#the new tree hardly shook to acknowledge my arrival and i knew that i would be all right

[starbuck]

and I knew that I was gonna make it

[fallin-4-ya]

but beautiful

But Beautiful

cedric diggory x malfoy!reader

summary: life wasn’t particularly easy being the older sister of draco malfoy, but a certain boy from hufflepuff had the power to make all her troubles melt away.

warnings: slight house shaming, brief mention of disappointed parents & i think that's it! non-voldy au! (gif is not mine, credit to owner)

words: 1.6k

part i, part ii, part iii

‘And you have to believe me when I tell you that no one could ever be as beautiful as you are at this very moment, because I could never want anyone more than I want you right now.’ -Mariella Muffarotto

There was something to be said about being a Malfoy, something y/n could not understand. With an uncommonly kind heart and an unprejudiced view on life, she saw the wizarding world as nothing but beautiful.

September 1st, 1989

Y/n walked nervously onto platform nine and three quarters with her mother, Narcissa, on one side and her father, Lucius, on the other. She looked up with pleading eyes at her parents, almost as if asking if she had to go. Her mother put her hand on her shoulder, ‘My dear, not to worry. You’ll make so many friends before you know it.’

‘Yes, y/n, your mother is right. But, don't go making friends with the wrong sort.’ Her father said with half a grin and half disgust. She shook her head, acknowledging his words. Y/n hugged her parents goodbye and headed up to the train, walking through to see most of the compartments as full. Almost at the end of the train she spotted a compartment that had two very similar looking boys who seemed nice enough. But what she didn't know is that once she opened that door, she would become best friends with two future trouble makers at Hogwarts. So, opening the door hesitantly she peeked inside

‘Hi, um, is this one full?’ Y/n stared at the two tall identical, redhead boys looking up at her.

‘Not at all.’ Said the one closest to the compartment door. ‘I’m Fred, by the way. Fred Weasley! And this is my brother George.’ He pointed to the by next to him, who smiled and sent her a wave.

‘Thanks.’ She sat down across the two. They gave her a quizzical look as she stared down at her hands, twiddling with her thumbs. The nervous energy was definitely kicking in and her mind fumbled into a much of anxiety. Her thoughts, though, were interrupted who she assumed to be Fred.

‘And you are?’

‘Oh! I’m y/n, y/n Malfoy.’ said the girl, smiling awkwardly at the two of them. ‘Sorry, guess I’m a bit nervous.’

Fred chuckled, ‘Well, not to worry y/n. This is our first year too, and with any luck will be sorted into Gryffindor.’ He smiled proudly, elbowing George.

‘Yeah, the whole lot of our family is Gryffindor. Sure, it will be the same for us.’ George pipped up. ‘What house are you hoping for?’

Y/n thought timidly to herself before answering the simple, yet complicated question. ‘Well, if I hope to live another day, then Slytherin. But I’d be happy in any house. Whatever the hat thinks is right for me.’

‘And why’s that, y/n?’ Fred asked.

‘My whole family is Slytherin. You know the type of purebloods who believe in all of the superiority nonsense. The Malfoys have been part of Slytherin house for centuries, so I guess I wouldn’t want to be a disappointment.’ She shrugged.

‘Oh.’ Whispered George knowingly, sending his brother a look. ‘Don’t get too caught up in it, y/n. We know tons of witches and wizards who were in your shoes and they all are just fine. Regardless of what house they got sorted into!’ He cooed reassuringly.

‘Anyways, Hogwarts isn’t about houses and schoolwork and nonsense like that. It’s about having fun.’ Fred said with a smirk, giving y/n a wink.

‘Good thing for both of you, I love nothing more than a bit of fun.’

The train arrived to the Hogsmeade station even more quickly than expected, or perhaps it was because Fred, George and y/n were having too much fun to realize the time passing by. The entered the Great Hall in awe because y/n’s mother and father had never told her how magnificent it really was. Her, the twins and the rest of the first-year students anxiously made their way up to the front of the room, passing older students as they went along. There stood Professor McGonagall, with a list of names and a big, old hat. She began reading off names:

‘Diggory, Cedric!’

‘Jordan, Lee!’

‘Johnson, Angelina!’

Then what seemed like a hundred names Professor McGonagall bellowed out, ‘Malfoy, Y/n!’

Y/n walked up to the wooden stool with shaky hands. Of course, she had wanted to be put in Slytherin to make her family proud, but a part of her felt like she just didn’t belong. Professor McGonagall placed the sorting hat on her head gently and took a step back.

‘Hm, another Malfoy,’ the sorting hat started. ‘Much potential. Talented, no doubt. A want to please and make others happy. Courage and loyalty, but where to put you?’ Better be, Hufflepuff.’

Y/n heart dropped to the floor, yet soared at the same time. She could not comprehend the emotion she was feelings, lying somewhere between overjoyed and worried. However, a smile was plastered onto her face as she made her way to sit down at the table adorned in yellow and black.

Y/n took a set across a boy with light brown hair who had been sorted into Hufflepuff not five minutes before she did. He grinned at her. Y/n looked into gray eyes, holding warmth and promise. He extended his hand to meet hers, ‘Hi! I’m Cedric Diggory!’

Y/n took his hand and shook it, ‘I’m y/n Malfoy!’

The boy who she now knew as Cedric smiled at her, with rosy cheeks. ‘I can tell were going to be great friends!’

And great friends they did become.

The days turned to weeks, the weeks turned to months. Months became seasons and seasons blossomed to years. Y/n’s friendship with both the Weasley twins and Cedric Diggory were planted into little trees in which her love for Hogwarts sprouted. Two years had passed since y/n Malfoy was sorted into Hufflepuff, though it would be lying to say she didn’t get quite the earful from her parents about it.

(‘Hufflepuff!’ Lucius spat. ‘A Malfoy, in Hufflepuff. You’re an embarrassment, a disgrace!’

Her little brother giggled in the background at her great misfortune, but y/n could only be mad at one person at a time. ‘It’s not like it’s my fault!’ she hissed back, ‘It’s the bloody hat. If it’s that much of problem why don’t you take it up with the inanimate object!’)

But still, she lived. And most importantly she was happy. Y/n not only had the two most fun-loving pranksters glued to one side of her hip, but she had a kind, sweet, adorable Hufflepuff boy glued to the other. Two years had flown by and y/n’s brother, Draco, finally joined her at school. She wasn’t excited per say, they had hardly enjoyed each other’s company. Draco was his sister’s polar opposite, not to mention the constant teasing she endured from him.

Yet still, y/n accepted fate as a bull was sent into a china cabinet, simply waiting for hell to break loose. She sat at the Hufflepuff table next to Cedric as the group of first years gathered into the Great Hall. One by one, each of the new students walked up to the hat, awaiting to be sorted.

‘Malfoy, Draco!’ Professor McGonagall’s voice roared.

Cedric nudged y/n, ‘Gather that’s your brother.’

‘Yep.’ She answered simply popping the p. ‘What gave it away? The blonde hair or the last name?’ She said with a smirk.

Draco approached the sorting hat with a smug grin smeared on his face. The hat hadn’t been on his head a second before it bellowed out Slytherin.

‘Are you joking? The bloody hat barely touched him!’ y/n nearly shouted. Cedric stifled a laugh, earning him an elbow from y/n. ‘Yeah, Ced. Hysterical that my dumb brother got into my family’s dumb house while I’m sat here looking like a bloody bumblebee.’

This only sent Cedric’s head back, laughing at her. (‘You really think we look like bumblebees, y/n?’) He watched as Draco stuck his tongue out at his older sister, who in return rolled her eyes at him.

After the feast, y/n was approached by Fred and George who practically ran to meet her.

‘So now what?’ Fred said quickly.

Y/n stopped and shrugged her shoulders, ‘Now, Draco become the favorite child.’

‘The favorite child, yeah? Better him than you, I’ll say.’ George said with a hint of sarcasm, making her smile.

‘Reckon you’re right, Georgie. Besides who needs a dumb brother, when I already got the two of you already driving me crazy.’ She said ruffling both of the twin’s hair. ‘Meet you guys in the morning!’ Y/n shouted as she ran back to meet the rest of her house, joining them in the common room.

Y/n walked into a busy common room, all the students catching up with one another after summer holiday. She then spotted Cedric by the velvet sofas, as if he was waiting for her. She couldn’t remember in this moment if his eyes had always been that beautiful or if his cheeks were ever that soft. Perhaps it was the extra inches he grew over the summer or perhaps the way he finally learned how to style his hair. But whatever it was, it did not last long because y/n quickly chased away those thoughts and sat next to her friend.

‘Whatcha up to, Ced?’ y/n questioned taking a seat next him.

‘Can I ask you something, y/n?’ Cedric said suddenly, y/n nodded allowing permission for him to carry on. ‘Why do you and Draco not get along?’

She drew back slightly, Cedric was not one to ask very personal questions. He had a flare for boundaries and always knew exactly where to draw the line, especially when it came to family. She couldn’t help but to feel that he deserved an answer after being such a fierce friend over the past few years.

Y/n swallowed hard, truly thinking about how to answer him. There had been no true animosity towards the siblings, no hate or anything of the sort. They just simply didn’t get along. She sighed, ‘Not sure, guess we’re just oil and water. We’ve never been particularly fond of each other, but I think that’s because we’re both so different. Of course, I love him. But he’s also a bit of a prick, like, all the time.’

Cedric laughed softly at her words, ‘That’s a pretty good reason not to get along with someone.’

He smiled at her. Butterflies erupted from y/n’s tummy, making their way up to her throat. Surely his smile had never been that inviting or warm or beautiful. And before she could stop herself words flowed from her tongue like a waterfall, ‘We’ll always get along, right Ced?’ she said softly.

‘Of course, y/n. You know, as long as I’m not being a prick.’ He smiled and winked at her, leaving her heart more flustered than ever.

(a/n: thank you for reading!, this is part one of three, so let me know if you would like to be added to this taglist! i hope u enjoyed! sending love and positive vibes! xo-mari)

[kkaebsongtypo]

preview | m.l | next

why wont you love me // hrj [01]

pairing: renjun x reader

genre: friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff, slight angst

wanings/notes: alcohol consumption (all parties are of legal age, drink responsibly!), mentions/symptoms of anxiety, mentions/signs of abandonment issues (very brief), jealousy (also very brief), inspired by the song Why Won't You Love Me by 5sos

(warnings/notes are subject to change and updates if needed.)

word count: 2.86k

Renjun and y/n are an inseparable pair; they know each other like the back of their own hands. For the most part. Renjun keeps his true feelings hidden; y/n refuses to acknowledge their own. Both hold the fear of losing each other. But will one night out and a little too much to drink change everything?

a/n: here's part oneeee! this will likely be posted in 4 or 5 parts im not 100% sure yet but yeah ! also im so sorry about that summary kashfslkd- lmk if you want to be in a taglist ^-^

You walked through the airport doors with Renjun at your side, Jisung and Chenle following close behind. You were pulling Renjun’s suitcase (despite his multiple protests) behind you as you met up with Jeno, Jaemin, and Donghyuck. Renjun took his suitcase from you and thanked you before following the group towards the luggage check-in line.

You waited for the boys at the end of the check-in area as they all put their luggage on the conveyor belt. Jisung was the first to come towards you and engulf you in a tight hug. Though the boy was excited for their trip, he had been pouting the whole drive to the airport about how he wished you were going with them. Unfortunately, you didn’t have the time to leave town for too long. Jisung had grown very fond of you soon after you met and vice versa; he had a habit of clinging to you, especially at times like these. You hugged the boy equally as tight, letting him know that you’d miss him too. When you pulled away, you patted his shoulder gently before Chenle shoved him out of the way with a wide smile and pulled you into his own arms. Each of your friends gave you a parting hug, saying their temporary farewells. Renjun was the last to approach you, immediately wrapping his arms around you.

“Don’t miss me too much.” You moved your arms from around your best friend's neck and rested your hands on his shoulders. He had a small smile on his lips as his gaze shifted between your eyes. You hummed gently at his words and plastered a mock-thinking face before meeting his gaze once more and responding.

“Hm, I think I should be the one saying that to you, mister. We both know that you’re the clingy one~” Renjun rolled his eyes at you and wrapped his arms back around your waist, pulling you into a final hug.

“Right right, because you totally weren’t clinging to me like a koala to a tree over the last few days while I was packing.” You smacked his back at this comment and tried to push him away, but ultimately failed when he tightened his hold around you.

“I’ll pick you up when you get back. Have fun and text me when you land.” Renjun closed his eyes and hummed softly into your shoulder.

“Only two weeks and a couple days, but I’ll miss you.” His voice was just above a whisper, not wanting the other boys to hear him. You smiled slightly at the lack of sarcasm in his voice. A soft sigh fell from your lips and you shook your head slightly.

“...I’ll miss you too dummy.” Renjun chuckled and pulled away, a soft smile on his lips to match your own.

“Oh my GOD, let’s GO Renjun. We still have to get through security.” Renjun bowed his head and exhaled deeply at the voice. You peeked around him to see Donghyuck swinging his bag back and forth impatiently, an over exaggerated look of annoyance displayed over his features. His face lit up with his signature bright smile when he caught your eye. He stopped swinging his bag and stood up straight before waving to you, almost as if he was trying to pretend he wasn’t just groaning in annoyance at your best friend. You giggled softly and waved back.

“You better get going before Hyuck throws his backpack at your skull.” Renjun laughed quietly at your warning and grabbed his suitcase.

“Alright, don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone.” He narrowed his eyes at you as he started making his way into the security screening line with the others.

“Don’t worry about me, I’d never do anything stupid without you~” You smiled innocently and Renjun rolled his eyes for the hundredth time in the last hour, his smile remaining on his lips. He waved to you one last time before disappearing farther into the line for the bag check. Once he was out of sight, you crossed your arms over your chest and turned towards the exit of the airport. You pulled out your phone when you got into your car and sent Renjun a quick text before pulling out of your parking space.

Renjun walked alongside Jeno ahead of the others after going through security. A small squeak echoed from Renjun’s pocket and he swiftly pulled out his phone, knowing it was you from the text tone. A simple “Have a safe flight!” flashed across the screen accompanied by an airplane and blue heart emoji. He scanned the message over his lockscreen, a faint warmth crept onto his cheeks and the same small smile frome before found his lips.

“Okay lover boy, we got a long flight ahead of us. Don’t want to run out of battery too fast.” He looked up from his phone and met Jeno’s eyes that were bent into crescent shapes from the smile he wore. Renjun’s blush deepened at the nickname Jeno started calling him months ago. He scratched the back of his neck and sighed.

“Two weeks dude. You two can facetime all you want because we all know you can’t go more than 5 hours without talking to each other; plus it’s not a huge time difference. You’ll be fine.” He nodded at Jeno’s words.

“Honestly though, why aren’t you together yet? You spend 95% of your time together, you basically live at each other’s places, everyone already thinks you’re together. You’re both clearly into each other-” Renjun sighed loudly and threw his head back, looking up at the ceiling.

“No, Jeno. We’re not ‘clearly into each other.’ We’ve acted like this for years, it’s nothing new. Yeah, maybe I caught feelings but that’s it. It’s one sided. It always will be.” Jeno shook his head and subtly rolled his eyes at his friend's attitude.

“Fine man, if that’s what you want to believe then I won’t argue any further. But just hear me out, the guys and I know both of you well enough to see things that you both always seem to miss. But you keep on doubting it if you really want to, I won’t stop you.” Renjun looked straight ahead, refusing to meet Jeno’s brief glance.

The group gathered together once again at the terminal; they discussed their seating for the plane, what the rough plan would be after arrival, and all the other random questions that popped up. The six boys sat in the chairs and on the floor, playing video games or mindlessly scrolling through their feeds. They boarded their flight in no time and quickly got settled in their seats as the other passengers filed in.

Renjun glanced out the window; the now setting sun painted the sky like a canvas in warm colours. He reached for his phone and snapped a picture before opening your contact. “About to take off, I’ll text you in a few hours when we land.” He sent the message along with the photo before switching his phone to airplane mode.

He pressed his head to the cabin wall and looked down at his home screen. His gaze rested on your smiling face, and he smiled at the memory. A photo of the two of you from a road trip you had taken together with Jaemin and Jeno the previous summer was displayed in front of him. You were sitting on the wide edge of a stone wall with Renjun directly in front of you. You had your arms draped over his shoulders and your head resting against his. His hands covered yours, holding them together over his chest.

His smile quickly faded as the conversation he had with Jeno played through his head again. ‘...keep on doubting it if you really want to, I won’t stop you.’ He locked his phone and placed it face down in his lap. He fought back tears of frustration. He knew you didn’t have any feelings for him. Right? Or, did he only tell himself that to avoid the heartbreak he believed to be inevitable?

‘...the guys and I know both of you well enough to see things that you both always seem to miss.’ Jeno’s words were causing a frenzy of questions and feelings that quickly overwhelmed Renjun. He did his best to shake everything from his thoughts as the safety instructions sounded throughout the cabin. He focused on the colours in the sky as the plane started lifting off the ground. As the ground disappeared beneath the clouds, he couldn’t help but acknowledge the one, lingering question that always seemed to sit at the back of his mind, “Why won’t you love me?”

Despite Renjun’s protests, Donghyuck insisted on watching a cheesy romcom with him. Renjun tried to drown out the swarm of thoughts that continued circling his mind with the movie but it only made him yearn for you more. A typical story of love at first sight with the cutest and fluffiest meetings, the leads parting ways, but ultimately coming back to each other for a happy ending. Renjun could hardly handle watching such a relationship bloom on the small screen, the ache he was feeling in his heart only got worse with every loving smile the characters shared.

Part of him despised that Jeno had chosen to point out his feelings for you right before a rather long flight. He had nowhere to go, almost no way to escape his own thoughts. The idea of unrequited love was eating away at him with each passing minute. He was frustrated. Frustrated with Donghyuck for picking a movie that mocked him. Frustrated with Jeno for kick starting his overthinking. Frustrated with you for being so incredible and making him fall for you. Most of all, he was frustrated with himself for falling in love with his best friend.

It wasn’t long until he grabbed his ipad to draw. If there was one way he could get his emotions out, it was through art. He peeked out the window and observed the fluffy clouds passing by, illuminated by a soft orange glow from the setting sun. There was his reference. The movie served as background noise as he immersed himself in his craft. His stress poured through his pencil, the overwhelming thoughts were pushed to the back of his mind. The only remaining thoughts he had were about how much he wished you could see the sunset from above the clouds like he was.

As he finished his first sketch, he snapped a quick photo with his phone to send to you once they landed. There you were again. The thought of you alone made his heart flutter and a smile appear on his lips. The feeling in his chest was almost unbearable; he felt like he could explode. Opening a blank canvas, he pulled up a photo of the two of you for reference and started sketching.

Donghyuck had fallen asleep by the time the credits of the movie rolled, so Renjun took the opportunity to choose something else to watch. He threw on an old Disney film and continued his portrait.

