the torii just says "abe shrine" back in chapter 9, but given my google street view sleuthing and like, story details, even if its not the big fancy one in kyoto it is still an abe no seimei shrine. so on some level, haruaki, you're the god! what a coincidence, the "gods" are exactly as shocked as you are!

Tale of the bamboo cutter

This page was a damn nightmare to translate. (Mame's mistakes, not the actual story in grey. it's a well known classic that's been translated, no need to reinvent the wheel)

I tried to get the "hamuhane" part exactly like the jp, but mame's mistake on the 3 "sun" big child in the first 2 panels is a little different

He interprets "なる人" (naruhito) as "成人" (also naruhito); "hito" means person, the first "naru" means grow (like a plant) or contain (i think), the second one means "adult person".

I suppose I could have also went for "grown" person vs "grown person", but in any case, haruaki's explanation for what a "sun" is on the bottom 2 panels is almost exact, and i thought the "soon" comparison was a good way to get across that's how "sun" is pronounced

(also here's my "hamuhane" tl note)

anyway. nightmare page. looking forward to how the official tl does it when it comes out in (checks watch) like 2 years?

Ame and Ebisu interaction real

dunno if it gets across, but I think he has a height complex...

pretty weird thing to say, huh, Ebisu? to someone you just met? how do you know that anyway?

the only times Ame appeared has been ch8 when the gang went to Haru's house, ch23 when he pretended to be Haru (the rest of the class should be none the wiser) ch39 in the hospital (none of the class was there to see)

and then Ebisu gets introduced in ch 53, after that he hears firsthand that Haru has a twin in ch58, and then Ame is there in renren arc and outright says he's scared of youkai in ch76

Notice how Ebisu wasn't present for any of Ame's appearances prior. he wasn't involved in renren arc, and the person i think is his spy was turned to stone on the ground floor while the reveal on the roof happened.

of course, this could just be a combination of him projecting on Ame, and seeing him visibly scared of youkai a few pages prior. but "hate" is a fairly specific and strong word to use, and i also think he's too smart to not know Ame hates youkai, just a matter of where he got the info from.

The person I think is his spy

after doing some thinking (furigana reads: seeing this post), I think there's someone who's fairly likely to be the spy.

observe, the chart for "people who we've seen the parents of" and "people ranmaru might have seen in ch62"

we've narrowed it down to one man. (ok well there's a few in common here, but satsuki doesnt get screentime ever and ogata twins are too obvious for how much emphasis the ranmaru scene was given)

the kudan, Kurahashi.

but wait, you say, we know he's a youkai. he's got horns. we've seen him use his abilities.

but consider everything else. how often he interacts with Ebisu. how often he sticks his neck out for Ebisu

(i also have a lot of Thoughts abt the part timing incident, specifically his prediction

in his first appearance, he mentioned he couldn't see Haru's future well (because of his exorcism power, which, mind you, still don't know how that works exactly)

wouldn't be a stretch to think that his prediction wouldn't/can't take a god's interference into account. the thug was going to say "the customer is god" either way, but there's also the possibility that the moment kurahashi stepped in, his prediction of "toubyou get punched" couldn't play out exactly so the totally different thing of Ebisu stepping in happened. anyway)

it's not like any individual event incriminates him, rather how frequently it happens. in fact, kurahashi has been involved almost every time Ebisu appears. (put it another way, Ebisu's only major appearances where Kurahashi wasn't involved in some way was this chapter, and the youkai train)

adding on to that, we don't have any info on what his personal life is like, odd considering the amount of screentime he gets. (all of this is relevant to this chapter bc this would have been the perfect opportunity to show his parents, IF HE HAS ANY) the only things we know about his personal life is he's in the basketball club??? and that he was "raised to help people in trouble" whatever "raised" or "help" or "trouble" means

and now, the final nail in the coffin: this alternate cover that came with the 2021 december gfantasy issue

(oh yeah its also my blog header)

none of the official images of it included the flap with ranmaru, and previously i was willing to believe it's just a coincidence for 4 characters related to gods and kurahashi to be on the back cover together, but now that i've seen the whole thing, i feel like ranmaru being there seals the deal that it's intentional

count em, 5 whole characters, basically every major character that is/was a god, and one kurahashi yuuta, who we know nothing about despite his frequent appearances? kinda sus

and now, to return to the first question, isn't he a youkai? horns and youkai powers and all?

