#sorry wol he's unbearable

[the-random-tyler]

End of stormblood (It didn't stick and he got kicked out soon after)

[coolcataetheryte]

Title: Say You Love Me (2, 3, 4, 5)

Pairing: Joker(mWoL)xThancred

Word count: 2,824

TW: brief sexual assault (non graphic but you have been warned)

Summary: Thancred and Joker have a misunderstanding. When Joker goes out to find Thancred and apologize, he has a run in with an unsavory stranger! Will Thancred save him?

Tags: vierapril prompt 11: longing, like so much longing, mutual pining, gonna go with hurt/comfort, angst, boys being oblivious idiots. I may do a part 2, i should just start writing dollar store romance novels

Background info: This is part of my Magical Heroes AU in which the WoL and scions are all magical boys/girls. It’s not about that, but it is mentioned. I imagine events happen a bit differently, but again not super important to this story. I think enough context is given, but if you’re confused, sorry about that lol. This is set right after the end of ARR soon after Lahabrea was exorcized purged from Thancred’s body. PS Joker is kind of a big crybaby like Sailor Moon. PPS I have no clue where they’re staying, so just use your imagination. Fancy inn somewhere I guess.

“You’ve been crying.”

Joker jumped at Thancred’s words.

“Should you be up?,” he asked, hurrying to his side.

Thancred gave him chuckle, “I'm perfectly fine to walk around.”

Joker’s hands hovered just inches from Thancred’s arm. He lowered them, and took an awkward step back. “That’s good then..”

“I wish you wouldn’t worry so much,” said Thancred. “None of it was your fault.”

“I know but,” Joker fought back the tears threatening to fall once more, to no avail. “I should've noticed. I should’ve known you were possessed and helped you sooner. I-”

“It isn’t your fault,” Thancred interrupted. “Please, Joker.. I hate to see you so distraught over me.”

Joker tried to take some calming breaths but he couldn’t stop the tears. What if he had lost him? The thought of losing any of his friends was awful, but losing Thancred? That would be unbearable.

“Did you mean it?,” Thancred asked suddenly.

Joker looked at him in confusion, rubbing his eye.

“Did you mean it,” he repeated. “What you said before. The thing that brought me to my senses and allowed you all to banish Lahabrea from my body.”

Joker was thankful his skin was dark enough to mostly hide the blush creeping into his cheeks. The shock that Thancred remembered stopped the tears.

“I.. well.. yeah,” he hesitated. “I love all my friends.”

He averted his gaze as he said it, hoping the explanation would be enough for Thancred to drop it.

“I see,” Thancred said after a beat. “Of course.”

The Viera refused to believe there was disappointment in his friend’s voice. He was probably relieved more than anything.

“Yeah, so,” Joker laughed awkwardly. “That’s what I meant. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable.”

Thancred shook his head and forced a smile. “I’m lucky to have a good friend like you.”

The words struck Joker right in the heart.

“I don’t suppose you’d say it again,” Thancred asked. “I don’t often hear it.”

Joker blinked at him.

“Say you love me,” he clarified, hiding his own pain behind a teasing smirk.

“Uh, sure. I mean.. if you want me to," Joker hoped he hid his embarrassment well. "Um.. I love you.”

He was getting hot. He needed to get away from Thancred right now, before he did anything that would ruin their friendship. He didn’t know where to look and he worried he seemed insincere. He rubbed the hem of his shorts between his fingers, hoping he’d leave on his own now.

Thancred's smirk had changed to a sad smile, but Joker was too preoccupied to see. “Thank you, my friend.”

Joker’s heart was beating hard and fast. He desperately wished to hear his friend say the same words back to him in a different context. But that was it, they were friends. There wouldn’t be more.

“I hope you’ll be able to stop crying for me soon,” said Thancred as he turned to leave.

“Wait!”

It had come out louder than he meant it to, but Thancred didn’t seem bothered when he turned back to face him. A moment ago, all he could think about was putting a bit of distance between them, yet now, suddenly, he couldn’t bear the thought of being apart.

“I, um,” Joker stammered, now messing with the hem of his top. “I think I'd like it if you kept me company. I don’t really like to be alone, but the others aren’t really around or they’re busy so..”

Thancred nodded. “I’d like that, too.”

They stood awkwardly for a moment, Joker still working the fabric between his fingers. His face grew hot again when he felt Thancred’s hand over his.

“You’ll rub your fingers raw like that,” he said softly, pulling Joker’s hand away from the material.

“Nervous habit, I guess.”

“Nervous? About what? Me?”

“Only because I still worry about your condition.”

“My condition is fine. Promise. Now don’t make me worry about yours.”

He placed a gentle kiss on Joker’s hand before letting go. Joker almost felt his soul leave his body. He tried to hide how his heart soared in that tiny moment, but it was pounding so hard he felt faint. He swayed just enough that Thancred instinctively reached out to steady him. The places his hands grabbed Joker’s shoulders felt like electricity, which in turn, made him even more faint. His knees gave out, Thancred’s arms the only thing keeping his knees from hitting the ground harshly.

“What is it,” Thancred asked urgently. “Are you feeling ill?”

“I’m just tired,” he half lied, trying not to panic while being so close to him. “I guess I have been worrying too much.”

“We better get you in bed. I think you should lie down. Your pulse is very hectic. I’ll have someone look at you.”

Arguing would only make it seem suspicious, so Joker didn’t. Instead, allowing Thancred to help him to his room. But the prolonged contact was only making him more dizzy. He was completely, undeniably lovesick for this man. The entire situation was utterly embarrassing. He closed his eyes.

Thancred laid him in bed, fighting the urge to stroke a soft, blue ear. He studied his friend’s face closely. It had bee a long time since he'd seen him untransformed. He had forgotten the makeup was not part of his magical warrior glamour. The pink around his eyes was his own doing, as were the indigo lips. It all simply became more defined when he invoked his transformation, enhancing his beauty even more. The nails, however, he’d noticed were decidedly not raspberry colored.

So that is part of the glamour, he thought to himself. He realized the moment Joker’s condition took a sudden turn was when he’d kissed those lovely fingers. Joker’s face was completely flushed, and his breathing was still rather heavy.

“I hope I'm not somehow still under some kind of corruption,” he said. “Or having some kind of lasting effect that could hurt you. I’m sorry. Perhaps I shouldn't have touched you.”

Joker opened his eyes, cheeks burning. “No. No, it isn’t that. I promise."

“I should have someone check. You rest for now.”

A hand gripped Thancred’s sleeve.