The completed piece caused a warm feeling to bubble in Renjuns chest. His colour pallet felt comforting and cozy; like a reflection of how he felt with you. Not wanting to get too caught up in his feelings again, he opened another fresh canvas and turned his attention to the movie. He settled on making his own interpretation of the scene and what the characters were saying, wanting to exercise his skills and creativity.

He created one, and then another, yawning softly with the last couple details. Fatigue had been creeping up on Renjun as the Disney film neared its end. He tucked his ipad back into his small carry-on and pulled the shade over the window. Sleeping for the last hour and a half of the flight wouldn’t hurt. After putting some music on, he shifted into a relatively comfortable sleeping position and began to doze off.

Slight turbulence jolted Renjun awake as the plane began its descent. He gently rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and lifted the blind to peek out the window. The sky was a deep blue and the stars sparkled throughout. The city below was bright with lights as they cascaded closer to the runway. Renjun carefully shook Donghyuck awake, making sure the other boy was prepared for arrival.

Renjun fiddled with the edges of his phone case, waiting for the go-ahead to turn off airplane mode as the plane taxied towards the terminal. When the approval came through the intercom, he was quick to switch it off and text you that they had landed safely.

: Hey, we just landed!

y/nieeee: That’s great!! How was the flight?

: Pretty good

: Watched a few movies with hyuck and did

some drawing

: I slept for the last bit of the flight also

A bright smile found his lips and he selected the photos he took of his creations, skipping over the portrait, and hit send.

y/nieeee: Oooohh can i see ur drawings?

: [3 attachments]

y/nieeee: Ouuuu the sunset one is really

pretty

: Thank youuuuu

:We’re about to start getting off the plane,

wanna vc while we wait for our luggage?

Renjun threw his bag over his shoulder and followed Donghyuck into the aisle. Jeno and Jaemin handed the group their few larger carry-ons from the overhead compartments before Jeno led the way out of the plane. Renjun’s phone vibrated in his hand, a short text from you popping up on the screen, “ready when you are :)” The second they stepped off the plane, Renjun pressed the call button.

grab my earbuds!

You smiled at the sight of your best friend on your phone screen, his brown hair was slightly tousled from sleeping, you assumed. His brown cardigan was draped over his tee-shirt, and his smile was soft but his eyes still sparkled. Even after a 6 hour flight, he somehow still managed to look so handsome. What?

y/nieeee: Sureeee just give me a sec to

“Hey, y/n!” You shook your head slightly to silence your thoughts and laughed when Jisung hopped into frame when he heard Renjun say your name. You waved back with a sweet smile.

“Jun, let Jisungie into frame more, I want to talk to him too!” Jisung moved closer into view when Renjun motioned for him and waved to you excitedly. Renjun repeated your questions to Jisung (due to the fact that only Renjun could hear you through his earbuds) as they walked through the airport.

The other boys moved in and out of frame to say their hellos when they reached the luggage carousel. You rested your chin in your palm as you continued conversing with Renjun.

"How was the rest of your night? What did you get up to after dropping us off?" Renjun moved to lean against a wall, glancing at the carousel for a second before looking back at you. You hummed in thought for a second.

"Hmm, it was good, I guess? I didn't do much really." You fiddled with the cord of your earbuds, threading it between your fingers before elaborating.

"I got bubble tea on the way home and then I just watched a couple movies; just a lazy night."

"Ooh, bubble tea sounds amazing. Maybe I'll convince the guys to get some tomorrow or something." Renjun’s eyes lit up slightly when you giggled.

"That shouldn't be hard at all." You said with a smile. Renjun chuckled and nodded his head.

"Oh totally, they’ll agree in a split second- oh shoot,” His sentence was cut short and his eyes widened when he noticed you yawn softly.

“Isn't it like 1am now??” He furrowed his eyebrows as you checked the little alarm clock on your bedside table, seeing that it was in fact 1 in the morning.

“Yeah, just a little past 1.” Another yawn slipped through your lips as you laid back onto your pillows. You saw Renjun frown slightly and you sent him a tired smile.

“You should get to sleep, we’re going to head to the hotel right away anyway. I can call you again tomorrow!” Just as he said that, Donghyuck came by with Renjun’s suitcase and patted his back, informing him that their ride was outside. The lights outside of the airport contrasted with the night sky behind him.

“Are you sure?” You asked, raising your eyebrows for a second. Renjun nodded as they piled into the van.

“Yes, 100%! Here, say bye to the guys.” When they all got settled into their seats, Renjun held his phone up higher to get everyone in frame and removed his earbuds. You sat up again and waved at the camera.

“Good night everyone, have a good rest!”

The replies were a mess of ‘good night’s, ‘miss you’s, and wishes of sweet dreams. You bid one final farewell to Renjun before hanging up and plugging your phone in. A quiet huff left your lips after tucking yourself under the blanket and laying down, a deep slumber quickly washing over you.

Taglist: @lolibaaae @currentlyraisinghell

a/n: let me know if you want to be part of a tag list ^-^

disclaimer: i will try to update every 1-2 weeks but updates could potentially be stagnant. thank you for understanding :)

[sirensmojo]

Tomorrow, When The Ache Begun

Summary: You and Ivar broke up four months ago, but you are still working together as associates in the corporation you created together. You were focused on work, whereas all he could do was thinking about you and mentally preparing himself to be ready for whenever you might bump into him.

Pairing: Modern! Ivar x Reader

Warnings: heartbreak II fluff II angst, please excuse my English, for it’s not my mother tongue

Words: 2.6k

A/N: For the experience to be more immersive, I invite you to read with Holly Humberstone - Fake Plastic Trees, Cover Of RadioHead.

It was dark outside, drops of rain spurted on the windows as his fingers typing on the keyboard. He didn't see you today, nor this evening, even though he was well aware, you would never leave your office before midnight. You were always a hard worker since the very first day you started dating; you would continuously excuse yourself because you were late on most dates due to some crazy designs you had in mind. You were very inventive, a part of you that he missed much, as you would always find one thousand manners to show him love. You weren't like any other woman he's dated before, your scatty brain was giving you a grace he couldn't find anywhere else than on your expression. Saying he misses you wouldn't be sufficient, he craved for you every minute, every hour of each day he would wake-up alive still. When you left, he didn't understand why at first. It was when he saw you grin to others and telling cracks during meetings and conferences that he got it, he took you for granted. Not that you weren't happy with him, everybody close to you knew how sparkling you were to be by his side, supporting him and just being able to love him unconditionally. But when you got married, everything changed, he was spending more time outside than in the house, going out with his buddies instead of cuddling with you. Even when your fathers died, he wasn't there, letting you all alone trying to cope with the loss of the first man of your life. Although you never blame Ivar for his demeanor, you started to get quieter, less intense and garish, less stirring, less you. You stopped telling him what was on your eccentric mind, you stopped bring up surprises, you stopped addressing him poems and stopped whisper sweet words in his ears when his head used to drop on his desk so much he was drained. You got distanced, and one day, just like that, you stopped saying, "I love you" eventuating to you taking your own apartment, and soon you never put your feet into his no more. He couldn't even remember when you started to detached from him because he never thought you would. Everyone use to tell you and him that you were such a powerful modern couple, never getting into the other's business, and trusted each other with your life. What they didn't seem to be aware of is that everything you once hardly built was falling apart. Right in front of Ivar's eyes, but he was too focus on pity himself about his condition and go out with friends to realize he was failing you. And all he ever needed was you. Now that you were gone, he acknowledged it. Too late. 

"Ivar?" Your voice kicked him out of his thoughts "Y/N" He tried to spiritedly let out with some hope in his tone, but it came harsher, way harsher than what he wanted. "I'm going home, I'll let you close the office, is that okay?" You softly asked, and at this very moment, he wanted to stand up and throw every single item on the ground, off his desk. How could you be this soft with him? He didn't deserve it, how could you? And suddenly it stroke him, you could be smooth because you didn't care anymore. Because you were over him. Maybe you even started to see someone else? No, he has to calm down now, or he would explode, and he didn't want you to see him like that, not anymore. "Ivar, are you okay?" You asked, concerned. "Are you, Y/N?" He managed to respond with a calm tone. You tilted your head and exhaled deeply.

Surely you knew what he was referring to. In fact, you knew everything about him, as if he was the back of your hand. "Do you have something in particular to ask?" You raised one brow at him. "Are you... Seeing someone?" "I'm not" "Why?" "If I told you 'yes' you would've been irritated, only I said 'no' and still you are annoyed" You confusedly retort. "It's because you deserve someone, somebody that... sees you" He murmured the end of his sentence as he kept avoiding your eyes. "It's you I wanted, never another, and you used to see me" It was enough for him to look up at your eyes, they were glimmering. They always do at night; for some reason. He never noticed it when you were together, but now he sees it, he sees you again. "I don't know what to tell you" He finally answered and you giggled, your shoulders getting off the frame of the door. "You were never too talkative anyway" You snapped back as you turn your heels, ready to live his office. "You used to love me that way" He hassled to add, and that made you stopped in tracks. "That's true" You lowly let out, still showing him your back. You huffed and shook your head before getting out without letting him hold you back with old memories.

You quickly got to the elevator and pressed the button. It was only when you got into it that you breathe out the air you didn't even realize you were holding. Palm pressed on the forehead, you closed your eyes for a while. Seven floors before you get into your car and drive away from him, it meant only a few more minutes after which you could continue your life as if nothing ever happened. 

***

The next morning when you arrive at the office, you directly got to the kitchen as you wanted some coffee. You didn't sleep well last night, thinking about the small words you exchanged with the man you were still deeply and madly in love with. Nothing in the world could ever heal your heart from the damage it caused to leave him, though you 'd hoped it was for the better. 

 To your surprise, you bump into Ivar, he was standing against the counter, his crutch near him. You let out a groan as he was right in front of the coffee maker and were about to leave the room, you couldn't face his now, not this morning. "Y/N" You hear, and you reluctantly turn around, trying to offer him a small smile. "Hi" "You look tired" "I am, I had a long night" "Insomnia?" He asked, raising a brow. You cleared your throat "I have trouble sleeping haha" You tried to laugh, but it came as fake as the blond new hair color of your assistant. "Y/N..." He started, but you cut him off before he could add anything "I have a pile of files on my desk already, see you later" "Y/N" He called this time more firmly. You harshly swallow and turn around to look him in the eyes.

" You shouldn't work that much, it is terrible for your health. Your fatigue shows all over your face, even though I still believe you're beautiful, you should slow down" "Slow down Ivar? How am I supposed to do that?" You snickered, "Is it one of your bad days?" "One of my bad days?" You started to lose your cool, and he saw it. He grabbed his crutch and put down his cup of coffee before hassling to you as fast as he could. "Y/N, calm down, everything is alright. Look at me" He was aware of what was happening, an anxiety crisis. The lack of sleep always used to trigger your anxiety, and the only way to calm you down was his arms wrapped around your body, preventing you from racking.

"It's okay, come here" He muttered with a solemn tone. His hands reached your waist, pulling you nearer him, and soon, your head pressed against his chest, holding him close. His arms shyly embrace your body, which made you instantly relaxed. He gauged your reaction, not sure if you would let him touch you more than five seconds as it's been forever you never got to him that close. "Thank you" You eventually let out in a breathe. "You're still nervous, I can feel it." "Ye- yeah, it's because, you know... your touch... I didn't feel it for months now" You put both your hands on his chest and give it a small push to voice your reluctance. "My skin is not going to burn yours... If that was the matter" He tried to tease you, but it failed obviously. You sneak out his arms, but he didn't let you, "Ivar?" You asked with a high pitched tone.  "Aren't you feeling well?" "I do, but what I want does not matter" "Why would you say that? " "I mean, I wasn't the one who wanted "us" to end" " Then who?" "You, you wanted it to end, at least you didn't want it to continue" " Of course I did" He harshly snapped back, knitting his brows. "Are we going to have this conversation right here? Right now?" "This is not quite the time nor the place" He answered. You just rolled your eyes and got out of his grip. His eyes landed on you all the time, he didn't want to upset you, far from there, neither he wanted you to leave, but here you were, and what could he do about it? Nothing. He huffed noisily and watched you go away, once again. 

***

"I'm sorry for this morning" You cleared your throat and managed to say. Ivar hassled turned around to face you with a fazed expression. Why were you excusing yourself, it wasn't your fault, you can't control anxiety, and he promised you to always be there for you even when you broke up. His eyes grew wider. "I did not know Y/N would apologize for something she can't control" His voice dripped with sarcasm. It was funny cause you were the one always talking about letting go of what you couldn't control or accept it. You were the one always correcting him when he would say he was dumb or when he was too harsh with himself. You couldn't stand when he would do that, but now it was you in this situation. Being too hard on yourself to suffer from something you cannot command and apologized as if you could. You laughed frantically at his comment and looked away. "I'm glad you came to my office, I wanted to go to yours long ago and stayed there all my life if I could, but I didn't want to bother you" ."I was only here to tell you I'm sorry for taking your time, even if we are not together anymore" "Stop doing that Y/N, please" He exhaled, one of his palm running down his face. " You didn't respond. "I know better, you know better, why searching for excuses?" "Tomorrow, it will make five months since I left your apartment Ivar" Your eyes were strenuously now searching for his blue ones. When the two pairs met, it felt as if Thor himself stroke you down at the same time as both of you quickly looked away. "We had a conversation about our break-up right away, you remember?" "I do" He sadly answered. "I hoped I would be able to move on after tha-" "We can not move on Y/N" His eyes looking straight to your face, his hands clasping his desk, trying to control the anger that was ready to burst out from his chest. His eyes were darker, his pupils were dilated. "Please" Ivar added, pleading. He knew the decision wasn't his to make because he was the one who fucked it all up, but he couldn't let you go, not you, not now and simply never. "I can't sleep since I know what I did to you. I've tried to do better since you left..." "You did improve" You cheered him, the corner of your lips curving. "You did" You added, seeing no response on his face. "There is a but, there is a fucking, but" He shook his head. "We both need closure" You succeed letting out, your hands shakingly still on the door handle. "I think we should just let go. You know about my side corporation? I want to expend it. With the money of my shares, I would be able to start again" "You want me to buy your shares of this society?" "So we could bury our resentment with one another" You continued. "I don't have any resentment towards you, Y/N, I love you" "We deserve peace, Ivar. We deserve to let ourselves feel what there is to feel to properly heal. We own ourselves the truth, don't you think?" You softly said, he took a deep breath in and locked his eyes in yours. "It will never be the same, I could never be the same. You willingly kept choosing your friends and your self-destruction behavior over my love and the peace it always offered you" You let out lowly, but each of your words cut him as if they were the sharpest of the knives. He stayed silent, you were right. From all along, you were damn right. He abandoned you and not only neglected you but denied your worth, your potential, and your healing abilities towards the pain he always felt about his legs, both physically and mentally. "I gave you my heart, you gave me nothing, and now that we split you give me headaches" "Please stop talking" He supersedes to articulate, even if his mouth felt as dry as the Sahara desert. If he wasn't broken down before, he was now. His mind was running wild, his thoughts rushed in his head as if his brain changed into aa honeycomb. He was sweating, his forehead was almost damp. Ivar stood back up with the help of his crutch and hobbled to you, grabbing your hand with haste. "Y/N please" He was pleading with a broken voice, it was too much. "I have divorce papers drawn up and ready to be signed for over a month now". You open his hand that was holding yours and placed the papers there. "Please sign them, we already dawdled too long." You adamantly say. He was taken aback by your words and how determined you were to keep him out of your life. He thought he stood a chance, Ivar thought he could have you back if only that big man changed, but even now that you assured him he improved, you still didn't want him back. He was confused, hurt, and lost. "Though we're trying to stay ahead, we're just treading water Ivar" You were trying to reason with him. "Each of your fucking words cut me so deep it hurt for me to breathe in" He finally reached the accurate words to describe what he felt, words which almost eventuate to your heart dropping. Maybe you were too harsh this time, "Fuck" You muttered, looking downward. "It is about what is in here, huh?" His finger pointed his mind, and you shook your head. "It is about how you deal with what is happening here" You pointed his chest, where his heart was beating like a drum. "I will sign them, now please leave" His voice filled the room again, his tone was now solemn and calm as if he accepted your decision. Though he needed time to swallow the idea of living a life where there will be no "you and him", the idea of a "us" slowly fading away.  He tightened his grip on the papers and abruptly let go of your hands. You leave him without words, locking the door behind you in a thud.

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

Master List 

Ivar TAGGED: @youbloodymadgenius​ 

With Love, always #blacklivesmatter #happypridemonth

[lycanthrop-ee]

Sires and Sons

Chapter 3 of ? First chapter   -  second chapter

A/N: Back at it again! Yeah that’s all I have to say

Synopsis: When the twins split two years ago, Janus was tasked with raising Remus. His only help was the evasive and sullen Virgil- who he already had to wrangle like a stray teenager. The endless days in the Dark Side’s Mindpalace were broken only by monthly catch-ups with Patton, and the only thing that ever changed the stories that Janus used to get Remus to bed. This time, though, something was different: secrets were slipping through Janus’ lips- and past the divide between Dark and Light.

Ships: Moceit (probably just bg but I don’t actually know can you tell I’m a professional-)

TW: Lots of arguing, let me know if there’s anything else!

Word count: 2097 (oops)

First, the shorter side’s eyes widened, fixed on a point beside Janus as the latter froze. Next, Patton took a short step forward, as if- and Janus had no doubt he was- fighting the urge to run over and wrap Remus in a dad hug. Finally, Patton’s gaze flicked back to Janus, his brows raised with questions. Janus could basically read them off him- what do we do? Are you going to turn around? Has he seen us? 

The last was a definitive yes. The young side’s tired skipping had halted as soon as Janus had, and his grip on his guardian’s hand had tightened. The poor kid had never met anyone outside Virgil and Janus- the latter had often wondered how he’d react. 

Apparently, this was how- a small voice floated to him.

“Jan?”

His first instinct was to pick the little side up and bolt away with him, but that wouldn’t help anything- Instead, he cleared his throat.

“I… I suppose there are some people you should meet, Remus.” 

Patton called to them across the way.

“...Janus?”

And just like that, all the focus was on him. Even though he was only one of three adults here. Janus took a deep breath, clutching Remus’ hand as tightly as ever, and started to pick his way through the trees to the other two.  Logan and Patton stiffened at the decision, but waited agonizingly outside the door as the pair made their way forward- the kid’s pace picked up, practically dragging Janus along.

The older side came to a halt twelve feet from the others, Janus picking his gaze from the ground to focus on Logan’s unreadable expression and Patton’s indescribable one. Remus stared at them, eyes wide as he strained against Janus’ hold. Janus broke the silence.

“...Remus. This is Patton and Logan. Patton’s… he’s the one I have my meetings with.” 

The tiny side gave them a bright smile, and Janus was amazed at how his cheery personality shone through. Patton, finally accepting the situation, fell into a crouch as though coaxing a feral cat.

“Hey, there, Kiddo. It’s… nice to meet you.” The side’s voice soothed Janus as Remus smiled.

“Hi there! I’m Remus- how do you feel about swear words?” 

The tense moment was broken, and even Logan had to stifle a grin as Patton’s eyebrows raised in surprise. Janus laughed. 