and to that i say: he could be another creature. we've just seen an example of this, suzaku, divine fire bird, becoming a tengu, which is also a bird

looking up kudan, it has been theorized that it's based off another mythical creature: the Bai Ze (or Hakutaku), a divine cow-like beast from china, who shares many characteristics with the kudan, only difference being it's associated with good luck instead of misfortune

ok this is kind of a nonsense theory but can you imagine. at the very least, theres a lot of very sus things about kurahashi specifically regarding ebisu. on the off chance he is a bai ze, it would make this image very funny

beniko the zashiki warashi, an auspicious youkai; sano the god of pestilence, but as a person brings haruaki good luck; and then kurahashi, whats his deal man?

thats all i have to say! lemme paste this into google docs for a word count-

oh. oh no. what the fuck how did this happen wasnt this a tl note

anyway hope u enjoyed this tl-note-turned-ebisu-kurahashi-analysis post! there's still way more i could analyse of ebisu and i'll probably do that someday. i could pick apart every word he says and still not know what his deal is

[theolddarkmachine]

Kingdom- Ch 8

Gajeel has had the dream about dying for the blue haired girl for as long as he can remember. Which is weird, since he’s never met anyone with blue hair in his life.

Levy has always loved myths and legends. So much so, in fact, that she was currently getting her master’s in mythological studies.

What neither of them realized was that they were living a legend all their own.

AKA the one with a knight, a princess, and a curse that keeps bringing them together just to pull them apart.

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

AO3

Commission by Blue

WOOHOOOOO NOVEMBER UPDATE IS UP! Again, I feel I need to apologize for cutting back so much on updates during the holidays. It was necessary though because I definitely needed to focus on the 12 Days of ODM. AAAAND even better news, it’s paying off because 7 out of 12 are completed!

I hope that you find this update worth it. Actual notes in my notebook about this chapter: This is the step before the top of the rollercoaster hill.

So I’m hoping y'all are starting to get that feeling right before the coaster pitches ya over the hill, cuz that’s where we’re at lol Friendly reminder this is still on a semi-hiatus while I work on 12 Days of ODM and SS stuff. Next update will be some time in December once those are done. Then we return to weekly updates :)

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Consciousness crested over Gajeel like an incoming tide, ebbing over his body slowly like waves until he was wholly aware of the light painting the backs of his eyelids red and the cool dampness of a cloth across his forehead. A thick fog was still working his way through his mind, accompanied by a manufactured silence that did nothing to sooth the sudden spike of her nerves. How did he get there? Just a moment before he was certain he’d been speaking with Lily.

And then—

His gasp was a sharp intake that tore through his throat and chest like a beast as he sat upright, knocking the cooled fabric from his forehead to his lap as his eyes flew open.

It was real.

The dream and all its reoccurrences, hadn’t been a creation of his own imagination, but memories of a life he’d once lived. This time, instead of the all too familiar darkness that he had grown accustomed to, he’d been met with vivid images of a king, of an order, and of the beautiful blue haired woman that he’d fallen in love with. He could almost still feel the weight of her head on his chest. Could still taste her on his tongue. She had been his.

And if that was the truth, he had also died. In fact, he had died for her.

Save her.

Gajeel’s hand shook as he ran it through his hair, a small, nervous sound escaping him as his mind raced to accept the impossible nature of it all. Somehow, he was the knight that had appeared before him in his bathroom.

Somehow, he had died.

Though the certainty of the truth was crackling in his veins like a lightning storm, he was still unsure of the nature that had caused it to be so. Even now, as he tried to reach the memory of his death, he was met by a wall that stopped any progress.

With an aggravated huff, Gajeel grabbed the cloth from his lap and threw it across the room, ignoring the wet slap of the fabric against the wall. He needed answers. Needed to find the end to the maze the stood between him and the explanation as to how he had lived a life centuries ago.

A small cough dragged him back from the brink of his entangled thoughts as he turned towards the sound, only to see Lily sitting in a chair that he’d set next to the couch. His corded arms were crossed over his chest as he looked over his adopted brother, an eyebrow raised as he appraised him. As if he had any right to scrutinize.

I’m sorry, Gajeel.