“Please,” Joker cried. “Don’t leave. I’m really fine. I’m just.. I'm just being ridiculous.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Thancred tried to search Joker’s eyes but he kept them downcast. “I need to understand so that I may help you.”

Joker finally met his gaze. Seeing the worry, he realized he should hide it no longer.

“I..,” he began. “I get like this any time I’m close to you. My entire body starts to burn up, and I feel out of breath because my heart races so fast it could run away entirely.”

Thancred thought was beginning to understand, but he needed actual confirmation of his theory. He needed to hear Joker say it in no uncertain terms. He didn’t dare assume. Not with him.

“Why?,” he prodded. “Do I make you uncomfortable? When did this start? When I obtained the necklace? It could be your light warning you that something is still wrong.”

“No, it’s not that,” Joker’s voice was becoming more desperate as he forced himself to sit up.

“Then what is it? Please.”

Thancred had already moved a bit closer. He glanced at his lips, trampling the urge to kiss him. He was yearning for Joker to simply say what he so eagerly hoped his trouble was. He watched the purple eyes grow wide, then dart away as Joker pulled back.

Thancred felt a twinge of pain in his chest. He was wrong then. The hand holding his sleeve had slipped away.

“It’s all right,” he said softly. “I’ll let you rest.. And keep my distance.”

With that, he left swiftly, barely even giving Joker time to process his words. Joker hated himself for losing his nerve. Now he had hurt his friend. He must have thought he hated him or was afraid. He sighed sharply and dropped back onto the bed and covered his face.

“I’m such a coward,” he spat to himself.

Hours had passed while Joker simply stared at the ceiling, willing himself to get up, find his friend, and make things right. They were warriors. This should be nothing compared to what they’ve faced, but telling Thancred his feelings was more frightening than any monster. However, losing Thancred as a friend was a fate far worse than death in his mind. At this rate, he was going to lose him whether he told him or not. He finally dragged himself out of bed. It was late, but he knew Thancred would be up. Especially if he was upset.

He tried Thancred’s room, but it was empty. He searched all over the inn for him but found no trace. He wouldn’t have decided to put so much distance that he’d leave, would he? Joker hurried outside. It was quieter, but it wasn’t so late that the streets had fully died down. He closed his eyes and listened, his ears fully alert atop his head. He caught the sound of his friend’s voice; he knew it anywhere. He hurried toward the bustling tavern. As he approached, he heard another voice alongside Thancred’s. One he didn’t recognize. He stopped when he came into view. He was flirting with a woman. She was awfully pretty and was giggling at something he’d said. Joker’s heart sank. His eyes burned with fresh tears threatening to fall. There was a painful lump in his throat, and he was gripping his own shirt tightly.

Of course, he thought. This was Thancred’s nature. He could have anyone he wanted. He was a natural flirt and not once had he flirted with Joker. Telling him the truth would only make it awkward. If Thancred had wanted him, he would make it clear. Right?

He’d backed himself into the alley. It didn’t seem like Thancred saw him. He was thankful for that.

Suddenly, he felt his collar yanked harshly. His yelp was lost under a sudden burst of laughter from a group of patrons. A large man threw him against the wall, pinning him. He was much taller than him and broad. Not like a Roegadyn, but likely someone who did very heavy labor for a living.

“What’s the matter, little bunny?,” the man slurred. “Someone stand you up? Don’t worry, I'll keep you company tonight.”

Joker’s head was reeling from hitting the wall. His reaction time was slowed, but the feeling of the man’s tongue sliding along his throat and up to his chin, plus one of the man's legs groping between his own was enough to bring it back. He shoved the man hard, making him stumble back and knock against the wall opposite of him. He was stronger than average, but without transforming he was still at a disadvantage if the man grew angry. Luckily, it was enough to send the man running.

Somehow, no one seemed to be wise of what almost happened. Thancred included, still flirting away.

Standing next to a large crate for cover, he pressed his back against the hard, stone wall and slid to the ground slowly, not caring at all about how his clothes drifted up and the likely scratches he’d have because of it. He slumped into his knees and sobbed. One hand rubbing frantically where the disgusting man’s tongue had been. It took everything in him to keep his crying relatively quiet. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention, but there was no way he could just walk away right now. His legs felt like jelly, and the rest of him was numb. He didn’t notice the streets quieting further as the night grew later.

His ears perked at approaching footsteps. He curled further against the crate and wall, covering his nose and mouth to quiet his breathing. He wished he was invisible, or that at the very least the person passing by would be oblivious. He couldn’t be caught in such an embarrassing position.

To his horror, the boots stopped directly in front of him. Even worse, Thancred’s face came into view as he quickly knelt down to his level. Joker wanted nothing more than to be swallowed up by the ground.

“Joker, what happened?,” there was distress in his voice. “Did someone attack you? Who was it? I swear on the twelve I'll find them and make them pay! Are you hurt?”

That valor was one of the reasons Joker had fallen for him in the first place. And for him to be so observant and caring after Joker had made it seem he didn’t want to be near him just hours ago. Without a thought, he threw himself into Thancred’s arms, who immediately held him protectively as he scanned the area for any predators.

“Come, let's hurry back to the inn,” Thancred urged, standing them and keeping him close when he began to walk. “They could still be-”

“Say you love me,” Joker breathed into his ear, stopping him in his tracks. "I.. don't often hear it.. and I think I need to right now.."

His voice was shaking. His heart was still gripped with pain and fear, but with Thancred acting so dauntless, he couldn’t help asking for it. Maybe he was taking advantage of the situation, and he’d feel guilty for it later, but right now all he wanted was to pretend they could have more than friendship.

Thancred pulled back just enough to look at him. “What was that?”

“Please,” Joker gasped, his eyes glancing at Thancred, then looking away. “Please.. s-say you love me..”

A warm palm held Joker’s cheek as Thancred hesitated.

“Thancred,” Joker pleaded, his voice breaking.

The slightly taller man brought Joker’s head to his shoulder, holding him closer than before.

“I love you,” it was nearly a whisper.

Joker sobbed. “Again.. please.”

It was louder this time. “I love you.”

Thancred’s hand stroked the blue locks soothingly as Joker continued to cry. He could feel his friend trembling. Rage was building within him. He swore he’d find the one that had hurt the one he cared for most.

“Thancred..”

“Yes, what is it? What do you need?”

“Don’t let go.”

He kept his arm around Joker possessively as they made their way back to the inn. Thancred’s eyes were like daggers. Anyone still walking the street practically leapt out of their way. No one dared approach them in the lobby; even the other scions steered clear. They’d get the story later, when the murderous energy was no longer radiating off of Thancred.