“He’s a little overtired…” He tried to explain, but found it was no use. “Who am I kidding, he’d have asked anyway. It’s… good to see you again, Patton. Logan.” He nodded at the less familiar side, who acknowledged him similarly.

“I guess there’s no point in hiding that I’ve heard a lot about you,” Patton said, ignoring the question. “I don’t believe the pleasure has been mutual, though.” 

They were all saved from the strange conversation by the door opening, Virgil standing delicately at the other side. He opened his mouth to speak before identifying the situation and stiffening, his eyes darting around- no doubt searching for the second small figure that was missing. Janus let out a breath. 

“Virgil. Can you take Remus for a moment?” His voice was steady, even as his hands shook. Virgil sensed the delicate tone, nodding and stepping forward to collect the child who did not hesitate to make his resentment known. As they walked back through the door, Remus looked over his shoulder in a way that was all-too similar to the last time the kid had seen anyone new- two years before and certainly out of range of Remus’ memory.

As the door closed, a collective breath was let out, and Janus turned incredulously to the other two. His nerves turned to a delicate anger. “What the hell are you two doing here?!” Patton winced, and he fought off guilt as Logan answered.

“We were here to collect Virgil.” Patton’s eyes widened, and he tried to signal Logan to be quiet with no avail. “He said you two were out.” 

Needless to say, this cleared up nothing.

“What- collect Virgil? What do you mean?” Janus watched Logan’s realization as he turned to Patton, speaking in a thinly veiled hiss. 

“He doesn’t know? Patton, I thought you two talked!” An unexplained anxiety flooded Janus as his thoughts overlapped and mixed. This wasn’t helped by Patton turning to him delicately, mouth open as his head visibly raced to find the right words.

“We’ve been… Virgil has…” The usually comforting side stuttered strangely, and Janus’ stance was unsteady, alone on his side of the path. “A while ago, Virgil expressed interest in interacting more freely with our side of the mindspace.” 

“He wants to join the Light Sides?” The words stumbled from Janus’ lips, fumbling in their eagerness to be answered. Patton winced, reluctant to use such harsh language, but Logan took over more confidently.

“Yes.”

Janus felt unsteady. Patton pressed on.

“Not- not necessarily, Dee, he just- he showed up one day, and it’s been- well, it didn’t go well at first but we’re… I mean, he’s still in no position to…” Patton trailed off as he saw Janus’ expression. He felt it himself- eyebrows furrowed, eyes surprised- a cat from the bag and the rug out from under it. Logan spoke again.

“We’ve been experimenting with the necessity of keeping him separate- whether it’s beneficial or obsolete. Obviously, Remus needs to be here, and you’re here to take care of hi-”

Patton shushed him at this. Janus hardly cared. 

Sure, Virgil stayed in his room for the most part- but he really unhappy? Enough to leave him and Remus behind? The Dark Sides mindpalace was hardly pleasant housing, but they were all there together. That was how it had always been. They couldn’t boast the amicable sleepovers Patton often spoke of, but conversations like those the night before kept them all functioning- or so Janus had thought. Looking back on it, he had no clue what happened behind the door to Virgil’s room. Was he unhappy? Struggling? So afraid to talk to Janus that he’d turn to near strangers?

Janus struggled to recover his grasp on the conversation, focusing on straightening his back to maintain his usual on-top-of-things demeanor. “I- well-” He cleared his throat. “What are we going to do about Remus?” Patton frowned.

“He still hasn’t seen Roman, so it’s not too bad, right?” The side looked to Logan, who gave a curt nod.

“It doesn’t affect Thomas at this level. We simply need to find a way to explain our sudden arrival in his life, then remove ourselves from it as soon as possible.”

Janus could accurately pinpoint the moment Logan’s plan stabbed Patton in the heart, no matter how much he tried to soften his reaction. He watched as he tried to find a way to gently break his own opinion to Logan without directly undermining him, timed the moments between Patton’s mouth opening carefully and his voice finally sounding.

“I… Logan, I’m sure it couldn’t hurt to be around Remus now? After all, he already knows about us. He still has no idea- and how would he? Besides,” He added, now directly and obviously pandering. “It might be helpful to see how Remus works in comparison to… maybe we’d understand them both better, then.”

Logan sighed.

“Patton, I understand you find it difficult to move past your emotions for the greater good.” The object of Logan’s remark flinched. “But the less Remus is exposed to us, the better. We’re a variable that can be easily avoided- and one that has been for years now. It’s best that we move past this infraction as painlessly as possible.”

Janus recognized that unless he spoke up and took a stance in the argument, he’d be left behind to stand awkwardly beside the conversation- that wouldn’t do if he wanted to retain some semblance of control. His mind jumped to assess his options:

He could side with Patton, giving his argument a significant boost given Janus’ stance as one of the more rational sides. If he agreed, it may spell out victory for Patton, which could possibly lead to more time spent around him and the other Light Sides. This could also help satisfy Virgil’s urge to be around them while still keeping him close to home. On the other hand, Remus already knew far more about them than Logan and Patton knew- if Remus made the connection, he may end up asking after the representative princes, and that was an extremely slippery slope.

If he sided with Logan, they would easily overpower Patton in debate. The effect this would have on their friendly relationship aside, it would make everything go back to normal.

Or would it? Even if Remus brushed off the encounter as a trick of the forest, Virgil still wanted to leave. That would confuse Remus, who didn’t even know there was anywhere else to go- and what would Janus do with the kid during his meetings with Patton? Maybe they’d end up having to associate anyways…

“Patton’s right,” Janus cut in. “We can’t keep everything secret from Remus- at least, not you two.” For the first time in a while, he let himself feel the full insanity that Remus’ raising had been forced into. He shook his head. “The kid doesn’t even know about Thomas.”

Patton flinched visibly. “Well, that’s… for a good reason, Kiddo, I-”

“I’m not one of your Kiddos.” Janus’ voice was icier than he’d have liked, and Patton’s fragile face fell. “No- Patton, that’s not what I meant.” 

The wind blew out of Janus’ sails. He’d argued this with Patton before, and all it had ever accomplished was to put a sour stains on long-awaited summer days. “I just meant that he- he’s still clueless. He’s still young. We could just tell him that you…” He flailed for an explanation. “You’re my new coworkers.”

“And what’s our supposed line of work?” Logan asked drily. Janus took it as a challenge, trying to see the argument objectively.

“We…”

“I don’t want to lie to him,” Patton cut in. Janus raised his eyebrows drily, and Patton stuttered forth. “No, not- I mean, imagine how confused he’d be if…”

“He’s already confused, Patton! This whole thing was your idea- the separation, the secrets. We’ve been lying. His whole life is a lie of omission.” The fatherly side had shrunk under the beration, Logan practically swelling to protect him- Janus couldn’t see why; he was on his side. It’s not like he’d ever hurt Patton- irritation fueled his argument further. “And there’s nothing inherently wrong with lying, obviously I’d be the first to tell you that- but this lie is keeping Remus from a normal, pleasant childhood. We can only do so much when he’s got no one his age- oh, wait. He does! But you couldn’t possibly introduce the two of them because yours is perfect and mine’s wrong.” This sharpness in his words seemed to shake even Logan, to Janus’ satisfaction- which he quickly shoved aside. He was getting off topic. “Remus isn’t stupid. This whole situation, however, is idiotic.” With that, Janus was finished, making room for the opposition’s response.

It was quiet. It was quiet but for a small sniffle, no doubt from Patton. Janus let a sigh hiss though clenched teeth. 

“Thomas’ current condition is stable,” Logan spoke evenly. The same irritation Janus was trying to clear bit at him once more.

“But it isn’t maintainable. Not my a long shot. Thomas’ state may be unchanging at the moment, but Remus and Roman both are rapidly developing simply by nature- even without all the secrets, there’s no denying that Thomas is in a stage of growth. Maybe the current stage of his progress is particularly convenient for you, but down here things are bursting at the seams- as, I understand, you’ve been more privy to than I have.” Janus couldn’t suppress the last jab, but afterwords wished he had. He stared at Logan, evening his breath as he watched the other think over his reply. Patton had been pushed out of the argument the way Janus had consciously averted, the taller side noted. The moments stretched out, and Janus allowed himself a cautious sense of accomplishment. 

“I suppose a new arrangement is in order,” Logan allowed evenly. 

Janus’ chest shuttered as he let out a breath, trying to keep sudden tears away from his eyes at the overwhelming relief that hit him. His gaze flitted to Patton, whose face held a cautious- but still blindingly bright- smile.

A new arrangement… the advisor had spoken.

[damianosismyking]

Part VIII

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI - Part VII

Laurent held his breath before he rang the bell.

There was the silence. Crickets. Wind. Trees rustling. His own heart.

Technically, Laurent didn’t have to ring the doorbell.

Damen had told Laurent that morning that he could just let himself in and wait in his office on the second floor. Laurent thought of arguing that he had no idea where in the house Damen’s office was since his knowledge of the of the house was limited (he’s only ever been to the kitchens, Egeria’s sitting room, crossed the entrance to the living room on his way to Damen’s bedroom and the dining room), but Damen and Laurent were barely speaking so all Laurent said was ‘fine’, which now felt like the dumbest possible alternative.

Or not, maybe it was for the best and they shouldn’t be talking more than the absolute necessary.

Laurent rang the bell.

The front door to the main house never looked bigger and scarier than it looked in this moment, and for a handful of seconds Laurent thought that maybe if he ran fast he’d still be able to escape before someone came to let him inside.

The doors opened. Laurent was allowed inside.

The stern housekeeper showed Laurent to the office, on the second floor, just past the painting of an old, angry guy that was hanging above a nice arrange of gardenias in a turquoise Chinese vase. Probably Jokaste’s doing.

Laurent was handed a glass of something upon accepting when offered, though he didn’t pay attention to the offer in first place. Laurent sipped. The liquor (or it may be whisky) burned all the way down his throat. At least the glass kept his hands busy and that was the only way to keep Laurent from biting his nails. Biting nails would’ve been worse.

Three days ago, Laurent had a job and a thing going on with Damen that he didn’t know how to name, a room to sleep for as long as he liked, a lot of worries and no news from anyone from his past.

Then everything turned on its head within a twenty minutes conversation and now Laurent was unemployed, hardly exchanging words with Damen, theoretically had no place to live anymore, twice as many worries as before and the knowledge that Auguste would be coming here to this very room tonight to meet him after six years.

Auguste, whom Laurent had left.

It was all Damen’s doing, though Laurent couldn’t tell if it was out of consideration or because – as Damen had told him – Laurent could become a leverage to their case. Laurent could testify against their uncle and use his experience as proof. It was something along these lines. Testimony? Damen had explained everything in the phone call, but Laurent wasn’t grasping much information. His head kept wandering to Auguste.

What was Auguste like nowadays? Had he been looking for Laurent all those years? Did he give up? How would it be to see him again? Maybe he had wrinkles. He was thirty-two, it wasn’t likely that he had wrinkles. And Laurent knew well that Auguste had a family. What was his wife’s name? And the baby? Did they know about Laurent?

Would Auguste be happy to see Laurent again?

Auguste never liked it when Laurent bit his nails then. He would be upset if Laurent still bit them now, when they would meet again so many years later, so Laurent was really glad to have a cup in hands.

There wasn’t much that Laurent could see from the window behind him, given that it was dark outside, and the window opened to grass and nothing else. In any other occasion, Laurent would’ve enjoyed the view of open, clear sky, stars and the waning moon. Now the fact that he wouldn’t be able to see Damen arriving with Auguste was maddening; that and how quiet this room was.

Why was this room so damn quiet? There wasn’t even a clock ticking.

Fifteen minutes passed.

Laurent was close to going downstairs to proceed with that previous plan of evading, when there finally was noise on the hallway. The doorknob turned.

The comers weren’t much louder than Laurent was. Damen got in first, glimpsing at Laurent and nodding, not a single word was said by him. Following, came the brunette that Laurent had seen around one time before – the pretty, elegant one, with the braid and the freckles – that whispered something to the person right behind her.

Laurent caught his breath, put his glass down, bit the inside of his cheek and froze so that he wouldn’t start trembling. It was unlikely that Laurent would stop once he started.

God, it was really him. Tall, so tall. Taller than Laurent remembered. His hair was shoulder-length, just like Laurent envisioned whenever he thought of Auguste.

Laurent had cut his own hair that very morning; if he hadn’t, they would be matching now. His eyes were the same as Laurent’s. He had expression marks on the corners of his mouth and lightly between his brows. He was so handsome. Oh, so handsome.

The way Auguste looked at Laurent was eager and possibly the same way Laurent was looking at him. The stillness must’ve lasted around three seconds before Auguste ran and engulfed Laurent into the tightest embrace he’s ever experienced.

Auguste kept chanting ‘oh my god’ and ‘I can’t believe it’ while running his hands over Laurent’s back, shoulders and nape. Pulling away, pushing Laurent by the shoulders, Auguste took a good look.

Eyes watering, voice cracking, he said, “It is really you.”

Laurent trembled, smiling. “It is.”

“It is,” Auguste repeated.

This time, when Auguste pulled Laurent back into the hug, Laurent had more room to breathe. Auguste sniffed really close to Laurent’s ear and Laurent squeezed him as tight as he could. It really was him. Auguste even smelled the same as Laurent remembered. They stayed like this forever or for a very short period of time; he couldn’t say.

When they parted again, Auguste rubbed his thumbs over Laurent’s cheeks as though wiping his tears away, which might’ve been the case. Laurent wasn’t sure he was crying. He was a little too dizzy and a little too confused and so very excited. He was also only now letting himself acknowledge how much he’s missed Auguste over the past few years. It ached. It ached in a way that Laurent didn’t experience in so long. Since he was thirteen.

Since they parted.

“You’re so grown up,” Auguste said midst an attempted smile that cracked into a sob “Look at you. You’re so beautiful,” his expression melted some more, lips curling downwards as he cried, “I’m so sorry, Laurent.”

Laurent shook his head, but the words refused to form themselves in an order that made sense. “No,” was all that Laurent could force out through a thick, unsteady voice.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you safe,” Auguste continued, his face red and wet and distorted by all the crying and the flood of emotions “I should never have let him take you away. Never.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Laurent struggled.

"I should've packed and ran away with you."

“You couldn't - I’m not – it wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry - I’m sorry.”

The sight of Laurent’s hands clutching to the fabric covering Auguste’s shoulders, the sound of his own whimpers and having Auguste right there, so very real in front of him, had Laurent feeling childish. As though he didn’t age a day since the day he saw the last of Auguste.

“Don’t be,” Auguste said, pulling Laurent into another hug “You’re alive. You’re ok. That’s all that matters to me.”

Over Auguste’s shoulder Laurent caught a glimpse of Damen watching them carefully.

Damen’s face was filled with something akin sorrow whereas the woman that came with him watched the scene that displayed in front of her with a small smile in her lips. Satisfied. Content, like she played any role at all in their reunion.

Laurent closed his eyes and decided that he could think of all of that later. He could think of anything and everything later.

Now he had his brother back – Auguste was right, that was all that mattered.

__

NEXT>

Read it on AO3!

[jae-bummer]

Ugly Christmas Sweaters

Request: If there's still space, can I request #1 with jongdae please? Thanks!!

Prompt:

1)  ”Here’s a concept…me and you…married.”

Pairing: EXO’s Jongdae x Reader

Genre: Fluff       

.

Looking to your reflection in the mirror, you let out a quiet groan. The dancing, holiday cats on your sweater were some of the most awful things you had ever seen (and that was ignoring the fact that they also lit up if you flipped a covert switch hidden within the knit.) You turned to the side, furrowing your brows as you further examined your outfit.

Whoever came up with the idea of Ugly Holiday Sweater parties should be sat in a pile of ants on a hot summer day with honey dripping from their earlobes.

But that was just your personal opinion.

“Ugh, how can someone who styles celebrities professionally...show up in an outfit like this?” you clucked, spinning one last time.

SM entertainment was known publicly for their Halloween party, but what few knew was that they also hosted a party in December every year as well. Disregarding holiday preferences, most all employees attended if for nothing more than free food. You had been dragged along every year since you had landed the position as a stylist, and didn’t intend on missing it now. Not even when they changed the theme to an “ugly sweater” party.

“Are you ready?” your friend and fellow stylist asked as she waltzed into the room. Your eyes grew in size as you took her in, her tight sweater leaving little to the imagination.

“You are aware that this is an UGLY sweater event, right?” you croaked, looking down to the sack-like jumper you were wearing.

“Ugly,” she clucked. “Does not mean ill-fitting.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed your bag before you had the chance to talk yourself out of going. “Yes, I’m ready.”

“Where’s the antler headband I bought you?” she hummed, her hands on her hips. Her heels didn’t budge as she began to survey your apartment. “They complete the look.”

“Isn’t the sweater enough?” you sighed, already exhausted.

“Fine, grumpy,” she said, sticking her tongue out at you. “Try to save the fun for the rest of us.”

.

You moodily gnawed on your candy cane as you surveyed the party bustling around you. Food was being served, drinks were being poured, but you still felt pouty,

“Isn’t this fun?” your coworker gasped, scraping the icing from her holiday cookie.

“I can hardly contain my excitement,” you grumbled. You would rather blend in with the wallpaper than stand out with your brightly flashing cat sweater.

“Did you see Baekhyun over there? Oh, and Key? They’re looking so scrumptious,” she hummed, nearly vibrating with excitement. “Good tidings aren’t the only things I would be giving them-”

“Aye!” you gasped, your eyes wide. “Calm down. You see idols every day!”

“I style for NCT Dream,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “I can’t fantasize about babies.”

“As you shouldn’t!” you said sternly, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossibly attracted to these whole ass men wandering around,” she growled, narrowing her eyes at a guy you recognized to be in Marketing. “Who is that?”

“He’s in a different department,” you murmured, sending a silent wish of luck his way. For as much as you enjoyed being around your friend, she was a bit...difficult sometimes.

“Interesting,” she said, lifting her brows. “I may have to introduce myself.”

“Don’t make me stand awkwardly alone!” you gasped, already dreading the idea of having to make small talk.

“Live a little,” she grinned, looking down to her cookie before taking a bite. “Make friends.”

“With who?” you groaned.

“Why not an idol?” she asked, tilting her head. “What about Chen?”

“Chen?” you asked, lifting your brows. The name sounded familiar, but you couldn’t entirely place it.

“Yeah, the guy who’s been hogging the karaoke mic. He also happens to have on the same horrifying sweater as you,” she sighed, more interested in her cookie than she was in the conversation at this point.

“You said it was cute!” you gasped.

“It is,” she chuckled. “In a grandma-type way.” 

“Why him?” you sighed.

“Because he’s hot,” she said thoughtfully. “And he’s a celebrity. And the matching sweaters are a good talking point.”

“Since when did you become such a social butterfly?” you murmured.

“Doesn’t take a butterfly to know how to interact with people,” she grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring him over your way. Maybe he can introduce me to-”

You missed the name of whatever miscellaneous celebrity she mentioned because she was already shuffling out of sight.

Grimacing you took a few steps to follow her, but stopped yourself. Sure, you knew you should probably be networking and talking with your coworkers, but you weren’t exactly the most confident.