The sharp sting of betrayal wore a blunt hole in his chest as he returned the stare. In all the years that they had known each other, and all the times they’d spoken of the strange dream, Lily had never said anything. Instead, he’d offered false explanations and possibilities all the while holding the truth behind the recurrent vision close.

“How long have you known?” Gajeel asked, the question burning his throat with the acidic suspicion that dripped from every word. Lily held his glare, meeting it with one of unabashed honesty. Before him sat the best friend and brother he had grown to know, and yet they sat regarding each other like strangers. There was a moment’s pause before lily sighed, the very breath leaving in one long rush of sound that seemed to deflate him.

“I’ve always known, Gajeel,” he said, not looking away as he kept his voice steady. It was the same pitch and even cadence that one might use when speaking to a wild animal. Gajeel wondered if Lily thought he might bite.

Hell, he wondered the same.

They continued to regard each other, a hundred questions flinging themselves silently into the ever growing distance that seemed to carve deeper and further between them. It was as his gaze danced over his adopted brother in an attempt to pull the answers straight from his head, that he noticed the bruise like shadows that had etched themselves under his eyes.

‘’We’re protectors, me and my family,” Lily began to speak again once he realized Gajeel wasn’t going to ask another question. As much as he wanted to, he didn’t even know where to start. How was he even supposed to begin to ask the man before him to unravel the lies that had made up the fabric of his life? Even if Gajeel himself knew which thread to begin to pull, he wasn’t even sure he would. The sharp tang of fear coated the back of his tongue at the mere thought of confirming what he already knew.

Everything he knew was a lie.

“Liam was the first. He’d been best friends with the Black Dragon, son of the Iron Dragon.” His voice was almost dream like as he spoke, reciting the words like an all too familiar mantra that had been told to him over and over again. Lily’s eyes glinted in the light as they flashed upwards toward his face.

“With you,” he rectified. “He had been a stableboy at the castle, and you had saved him from some boys that thought their status set them above him. Which, while true, didn’t seem to bother you much.”

A dark chuckle escaped him as he shook his head, the weight of the tale apparent in the way his shoulders dipped.

“But then the king ordered you to leave. To protect a woman without any knowledge of who she was, only that you must keep her safe. Thing was, he didn’t plan on you falling in love. At least, as far as the story goes.” Lily shrugged before he leant forward, forearms bracing over his knees as his onyx eyes searched Gajeel’s crimson as if in search of something.

Something that would expose any familiarity to the memories that belonged to him, told from side of someone that didn’t live them. Yet the only recognition he could find, was hidden in the light blue hair that had haunted his dreams, pulled him in front of a vehicle, and splayed across his pillow.

“Bits and pieces of the tale have been lost in translation and changed so much over time that I can’t tell you how it happened, but you both ended up cursed.”

Gajeel felt the breath catch in his chest, the suddenness of it opening a burning hole behind his sternum. Almost as soon as Lily had spoken the word, he knew recalled the sharp sound of bitter laughter and the oppressive weight as darkness had descended on him, only punctuated by the searing pain in his chest.

“What was the curse?” He asked, voice a barely above a whisper as he tried to speak over the stone that had cut off his breath. Gajeel watched as Lily sighed, bringing both his hands up towards his hair and carding his fingers through it, pausing momentarily with his head held up by his palms. It wasn’t until he looked back up that he answered.

“To relive finding each other, only to lose one another again.”

Unease opened up in his gut like a beast freed of shackles, tearing into the soft flesh with the intent to destroy. His dreams had always pointed him towards love. As his consciousness had faded away into what he now knew was death, his last thoughts were always of golden eyes and sky filled hair. The ill omen had even disguised itself in the mirror vision, those two haunting words falling from his doppleganger’s lips as his ruby stare cut through him.

Save her.

Only now, he heard the edge of the words that gave them a darker, more sinister feel. Save her, but at what cost?

How many times had he saved her, and died in the process?

Had he ever even saved her at all?

Gajeel pushed the aching throb in his throat down just long enough to get out his next words, already knowing their answer but needing to hear it anyway. It wouldn’t be real until he heard it. Shuffling where he sat so that he was now turned fully towards Lily so he could fix him with his unwavering gaze, he bit out the only question that mattered.

“Is it Levy?”