He helped Joker to his room for the second time that night. He sat with him on the bed. He smelled a faint waft of alcohol on Joker instead of the usual, pleasant, berry pie aroma that was his signature. The flames of rage ignited even stronger.

“Tell me who did it,” his voice had a bit of a growl to it. “Describe him. I’m sure I'll find him if I transform and hurry after him, right now.”

Joker shook his head. “Please don’t leave. Don’t let go.”

He truly was scared. He truly didn’t want Thancred to leave him alone. His usual emotions when Thancred was near were muted by the fear. He leaned against him.

“Alright,” Thancred relented, hugging him close again. “I won’t let go. I’m here. I’ll keep you safe, my light.”

Thancred slumped back to lay on the bed, bringing Joker with him.

“Say you love me,” Joker whispered.

“I love you,” there was no hesitation this time. “Until the end of the world.”

Joker lifted his head to look at him, trying not to seem too hopeful. Thancred’s eyes met his with resolution.

“I love you,” Thancred said again.

Joker breathed a quivering sigh and laid back down on Thancred’s chest. His arms were trembling as he squeezed tight, but Thancred’s were unwavering around him.

“I love you,” Joker sniffled.

Thancred rubbed Joker’s back and said it again. They lay there repeating the words to each other until Joker finally passed out.

Joker awoke with a start the next morning. Thancred’s arms instinctively clutched him tighter, though he was still asleep.

The previous night’s incidents came rushing back and Joker felt the embarrassment and guilt tenfold. He attempted to pry himself away but Thancred’s hold was solid. The struggle caused him to stir awake.

“Sorry,” he said, releasing him. “Did I hurt you?”

“I’m ok,” Joker’s voice was hoarse.

He finally moved away from Thancred, too embarrassed to look at him.

Thancred watched him carefully. “Still a bit shaken?”

“A little,” it wasn’t a lie.

Thancred took a deep breath, the rage building again.

“Did you mean it?,” the question left Joker’s mouth before it even registered in his mind.

The same question Thancred had asked him last night, before this whole thing began. He looked at him, wide eyed and unsure, and instantly, Thancred’s rage melted away.

He pulled Joker closer gently. “Yes.”

Joker’s heart once again beat loud in his chest.

“Say you love me.”

Thancred kissed his lips like he'd been aching to since the previous night.

“I love you.”

[katewalker]

haurchefant 🤝 katyusha

asking their crush not to forget them as they die

[galaxxiwrites]

I haven't gotten a request like this yet, actually :D

note: I decided to kind of do a breaking the 4th wall thing here and have WoL get on the daily roulette grind. I originally planned to make them the I-don't-wait-for-the-healer kind of chaotic but when I thought about it, just doing the daily roulette must seem like chaotic behavior in the world of Eorzea 😂 Additionally, for some reason I can't edit the original draft for some reason?? That's why posting this took longer than I wanted to I'm so sorry ;-;

Protective over f!WoL (ft. Haurchefant, Estinien & Aymeric)

Haurchefant always worried about her well being, especially when he sees her everyday with fresh new battle scars over ones that have barely begun to heal. But he doesn't have the heart to outright stop her, after all, this was her dream. He just want to be as supportive as he can.

"My dear, are you sure you need to do this everyday?"

He asks her as he replaces the bandages he just applied yesterday.

She gave him a solemn nod, saying that she needed to master all her jobs.

Honestly, most of the things she says just flies right over his head. He didn't see why it was so important for her to become a master of many when many normal people would probably take their whole life simply trying to master one.

But he knows he can't do anything about it, after all, she was always so stubborn—in a charming sense. Still, he hopes that she would think of herself for even a fraction of how much he worries about her.

Knowing that she was out and about somewhere, and knowing her rushing into danger, made focusing on his paper work all the more difficult.

He wasn't much for prayer, he was rather a man of action. Lately however, he finds himself by the steps of the Cathedral, offering up a small prayer to Halone to keep WoL safe when he could not be around her.

Every time before she goes off, Haurchefant will always double to check with her to make sure she's brought everything she needed.

"Do you have enough food with you? Are your potions stocked? Do you need any armor or weapon upgrades? Are you sure you don't need me to tag along? Perhaps I should come after all, so I can keep my eye on you."

She reassures Haurchefant that there's no need for him to be so protective of her- she was a warrior...of light.

"(Y/n), I realize you've been blessed with so many gifts...but I will always worry about you. After all, just the thought of losing you is unbearable to me... So please, promise me you'll come back. Alive. Okay?"

Estinien Wyrmblood

Estinien, at first payed no mind to her running off to wherever everyday. After all, who was he to stop her journey to get stronger? If anything, he supported her commitment to those everyday raids.

He wasn't much for extravagant displays of affection. He was rather the type to either give her a small pat on the head or back, or says See you later when she's about to head off.

Her daily raids quickly shows its results- as in the span of a few months she was becoming a master of many arts. He was proud, seeing her attain such feats of strength. Though he's still upset that she beat him.

Seeing her grow so quickly made him curious as to what exactly she was doing. Was it all the power of the crystal, or were these raids just that gruesome?

He needed to know, so one day he tells her that he would join her on what she called the daily grind.

It just so happened that they needed another person to fill their slot for a day of raiding. And so, Estinien joined the band of adventurers she was associated with.

The dungeon raiding had his blood pumping...but not from joy. He saw the way she ventured into these dangerous lands, eyes only looking forward and never stopping. He swore he could feel his heart drop whenever she pulled so much monsters to herself.

So he decides to stay beside her, watching her back as best as he could.

The whole fight he was grumbling, saying how it was hard for him to focus on protecting himself when he was too focused on protecting her. WoL apologizes, but it was obviously just one in passing, as she continued to press forward without any sense of caution.

At the end of their expedition of Aurum Vale, Estinien immediately excused the both of them for the day. WoL was complaining, saying how she wasn't done yet. He wasn't having any of it.

Once they were out of ear shot from her companions, Estinien finally voiced his concerns.

"Do you really do this everyday? Jump at the first sight of danger? You know there's a difference between courageous and stupidity-"

Estinien catches himself before he goes on a rant.

"We're going home to rethink battle strategies. And from now on, you're not leaving my sight, got it? I'm coming with you whenever you go out for these runs."

Despite his glare, she couldn't help but chuckle, saying how nice it was to see Estinien be protective of her for once.

"...That's your takeaway from this?"