Working with the dreamies had preconditioned you to deal with idols who were more like little brothers. You never worried about how you looked in front of them, or how silly you sounded. They always laughed at your jokes and treated you kindly. The older groups were what intimidated you. The men closer to your age, who were in general the more adultier-adults at the label, scared you to no end.

Of course you knew they were probably just as kind as their younger label mates, but you never allowed yourself to figure that out. You were happy being unseen.

Obscurity was where you had decided you belonged. Things were calmer that way.

Safer.

Stirred from your thoughts, you looked up just in time to see a new face in your field of vision.

“Well, call me Rudolph because i have been sleigh-ed,” he grinned. “I don’t believe we’ve met before. I’m Chen.”

“I’m Y/N,” you nodded with a polite bow. “Nice sweater.”

Chen looked down with a wide grin and shimmied his torso a bit. Your friend wasn’t incorrect. It was exactly the same one that you were wearing.

“I didn’t think anyone else would possibly pick this one out,” he laughed. “You must have wonderful taste.”

You lifted your brows and attempted to stifle your laugh. “Is that it?”

“Duh,” he grinned, careful to make sure you were smiling as well. “When people were asking me about coming here with my partner earlier, I was totally confused...but now I get it! We are wearing couples items after all...

...So, you may or may not have noticed that I was doing a bit of karaoke earlier before your friend insisted I come over. Won’t you sing a duet with me? Pretty please?”

“That’s a nice offer,” you sighed, glancing to your feet. “But there’s a reason why I’m a stylist.”

“Is it because you’re so pretty?” he gasped, his eyes wide with innocence.

You felt the heat of embarrassment begin to creep up your neck. He...thought...YOU...were pretty?

“Because i can’t sing,” you corrected, refusing to look up at him.

“Everyone can sing,” he hummed. You didn’t have to make eye contact to know he was still watching you. “It’s just an opinion if people like it or not.”

You shook your head quickly before allowing yourself to lock eyes with him and let out a nervous chuckle.

“Come on, wouldn’t it be cute if two people, wearing matching sweaters, sang a song together?” He begged, reaching forward and grabbing your hand.

Your face was an unmanageable amount of hot as you willed yourself not to look at the place where your skin was now touching his. He apparently had no issue with being forward.

“What about a dance?” he coaxed. “We can rock around the Christmas tree all night long if you’d like.”

“Dance,” you choked out, more of an acknowledgement of the word. How were you going to keep up with an idol’s dancing skills?

Lucky for you, Chen’s skill seemed to nearly evaporate. If it wasn’t part of a choreographed production, he wasn’t going to be the most talented dancer you had ever seen.

“What are you doing?” you said quietly, trying to hide your amusement. After he had taken your stupid utterance of “dance” as an agreement to actually follow him onto the floor, he proceeded to break into his “best” moves.

Which were thoroughly entertaining, but not for the reason you would have guessed.

“I’m free-styling.”

“You look like your pelvis is caught up in a spasm,” you laughed, shaking your head. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw his fellow idols beginning to laugh at his antics as well.

He really was sweet, but the attention was beginning to make you sweat.

“You say tomato, i say tomahto,” he grinned, eyes closed as he was lost in the beat.

Looking from one side of the crowd to the other, you took a deep breath. Catching eye contact with several people you would prefer to be invisible around, you found yourself beginning to step to the side. “I’m going to get some punch.”

“I’ll come with you,” Chen perked up, opening his eyes.

“That’s really not necessary,” you croaked, keeping your face to the ground.

“I’m thirsty too!” he gasped, instantly taking your hand. Chen smiled brightly at you before offering an obnoxious wink. “We’re pretty similar, don’t you think? I mean...we showed up in couples outfits without even having met before! I don’t want to sound too crazy here, but how about this concept...me and you...married. It’s obvious that we were meant to be.” 

You attempted to keep from choking on your saliva. The two of you couldn’t be more different.

“No offense, I’m sure you’re incredibly sweet, but if i take off this matching sweater, will you leave me alone?” you whispered.

“Probably not,” he grinned. 

“Well...at least your honest.”

“Honesty is the best policy...and honestly, i would love it if you’d agree to a date with me,” he nodded, not even skipping a beat as the two of you arrived at the snack table. “I’d love to get to know you more.”

You blinked in surprise. “Backtracking after you already suggested we get married?”

“I mean, we could work backwards if you wanted,” he smirked. “Marriage, then dating, and then...well, what would come after that?”

You still had to wrap your brain around it. You had quickly established that Chen was very similar to a puppy. Not long after meeting you, he had decided he had liked you.

He had chosen you, in essence, and you wouldn’t be getting rid of him easily.

“So?” he prodded. “Don’t leave me waiting in suspense!”

“Uh, sure,” you managed with a wince. You didn’t want to sound unenthusiastic, but the night has changed rapidly. Especially since Chen had introduced himself.

“if you wake up in a box tomorrow,” he cooed. “Just know it’s because I’ve asked Santa for you this year.”

“That is actually horrifying and mildly adorable at the same time,” you laughed, shaking your head. You had nearly forgotten that he had been holding your hand all of this time.

“Sounds like me!”

“Comforting. Something to look forward to i guess,” you shook your head and attempted not to giggle. For as silly as he was, he really was starting to  grow on you.

Glancing up from your interlocked fingers, your breath caught in your throat as you noticed the holiday lights reflected in Chen’s dark eyes. He really was quite  handsome.

He watched you closely, silent for the first time since you had met him.

“What?” you croaked

“Nothing,” he smirked, continuing to stare at you without shame.

“Then what are you looking at?” you whispered, furrowing your brows.

“An angel, i think,” he hummed, his smile growing wider. “You just aren’t on top of a tree.”

You felt your heart flutter and heat begin to climb up your neck again.

Maybe being different from Chen wasn’t a bad thing.

[twilights-800-cats]

<< Allegiances || Chapter 13 || Chapter 14 || Chapter 15 || From the Beginning >>

Chapter 14

“You were far too harsh, Tinystar,” Sandstorm’s voice insisted.

“Yeah,” Graystripe agreed. “Sounds like we’ve been going about this all wrong.”

From where she was, crouched near the very entrance of the medicine den, Shadepaw could hear the worry in Tinystar’s voice: “What else can I do? Brackenfur’s omen was so grave… until we know what it means we cannot take chances.”

Fury bloomed in Shadepaw’s pelt. She dug her claws into the earth. Why is no one considering my interpretation? If the others had just listened to her, she wouldn’t be so upset! Not only that, but Nightpaw’s frustration wouldn’t be feeding into her, doubling down and making her snap at every little thing! Just this morning Frostfur had chastisted her for being too harsh about moss when Shadepaw’s pelt felt like it was blazing with anger beyond her control.

“We’ll keep an eye out for them,” Sandstorm promised. “Mistyfoot can join the dusk patrol, and I don’t think Sootfur would mind Nightpaw’s company hunting.”

Shadepaw sighed. She felt so broken right now, so out of control. It was maddening.

“You shouldn’t be eavesdropping, Shadepaw.”

Brackenfur’s calm voice only sent a trickle of anger down Shadepaw’s spine. She got to her paws and padded over to her mentor. “They’re talking about the omen,” she muttered, “and how upset it’s making Mistyfoot and Nightpaw.”

The golden brown tom’s fur did not stir. Shadepaw wanted to rake her claws through her mentor’s pelt, wanted him to feel the constant waves of anger and frustration she was feeling. How else could she make him understand?

“They’re only doing what they think is best,” was all he said.

Shadepaw bristled. “I can feel Nightpaw’s feelings, Brackenfur! He’s so hurt and sad, and it’s all your fault, for insisting that what you saw was right!”

Brackenfur’s eyes flashed. “Shadepaw,” he stated, “we do not know who saw the true vision!”

“I know that,” Shadepaw snapped, “but why did you have to insist on the worst one being the right one?! Don’t you see the damage its doing?”

Brackenfur’s ears flattened. He said nothing, not meeting Shadepaw’s eye. There was some satisfaction in that – it rippled through Shadepaw’s pelt like a cool wave, quenching the fires of her roiling emotions.

Wait, Shadepaw thought, letting the feeling wash over her. She felt satisfied that she gave Brackenfur pause, yes, but… That feeling… that’s not me.

That’s Nightpaw!

She delved deeper into the feeling. The frustration that had been stuck to her pelt like a burr was gone, now. Almost nowhere to be found. Instead there was a sense of relief like a cool splash in a stream, and the sense that Nightpaw felt less alone than before. Not only that, but there was a sense of freedom, of adventure…

Shadepaw didn’t know what made Nightpaw feel like this, but it was worrying, that sense of freedom. Like nothing was binding him down any longer, not even Clan borders.

———————————————————-

Shadepaw had no idea where she was.

She was padding through a dark forest, meandering through trees she had never seen before in her life. Even the very slope of the land and the earth beneath her paws was alien – strange and new and unknown. There were hardly any defining features that Shadepaw could pick out in this place, other than the sense of unknown.

When she scented Spottedleaf, it was a relief. Shadepaw picked up her pace and dodged roots and brambles to reach the lovely StarClan she-cat, who was sitting in a pool of moonlight in the middle of a circle of ferns. The dappled she-cat acknowledged Shadepaw with a gentle tilt of her head.

“Spottedleaf!” Shadepaw breathed. She slowed her pace and sat alongside the starry she-cat. “What is this place? I’ve never met you here before.”

Spottedleaf bent and touched her nose to Shadepaw’s in greeting. Her sweet scent wreathed comfortingly around Shadepaw, and the unfamiliar forest felt just a little more safe.

“I’m sorry, little one,” Spottedleaf mewed. “Worry not for this place. I sensed that you have been troubled lately.”

Shadepaw leaned into Spottedleaf, letting the StarClan medicine cat support her. “I feel like I’m rooted in place, Spottedleaf,” she meowed. It was so easy to talk to Spottedleaf, as if the former ThunderClan medicine cat could draw out Shadepaw’s worries like poison in a wound. “I’m being forced to watch things happen, and I can’t say a word.”

Spottedleaf wrapped her tail around Shadepaw. “Your destiny is in your own paws,” she purred gently. “You need only follow your heart to know what’s right.”

Shadepaw sighed, feeling her temper soothed and her frustrations quenched. “Thank you, Spottedleaf.”

“Any time, little one.”

———————————————————-

Follow your heart.

Shadepaw woke with the message in mind and Spottedleaf’s scent in her nose. She knew what she had to do.

Dawn was almost upon the forest as Shadepaw rummaged through the herb stores, trying to be as quiet as possible. She pulled out every traveling herb she knew, feeling as if Spottedleaf were guiding her paws.

She could feel Nightpaw in the distance. He hadn’t come back to camp, and Shadepaw knew from his feeling of companionship that Mistyfoot had not, either – and she had a feeling that they wouldn’t be back for a long time.

Shadepaw bundled up her herbs and was just about ready to leave when she looked back at Brackenfur’s den and saw the golden-brown tom staring right back at her from the shadows.

For a moment, neither of them said anything.

“Are you going to stop me?” Shadepaw asked, her voice steady.

Brackenfur shook his head, his amber eyes flashing with emotion. “No,” he said, gently. “Go, Shadepaw. I know not where StarClan is taking you, but you must follow the destiny they have laid out.”

Shadepaw frowned. “I still think I’m right about that vision, Brackenfur.”

“I hope you are,” Brackenfur admitted. “Go, Shadepaw.”

Shadepaw picked up the herbs in her jaws. Part of her wanted to apologize further to Brackenfur – but she knew she didn’t have time. This was her destiny, and it meant leaving Brackenfur behind, for now. There would be time to work things out between them later, she hoped.

———————————————————-

It was a struggle to navigate the forest with her jaws stuffed. Her eyes were watering and her nose was clogged, and Shadepaw found herself finding her way to Nightpaw using the connection between them rather than scent or sight. It didn’t help that dawn hadn’t yet arrived, and she kept tripping over roots and tangled plants, stumbling around the forest she’d been born in as if it were as unfamiliar as the one in her dream.

She found them by the Thunderpath, huddled beneath one of the Twoleg monsters that were scattered here and there along it. So far the massive, boxy, bright yellow creature had not moved – but its stink penetrated even the herbs clogging Shadepaw’s senses.

It was Nightpaw who spotted her, and he did not look the least bit surprised. Shadepaw felt at the boundaries between them and though the prickly wall was still there, she felt relief coming through the cracks.

Mistyfoot, however, was bristling with shock. “What are you doing here?” she hissed, crawling out from beneath the Twoleg monster.

Shadepaw had to drop her herbs to speak. “I’m coming with you.”

“What?!” Mistyfoot breathed, eyes wide. She turned to Nightpaw. “You told her?! After you said you hadn’t told--”

“He didn’t tell me a thing,” Shadepaw insisted, willing Mistyfoot to believe her.

The blue-gray she-cat looked between Nightpaw and Shadepaw, her eyes flashing skeptically. Shadepaw recalled her vision in the forest, the mist swirling out of Mistyfoot’s pelt and how warm and protective it was – that feeling was in her gaze now as she looked upon the two of them.

“I’m sorry, Shadepaw, you can’t come,” Mistyfoot meowed. “It’s too dangerous.”

“We don’t even know where we’re going, really,” Nightpaw added.

“That doesn’t matter,” Shadepaw meowed. “I know that my destiny lies where you’re going. I can feel it in my heart – and are you seriously telling me that you have no need for a medicine cat?”

Mistyfoot’s jaw opened, and then shut. Nightpaw twitched his tail, embarrassment flooding out of him. Shadepaw raised her chin with satisfaction.

“I think she’s right, Mistyfoot,” Nightpaw sighed. He looked up at Mistyfoot pleadingly. “We could use a medicine cat.”

Mistyfoot’s tail twitched, and Shadepaw wondered if she was too overwhelmed to handle this right now. Her eyes were full of emotion. “I cannot guarantee your safety,” she said quietly.

“We can guarantee our own,” Shadepaw pointed out. “I’m not helpless, and neither is Nightpaw.”

Mistyfoot blinked. “Very well.” There was an immense amount of reluctance in her mew. “Let’s go.”

[fordanoia]

It’s (Not) Okay

Words: 2,400~ || CW: - ||  Paranoid Ford and Mullet Stan, but it goes from embittered banter to eventual concern.

-

The blizzard was too strong for Stanley to leave. It frayed down Ford’s already nervous edges, more time meant more chances for something to go wrong. He had barely gotten to the mention of leaving with the book when he could have sworn he’d heard a noise upstairs. They’d gone up on a brief investigation that led outside. 

There was too much snow and ice sleeting through the air making it nearly impossible to see, but Ford went to the edge of the porch with a wary glance before looking around one side of the house.

He heard Stan say something, but the wind, even diluted on the porch, swept his voice away.

“What?” Ford looked back at him.

Stan, with hands stuffed into his pockets, had barely taken a step even out the door, shoulders hunched against the cold. “I said, Ax murderer’s on the other side.” He said, nodding his head the other direction.

Ford scowled at him. “Yes, you’re very funny.” For a moment though, the imagery still popped up in his mind. He headed back towards the porch so he could go the other direction. “I’m going to check around back.”

“‘Cause someone hiked here in the middle of a blizzard.”

He ignored the comment, walking past Stan to the other side. Trudging into the snow, he made it to the other side feeling a slight relief at seeing nobody there. As he turned the corner he could heard the door to the house closed. What surprised him was then hearing footsteps from the porch getting muffled into the sound of crunching snow. He paused, looking back.

Stan came around the corner, a tired and sulky temperament about him.

Turning, Ford continued walking ahead. “You don’t have to stay.” He shouted over the wind.

“Yeah, I can leave and my car can slide and crash into a tree on my way out. That sounds great!” Stan quipped.

Ford groaned, resisting the urge to take a hand off the crossbow in favor of gripping onto his hair. “How did you even make it here in the first place?!” Ford glanced back at him for only a moment.

“Mostly guessing where the road was because it was either that or get stuck in the middle of this.”

Ford continued trudging through the snow, anxiously turning around to see the back of his house, devoid of any life. He supposed the sound could have been... perhaps a large chunk of ice or snow hitting the house. Or someone else really was still out here.

“Look, Poindexter, if there’s nothing back there, come on. It’s freezing.” Stan complained.

“Well you didn’t have to come out here.” Ford snipped, looking back at him again.

“Yeah, maybe I wanted to make sure you didn’t turn into a damn popsicle. I know you don’t want me here-”

“I literally called you here for help!”

“You called me here to take a book away!”

“The book is important.” Ford emphasized.

“I’m your brother, Ford,” he said, taking his hands out of his pocket to gesture at himself despite the cold, “not a friggin’ mailman!!”

Ford wanted to stomp off and ignore the comment, out of sheer exasperation, but everything weighed his movement down. The heavy snow at his feet, the buffeting wind he had to fight against, the crossbow, and even the journal pulling his coat down. All he could do was breathe in the frigid air and back out again, losing the energy to even continue the argument. “We can’t do anything about that now anyway.”

Stan glanced aside bitterly, stuffing his hands back into his pocket, and muttering something. Right now, Ford didn’t want to know.

Ford started walking back in Stan’s direction to the front of the house. “Come on.” He said, raising his voice to be heard.

Stan turned, no objection as he spearheaded back down the path they’d originally made, making his way with relative ease.

Ford, on the other hand, realized how slow he was moving in comparison to Stan. Even pushing himself, he fell behind. Stan paused at the corner of the house, turning back to him.

“Are there any new snow prints on the porch?” Ford asked.

“Seriously?”

He leveled a tired look at Stan.

“Agh, okay.” Stan went over, shortly jumping up onto the porch out of Ford’s line of sight. “Looks exact same it did two minutes ago.” 

Stan was barely waiting near the door for him when Ford made it around the corner. There didn’t seem to be any new tracks on the porch, so anybody entering in the house during that short minute should have been unlikely. There was always still a slight possibility though.

Once they were both inside again Ford, reluctantly, set the crossbow back down again before turning back all the locks again. He rubbed his face, walking back into the house. “I’m going to make myself some coffee.”

“Uh, why?”

“Because I’m tired.” 

Stan rolled his eyes. “Then I’m raiding your fridge. I’m starving.”

Ford waved a hand in acknowledgment, hardly caring. He didn’t even know what he had in the fridge, but it hardly mattered to him right now.

They entered the kitchen. Stan going for the fridge as Ford rinsed a pot that had the remains of some burnt coffee still at the bottom so he could make a fresh pot. He haphazardly poured the grounds into a filter and pressed the button.

“You don’t put science experiments in here, do you?” Stan grabbed a half empty jug of what was presumably some kind of juice.

He couldn’t even remember the last study or experiment he had done. He grabbed the edge of the counter and leaned his weight onto it. “...I don’t think there’s any left in there.” 

Stan scoffed.

The next thing Ford knew he heard plastic wrapping being torn open and had to lift his head up from where it was nearly touching where his forearms were resting on top of the counter . Looking over, he saw Stan, now beside the pantry, with a cereal bar in hand.