Time stopped around them, its constant movement stalled by the simple question. He felt the weight of it, crushing down around his shoulders as the images from the dream beat against the inside of his skull. Her hands. Her lips. The softness of her in his arms. Fear as it corroded his veins. Pain, as it tore the very life from within him.

What was mere seconds had opened up into an endless stasis in which the only things left moving were Gajeel’s innermost thoughts and Lily’s downturning mouth.

With his heart hammering a dent into the back of his ribs, he waited for the answer that would be the nail in his own coffin. When they finally came, they were filled with the same rasp of a man taking his final breath.

“Yes. And she will kill you.”

***

Levy jolted from the dream as if she’d been shocked from the depths of her slumber by an unseen force that ran an electric current through her body. Her skin was heated and flushed as she worked to catch her breath, somehow lost to her as if she’d been running instead of sleeping with her cheek pressed against the cool surface of her desk. Even her throat ached, as if it had been torn with the screams that had filled her dream.

The experience had been harrowing, one moment she was in her room and the next she had been swallowed into an inky darkness before finding herself thrust into the foreign feel of her own body.

Only, it wasn’t really her body.

She had found herself a spectator while trapped within the confines of her imagined self, watching the love story between the maiden and the knight play out before her eyes. Levy had watched as Gajeel’s eyes had softened as he’d looked at her. Seen the way his careful touches became caresses that evolved into so much more. She’d even felt the ever present growth of a new star trapped behind her ribs each time she had returned the affections.

Everything had been good, and pure, and light.

Then Levy watched as it became corrupted and twisted, the pain of it too much to bear as the dream faded from scene to scene until the finale, where she was clutching Gajeel to her chest as blood rushed from a gaping wound in his chest. The aching throb of her anguish was only amplified when she realized that the dagger that had dealt the fatal wound was clutched within her fist.

It had been the sinister glint of the light on the blade that had sent her reeling through whatever darkness had pulled her into the dream in the first place and dropped her back into the real world. Gulping down large breaths, Levy pulled both of her hands through her hair in a failed attempt at collecting herself.

With her heart still stuttering, she looked down at the book that still lay open before her, the painted pictures pointed upwards to the sky in a frozen scene from the dream. A small hiss escaped her as she slammed the cover shut before pushing herself away from the desk. Dropping her head against the back of her chair, Levy squeezed her eyes shut as she pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers.

There’s a perfectly good explanation for this, she thought to herself, desperately clutching at rationality to keep herself afloat.

It was pure coincidence that Levy had made a connection between her and the blue haired woman in the book, and Gajeel and the night. He had been an object of her attention for long enough that it only made sense her mind would find similarities where there weren’t any. After all, it was one thing to believe the stories she studied could have actually happened. It was another entirely to be living one.

Yet, it had all felt real. So real that Levy could still smell the greenery that had surrounded the hut that they’d lived in. Could still hear his words as they’d caressed the shell of her ear while he had exchanged his own stories with her. She could even still feel the heat of him from where he’d lay dying in her arms.

There was no way the dream had really been her memories.

And yet—

Three sharp raps against her door shook her of the impossible thoughts that were swirling in and around her mind like fog. Feet rubbing over the carpet of her floor, Levy pulled herself towards the knocking that sounded again, impatiently again as it repeated its sharp cadence. She wasn’t expecting anyone, but one guess would place Lucy on the other side of the door. Most likely, she’d be standing there looking sheepish, as if she hadn’t left Levy completely wasted at a bar.

If her brain wasn’t in the middle of liquifying, she would probably make Lucy work for her forgiveness. Be that as it may, she no longer had it in her to fight over what was considered abandonment with her best friend. All she wanted were answers that the blonde would not be able to give her.

“Look, Luce, you’re already forgiven,” she spoke as she flung the door open only to find the words sticking to the inside of her throat as she realized that the person on the other side was not her best friend. Where crystalline blue eyes should have been looking down at her, instead, she was only met by an endless pool of violet.

Levy exhaled a short, surprised noise between her teeth before she spoke.

“Hi, Aunt Kearia.”

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

[astrobinn]

Hey~~~ I just posted the second chapter of Home Sweet Home in case you wanna read it

woohooooo! ive been waiting for the second chapter asfkajdasdasjk! im excited to read it :’))))