Aymeric de Borel

The first time WoL tells Aymeric of her routine raiding, he swore he felt his heart drop.

"That seems like a quite ordeal, though I do pray you keep yourself safe."

Still, he lets her be. He knows of her strength, after all, she felled the mighty Nidhogg and ended the Dragonsong War. She changed the entire course of his country, and he will never stop praising her for such a feat.

...That is until he hears of her return from one of these ventures, so injured that she needed immediate medical attention.

Aymeric immediately dropped all his work and came to visit her in the infirmary, being attended by an astrologian whom he recognized was her friend. He immediately inquired of her status.

"How is she? How bad was she injured?"

He asked, almost intimidating the astrologian. Her acquaintance quickly gained composure however, and said that she will be fine after this healing session- after all this was how she has always been.

"The voidsent didn't get her that bad- she was just caught off guard. She's been through worse, so I assure you she'll be right back at her feet after she wakes up."

Aymeric, for the first time in a while, thought his heart stopped. Always? Voidsent? She's been through worse?

Aymeric was so worried that he couldn't get back to work and chose to remain by her bedside. He wanted to have a talk to her as soon as possible.

Not long after, she awoke from her slumber, and Aymeric gives her a tight embrace- so tight that it hurt her still fatigues body. He apologizes for not controlling his strength, but was thankful that was awake.

"My beloved, you never told me just how dangerous these daily raids were."

He holds both of her hands in his, giving them a solemn kiss.

"Please be more careful. I don't know what I would do if I lost you too."

She apologizes, but assures him that these type of injuries were nothing. Aymeric shakes his head, not believing that she made light of such a situation.

"My love, promise me you'll be careful. Please?"

He pleads with large puppy dog eyes, making it hard for her to reject nor look away from him.

The next day, Aymeric ordered armor and weapons of the highest quality and durability, taking the funds directly from his own, just to make sure she was beyond adequately geared up.

Aymeric also started to dissuade her from traversing these dungeons everyday, and reasons that she should at least have days of rest.

[whitherliliesbloom]

your voice will save me

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #23 - soul ]

[ alphinaud/wol ] ★ [ 2,416 words ]  ★ [ post-5.3 ]

a sequel to a fill i did from last year’s ffxivwrite. i had the idea for this fic for a whole year but never got to write it. aka, it took one year for me to finally give alphinaud closure.

soul- the spiritual part of a person that some people believe continues to exist in some form after their body has died

it’s a long time coming, but alphinaud thinks he should finally tell the warrior of light the words his soul has been yearning to say for thousands of years

Revenant’s Toll feels particularly cold with the nightly breeze, and it sends chills down Alphinaud’s spine as he casts his glance outwards to look upon Silvertear falls, watching as the sky, now free from miasma, is glimmering with a sea of swaying stars that casts distant reflections of light upon the lake where the wings of a great wyrm once stood vigil.

He shivers, grasping at his gloved hand to steady himself, counting his own breaths as he looks upon the tower of crystals with a pang of hurt that leaves his throat dry. The sight of the tower alone reminds him of skyscrapers and the sound of distant rain, and memories that were not his own flash, albeit briefly, through his head like a bolt that strikes at his very heart. 

The boy barely manages to compose himself, steel himself with the resolve and cool that a distant, untarnished version of himself had once possessed. Even in the midst of falling stars, a rain of fire and rivers of blood that ran the streets, that man..... himself from an ancient time, Alphinaud acknowledges bitterly with bit lips, he would not allow his emotions to sway him so.

And yet when he hears a familiar voice call out to him from behind, call out to his very soul that has been aching since the beginning of time, he knew that the him of the present was incapable of being as cold and unfeeling as he had once been.

“Alphinaud?” his flower whispers a name into the night, his name. The name of his current form, one that he can barely hang on to as yet another brief flash of a blazing meteor shower tears through his focus. “You called for me?”

“Yes.” He holds his breath, turns around and gazes down at her with a muddied, dishonest smile upon his face. “I....I wanted to talk to you.” there’s hesitation as he speaks, pain laced in his tone, but Illya makes no remark on it as she moves to stand next to the man, crystal violet eyes cast skywards at the dead of the night. “I’m not bothering you am I?”

“You never bother me.” Illya responds swiftly, her fingers resting upon the stone railing and shivering a tad as she finds the surface cool to the touch.

He swallows the lump in his throat, eyes averting her own and body fidgety, restless as he attempts to find the words in him to even begin speaking - because heaven knows there are so many he wants to say to her.

Previous countless mental rehearsals are now forgotten, replaced with only the raw emotions of a flickering, barely visible light within him. 

“I.... I just wanted... To call you out here to... Well... clarify some things... and... and to apologize for others...”

His voice is sheepish, timid, completely unlike the assured confidence of her beloved scholar who had been so eager and ready, eyes blazing with confidence during his fight against the specters of light, his magicks woven from his passion like bursts of fire and gusts of summer wind.

But her smile is still patient and kind as she watches him carelessly stumble upon his words, a hand raising up to tuck a long fluttering strand of hair behind her ear as it blew effortlessly in the lake breeze.

“I never did apologize... Well, there are a lot of things I have to apologize for but-” Alphinaud frowns, “I-I.. I could not well carry on without first trying to apologize to you for all of my transgressions.” Inhaling sharply, the elezen clenches his fist and casts his gaze down upon the stone under his feet. “I’m sorry for worrying you so much all the time, especially when my soul had been pulled to the first. I’m sorry for not being there for you when you struggled with yourself... I’m sorry for putting you through such heinous betrayal because of my incompetence as a commander of the Crystal Braves. I’m sorry for all the times I used you, doubted you, hurt you...”

His voice shakes with the sorrow worth many years of regret, of the guilt he’s pent up and swore to himself he’d make amends for. His heart is aching, the agony of his own past sins coming back to haunt a more mature, wiser, older form of himself now. But he knows it is nothing compared to what he has put her through.

“When we first arrived in Ishgard, I promised you that I would do better - be better for the sake of the others and you who I have wronged. I don’t know if I’ve gotten far enough yet to say I’ve fulfilled that promise... And for that too, I am truly sorry.”

lllya parts her lips to speak, but her voice is hushed, watching as what little shred of dignity has drained from Alphinaud’s navy blue eyes with a sea of cyan sadness washing through her own. And when she takes a step towards him, he holds his hand up and she swallows back her protests reluctantly, intent to listen to his heart until the end even if it killed her to do so.

“And... and also... I’m sorry for pushing you away.” 