Taking in a breath, Ford pushed himself back up again, quickly tapping his finger against the counter and focusing on the coffee dripping into its pot.

“If you’re tired just go to sleep.” Stan said. 

“I can’t do that.”

“I’m pretty sure you did half a minute ago.” He could practically hear the eyeroll in his brother’s voice.

Ford felt a brief strike of panic. First at the thought that if Stan wasn’t just make a small exaggeration then that had not been a few simple seconds, but a significant window of time. The second, if that was actually a taunt because he was still asleep. He turned, one hand braced on the counter, to warily scan over ‘Stan’ for anything off.

Stan didn’t look any different from how Ford (vaguely) remembered to his arrival. Same haircut, same hoodie, nothing looked out of place --yet--. Stan looked back at him. “Uh, what?”

Ford kept his skeptical gaze on him, half expecting the other to break out into a sharp smile or a cruel taunt that would undoubtedly belong to Bill. The more he thought about how Bill would break the act, the more he expected it and the more determined he became to not let it go.

“Look, Ford, the dead quiet stare isn’t giving me a whole lot to work off of here. What is it?” Stan asked, seriously. It sounded like him, but it could still just as easily be Bill pretending; Ford was sure of that.

As Ford tried to latch onto proof of the dream, he found... evidence to the contrary. His body was as a whole oddly heavy and sore. His fingers burned from being in the direct cold of the freezing wind from outside for too long. He was awake. 

Which meant this was actually Stan. The certain suspicion died down along with the panic, though his nerves still hadn’t recovered from the brief scare. Ford shook his head, realizing he still hadn’t answered Stan. “I just ah... misunderstood you for a moment.”

“Oh my gosh, okay-” Stan set down his food and rubbed at his face. “Ford, seriously, just go to sleep.”

“I already told you I can’t do that.” 

“We’re in the middle of the woods with nothing to do, you can take a nap.” He argued.

“No, I can’t.” Why couldn’t he just let it go?

“Why are you pushing it off?” Stan asked, frustrated. “You’re tired, I just watched you nod off waiting for coffee. You need to sleep-”

“Stanley, I cannot sleep.” Ford interrupted him, trying to stop the tirade Stan had started to work himself into. 

“Why the Hell not?!” 

“Because it’s not safe!!” Ford finally snapped, shouting at him as details of the room blurred into smudges of colors at the edge of his vision now. 

His fingers curled into fists and uncurled again, clenching on and off, as he gestured about, wanting to tear at his own hair. “It’s not safe, Stan! I’m not safe! You have no idea what-?! If someone could be outside the house then I need to be prepared for that! I have to be ready for that because I can’t afford the mistake of being caught off guard! I have to be ready and I can’t let my guard down and I can’t fall asleep-! And if I fall asleep-!” His mind raced ahead to nightmares, the portal standing tall, shards of bloodied glass, chemical burns alongside bruised skin, and a dozen other flashing images that he immediately shut out before he could process anymore of them.

Ford’s chest felt as though it was cracking open through his rib cage just for him to resume breathing. “If I fall asleep then- then a million things could happen. And I can’t do that.” He felt his thoughts on the edge of what he already knew was downward spiral about all the possibilities. He took a deep breath, trying to come back to his present. He should be trying to get Stan to understand. He wouldn’t understand though. It was a lost cause and Ford didn’t know he fighting for it so strongly fighting now.

Ford’s hands were clenched at the back of his head and he had to uncurl his fingers to let go of his hair. “I can’t do that, Stan.” He emphasized firmly. “I can’t, not again. There’s a universal doomsday machine downstairs that can’t activate and other... other dangers, I have to stay awake.”

“Look...” Stan took a step towards him, the pause giving them both a few brief seconds of respite. “You can’t stay awake forever. You literally can’t do it, Ford.” He pointed out. “You need to sleep.”

“Just for as long as I can then. Not forever.” Ford evaded, pushing away the inevitable and turning again towards the counter.

“Hey, I can stay awake for you.” Stan said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Keep an eye out to make sure nothing happens so you can sleep.”

A disappointing weight dropped in Ford’s stomach. Ford glanced back briefly at Stan and shook his head, mind muddying through the thought process of coming up with a reasonable excuse that wasn’t the truth. The truth was too complicated and messy, among other things. 

“Hell, I mean I’m here, aren’t I? Not like I can go on a hike or anything like that right now.” Stan gave a familiar carefree smile that no doubt preempted a joke. “Well, I could, but hey I’m not a big fan of freezing to death.” He said with a shrug 

Ford didn’t know why it felt like a kick in the gut. He looked back towards the coffee pot. “It’s just... dangerous.”

“Come on, I know how to hold my own, you know that. Just look at me. I’m a hard guy to get past.”

That wasn’t the problem. He shook his head again. “It’s not safe.” He told him in what was suppose to be a finalizing tone to put the conversation to rest. Instead it came out wearied and with an undertone that just sounded defeatist even to his own ears. 

There was a short silence, Stan’s hand on his shoulder flexed momentarily. Ford hoped..... He didn’t know what he hoped for. It would have been better if he

“Hey,” Stan’s voice was entirely earnest now. “It’s okay.” 

The words took Ford by surprise, existing above everything else for a moment, firmly hanging in the air like an anchor that refused to move. 

“Stanford, it’s okay.” Stan said again in that same tone, insistent now. 

Stan made it sound like an unshakeable truth, but it wasn’t and Ford knew that. Every objective fact about his situation was ample proof that it wasn’t true. He couldn’t let himself believe it just because he wished it was true, because he was just so tired of... 

“I don’t know.” Ford said, needing to say something before Stan could again. He was already far too close to relenting to something he knew could easily end in a horrible mess. The slightest sliver of a chance that it wouldn’t wasn’t something he should be considering. “I don’t think it is,” he said, looking back at Stan.

“Then we’ll make it okay.” Stan countered resolutely. 

A weak laugh left Ford, leaving his body limp. “You can’t just say that like it’s going to be true no matter what..”

Stan hummed. “Mmm, yeah, actually, I can. I’m a lot more resilient than I get credit for, you know.”

A corner of Ford’s lip turned up into a small smile. “I am too, but this is...” He started to sober up again, the smile dropping as he thought back to Bill and tried to come up with apt adjective for his situation. “It’s a lot,” he finally said.

“Just take an hour then.” Stan said. “Come on.”

Ford paused, knowing that if they stayed on the subject that... eventually Ford would convince himself that the nap would be alright purely because he wanted it to be true. He put his hands up before combing back his hair trying to pull himself together. “Give me a couple more hours.” He said, looking at him. “I just need to think.”

Stan held in his breath before letting it go, taking his hand off of Ford’s shoulder. “Suit yourself, but if you start falling asleep again don’t think I’m keeping quiet.”

“I wouldn’t want you to.” Ford said, relaxing. He glanced behind himself to the coffee. At the very least, even if he did decide to sleep putting it off for an hour or two more would be okay. What was the difference in one more delay?

[draconivn]

C.006 | Daughter of the Takeda

Disclaimer: I don’t own Samurai Love Ballad: PARTY or its characters. Hints of spoilers to one of the routes. Summary: You wanted to do more than just be in the kitchen like any woman would’ve known how to do. You want to explore. You want to become so much more. But when you live in a world of war, what you decide to do in your past ends up following you to your future, even though the battlefield is no place for a woman. Will you find love or will you only find blood? Saizo x OC MC Masterpost: LINK

Chapter 6: My Duty Is To My Heart

Milady, are you sure this is a good idea?

My eyes were focused on the sight in front of me, a mix of trees and branches as we ran through the woods. I had changed back to my clothing from when I first arrived at Tsutsujigasaki disguised as my brother, though I had fashioned it to be similar to what Saizo wore as I found it would be more flexible to allow me to move more easily, and also donned a mask to hide my face and hair.

My conscience had been screaming at me ever since that war council. It was like it was telling me to do something about it, to take myself away from the castle and just scour the forest like I used to do when I was a child. One visit turned into a second, then another. The wolf pack had eventually started joining me on these visits, taking the time to just be one with nature by hunting, living, and dashing through the forest like I had lived in it all my life and knew it better than the back of my knife.

Sen was running at my side, keeping up with my pace as we moved soundlessly, my hair tied up in a high ponytail so it wouldn’t get in the way. It won’t be a problem. Barely anyone comes up here.

The voice of Sen’s mate, Gou, spoke up, deeper and expressed concern in his tone, Someone might see you, Milady.

I found myself at the hill where Lord Shingen had shown me, knowing my troubles needed to be at ease. Out here, no one could follow me and it didn’t stop Sen and Gou from being with me, without guards or walls, or the barricades of my mind as I lay my thoughts bare to the view. I had the afternoon off since I had been up earlier than the others to start breakfast, while my mask was lowered to let my hair loose and flow with the evening wind as the sun was getting ready to set.

I sat between them as we fell into our silent conversation. I didn't like scolding them but the conversation of their parents being at the battle of Biwa had raised a little more concern than the Takeda army would’ve liked. I was tempted to speak out at that war council, but instead, I bit my tongue and played innocent.

What’s stopping you? Sen asked.

I looked down for a moment then to her. I’m afraid that I’ll hurt everyone around me again.

You’re already hurting yourself even more. You can hardly make your own decisions anymore. It seems like others are doing it for you, or saying what you can hardly find it in you to say.

I kept silent, not knowing how to word my feelings. Biting my lip, I knew she was right and it made me turn my attention to the view in front of us. After a moment, I replied to her, I know there’s a lot of consequences in doing what my heart wants to do, but my part of me wants to be selfish… Can I still kill another man? Can I accept throwing away my feelings on and off the battlefield?

Gou decided to speak up. Is it because of the shinobi?

Without a doubt, my feelings for Saizo had grown despite the constant teasing from the other retainers about me possibly marrying Lord Yukimura. It wasn’t something I could ignore, watching Lord Yukimura stammer as the suggestions had only spurred on awkward interactions between the both of us. Lord Yukimura was a kind man, someone who deserved a good wife, but without a doubt, him knowing my secret would only make him worry and he would only withhold me from the duty I wished to fulfill.

All the same, Saizo maybe wouldn’t have cared. If anything, he was distant, his reactions confused me, making me wonder if I was doing the right thing around him before I eventually learned how he talked. He avoided anything to be a pain in the ass, but that was Saizo for you. He only stuck to his personal code. And love wasn’t anywhere near that personal code, when Iga was his boss. He had a duty of his own to fulfill.

I smiled sadly at him. Even if there was a chance at it, I had made peace with the fact that we couldn’t be more than what we already were without Iga breathing down his neck. If even a common man could love me, could he accept what I was capable of doing?

Everyone has a chance at love, Milady, but it all comes– Gou’s ears perked up at sensing someone was approaching, causing them to get up and duck away quickly just as Lord Shingen came into view.

“Zaria.”

I had tried hiding my face with my back to him, but I didn’t have enough time to put on my mask and the sound of my name from his lips told me there wasn’t a point in hiding. Biting my lower lip, I turned to face him and bowed my head. “Lord Shingen. It’s not what it looks like–”

“I was wondering where you were.”

My head snapped up to look at him.

His gaze seemed to follow where Sen and Gou had disappeared off to before looking back at me. "When I couldn't find you anywhere, I figured this is where you might be.”

Would it be out of line for me to say you've become a bit predictable lately, Milady? Gou asked and I tried my best to not glare at him, hearing Sen chuckle at the comment.

I bowed my head in apology immediately. “Pardon me for being so hard to find, Milord. I didn’t think it would be a problem–”

“... Did Yukimura say something to upset you?"

I blinked, turning my attention back to him. "I beg your pardon, Milord?"

"During the last war council you served us at, you seemed upset. I would’ve asked you sooner, but it seems you’re constantly busy with other things." He paused, glancing to the bushes. "Was it about you possibly marrying Yukimura? Or was it the comment about you becoming my Fangs?"

I knew Lord Shingen had to do some digging in order to find out my name and there was a chance he knew about that, but he had never acknowledged it until now.

"I don't expect you to come to the battlefield, Zaria, but I do still find it a waste that your talents aren't being used to the fullest. You know as well as I do that it won't be long before anyone finds out, not to mention a pack of wolves around and out of their element instead of being up in Oshu where it’s colder."

I felt like I still had to justify that. "Milord… they are here on their own volition. I have already relinquished my leadership before coming here. It’s only Sen and Gou that follows me."

"But they still hold a loyalty to you, don't they? Wolves would naturally seek out a new leader once their old one has passed on or been defeated, yet after all this time, they still look to you. That says something, Zaria."

Smart man, this one, Sen commented.

My brows knit together as I tried to understand what he was asking of me in this entire conversation.

"What's stopping you, Zaria? Is it the prospect of marriage? There’s still time to think about marriage after the battle. I wouldn’t let it worry you right now.”

I shook my head. Bit by bit, marriage by love had really been the least of my worries. I knew I would have to resign myself if I were to accept his proposal, but my heart called to serve him in the one way I knew I was able to, as I had done back then. Serving a samurai household meant throwing away the feelings I could never have if I wanted to be myself. Everyone in the Takeda had principles and my principle was that I couldn't go home to my bed and not do anything.

That principle was what triggered all of this.

The stark memory resonated with me that it made me look at my hands, recalling how they were stained with so much blood, not only my father's, but Nagamasa and the many soldiers I had poisoned. The way my father laid on the grass… “Milord, I don’t know if I can after…”

“If you’re hesitant, what made you go out today?”

What was I thinking when I did decide to do this all? What was I hoping to achieve by going out into the forest without anyone knowing who I was? Why did I work so hard to make sure no one knew it was me?

“I…”

“Are you about to do something without telling us, and defy your commander again? I don’t think I should be surprised if you’ve already done so since you’ve been on the move.”

I blinked. “Lord Shingen, I don’t mean to make it seem like that. I want to help but I… I don’t know if I can kill again.”

“What happened that day was not your fault. It was ours for overlooking it.”

My fingers curled into fists and nails dug into my palm as I shook my head. "I-It's not your fault, Lord Shingen… I-I… I acted carelessly, thinking it would end the battle!" I was overconfident, not once thinking about reinforcements.

What was I thinking? I was twelve. I was naive to the strategies of war that it cost my father his life. Teardrops fell to the ground.

He approached me, not allowing my emotions to cloud how he spoke to me. "Then both sides are at fault, Zaria. But what will you do about it? Did you resign yourself to mourning and never be able to live up to what your father fought for, or will you try to take it and ensure your father didn't die in vain?"

I knew Lord Shingen wouldn’t just allow an emotional reason to get in the way, but it felt like he was trying to convince me. With every excuse I had for him, he counteracted it to soothe my worries and bring me a step closer to one decision than the other.

I looked at Lord Shingen. "I…" I couldn't get the words out. I didn't want to leave Lord Shingen's side, a feeling I know resonates with the men and women of the Takeda.

He felt just as responsible for that day as I did, and we both carried it for the past eight years.

I had made a firm resolve at the restaurant that I wanted to live my father's legacy and do right by him, but I always felt like it was never enough. I wanted to protect my family, and that stuck through and through in bringing me to Tsutsujigasaki as a poison taster in my brother's place. It was like something called me to protect and serve, and it was that calling to fight I had told Lord Shingen the first time we met that still braced me, but my fears always held me back.

"You are to fight with us, Zaria." His words came across as an order rather than suggesting it.

I swallowed hard. With that one line, he ripped away all my insecurities and that calling I had spoken to him so many years before was ringing louder and louder. My feelings for Saizo could fade, but my call to service was always there. "Are you really sure?" It was a familiar scene before my eyes, but this time, there was no question of doubting hanging in the air. Everything that I was unsure about doing, he decided to pick at and order me to do it all without a word of protest. I wanted so much to protect everyone, as well as protect my heart.

"You move like a kunoichi, but you will become an onna-bugeisha of the Takeda."

My eyes widened at his words. There were very few onna-bugeisha in history, the first one being an empress, before the rise of the samurai class. They were skilled in martial arts and weaponry to be able to fight in battle. But most importantly… “Lord Shingen, to receive a title of an onna-bugeisha who is a noblewoman…”

“As your father, I don’t see that as a problem.”

As I was reeling from the decision, Sen and Gou emerged from the bushes, looking between us then back to me. Then, just like that day that I asked Rai to join me on the battlefield, I looked to them, Will you join me on the battlefield?

Milady, why do you wish to fight? Sen asked.

I had to steel my resolve and not allow anything but my heart to guide me in my duty to serve at his side to battle. I no longer had to think of my reason. Because I wish to fight and protect the people I care about, so they can come home.

What about Saizo?

We can break more hearts than he can.

It was like Sen wanted to shake her head at me as I smiled at her, her eyes twinkling at me as we held this non-verbal communication. If your heart so chooses this path, we will follow.

They approached me to stand on either side of me, proceeding to bow their heads to Lord Shingen. I wouldn’t have been anywhere without the pack, and they were my support, just as Lord Shingen had the clan.  

“It is an honour, Milord.” I bowed.

[mishaelle-starsong]

A Tuneless Requiem

Scarred, callused fingers played over the harp strings with little direction, lofting gentle disharmonies into the air. She could have made something from them, could have chosen a piece to play, but why? There was no audience to please, no events worth praising. Something for Elune, perhaps? No, nothing for the goddess. The Moon received her worship in the aspect of the Night Warrior now, and Star had left offerings all over Darkshore.

The coincidental unsong continued unabated, doing little but providing a focusing outlet. Her mind was… not what it once was, she supposed. Not a deterioration of function; rather she felt the edges sharpening again. She'd been mostly feral in the past. As the remnants of "civilizing" fell away, she knew she was becoming so again. I shouldn't let myself go. It was a thought she acknowledged without necessarily agreeing to. There were reasons to be wary, yes, but they were few.

A sudden confluence of notes produced a chord she thought she recognized, sliding her play into a learned pattern before she noticed what was happening. The song was an old one, full of meaning, though she couldn't recall the proper name anymore. The words escaped her as well, though they felt on the edge of her consciousness. She couldn't blame them for being evasive: most of her mind was being drawn back through years of memory.

Most of what she saw was painful. Vae was there, her quiet strength filling the space in her mind that was now vacant in her heart. A decade wasn't much in the span of a Kaldorei lifetime, but their decade had meant more to her than any other. It hurt, but she let the memories in anyway. A little suffering was fine; what was a life without it?

"Do you remember how we met?" The voice was clear in her mind, a perfect crystallization of Vae's gentleness. "You arrived in Shattrath such a mess, covered in blood and mostly incoherent. Your friend was there, too, though she seemed in much better shape. You said you'd jumped out a window, using your own body to cushion her landing. None of us knew why you'd done it, and you never did explain…"

The story went on, flowing over and through her, narrated by the most important voice in her life and one she expected to never hear again. There had been some flirting, of course; back then Star had done so regularly and one's options became extremely limited while recovering from a broken leg. It had become more than that, of course. The drift from joking to hesitant to serious had taken nearly a year. She'd told Vae her real name shortly after that, providing a clear demarcation of the change in status.

"Misha," said the voice, laughter clear in the way the name was formed, "aren't we such a pair? Both too stubborn for our own good, intent on keeping even the worst promises we make, no matter how they hurt us. Oh, mush'al, we're the most perfect fools, aren't we?"