That statement applies to himself from six summers ago, but the distant glaze in his eyes as he attempts to recall memories of a long forgotten city tells the girl that he was referring to otherwise, and she casts him a confused tilt of her head before he finally speaks again.

“In a time long past... in a city of creation and innovation... That man, Apollo...” Alphinaud shakes his head. Saying another name that was not his own would be deflecting the blame, “the unsundered form of myself sought to reach distant heights that I believed not even the convocation could dream to match. And in my vain, egotistical pursuit for ideals that I wasn’t worthy of I...” He chokes back a sob, the thought of his sins against her too much for even himself to even recount. “I hurt you. I told you such blatant, awful lies. I let my jealousy and my own incompetence sweep me away. I-”

“Alphinaud.”

Her voice calls out his name. His name. The name of his current form - his present form. It is the only name Illya knows and will ever acknowledge. 

And though her expression is stern, eyebrows furrowed and peach pink lips pressed into a tight line, she still says his name like melted caramel, unbearably sweet and warm in its tone. 

“I can accept your apology for everything else. I forgive you. But you’re beginning to apologize for mistakes that aren’t your own.”

“But I am- I mean... it... is me.” 

In a way, he acknowledges... Not fully, of course... but the revelations of what had been his past life is proof enough that he, even if a fourteenth fraction of what had once been the man named Apollo, he still must bear part of the responsibility. 

He’s lucky enough as he is to have been granted a second chance, just as Apollo had begged and prayed to the heavens for. He cannot even fathom a world where he had not met Illya anymore.

His beloved smiles, hand raised up to press against her beating heart, as if to feel the essence of her twice rejoined soul. She searches for whispers of herself - of the perfection version of the woman she once was, feeling the bright amethyst constellation stone that bore the insignia of the blistering sun warm in her pocket. She hears no words, only a wave of emotions that cascade through her and almost sweeps her away - she has after all ever been the most sensitive with the voices of unseen beings. 

But even with the two shards of a whole soul shone brightly within her, and she can almost envision the visage of a dusty, quiet library in her mind, there is not a trace of anger or hurt in her heart. 

“I am Illya Skawi. And you are Alphinaud Leveilleur.” Her gentle tone belies the weak little tremble in her voice as her eyes swirl with an ocean of unfiltered emotions. “I am nowhere near as perfect as Chloris, I know I can never be.” Her hands clasp together tightly, held close to her chest as if to guard her heart. “I may inherit her will... but I will never be her.”

Where Chloris had bright, flawless sanguine pink eyes that morphed in hue to reflect her thoughts, Illya inherited a pair of more timid orbs of lavender twilight. Where Chloris had unmarred skin of a porcelain doll, Illya’s skin was covered with a map of the galaxy - the speckle of stars from bullet holes upon her thighs, the milky way that cut across her collar bone and the auroras taking the form of teeth marks all over her abdomen. 

And where Chloris had an unparalleled talent for optimism, charisma and hope, what remained in Illya was only the painful, unreciprocated love she had for the world that would be the very bane of her mental stability for as long as she can remember. 

Even with her soul reunited with Ardbert’s, she knows she is but a husk of what had once been the fourteenth member of the convocation - of azem... Emet-Selch at least wasn’t mistaken in spelling that fact out. 

“And the woman that Apollo loved is not me - not this ugly, fragmented, weak little shard as I am.”

That’s absolute nonsense, Alphinaud wants to retort. Illya is anything but. It may not who Chloris had once been - but it is who the woman he loves is. Whole, beautiful and divine, her hair is woven from moonlight and her eyes are pressed from a bouquet blossomed flowers. Her voice a melody of a songbird, her skin a distant and unexplored, yet welcoming cosmos. She is a ray of hope, not just for him, but practically everyone else he knows... and he could think of no better personification of perfection than her. 

The world may disagree, the ancients may cry in protest and the whole, unbroken version of him may think to question his judgement. 

But Alphinaud knows, even if he is wrong about everything else and will continue to be as imperfect and sinfully tainted as he is, that he isn’t wrong about her.

“You’re not- You are not....ugly...” the words die at his throat, he’s lacking in the strength to debate as fervently as he is usually capable of doing. “Or weak for that matter. You’re...” 

“I’m not Chloris. And you’re not Apollo, either. Perhaps we were once upon a time, but not now, not here.”

The breeze picks up and howls in his ears, carrying the chill of his doubts and guilt away into the night. And as the bearer of hopes and miracles flashes him a radiant smile, he feels his chest clenching with a warmth that he can barely contain.

Illya turns to look back over Silvertear falls, the light from the moon and the fields of crystals casting a halo over her hair as it fluttered like a veil in the wind. Her skin glows with color, warm against the backdrop of grey stone and dark blue sky. 

“I did ponder over the circumstances of our meeting... If it was pure coincidence or a mechanism of fate bringing their souls... our souls together again.” Illya hums, fiddling with her fingers as she contemplates out loud. “And I wonder... if the other shards of Chloris and Apollo are so tightly wound together that they’d meet again in other worlds too...” 

“They will.” He answers on impulse, as if his entire being already knew the answer. “I believe they will.” 

It’s a naive and an impossibly idealistic wish... one with a hint of selfishness and ego too, perhaps... but those are the core of who he is- who his soul is. And if Apollo loved Chloris even half as much as he loved Illya, then he knows, is certain with all his heart that the thread that keeps their fourteen souls tied together for eternity will not be so easily severed. 

There’s a quiet that looms over them, with only the sounds of the wind and the chirping of the crickets ringing in the air. Illya doesn’t turn to look back at him for a minute, lost in her own thought and drowning in a pool of her own emotions - thousands of years worth of them.

“That’s good. I’m glad...”

When the girl turns around, her violet eyes are wet with crystal clear tears, they catch the rays of moonlight and reflect off her face as they roll down her cheeks past upturned lips. 

“Because Chloris loved Apollo, you know? She loved him very very much.”

Alphinaud hadn’t noticed when he’d started crying either, quiet sobs breaking out of him as he lets out a choked laugh, raising a gloved hand to feebly wipe away his tears.

“He did too. He loved her so much that it killed him.” 

His heart is so full to the brim, spilling with unbearable adoration and devotion. When Illya spreads her arms out wordlessly, sniffling back her own trickling, glistening tears, he picks her up and wraps his arms tightly around her, feeling the beating of his heart match in tandem with her own. 

In their warm, tender embrace, he hears the echoes of a distant past - yet another vision of a splitting star flashes in his mind. But he doesn’t flinch this time as he holds his entire world in his arms, afraid and determined to never let go. 

“I love you. I love you.” Her declaration is all he hears, along with quiet whispers of his name. His real name. 

Alphinaud. Alphinaud. Alphinaud. Alphinaud.

This love was hers to bear, and no one else’s - not Chloris, not Ardbert, not the twelve other flickering star blossoms that are out there, undoubtedly fighting with their entire being to reunite with their own other half. And no cry of ancient beings, no fracturing of worlds or falling of the moon or stars will stop her from loving him. Even until the sun sets, even until the end of times. 

And though their souls may have been set adrift, he knew that his soul would always be destined to love hers in return.

“I love you too, Illya.” 

[houseisekai]

Sea’s 30 Day WOL Challenge (2): Festival

@seaswolchallenge

Ship: WoL x Lyse

---

The squeaking of the Namazu’s fin were endless as they practiced their movements for the big day that was to come.

All the while, Lyse and Elliot watched with mild interest. For Elliot at least.

(Lyse) “...Elliot?”

(Elliot) “Hm? What is it Lyse?”

(Lyse) “Remember when you said that we’d be going to a festival, just the two of us? And not that I’m not enjoying our time together but...”

(Lyse) “-Why the Namazu?”

(Elliot) “Hah, they’re not so bad when you get to know them, Lyse! Besides I thought it’d be something different than what you’re used to seeing.”

(Lyse) “Uh huh...Well, I guess I can’t say you’re wrong there.”

Elliot and Lyse started walking through the area together, seeing all the Namazu prepping for the grand festival that would save their lives.

(Elliot) “They’re all pretty dedicated to setting up this festival...Most of the time anyway.”

(Lyse) “I remember you telling me that you helped set most of this up right?”

(Elliot) “Yeah. Why do you ask?”

(Lyse) “They’re...not just using you for their own means right?”

(Elliot) “Of course not! It’s a mutual friendship. With some of them anyway.”

(Lyse) sigh

They continued walking around discussing the questionable means of the Namazu before a familiar voice called Elliot’s attention.

(Gyoshin) “Elliot, my friend!”

(Elliot) “Gyoshin!”

Gyoshin waddled over to the two, the squeaking get more and more unbearable to Lyse’s ears.

(Gyoshin) “Welcome back! You must be Lyse, Elliot has told me all about you!”

Gyoshin stuck a fin out to Lyse and she awkwardly knelt down and shook it.

She had to resist the urge of rubbing the somewhat slimy texture on her dress.

Then she processed what he had said.

(Lyse) “He...He has?”

(Gyoshin) “Yes, yes! He has! He once went on for an hour about how beauti-”

(Elliot) “A-AND THAT’S ENOUGH GYOSHIN, THANK YOU!”

Lyse giggled at Elliot’s flustered reaction. Elliot cleared his throat quickly and changed the subject.

(Elliot) “Anyways, what is it Gyoshin?”

(Gyoshin) “I just wanted you to know that we got her gift ready!”

(Elliot) “It’s done already? Thank you so much!”

Elliot turned to Lyse with a massive smile. 

Normally, her heart would have skipped a beat from the sight of such a genuine smile. but considering who he was dealing with, she had no idea if this was a good sign or not.

(Lyse) “Gift?”

(Elliot) “Wait one second!”

Elliot ran off to the crates nearby, leaving Gyoshin and Lyse alone.

(Gyoshin) “Elliot really does brighten up whenever you’re around.”

(Lyse) “Hah well...The feeling is mutual. He’s helped me through a lot of tough times recently, and he doesn’t hesitate to help others in need.”

She smiled, watching Elliot speak to several other Namazu.

(Lyse) “I...wish I could have even half the patience he has for others. Or even just...anything.”

(Gyoshin) “There was something Elliot once told me about you regarding that, actually.”

Lyse turned to him, eyebrow raised.

(Gyoshin) “Elliot has told me some rather deep thoughts regarding you and not just endless praise! Even though you’re a little airheaded at times and a tad bit too aggressive, he would not have you any other way.”

(Lyse) “He...He wouldn’t?”

(Gyoshin) “Yes, yes! Quoting him, ‘Lyse doesn’t have to be perfect for the world. She’s already perfect for me.’ Honestly after hearing that I was ready to throw up my lunch by how disgustingly sweet it was, but in hindsight, I guess it’s a good thing he told me that!”

Lyse couldn’t help the smile growing on her face.

(Lyse) “Perfect, huh? Hah...”

(Gyoshin) “Anywho, please do not tell Elliot I told this to you. Otherwise, he will do to me what you did to Gyodo.”

(Lyse) “What did I do to-...”

---

BACK DURING STORMBLOOD

---

(Lyse) “...Oh.”

Elliot ran back to the two, hiding something behind his back.

(Elliot) “Sorry for the wait!”

(Lyse) “D-Don’t worry about it! So what did you and the other Namazu make?”

Elliot handed it to her and smiled.

(Elliot) “This!”

Lyse held it in her hands and started laughing.

(Lyse) “I can’t believe you, Elliot.”

Elliot laughed along with her and his hand went to the back of his head.

(Elliot) “Granted we had a little help from Tataru as well, but we’re really proud of it! Maybe you can take it back to Ala Mhigo as a souvenir?”

(Lyse) “Of course I will! This is so cute, thank you!”

Lyse moved the Wind-Up Lyse down and kissed Elliot’s cheek.

Elliot started to blush as Gyoshin danced in celebration.

(Gyoshin) “It’s amazing we managed to put most of the materials together considering Elliot cooked it!”

(Lyse) “...Wait, what?”

(Gyoshin) “Yes, yes! Much like the festival parts here, Elliot cooked the parts together with a frying pan! Your Tataru friend and our fins only put together the little details!”

Lyse turned to the massive Mikoshi, then to the statue, then to the banners hung around the area and slowly turned to Elliot.

(Lyse) “...How...How did you?-”

Elliot cut her off by kissing her. At first it surprised her but she eventually forgot what she was saying as she was drawn into it and closed her eyes.

Elliot pulled away and smiled.

(Elliot) “Hey, can we get the Mikoshi real quick, Gyoshin?”

(Gyoshin) “I don’t see any reason not to! Come along, Lyse! You will spread some cheer for the festival!”

Lyse tilted her head, wondering what the Mikoshi was and followed behind her.

Elliot took a sigh of relief before the question got pressed further. 

Frankly he had no idea how he cooked festival parts or the Wind-Up Lyse either.