Star nodded slowly, a tear escaping her good eye. How long since she'd been called mush'al, beloved, in their shared tongue? How long since she'd heard it without the heartache caused by her actions? How long since--

She twitched aside, the arrow burying itself in the thick wood of the harp. Others were coming, she knew, but this was nothing to her. Star was rolling, turning, evading, even as she calculated the source.

"Very rude of you," she said, loud enough to be heard, "to interrupt a private performance with violence. I suppose undeath shouldn't be expected to improve manners, should it?"

Another arrow missed, narrowly; the next deflected from her blade.

"Come now, sister, surely you have something to say. I would like to hear it before I kill you. Believe it or not, I do care about our fallen." She paused to deal with a barrage of projectiles, weapons blurring with the speed of her movement. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

"You left us to die," came the accusation, twisted and hollowed out by the cruelties of undeath. "Keep your lies."

Under the hatred was something recognizable, something she'd heard years before. Familiarity. Where? When? She let her memory range as she continued her circuitous trek.

"Is that you, Myrastra? No, you don't have to answer, I know it is. Do you recognize my voice? It's understandable if not, we've both been through so much since then." Incongruously, she found herself laughing. "I guess we could say the same for the stronghold, too. Just a washed out ruin off the coast now. Rebuilt or not, it's not the same. The new one isn't really home for us, is it?"

The growl was quiet, off to one side, not as distant as before. It preceded the creak of a bow being drawn, also barely audible, providing better direction. Star dove from the ruined building in the opposite direction, fractional seconds ahead of the next volley.

"Shandris spoke highly of you. I should have been more open with my praise, too. I wasn't good at it then." Another chuckle. "Not that I'm any better now, but I sometimes manage to recognize when someone deserves to be told something clearly rather than assuming they know. I was never a good leader like that."

"Then shut up," the risen Sentinel hissed, an arrow accompanying her words. "Shut up and die."

Star ignored the request. "I can help you, you know. Not give back your old life, but at least free you from this one. It's bad enough to find yourself enslaved by the foolish descendants of the Highborne who fled rather than be reasonable. I can only imagine what it must be like to have them be undead as well. The levels of abomination are striking, no?"

A snarl, filled with words. "You're hardly one to talk, Illidari. How you even found time to betray us is-"

"Shut your fool mouth, Astra." Even she was surprised at the anger in her voice. "I'm as Illidari as you are Azshari."

Conversation paused briefly, arrows providing their own input.

"These runes," Star continued, "are not a sign that I follow the Betrayer. I helped recapture him, you know, and would have gladly removed his head given the chance. My tattoos exist because, like you, I would do anything to save our people and this world. Others fought the Legion. With these markings? I destroyed the Legion."

The fallen Sentinel was silent then, though her bowstring continued to sing. She was nearly in position. Star decided to delay her death, hoping to get through first. She owed one of Shandris's troops that much.

"You died for our home, as did so many before you. I sacrificed the only happiness I've known since the Sundering to keep this world whole. We share the same commitment, Astra, the same goal. I just haven't been twisted to serve the Blighter."

"I serve no one!" The cry of denial would have been more believable if the accompanying shot had been remotely steady.

"You're doing what Sylvanas wants," Star went on, "even after she burned Teldrassil. She poisoned our lands and murdered our families, and now you help her make it even worse. You can't blame this on being 'betrayed', Myrastra. Every one of us knows we may have to give our lives in defense of our people. I'm sorry you died like that, but don't make it worse."

She found shelter in the moonshadow of a great tree, waiting. No sound from her opponent for a minute, then another and another. Nothing at all until the keening wail split the darkness, standing every hair on Star's body on end. Hardened as she was, it still put a shiver down her spine. Beneath the cry, though, she heard something else and something more: the latter was regret, the former a bowstave snapping.

The one-eyed warrior rushed over to the risen Kaldorei, ready to kill at the slightest hint of deception. Myrastra was on her knees, staring into the sky without seeing, clutching at her eyes. Bloodless furrows had been gouged into the flesh of her face; the curls of skin were still stuck under her fingernails.

"Astra," she said as gently as she knew, "it's not your fault."

The blank gaze lowered to her, the undead expression still one of shock. "I… let her make me one of them," she whispered, horrified. "I became one of them. A tool, a… a traitor. Goddess help me, I…"

She trailed off, leaving it to Star to put more words between them. "You're not the only one. But you're not a traitor. You didn't get a choice. What she did to you is… irredeemable, but that doesn't mean you are."

Myrastra shook her head, unfocused once more. "I can't. I don't know what's happening anymore, I'm losing it all suddenly, I… who are you?" Her voice lowered further. "Who am I?"

"You're Sentinel Captain Myrastra Duskarbor, one of General Shandris Feathermoon's officers. You're a skilled archer, a good leader, someone your troops can look up to."

"No, I… I don't think that's right. I'm… I'm fairly certain, actually, that I… that I… that-"

A softer heart would have been caught offguard then, but Star had never been one of those. Whatever cruel magic Astra had broken free of reasserted itself, contorting her features once more into a mask of hate. She ignored the undead Kaldorei's dagger entirely, twisting so as to let it get buried and stuck in the part of her side where it would do the least damage. That left her free to cleanly separate the head and body with a quick stroke of her sword.

She cleaned her blades and sheathed them before removing the dagger, grunting as it pulled free. Star held it out without looking, knowing her constant companion was nearly there. "I don't think it's poisoned, Ora, but you should check to be sure. There's no burning indicating it, and most of the time they only apply it to arrows anyway, but assumptions get people killed."

The young druid resumed her elven form to take the weapon, turning her focus toward its bloody blade. "I sense no toxins on this or in your blood upon it. What about your wound, Shan'do? Shall I heal it?"

Star glanced down then back to her peculiar apprentice. "No, I don't think so. The runes would likely interfere and it won't slow me down while it heals."

"But it may leave blood that would allow us to be followed."

"Very true. Excellent thinking." She didn't smile but her eye reflected the approval. "No healing, though, we'll just burn it closed."

Orellanine nodded. "Will we also burn her?" She pointed to the decapitated remains.

Star shook her head, sighing. "No. We'll… I'll carry her with us and we'll make sure she's properly dedicated to Elune. Myrastra deserves that much for breaking through. I almost regret killing her."

Ora didn't ask why. Star didn't elaborate.

[pennys-th0ughts]

Loser... 🥀

Neibolt Street 🏡 (Chapter 2)

After a long time living in the same town, that night became in a peculiar experience I would hardly forget. Liz and I took the first train to Derry at midnight wearing our outfits and carrying only a small bag of clothes. The night was pleasant and the sky was starry and clear. Summer nights were slowly leaving making way to cooler ones and bearable days, hot season was coming to its end and Liz and I would need to find some where to protect ourselves from the future cold.

Liz was sleeping using my legs as a pillow whilst I was resting against a feed bale using my bag of clothes also as a pillow. The train was at its full capacity and there was no room in the passengers wagons so we had to travel in the freight car until we could get to our destination. I woke up in the middle of the night with a start feeling a little disoriented and thirsty. I placed Liz's head in a comfortable position and got up to stretch my legs for a moment and drink some water. After having a couple of sips I began pacing from one corner of the wagon to another trying to remember the awkward dream I just had but most parts of it were blurry. Getting the pieces back together of a dream was usually not difficult for me but this time I couldn’t even remember, the only thing I was aware of was the feeling it left in me that was still making me shiver and those bright lights​...

I was adrift in my thoughts when a hand landed on my shoulder and squeezed it gently. Liz was standing behind me with a soft smile and an inquiring look in her face. She was trying so hard to figure me out that sometimes I kept asking myself if I was worthy enough to be with her and her seemingly endless patience and understanding. She had become in my calm when tempestuous thoughts threatened to take away my inner peace. We had shared so much in so little time that thinking of spending the rest of my life with her and the time we still had ahead of us often took my sleep away at night. I grabbed Liz by the waist and hugged her gently whilst we were watching the moving night landscape.

Morning light and the first rays of sun began caressing our skin with its warm fingers and the distant chirping was far but still charming. We arrived to Derry nearly at noon and it seemed it would be another hot day. Liz and I took the chance to change our clothes to more fresh ones while we were still on the train to avoid the blazing air bursts. It was mandatory in order to remain healthy, otherwise fever and dizziness would surely affect us. We got out of the wagon and made our way to the nearest motel; we would wait there and begin looking for a job next day. If we wanted to get our lives back on track we would have to start covering the primary holes in the walls​ of our existence, but for now we would enjoy the rest of the day and rest. It had been a long night and Liz and I were starving, exhausted and full of dirt so we paid a room at the Holiday Inn motel, left our belongings and went straight to the diner.

Being low-key and not drawing much attention to us was our best choice for now until local people get used to our faces, we didn’t want to be spotted by unwanted eyes. Fortunately, before leaving the circus, we managed to gather some money to endure the hard times lying ahead of us. Liz had many qualities and she wouldn’t reject any opportunity for she was clever, dynamic and gentle and I could bet she would do anything to get us through any situation and so would I. Curiously in the diner we were about to have lunch there was a job notice stuck to the door, the owner was needing a new waitress since the one working there was expecting family and it was a wonderful opportunity for Liz. Once we finished eating she approached to the counter and asked to speak with the owner of the place. A few minutes later an elderly man came out from the kitchen’s door, he seemed to be in his mid-sixties, white hair covered most part of his head and beard and his expression was serene. I watched them talk all the way and the man’s manners were extremely polite, he kept his distance from my wife and that gave me some confidence about her working here. Once they finished they both shook hands and Liz made his way to the table.

– I got the job, my love ��� she gave me the good news with a wide smile on her face-. I'm taking the night shift for now until the owner figure out the new schedule.

– ¡Congratulations, sweetheart! – I kissed her knuckles and proposed a toast to celebrate.

We got to the motel with our bellies full and feeling less tired but the need of taking a shower was imperative so we headed to the bathroom taking our clothes off on our way. Liz opened the hot water tap; we waited a little and got under the shower. The sensation of the warm water crashing against our bodies was instantly pleasant and, above all, relaxing. I took a piece of cloth Liz used to use in her baths and began rubbing her shoulders slowly and following the vertical lines of her back. A soft moan came out of her mouth that let me know she was enjoying the moment as much I was and that was the encouragement I needed to go further. I pressed her against the wall and made her mine until both got satisfied.

The nap that followed repaired my energies completely making me feel like a new man and optimistic so I took advantage of that and decided it was now my turn to go out and find something to do for living since Liz had already taken the initiative. I had already set myself the goal of getting a job that very same day or the next day at most. Liz got dressed, brushed her long hair and put a discrete makeup whilst I got ready to go out with her and take a different path and acknowledge the new town we decided to live in. I would go and pick her up by the end of her shift so she didn’t have to make her way back to the motel on her own so late at night.

I decided to take the main street and walk until its end and then take another street and so on. Having an afternoon stroll wouldn’t be bad idea and would speed things up in matter of job so I kept walking. After half an hour wandering I stopped in front of an old house for sale, it was a little spoiled but it had its charms. I was feeling confident enough so I decided to have some words with one of the neighbors. I knocked at the door and some minutes later an old lady showed up carrying a small Pomeranian dog in her arms. I introduced myself and told her about the house I just saw.

– ¡Oh yes! – She exclaimed with what seemed to be a mixture of enthusiasm and upset.

– ¿What can you tell me about that house, Mrs. Marsh?

I asked her all I wanted to know about the property whilst we were drinking a refreshing lemonade she just had made and kindly offered me when I sat down on her sofa. The lady was very kind and attentive. Before having a sit I walked around the living room looking at all her family portraits. She apparently came to town when the house in question wasn’t built yet, what was in fact the reason why she would get so upset every time she would have to talk about it. After a fire that burned said house to the ground, the people that kept on building in that place would start suspecting that the ground was cursed since every time a construction ended something bad would happen. Fortunately I wasn’t the kind of man who based his life on superstitions and Liz based her beliefs that as long you put love in everything you would do, then the outcome will surely worth any kind of sacrifice, so it would be easy to do something about that house.

I thanked Mrs. Marsh for the hospitality, and before I could leave her house, she stopped me at the front door holding me softly by my forearm.

– Be careful, Mr. Gray – she warned me and let go of my arm-. The foundations of that place my not be good to build or live there for a reason…

I nodded in silence but with a cordial smile and left. I passed by the property once more and pictured a wonderful house, simple but cozy with a front garden, some sunflowers in it and a not so tall tree to sit under its shadow during the hot days of summer. I started my way back to pick up Liz from the diner since it was surely about to close. I speeded up the pace the last couple of blocks to get there just in time she was getting out. Once she saw me she waved her hand in the air with a big smile and walked towards me. I greeted her with a kiss and gently pinched her cheek as I always did; we hold hands and made our way to the motel. As we headed back I revealed to Liz my thoughts about owning that house at almost the end of the Neibolt street. She showed a great predisposition and excitement to the idea and couldn’t stop talking about it until we got to the motel and went to bed.

A month later…

Hard work, a few bruises and some tears of joy followed before we could finish refurbishing the future place we were about to live in. The house looked splendid and all our efforts worth it. Liz was more than satisfied with the results in the garden and several plants were giving their first flowers despite autumn was getting close. I got a low labor season and getting a job was giving me hard time but despite a few setbacks and being bumping from one job to another, I finally managed to get one at the local fair for a whole season. Liz jumped with joy when she knew I will have a stable work at the fair and congratulated me preparing a rich dinner that night.

Halloween was coming and the preparations were keeping everyone in town hectic as if the town itself was one big anthill. People were coming and going taking with them paper bags full of groceries, ornaments and pumpkins. Every single store was ornamented with orange, yellow and red lights; witches and bats card board figures were hanging everywhere and some carved pumpkins with evil faces were already meddling on the way on the sidewalks​.

– This is amazing – Liz couldn’t keep at bay her admiration for such creative season of the year. She was holding my arm and squeezing it from time to time as if she were a little child about to get her new present.

I proposed to take a walk in the park and maybe sit in one of the benches to have some fresh air. She happily accepted, we turned back in the next corner and headed there. While walking our way back to the main park some little kids passed us by, some of them laughing and some others encouraging the current race. Liz put her head on my shoulder whilst watching the children get lost among other pedestrians. In that moment I knew what she was trying to tell me without using words and the thought made me smile.

Once we could find an empty bench and take a sit, Liz grabbed my hand in the way that could only mean one thing. It didn’t take me long to figure her out and how she liked to express the important things she often had in mind. I took a deep breath and listened to her carefully. She revealed me what she was longing and the idea of starting a family was something I hadn’t ruled out since I also wanted to experience that whilst I was still young and strong. Liz made a pause and I took the chance to step in to express what I was also feeling. Her sparkling eyes, despite the sun was already long gone, were the reason my heart would always melt. It was an unknown territory but we would get through it together. The statue of a lumberjack with an ax on his right shoulder and his friendly smile standing in front of us became the only witness of a new phase in our lives.

Back at home I was preparing dinner and Liz was in the backyard sitting on the edge of the old well. She used to like to spend some moments there, surrounded by the sounds of the crickets and the nature. Every time she came inside the house she often brought some new ideas and this time she brought more than ideas. We had dinner, drank some red wine and stayed for some minutes staring at each other in silence, then she grabbed my hand and took me to the bedroom. I was more than sure she would definitely take the best of me that night.

To be continued…

Image: Jeffrey Everett

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day One Hundred Twenty-One: Sanity ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: A Light Amongst Shadows ] [ AO3 Link ]

The rumors, though he couldn’t know for sure, Sasuke was convinced had started long before he returned to Konoha. About how he was unhinged. Deranged. Insane. The longer his journey went on - the more desperate his actions became - the more depraved the people of Konoha assumed him to be.

Oh, but if only they knew the city of blood and bone they called home...the foundation built on the bodies of his kinsmen beginning with Madara’s betrayal. If only they knew just how much he had to avenge...to bring justice to.

And in reality, it went much further than that. The very system of shinobi had been crafting villages out of corpses since their foundings. Hence his wish to wipe out the prior Kage. To clear the slate, and make way for a new era free from the ideals of the people that had brought them to the brink of extinction.

Insanity in the eyes of many...but he’d thought the notion sound. The only way to let a dying tree recover...is to remove the rotting branches that hinder it. Only then can the wound close, and the flora flourish. If you leave what is diseased, it will only spread once you turn your back until the entire thing withers.

They claim now that those in power are leaving behind the ways of the past.

...he’ll wait and see.

For now, he’s back in the village of his birth. A place of conflicted feelings. It was here, for seven years, he lived with his clan. Not all happy memories, but...all he has left of them. And yet here, too, were they murdered for daring to stand up for themselves and against their oppression.

Only recently as the council been outed, the clans united against their executive orders. Having narrowed his gaze to tending to Konoha, rather than attempt to cure the world...Sasuke hopes this will be a large first step in trimming Konoha of its hindered branches.

But his return, though celebrated by some...hasn’t been so for many. The very day he arrived - and it’s going on four months now - he heard the whispers. Seen the sidelong glances, the scowls, the glares.

As expected.

In all honesty, he hasn’t been paying them much mind. He’s one of the two strongest shinobi in their world. He’s hardly scared of some wary civilians or petty chūnin. The only people who could really give him any trouble wouldn’t dare.

...but that doesn’t mean they aren’t among the masses.

Upon returning, Sasuke didn’t waste any time making his sentiments known. He still held resentment for his team’s treatment of him. Of Sakura’s shallow obsession, or Naruto’s so-called friendship. He’d confronted them before leaving: asking them how they could, in good conscience - after learning all he had learned about the Uchiha, and the council’s decision to eliminate them - still think the best course of action was to drag him back, unwillingly, to his family’s slaughtering grounds. Better yet, when asked what plans they’d had to address such injustice?

Nothing. Not a word. Not a single hint or idea of how they’d have helped him seek recompense for all his clan had faced.

“Admit it. All you two cared about was getting the boy you thought I was back,” he’d hissed, holding no bars. “Sakura, you wanted me to come back and fall in love with you. As if I ever could with someone so superficial. Naruto...you’ve always claimed to be my friend. But when have you ever listened to me…? Taken my thoughts, my feelings, into account? Both of you...had imagined yourselves owed my time and attention. Because we were classmates, teammates, friends. But when did either of you ever take the time to acknowledge all I faced…? All I’d gone through? Never. Any time I tried to think for myself - make my own decisions - you forbade me!

“And on what grounds? You had no right to decide my future for me...when you gave no thought to my past. I chose to learn under Orochimaru. Never did I need your permission. Even if I was a missing nin because of it...it wasn’t your place to tell me what I could and couldn’t do in order to achieve my goals...goals no one ever offered me help with. Never did I want your attention, your friendship. All I ever wanted...was to get through my training, and avenge my clan. The rest was fodder. Unnecessary. A distraction. And whenever I prioritized my plans? Whenever I tried to leave behind what I never wanted in the first place? You took it as a personal slight. Tried to control me. I never wanted a team. Friends. No matter what you thought, you weren’t something I ever asked for. So to act like I owed you anything...was a joke.