[oathholden]

Dark WoL

It had been a short, violent strike against the Castrum. Nobody knew what was going on from the very first, and only a few realized either all too late – most having their lights snuffed out very soon after – or remained ignorant as they were slaughtered to the last. Well, almost, the last. Clouded, blurred vision and ringing ears were all the man could feel as he saw the figure – the culprit of the slaughter – just a few fulms from where he lay. Horrified, he felt his heart skip a beat. Or perhaps, that was just the blood loss. It mattered little either way, really. They looked around, obviously pleased with their work. The smell of charred flesh, melted steel and cermet, and burning ceruleum filled the air, making him cough and hack as it filled his nose and choked the air from his lungs. Noticing the commotion, the figure turned to him, a terrible masked face glaring at him. Then, a voice rang out...a woman’s voice. Somehow gentle but...unsettling. “Hm…? Oh, one of you survived. Good. I needed a live subject for my next experiment.” ...experiment? What the hells did she mean by “Experiment”!? Heavy footfalls grew close it him, the blood beginning to seep into the edge of his vision. His breath quickened, fear filling him, as she kneeled before him, taking a look into his eyes. He tried to move his body, tried to run. But he couldn’t. Shock and exsanguination had robbed all his strength. She gave him a devilish grin, reaching a hand down to his arm. “Now, now, don’t cause a fuss. It’ll be mostly painless. And besides, I’ll be handing you over to the Alliance when I’m done...but first, we’re going to be seeing how long you can keep ticking.” The words echoed in his mind as his vision faded to blackness, the cold embrace of unconsciousness taking grip as the woman – nay, the very Warrior of Light herself – began casting healing magicks on his ailing body. Why, it wouldn’t do for her Live Subject to expire so soon… A few days later, the man awoke, cold and starving in an unknown and pitch-dark place. His wounds were…healed, mostly. The burns and scars remained, of course, but otherwise there was no blood immediately leaving his body. That’s good, at least. Couldn’t see...there was something – someone? – else nearby. It was deathly silent...so silent it was unbearably loud. The cold stone underfoot...old, and worn. He could feel sharp eyes on him, waiting for something to happen. The sound of his heart replaced the silence. A tentative step...his feet slipped out from under him, bashing the back of his head against the hard stone. A chortle from the darkness...and a voice. “You already lost your footing? Really, you Garleans are so...weak.” A snap from the voice’s fingers, and a flame materialized from them. With a newfound illumination straining his eyes, his headache went from bad to worse, groaning. He could see her masked face, a terrifying smile displayed plainly on her lips. “Shall we begin the experiments? What’s your pain tolerance like, boy?” …. It had now been…a few days. Probably. His captor...she beat him. Mercilessly. She was “disappointed” in his low pain tolerance. In her words, she had “only broken his legs so far” and that it “could’ve been worse”. She...wasn’t wrong. Chained to a wall. Starved. Beaten. It was only just beginning. Comparatively, she was quite diminutive to him. A small Auri woman...was the Warrior of Light? A...what, 5-Fulm woman? At most? Filled with such...evil? Such anger and – and disdain? The musings mattered little at this point. She entered the cell once more, smile still broad on her lips, mask resting snugly on her face. She leaned forward, stopping ilms from his face. “Are you ready for today’s tests? I’ve brewed a few...choice concoctions for you, boy. Would you like to warm up before we begin? It’s terrible cold down here, I’m sure you’ve noticed.” The smugness in her voice was utterly unbearable. He refused to answer, trying to show some sign of resistance to her demented actions and demands. Truly, all it did was amuse her...she quite enjoyed it when they thought it mattered. It never did. With contemptuous joy she lit a flame to spark the coals under his feet. “Just a little something to get your blood pumping before we start!” She giggled, the joy she felt clear in her eyes as she watched his face twist in terror. He screamed and writhed in agony, the small flame beneath his feet slowly burning and charring the skin above it, quickly peeling away to the layers and muscle underneath. San quite enjoyed the smell. It reminded her of victorious battle. How she learned to tame her own flames and turn them on those who would hurt her. And this power….this blessing. Why, it only made her stronger! She would do what was expected of her, for now. But until then, she would have to take her guilty pleasures where she could. Even if those pleasures were the occasional torture and/or murder of random individuals. Nobody could ever find out, of course...if they did, they’d never believe in the Warrior of Light again. Not that they cared much for the woman behind the title, it seemed. No matter. They’d all get their due some day. Ah, but she was letting herself get distracted. It wouldn’t do for the boy to get cooked before she did any testing. With a snap of her fingers a stream of water flowed from her hands to the flame, snuffing it out as blood dripped from his charred feet. Tears flowed from his eyes, body trembling and breathe ragged from the pain. She placed a palm on his bare chest, measuring his heart rate. Good. It was beating like a Race Chocobo. Pulling his head to the side, she jabbed her needle into his neck, injecting him with some vague concoction she had cooked up between her sessions in torturing the man near to death day after day. It quickly pumped through his body, at first seeming to not have actually done anything. And then the screaming started. San closed her eyes and tilted her head back, taking joy in the cacophony of pain that her work had created. Like fire in his veins, the searing venom flowed through every inch of his body, making him writhe and beg for forgiveness – for mercy. He would see none from her… “Mm...I think not. Perhaps if you sing well enough for me, I’ll hold you for less than a moon~” She teased him with the thought of freedom, but only if he obeyed. If he caved and acted obedient. One way or another, she would break him. It only took the right convincing. He was choking on the pain, trying to reply as the burning only got worse and worse. Instead of what he wanted to say, his desperation forced out something entirely different. “Please! Please, I can’t take it anymore! You insane woman, please, I’m sorry! J-Just give – give me the Antivenom...please...I give up…” There it was. At least, for now. He might change his tone later, but that didn’t matter. She was already well on her way to breaking him. Of course, she wasn’t going to give him the Antivenom. Not yet… she wanted to hear more. “Louder! I want the very heavens to hear you beg for mercy! Keep singing for me, and I might give you even a moment’s respite before I hand you off to the Alliance. Beg for it! Debase yourself before me and despair!” ...It took less time than she had hoped. All it took to break him was another bout of Blighted injections and beatings, along with another few days of starvation before he begged to her as his “Mistress”. What a disappointment he turned out to be...she’d seen more resilience from Lalafells. Oh well –nothing for it, now. She would give him another round of beatings before handing him off to some adventurers by the wayside...she just wanted to hear him weep again. She chided him before sending him off, barely enough clothes to cover his decency as he crawled through the wilds. “Get, you pathetic worm. I’ve no need nor want of you any longer. Come back and I’ll burn you again – and you won’t be seeing the light of day. Now begone – try to make some kind of life with the scars you’ve earned.”