“And it’ll be a damn long time before either of you learn that lesson...and longer still before you can make up to me all you did to me. The only time I ever confronted either of you was when you stood in my way. Otherwise? I’d never had raised a hand to you. It was you who put yourselves in my path. Impeded my progress. What choice did I have but to fight back? And when I dared stray…? Sakura, you whined and pleaded to Naruto. And Naruto? You insisted on beating me into submission until I bent to your will. Without any consideration for what I wanted, or needed. All that mattered was that you two wanted for me. That’s not friendship. Not even close.”

Needless to say...it left both of them giving him wary looks from then on. And he simply ignored them. He spoke his truth. His feelings on the matter. If they couldn’t see that...well, then he still wouldn’t want them.

Even now, they too look to him as though he’s ready to snap at any moment. As though he’s entirely unstable, devoid of his sanity. Practically everyone outside his family assumes he’s a lit fuse, just waiting for the right moment to go off. As short as his patience may have run at times - as driven as he was, no matter what actions he had to take - he’s not that boy anymore.

But none of them bother to see that.

...none, that is, but one.

Hinata faced her own sets of challenges. Some, oddly enough, ran parallel to Sasuke’s own. Dismissive fathers, hurtful brother figures that showed truer colors, underestimated members of ‘royal’ dōjutsu clans...while Hinata may not have lost her clan, her so similar position in one meant understanding more than most.

Of course, her connections to the twins’ mother helped in that. She was privy to far more far earlier than the rest of them before taking down the council. She, therefor, was able to see Sasuke in a much more comprehensive light.

Never has she looked down on him since his return. Shied from him. Glared at him or whispered. She just...treats him like any other person.

And gods is he thankful for that.

“So...think I’m nuts like everyone else?”

She’d startled, looking to him in shock. “I...w-what?”

His head had tilted to the rest of their group. “...they all seem to think I’m a ticking time bomb. A landmine just waiting to be stepped on. But you don’t walk on eggshells like they seem to. Why?”

Pale eyes blinked, thinking. “...because...I understand what you did. And why. While I can’t imagine having l-lost what you lost...I have to wonder if I would have - could have - done the same in their name. To me...you were v-very brave. Maybe flawed, in some ways...but you still put their justice above all else...even morality. And to learn that such a tragedy was orchestrated…” Her head had shook. “...I admire how you handled it, in the end. It couldn’t have been easy. But...though you made some wrong choices, you seem determined to make the right ones now. You want Konoha to be better. And...it needs to be better.

“So no...I don’t think you’re unstable.” Her head tilted, looking almost through him, or so he thought. “...I think...you’ve changed a lot. And g-grown. You’ve been through so much, Sasuke-kun. To make it out alive was miracle enough. I think...anyone in your shoes would have been just as affected as you were. Just because they didn’t experience what you did - just because they can’t understand - doesn’t m-mean they should treat you lesser. You’re doing your best...and doing better all the time. I hope...someday, the rest of them will see that.”

...would it be any wonder then, that one of the few he left with a clean slate - and who in turn let his be clean when he returned - would be the one he’d lose his heart to?

     I...dunno if I did this QUITE as I wanted, but...as usual, I'm left to do this very late, with limited time, so...I did my best ^^;      The original fic that got me into SasuHina - A Traitor Branded over on FF - explored Sasuke's mental state a LOT. Granted, it was written long before the end of canon, and it varies quite a bit that way. And...there's some things about it, looking back now, that leave a bad taste in my mouth. But I DO still like how in-depth the author got into Sasuke's trauma and mental state.      I wanted to do some of that here, but...just not enough time / energy ^^; Maybe another time. But I AM glad I got to - at least in part - have Sasuke talk about how he saw his team's treatment of him. It's something I could write about for days: how they never actually were his friends, and simply felt entitled to him when he really wanted nothing to do with ANYONE due to his narrow focus and goals. Sakura's shallow feelings are, imo, obvious. And Naruto always just beating Sasuke's butt whenever they disagreed just...reallllly makes me mad. Hence honestly disliking when they're written buddy-buddy...and WAY more so when people ship them. Just...I can't see anything but Naruto's abuse of Sasuke ^^; At least in my interpretation, and everyone's is different~      But WOW I'm rambling - can you tell I'm tired? I should meta another time xD For now, bed. And as always, thanks for reading!

[timeinabottle]

Danse Macabre | Jopper AU | Stranger Things

William Byers disappears into thin air in 1883. His distraught mother, Joyce must put aside her differences with the only man that can help her now. In their desperate search for her son, they uncover the dark world of the occult, a terrible haunting and something the Witch's daughter calls... the Other Side.

Stranger things have happened...

Read on AO3 {X}

Listen to the soundtrack on spotify {X}

Chapter One: The Vanishing of William Byers

Hawkins, Indiana October 26,1883 Sleep riddled James Hopper’s head like a dense cloud, letting him forget where he was for the foggy moment between dreams. He reached across the bed for the warmth a woman who was not there. His hands grasped at thin air instead, and the cold, twisted sheets that wrapped around him like a tourniquet.

When he finally stumbled out of bed and shook the cobwebs off, he caught a glimpse of the clock and cursed. He was late for work again.

He hastily made his way to the medicine cabinet and took a swig off a dark glass bottle. The bitter tincture burned on the way down, but he didn’t care. He looked forward to the sting every morning. And periodically throughout the day... And twice again before bed. Initially prescribed by a physician for a chronic case of melancholy and fever three years earlier, Hopper reasoned it was the only thing keeping him going at this point.

As he got dressed, he chased the tonic with a nip or three of whiskey and half a cigarette leftover from the night before. A touch of cologne was the finishing touch to mask the scent of his morning routine. He strapped his sidearm and fixed the crooked badge on his uniform before stepping out into the low autumn sun.

Fall had swept through the Midwest with a cold fury that year, turning the trees into an ocean of fiery yellows and reds as far as the eye could see. The clear cornflower-blue skies of summer had given way to brooding clouds. They hung over the town like a death shroud, a shadow veil hiding the sun, and bringing with it the acrid perfume of decay.

As the days grew shorter, so did Hopper’s patience. Once a loving and devoted husband and father, he felt dead inside now. Utterly devoid of human emotion. His wife Diane and his darling little Sara were taken within days of each other by a nasty bout of consumption almost four years previous. It wiped out half of Manhattan’s Eleventh Ward before he realized New York had left him with nothing, and he retreated to the comforting arms of his hometown.

Looking up from rock bottom, sleepy little Hawkins seemed like the only choice left for him. It was somewhere he felt safe enough to collapse; to mend a shattered heart and ride out the rest of his years in relative ease. After all he fought for during the war and carried with him still, the tragedy of losing his girls was too much to bear. It left him feeling empty.

More than empty; like a dark star, ready to collapse in on itself.

He found as the years passed by, and despite his best efforts, the broken pieces of his heart would not fit back together, no matter how hard he tried to make it work. He was watching himself turn into a lonely and embittered man in the mirror. He was slowly becoming his father and couldn’t think of a worse fate.

Just like his father, he only had a small circle of people who he could trust. His closest friends were former soldiers in the war, now his deputy officers, Callahan and Powell. He could barely admit it to himself, but he spent most of his time with those two fools either at work or at the tavern after work. His friends had their own young families to focus on though, so after he sent them home for the day, Hopper would spend the latter half of his evenings closing down the bar and chasing after the available women in town, breaking their hearts before they could barely get attached.

He was alone in this world and was starting to think that nothing would ever change. It was his lot in life. Eventually, he accepted his fate and stopped caring. He became lazy. Mid-morning arrivals to work had become the norm, but no one seemed to notice or care.

No one, except Florence.

The police department’s secretary was all but tapping her foot at his late arrival, waiting for him when he arrived. She took his coat from his arms and the still burning cigarette from his mouth disapprovingly. He nodded to the boys in the bullpen as he made his grand, yet fashionably late entrance.

Callahan piped up, “You look miserable, Chief.”

“Funny, your wife hardly looked any better when I left this morning,” Hopper didn’t skip a beat, smiling snidely to the young officer as he walked by his desk. Powell hid his chuckle behind his cup of coffee and watched Callahan struggle to find a suitable response for his superior.

“Thank you very much for gracing us with your presence, James,” Florence interrupted, handing him his day's work and a cup of steaming black coffee as he passed by her desk. A schoolmarm in her younger days, she played the part well enough around the office, making sure all of Hawkins finest were running on time. Her only problem child now… was the chief.

Her hands found her hips when he didn’t acknowledge her, “You have a visitor this morning.”

Hopper grumbled into his cup, “Already? It’s only… half past ten. Did I not make myself clear before? No appointments before noon; my mornings are for coffee... and contemplation.”

Yes, that sounded about right.

“I didn’t have a choice in the matter,” Florence explained with a huff, handing him the paperwork she had already started and following him through the bullpen to his office in the back of the building. “The young lady insisted she speak with you immediately and pushed right through to your office. She won’t budge until she sees you, and only you — stubborn thing. Of course, I’ve been keeping her calm while you took your time getting here this morning,” the older woman’s voice dripped with sarcasm. Hopper would have told her that particular tone didn’t suit a woman of her age… if only he were a braver man.

“Please tell me the pushy little lady that’s waiting for me is beautiful, or at the very least, eligible,” he grunted as he stuffed the paperwork in his uniform pocket, not able to muster enough care to look it over. He was confident the matter was a stolen purse or a civil disagreement, something that didn't require his personal attention — that's what he had the two buffoons sitting in the bullpen for.

“It’s Joyce Byers, Chief. She says her son is missing.”

That stopped him in his tracks. It felt like a lifetime since he had heard that name, and it sounded so foreign to him now as his secretary said it. A pang of nostalgia caught his attention, which quickly turned to hurt, remembering how much heartache that confounded woman had caused him in a previous life. He felt a burning agitation growing in his chest at the parting memory he had of her… or perhaps that was the laudanum finally kicking in.

“Did you ask the Widow Byers if she remembers where she left him?”

“That’s not appropriate James,” Florence tutted at him, giving him a stern look over her spectacles. “She’s rather upset.”

Hopper took a deep breath before opening the door to his office, preparing himself for a maddening interaction. His guard dropped slightly when he saw her sitting there, looking lost and forlorn. A small nagging thought played at him, a reminder that she had played this game with him before, and he was the one who lost; she could always play the victim so well.

As the door closed behind him and he stepped into the room, he got a better look at her under the dim light from the window. Her hair was a matted, frizzy mess tucked under the net of her fascinator, a futile attempt to look put together. Her hollow eyes stood out against the sharp pallor of her skin, betraying her weak constitution. She was so far removed from the young, vibrant woman he once knew. It was if a stranger was standing across the room from him now.

“Police Chief Hopper,” she curtsied as he walked around her to his desk, much to his chagrin. Her tone was polite, but he could hear an underlying hint of irritation as she spoke. No doubt for having to wait over an hour to see him. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”

“We can drop the formalities, Joyce. You know damn well you didn’t give me a choice in the matter. Safe to say we’re beyond pleasantries now,” he was stern, not wanting to play games with her, just wanting to get this over with and move on with his day. Yet, despite everything that had gone on between them in their formative years — and the resentment he felt thinking about it again — seeing her looking like this was pulling at a small part of him he thought was long buried.

“Oh, well. My apologies... Hop,” her head dipped at her slight and his correction, but she made a point of saying his name as only she knew it.

Joyce looked like an awkward little bird with a broken wing that needed mending. As he sat down behind his desk, she followed suit, and he observed her nervously plucking at her wrinkled skirts while she waited for him to get settled. It looked to him like she had been wearing the same dress for days and Hopper supposed that was very likely the case if her son was indeed missing. If he knew anything about Joyce, it was that she loved her sons more than life itself. He also knew her to be flighty and forgetful too, so it was hard to say if Will was truly missing or she had just lost track of his whereabouts in this state she was in. Regardless, he could tell that whatever had happened was clearly impeding her mental faculties — she was a vibrating, nervous wreck. Gazing at her pitiful form, he supposed he could give her the benefit of the doubt, one last time.

“All right then, why don’t you tell me what happened. From the start,” Hopper set out a pen and ink, and some paper to take notes as Joyce spoke.

She took a trembling breath, looking down at a small cabinet card with her son’s image on it, and held it tight in her hand as if in prayer. Steadying herself, she began, “My son, William -- Will was out visiting friends two days ago after school. He never made it back home.”

“Did he tell you when he would be back?”

She nodded, elaborating, “He said that morning he would be home for dinner. It’s not like him, but he’s getting older now. When he didn’t make it back, I just assumed he stayed with friends. I called on all of them yesterday, and all they could tell me was they had been at the river that afternoon, and he had left an hour before I expected him home.” Her words were clipped. She was trying her best not to cry.

He wrote down her answers languidly as he continued the inquisition, “And you’ve searched the property for him? Your house is at the edge of Mirkwood, isn’t it?”

“Yes. My oldest and I have torn the forest apart. It’s as if Will disappeared into thin air…” she wrung her hands in worry and bit her bottom lip hard as if willing herself not to think such things.

Hopper paused for a long moment to light a cigarette and offer another to Joyce, who took it as if she had been starving for one. Watching as she brought it to her lips with a shaky hand, he bided his time before he spoke again, wanting to choose his words with particular delicacy.

“Have you considered that he might have run away? Boys of his age will do that, you know. Do you still have relatives in Illinois? Is it possible he went to visit them?”

“No,” she couldn’t help but raise her voice at the underlying suggestion that she was a bad mother and couldn’t keep track of her boy. “I know my son; he wouldn’t do something like that without telling me. It’s been almost two full days! Even if he did, he would have contacted me by now,” she cast her eyes to the floor, the uncertainty starting to creep in. ”I’m sure of it.”

“I stole away when I was a teenager to go fight in the war, Joyce. I didn’t tell anyone until I had to,” Hopper spoke gently, confident she didn’t need the reminder of the abrupt end to the trysts of their youth.

“The war is over if you recall, and… and he’s not like you!" Joyce snapped at him and her face twisted, vexed at his words. He could tell she was holding her tongue to keep from insulting him.

She took a deep breath before she continued. Hopper was her only hope now, and he could tell she was desperate for his help.

“And he’s not like me. He’s not like most. He’s a sensitive soul, creative… and smart… the other children tease him and call him awful names.” She went back to wringing her hands, getting lost in her thoughts, “Something is wrong, I just know it.”

Her eyes locked onto his from across the desk, imploring. Hopper sighed. There was no getting out of this, was there?

“Well, the first thing we should do is organize a search party and get his image in front of as many people as we can. You have that picture card of him?”

She looked down to the card in her hands, tracing the grey image of Will with her fingertips; likely the only memento she had of her beloved son. Hopper only wished he had the same of his sweet Sara.

“Take that to the printers on the way home and have them draft up some posters with his vital information.” Hopper wrote down what she would need to give to the pressman and passed it to her. “I will organize the rest, but I have to be honest with you Joyce… Your reputation around town won’t help us much.”

Joyce’s set her jaw at his words and heaved a drawn-out sigh as if she had been expecting him to say it.

“I can certainly pay your department for the time if that is what it’s going to take to get this process started.” She stuck the cigarette in her mouth in a very un-lady-like fashion to open her coin purse with both hands, as if expecting his outstretched palm, but Hopper waved her off.

“That won’t be necessary. You’re entitled to public services as much as anyone. I’m just uncertain how many volunteers we can muster up for someone who’s known as the Widowed Witch of Mirkwood…” his voice trailed off, regretting the words, as he watched her face cloud over.

Joyce frowned at the ridiculous name the townsfolk had given her. She knew it all too well.

Her husband had died a mysterious and sudden death the year previous. Joyce never spoke of it to anyone, but they all knew. His body wasn’t even in the ground before she took advantage of the life insurance policy in his name at the factory. It seemed that dying had been the one and only good thing Lonnie Byers ever did for his family. And despite being given every opportunity to mourn, Joyce had refused her social obligation. How could she possibly be expected to grieve for the drunken brute of a man she had married? Someone who beat her and her sons if they stepped out of line. Someone who treated her like a dog when they were out in public and didn’t even bother to hide his frequent visits to the bawdy house. From the outside looking in, Hopper could understand why she couldn’t bring herself to mourn that monster of a man, but the community couldn’t ignore her disregard for societal norms, and she was quickly shunned.

Joyce only fanned the flames. Instead of indulging the proper grieving period, she splurged on a new wardrobe. She wore jewel-toned velvets and pastel chantilly lace loudly around town, just to make sure her true feelings toward her dead husband were well known. It didn’t take long for the townsfolk to start talking after that.

Did you hear? Joyce Byers murdered her husband. She only did it for the money.

Hawkins ran wild with whispers and lies: She went crazy and poisoned him. She cut his body up and buried him in the woods behind their house. A secret lover helped her do it, and they danced naked under the full moon… on his grave!

Soon, rumor had it she had summoned a demon to do her bidding. She was labeled an outcast. A scarlet letter. A particular kind of witch.

Of course, Hopper didn’t believe any of the rumors… but he did think that maybe she had it coming. After all, it was Lonnie’s arms she ran to when Hopper didn’t court her fast enough for her liking in the summer of 1863. It wasn’t soon after she broke his heart, Hopper left her and Hawkins behind to fight for the Union, severing any remaining threads that kept them bound together.

“Those rumors are completely unfounded,” she started, trying her best to contain the rage bubbling up inside of her. “And they have nothing to do with my Will.”

“I know they are, Joyce,” Hopper rubbed his tired eyes. “You’re right, it has nothing to do with Will. I’m just saying this might be a bit of an uphill battle for us if we want any information on the whereabouts of your son.”

Her face clouded over at the realization sunk in. Even though he was six feet under, Lonnie Byers’ was still causing her trouble in this life. That son of a bitch.

“I was awfully sorry to hear about your husband,” Hopper cleared his throat, though his voice betrayed him; Joyce picked up on his lack of sincerity immediately.

“Please, spare me your condolences,” she held her hand up to him to stop right there and save them both the discomfort of going through the motions. “We both know what type of man my husband was. My sons and I are much better off now…” she trailed off, a look of distress adorning her delicate, worn features. “Or rather, we were, until my poor b-” she choked on a sob, clutching the picture to her chest. Hopper passed her his handkerchief and gave her a quiet moment to lament her missing child.

He was all too familiar with the pain she was going through, and as she wept, he resolved to put the past aside. He felt compelled to help this broken little bird, despite himself and their history. At least there was still hope for her that Will would return home safely. He’d be damned if he let her lose the fleeting chance to bring him back; something he never had.

When she composed herself again and looked back at him, it was with glassy, pleading eyes, “I need you to find him, Hop.”

“We will find him,” Hopper hoped she would see the truth in his eyes, even if he didn’t feel it himself. “I promise.”

There was nothing more he could do right then but comfort her with a pledge that he prayed he could keep.

For the first time since he laid eyes on her that morning, a small smile graced Joyce’s delicate features. “Thank you,” she extinguished her forgotten cigarette out in the ashtray on his desk and stood up to shake his hand. The gesture felt strange coming from her.