[like-a-bag-of-potatoes]

Woman of Letters

A/N: First part of my new series. This is my first OFC so go easy on me. A special thanks to my amazing beta @thorne93. You are awesome as always. Feedback is always appreciated.

Summary:  When Louisa finds an old, unopened letter from her great grandfather, she leaves her old life behind to go search for a man named Henry Winchester, hoping he has some answers for her. What she finds is beyond her wildest imagination, but she is determined to continue her family’s legacy.

Characters: Louisa (OFC), Heath (OMC). (Winchesters in the next chapter)

Warnings: Loss of a parent. Crappy boyfriend. Language.

Wordcount: 1335

*not my GIF*

Louisa took a deep breath to steady herself before unlocking the door. She had gone straight from her father’s funeral and back to his apartment. It needed to be cleaned out, and she needed to keep her hands and mind occupied so she figured it was no time like the present.

She had begged her boyfriend, Heath, to help her out, or at least come with for some moral support, but he had already made other plans.

Just go in.. how bad can it be?

She was not prepared for what met her inside. There were empty bottles of booze and beer littering the small living room, plates and bowls with old foods sat on kitchen counter, making an unbearable smell. The TV laid broken on the floor, he had probably dragged it with him when he fell, and right next to it was a massive brownish stain on the carpet. The doctors had told her that he had hit his head on the corner of the table, passed out and then bled out. Looking at the dried up bloodstain, she had no problem believing that’s what happened.

There wasn’t much of value in this apartment. The main reason she came here was to get a box of letters and pictures that she knew he kept in his closet, and his collection of old LP’s. She had hired a company to clear out and clean up the rest.

A tear fell down her cheek as she took one last glance over the apartment.

*

She sat in her car, a navy blue mustang that her grandfather had given her before he died, and she called her boyfriend. The phone rang quite a few times before he picked up and when he did she could hear music in the background along with some loud male voices.

“Louisa,” he said cheerily.

“Hey! I’m all done and heading home. Do you think you’ll stay long? I really don’t want to be alone right now.” She tried to hide the vulnerability in her voice, she hated feeling this weak.

“I don’t know when I’ll be home, but Matt just got some great news and we’re celebrating so I’m guessing it might get late.”

“Okay,” she sighed. It was a long shot, anyway.

“Are you mad at me or something?” he questioned.

“I’m not mad, Heath. I just hoped for some company.”

“Well, Matt wanted me to come celebrate with him tonight..” he defended.

“I get it. Go celebrate and I’ll see you tonight.” She ended the call.

She wondered where to go next, she certainly didn’t want to go home. For some reason she always felt alone there, even when Heath were home too, and especially if he had friends over, which was pretty often.

She drove up to this lookout, it was a common place for teenagers to go to make out, but it also had a beautiful view over the city. She opened the box of her father’s things and started sorting through it. There were pictures from when she was little, from before her parents had gotten divorced, and they all looked so happy. There was a few pictures of her grandparents and someone she assumed was her great grandparents, her dads old wedding ring and an unopened envelope with her grandfather’s name on it.

Her curiosity getting the best of her, as always.

To my dearest Edward.

If you are reading this letter it means that I died before I got to tell you about our legacy in person, and for that I am sorry. I’m about to tell you something very important and I need you to keep and open mind.

In this envelope there is a map to a location which holds some of the greatest secrets in the world. We are part of a great legacy you and I, son, and so will your son be, and his son after that, it’s in our blood. We are Men of Letters.

When you get to the location on this map, I want you to find a man by the name of Winchester. He has a son, Henry, who is the same age as you are. The Winchesters are a good family, they will help. I have no doubt that both you and Henry will make great Men of Letters one day.  

Take this to be an adventure if you’d like, but be sure that it will change not only your life, but the way you view the world.

I love you very much, son.

Dad.

Well that’s a crappy goodbye note, Louisa thought to herself as she took the map from the envelope. As promised there was an area circled on it with some coordinates scribbled at the side. Lebanon, Kansas.

She wondered why no one had ever opened this, it was dated 1945 which means your grandfather was no more than seven or eight year’s old.

She wondered if this Henry person was still alive, he would be almost eighty by now, but there was a chance right? If he wasn’t then maybe he had a son that could fill in some blanks for her. Her grandfather had obviously never known about any of this or he would have told her at some point, which only piqued her interest more.

Was she crazy for actually thinking about checking this place out? If she were completely honest with herself she knew she had been looking for an excuse to get out of this place for years, so it didn’t exactly surprise her that she was ready to jump on this so fast.

Before she knew what she was doing she was parked outside the restaurant she worked at. She took a quick look at herself in the rearview mirror, just to be sure her makeup was still good. She stepped out of the car, straightening her dress a little and marched inside with her head held high. She informed her boss she was quitting and collected her last check and then strolled back out.

When she parked in front of her house it was all dark, she figured Heath wasn’t home yet, which would make this a lot easier. She packed a few clothes in a bag and put it in her car before heading back inside to wait for her boyfriend to come home.

It was well passed two when he walked through the door, or stumbled was a more correct word, smelling like booze and cigarettes.

“Why you up?” he slurred, not able to stand still.

“I need to talk to you,” she told him with a serious voice, although she doubted he would remember in the morning.

“Tomorrow,” he stated before making his way through the hallway.

“I’ll be gone tomorrow,” she tried.

“Where you going?”

“Away. I just need some time to figure some things out.”

“If you go you’re gone, easy as that,”

“What?”

“If you go, don’t come back,” he bellowed, his eyes darkening with anger.

Louisa walked over to him and cupped his cheek, but he slapped her hand away. “I’m not trying to break up with you, I just need a little time to figure out some stuff about my family,” she said in a sweet voice.

Heath turned his head and looked down, taking a deep breath before he spoke. “If you want to go, go! But stay gone.”

“Babe, I don’t..” Louisa stopped talking, her eyes falling on a red mark on his neck. “Is that a hickey?” she questioned.

“What do you care, you’re leaving anyway,” Heath defended.

“Fine.”

He made it pretty easy for her to walk away. Some little voice in her head told her she should be more upset about this than she was, but it had been a long time since things were good between her and Heath, so she felt more relief now than hurt.

Louisa drove through the night, her trusty car and some good ol’ classic rock on her stereo, heading for some kind of adventure.

Forever tags: (send me an ask if you want on/off)

@supernaturalyobessed @girl-next-door-writes @percywinchester27

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