He took her proffered hand with both of his and watched as her lips parted with the shock of his touch. He waited for her to say something more, but she never did; the space between them heavy with everything that would remain unsaid. He couldn’t shake the sudden feeling that they had done this all before. Déjà vu.

When the strange moment passed, he was the first to let go, and he guided her to the door, giving her brief instructions on her next steps.

“Take that picture to the printing press and then go home straight away. I’ll take care of everything else. Get some rest. I will stop by as soon as I have more information for you.”

She paused before leaving, her hand clutching his forearm. Her eyes searched his, one more time.

“You’ll find him for me?”

He nodded, “I swear.” That time it felt like the God’s honest truth.

She nodded solemnly, holding the slip of paper and image of Will tight to her chest, taking his promise and her orders with her as he escorted her out of his office. She seemed to float down the dark hall towards the station’s front door, and as he watched her exit, he wondered how he would manage this mess. Just when he thought he had enough of his own problems to deal with, she had to show up at his doorstep with a doozy.

How could he expect anything less from Joyce Byers?

As Joyce stepped out onto Main Street, the gravity of the situation finally hit her, along with the heavy door to the Police Department. It slammed shut behind her, clanging like a gong, waking her up to the sudden realization that this was all too real, and the dark, dreaded feeling, that nothing would ever be the same again. A horse tied to the hitching post outside the building whinnied, startling her once more, just as a young man walked by. He gawked at her until he rounded the corner, out of sight, as if he saw a ghost. It took all her strength not to break down right then and there. She couldn’t, not yet. Her heart was heavy with the weight of the tasks laid out for her: Visit the printing press, then home to rest. Miles to go before she could sleep.

Joyce felt like she was drifting above herself, tethered to her body, as she glided down Main Street like a ghost. Another woman caught her eye, her face twisted into a disgusted sneer. She imagined she was a sight to be seen, practically un-dead; a shell of the woman she was the day before last. Her reputation was preceding, and her current appearance didn’t help, but she didn’t give a damn about any of that anymore. If they only knew…

She could feel the townsfolk eyes on her. She could even hear them whispering. Her cheeks burned red from resisting the urge to lash out at the next person to point at her or titter to their acquaintance. Joyce bit her tongue, knowing that she would need these people on her side if she wanted even the slightest chance to find her boy. She kept her eyes down and focused on her steps, one foot in front of the other.

Printing press. Home. Sleep. Press. Home. Sleep.

It became her mantra as she made her way through the center of town. It was taking everything not to collapse on the street under the righteous scrutiny and the unbearable burden she carried. There was nothing else left to do but carry on.

When she got to the printers, the Pressman was waiting for her. She never thought she would say it in her lifetime, but thank goodness for James Hopper and his keen foresight to have the operator call ahead. Joyce was grateful for the small gesture saving her from having to relive the nightmare and explain herself again. It only took a quick moment to get the information organized for the poster and an estimate on when the prints would be ready. She left with the Pressman's kind word that the photo would be returned to her within the day in the same condition she gave it to him.

Once again, she found herself standing alone and feeling lost on Main Street in her hometown — a place she knew like the back of her hand. She was restless with the urge to do something, anything to help find Will. It felt wrong to head home to idly stand-by while others held her son’s life in their hands, but Hop was right. What good would she be to the cause when she was such a mess? His word's ringing in her ears, she turned around and began the long walk home.

[schlemptime]

Less Than Lavender (2017)

Every one of the boys on my team had gotten new helmets this year except for me. Mine was grass stained, scratched, its stickers peeled off the back. The white with its blue stripes had faded from the sunlight. It smelled a bit, but that only bothered my mom. None of my teammates had said anything about my old helmet to my face, but I knew they would talk about after practice once I had ridden my bike home and while they waited for their moms or dads or older siblings to come pick them up. And they did talk about it. Harrison told me that night at our sleepover while we were brushing our teeth. He said it then because he knew he’d be hard to understand him with a mouth full of toothbrush and toothpaste. We dropped the subject as soon as he brought it up, which was fine with me.

“What do you think of that girl?” Harrison asked me as we sat on my bedroom floor that night. I started shuffling the deck of cards in my hands.

“That new girl on our team?” I asked.

“Yeah, duh. I think her name’s Jude.” I couldn’t remember her name, but I knew it wasn’t Jude. Maybe it was. Truly, I couldn’t remember.

“Don’t know yet.” I shrugged and dealt the cards out, four to each of us. “Kind of weird that she’s on a football team, I think.”

“Yeah.”

“Is there not a girls’ team?” I asked. Harrison shrugged.

“You got any threes?” I looked down at my cards and shook my head.

“Go fish. You got any Jacks?” He groaned and handed me two of them. It went back and forth until we heard someone coming up the stairs to my room and we jumped into the bed. Lights were still on and we were stifling a laugh. After my mom peaked into the room and turned off the overhead light, we sat up and played more cards. It must have been so late, like a ten o’clock kind of late. Some crazy Friday night idea. The next morning I could hardly get out of bed, I could hardly make it to football practice.

——

Harrison was the type of kid who was picked on alot, but kind of for no reason. Some boys on our football team made fun of his weight, other boys made fun of his red hair or his bad grades or his very, very slight lisp. But even though I didn’t mind him at all, I still made it a secret that he was my best friend. On Saturday mornings after our usual sleepover, I’d tell him to race me to practice by going down a different street. I’d always get there first; he would arrive a few minutes later out of breath and throw his bike on the ground.

He was the first boy on the team to reach out to the girl. After practice, he’d tell me what he’d learned about her that day to dilute any rumors. Like her name was Lavender even though her favorite color was yellow. And apparently Lavender thanked Harrison when he didn’t say stuff along the lines of yellow is a boy color. He let her be, and it worked out.

He invited me to the park with them sometimes. We’d all sit underneath the trees around the playground or sometimes at the picnic benches. Lavender would point out weird things younger kids did and laughed at teenage babysitters who ran after babies. Harrison would butt in every once in awhile, attempting to say something funny. It didn’t work. He only got glares from Lavender in the end, putting him in his place. She ran us all. And even though I would usually intervene at times like that, I never did. Afterall, her ranking was far above me. She ran faster during football practice. She beat me when we raced bikes. I blamed it on how small she was; she was more aerodynamic, I guess. But sometimes I just let her win.

——

“So, what do you think of a girl being on our football team, Jimi?” I turned my head to see Paul walking faster to catch up with me. “I think it’s weird.”

“Huh. Doesn’t bother me too much,” I responded. He nodded and said he agreed. That usually happened. Because I was a little older than the other boys, I was a decision maker for them.I could probably tell them I believed the color blue didn’t exist, and they’d agree. Ahead of us was some of the team heading towards their treehouse. Ever since Harrison had been hanging out with Lavender than with me, I was going to their meetings together.

“I heard David’s gonna try to get her off the team,” Paul said. We got to the bottom of the tree and I began climbing up the flimsy ladder. I told him that wouldn’t happen.

But as soon as the last boys entered the tree house, David pulled the curtain that worked as a door and stood at the front of the treehouse. He held his chin up so high that I could hardly see his eyes. His shaggy hair fell to the sides of his round face, the same style of hair every boy in the room had, including me.

“Today we have some important stuff to discuss,” he announced. Out of his pocket he pulled a crumpled piece of paper. He read, “the new football team, I think, needs some mending. Can we all agree?” Everybody nodded.

“Jude needs to go!” somebody shouted. Lavender. It was Lavender. How the name got to Jude was a mystery to me. But everybody around me nodded.

The rest of the “meeting” went on like that, making plans on how they could all make the team boys only again. After about ten minutes, we side-tracked and started making game plans that would never be approved by Coach. When David’s mom yelled up to treehouse that dinner was ready, we all agreed on coming back next Friday (as we usually did) and left.

——

“Let’s go somewhere else,” Lavender said. She stood up and brushed dirt off her skirt. As she strutted to her bicycle, her ponytail bounced back and forth. Harrison groaned and pushed himself off the ground; I had him help me up.

He asked where we would go, and she yelled The treehouse! and took off on her neon pink bike.

I don’t think I ever rode a bike any faster. Trying to keep up with her, yelling No! You’re not allowed there! until I was out of breath and just followed. Lavender only stopped when we got to the tree trunk. She dropped her bike, and I did the same, breathing too heavily. I followed her up the rope ladder, through the curtain door, into the elaborate treehouse. When she took a seat on the floor, I stood above her.

“You’re not allowed in the treehouse,” I said, my arms crossed over my chest. She shrugged.

“Is anybody else here?” she asked mockingly. I shook my head, but obviously no one was in the room with us. “Then it doesn’t concern me, Jimi.” She took out her ponytail and tied her hair back up again. We didn’t acknowledge the fact that Harrison hadn’t come with us. At least he knew that he wasn’t allowed in the treehouse. Not that I truly cared about the place, but I surely didn’t want to betray David. He was harsh about his rules.

Lavender started talking about Mrs. Holly’s science class as she messed with her hair more. How they collected bugs for extra credit, took fire to some powdery stuff that smelled awful, planted flowers in the school playground. On Mondays, she said, they did fun things like that. But I had a different science teacher, one that didn’t let our class collect bugs.

“That sucks,” she mumbled. I never heard a girl say that before, and I cringed.

She laughed and took off her shoes. “But do you know what really sucks?” she asked, almost mocking me. “The fact I can’t play football again next year. Coach said he didn’t want me to get hurt because we’ll be in sixth grade next year and you boys will be too strong. I don’t think he knows that I beat David in an arm wrestling competition and-”

Suddenly, David bursted into the treehouse. We didn’t even hear him climb up the ladder.

“Hey! Get out of here!” he yelled.

He grabbed me by my elbows with the help of another boy and threw me out the curtain door. Actually threw me from six feet above the ground. That sucked. And they did the same to Lavender. Repeatedly she shouted Get off me! Get off me! Get off me! until they threw out of the door too. Her body made a loud thud as it slammed against the dirt. All I saw after that was her stand right back up, climb the ladder, and burst back into the treehouse. Through the open curtain, I saw her send a punch straight to David’s face and spit on his feet.

“I can’t believe you,” she mumbled. I could hardly make out the words from outside the treehouse. David was silent. She continued, “actually throwing us out from up here. You’re disgusting, David.”

She went right back down the ladder, helped me up, and got on her bike. That was Lavender. Some sort of immortal girl.

——

David asked me to come back to his meetings only two weeks later. And surprisingly, he also invited Harrison. The Saturday after he asked me I went. Nothing was said about being thrown out of the treehouse, but I made sure he saw my color changing bruises and sprained wrist. Maybe it made him hurt a bit, too. The meeting went the same as all the other ones. David held his chin unreasonably high and occasionally blew the hair out of his face. He announced that Lavender was off the team for the next year and the boys around me cheered; he made sure that his dad would do that, as he was the coach’s son.

“I think she should stay on the team,” I said, staring David down. Harrison quickly turned towards me shaking his head. “She’s a fast runner and has made a few touchdowns.”

“Somebody’s got a crush on the football girl, huh?” David asked, not necessarily to me I didn’t think. A few boys nodded in agreement and chuckled.

“No.” My cheeks got hot.

“Prove it.”

“How?”

David paused for a second.

“Destroy her fort!” somebody called. I turned around to see Paul with his hand in the air and a smirk on his face. His curly blond hair seemed to stick out in all directions that day.

Lavender had a fort made of small, fallen trees in the woods behind her house that only her older brother, Harrison, and I could hide out in. It was covered with a tarp so she could stay in it even when it rained. A yellow sign hung above the entrance that read Get out!!!!!!!!! in her loopy cursive.

“What does that have to do with anything?” I asked.

“Everything,” David told me.

——

Some of David’s friends followed me and Harrison to the fort that night after we all had dinner at home. It could only be found in the vast woods if we followed the trees with yellow spray painted stars on them. When we reached the fort, the boys immediately took to destroying it. Harrison and I, however, stood to the side.

The sunset painted a bright red behind the shadowed trees. Everything was silent except for a few birds and the sound of the boys pacing on the forest floor and kicking in the fort, stepping on leaves and pinecones and twigs, cracking wood. I stood there unmoving.

“What, are you a wimp, Jimi?” David yelled over to me from the other side of the fort. He saw I wasn’t destroying the fort with them. “You in love with Lavender?” A few of the boys chuckled. I felt my cheeks get hot and was thankful for the darkness. But David stalked over and pushed me towards the fort. My shoulders burned, still bruised from the fall. I knew what he wanted me to do.

So I did it. I drew my leg back and kicked the fort in. The large branch that had supported the leaning, toppling over fort snapped and almost the entire place fell in. Only a couple of branches still stood. It echoed throughout the woods and I could feel the crash inside of me.

“What are you doing?” I turned around to Lavender who had just come out from behind a group of trees. Harrison must have gotten her to come. The woods were lit up only by the boys’ flashlights. Shadows of branches made Lavender look scary. And it was a pretty good portrayal of her at that moment. She stomped completely past me with her arms crossed.

For the second time (and not the last), I watched as she landed a perfect punch on David. His nose, this time. The only evidence of blood was the black dripping down his nose, down his lips, off his chin, onto the dirt below.

“That was my fort. And he’s my friend,” she spat, pointing at me. David grabbed his nose and, with his other hand, made an awful attempt at punching her. A complete miss. “Don’t you know you can’t hit girls?” One of the boys behind him ran off, and the others followed. Harrison sulked off in the opposite direction.

As I walked back to Lavender’s house with her once everyone had gone, I felt kind of like a wimp. After all, I hadn’t ever swung a single punch at David. Lavender had done all that fighting for me, leaving me bloodless. Not exactly the type of Jimi I thought I was.

I guess what I really was as a boy was a treehouse. Or a fort in the woods. Something people just sort of made for no reason at all, using it on weekends. Mostly, though, I was less of a fighter than Lavender was. Never threw that punch. Only took too many of them. Hardly stood up for the things I should have been breaking kids’ noses over.

When we reached the edge of the woods, she kissed my cheek. Only I blushed, though. Maybe she did it out of pity for me; we both knew I’d be teased about her for ages and the guilt I would feel for years for destroying her secret fort. Before we parted, she handed me my bike off of the ground.

“Thanks,” I said. Once I got on my bike, I balanced myself on my tiptoes and waved goodbye. She gave me a weak smile, wiped her bloody knuckles on the end of her skirt, and walked off towards her house.

[letdecemberburninflames]

Found

Peter Pan x Mermaid!Reader | Part 10

Summary: Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9    Epilogue

Fic Type: Peter Pan x Mermaid!Reader Series

Warnings: Blood! Murder! Attempted Murder! Drama! Love!

Author’s Note: This is the last installment of this series, and the Epilogue will be up tomorrow. Masterlist will be up Monday!

Devin’s plan was reckless, dangerous, and haphazard. But Y/N couldn’t have cared less. She would have given anything, even her life to escape. She knew Devin was right. Pan would never let her leave, unless he was dead.

Y/N slid a sheathed knife into the shaft of her boot, and set off to find Pan. This task, as it turned out, wasn’t hard. He had slipped off into the jungle, just outside the camp boundaries. She found him leaned against a tree, eyes open and glaring, obviously deep in thought.

“Pan?” She called softly as she walked up to him.

He shook himself out of his thoughts, and looked up to see the girl who had greeted him. “Y/N.”

“Why… Why-”

“Why did I bring you back?” Pan arched an eyebrow. “Because you belong here.”

Y/N shook her head, walking closer. “No I don’t.” She murmured. “I don’t belong anywhere. Not in the sea, not on land, and certainly not here.”

Pan pushed himself off the tree, leaving hardly a foot in between them. “You belong here because I said you do.” His voice, like his features were unreadable. “I was bored, needed a new game to play.”

“So that’s all I am?” Y/N stared deep into his chartreuse eyes. “A game. A toy, a mouse for a cat to play with.”

“That’s all you ever were.” Pan spoke without thinking, and instantly regretted it.

In the split second in which he was contemplating what to say next, Y/N had a knife in her hand. The moonlight glinted off the blade, flashing silver. The cold color reflected the fear and doubt in her eyes. She turned the blade in her hands, plunging it towards his heart.

Pan easily stopped the blade, and it fell from her hands, hitting the ground with a soft thud. He stared with horror at the girl he loved as she turned and fled.

—

“You failed.” Devin growled down at the girl who sat by the edge of the pond, weeping. She sat on the shore, not an inch of skin touching the water.

She didn’t reply, didn’t even turn to acknowledge him. Her shoulders were quaking, her entire body trembling like a leaf in the breeze. Her lack of attention only angered Devin more.

“We had one chance. ONE!” He shouted at her. “He saw us planning it. I know he did. He knows EVERYTHING! And now- now he’s gonna be after us! I DEMAND- I DESERVE TO BE IN CONTROL!”

Devin continued his tirade, accenting his words with cursing, staccato, vibrato, and harsh crescendo. All the while, Y/N continued to sob. He worked himself up, voice echoing across the water. His teeth were bared, muscles tensed, and every aggressive action was strongly pronounced for unwatching eyes. He was maniacal, sardonic, bordering on psychotic.

“YOU WANTED DEATH?” Devin practically howled. “I’ll show you death.”

He caught the weeping girl’s arm, yanking her harshly to her feet. Fires of fury and hatred were smoldering in his narrowed eyes as he weighed the pros and cons of the various and creative means available to him for exacting revenge. Devin, fueled with righteous hatred, easily dragged Y/N with him. Through the jungle, down a path she was unfamiliar with. His footsteps pounded on the earth, snapping twigs, crushing flora, and sending fauna scurrying in fear of his god-complex.

They stopped once they reached a clearing. Through blurred vision, Y/N could make out a tightly knit circle of trees bushes that ringed the clearing, shielding the sea of green from outside eyes.

Devin dragged her to the center of the clearing, rolling his eyes at the sounds falling from Y/N’s lips. It was more than crying, it was the kind of desolate sobbing that comes from a person drained of all hope. Y/N sank to her knees, not caring for the damp mud and lush ground plants that dirtied and stained her clothes. Her tears mingled with the suffocating humidity and her gasping wails echoed around the clearing. There was not a witness in sight to comfort her, save the trees which held their breath as they watched the events unfold before them.

“Useless.” Devin muttered. “Half-blooded monster.” He pulled out a knife, turning it over in his hands. “You see… No one loves you. Not Peter Pan, not your father, not your mother, and certainly not me. I poisoned you, if you were wondering. I simply slipped dreamshade into your soup the night before you left. Because… if I couldn’t have you, no one could. You were my leverage against Pan, the one thing I had over him. And I couldn’t just let that slip through my fingers now, could I? No, that never would have done. But now… You have betrayed me. You’re useless to me. Nothing but a little monster, a piece in a game. But now that game is almost over. I have won, beaten Pan at his own game.” Devin’s smile was maniacal, broad and polished with a lust for power. “Of course, we can’t let you have a quick-and-easy death. Oh, no. You betrayed me, darling. And you must pay the price.”

With those words, Devin lifted the knife over his head. The moonlight glinted off the blade, flashing silver. The cold color reflected the hunger and hatred in his eyes. He brought his arms down, plunging the blade deep into Y/N’s stomach. He twisted it, wrenching the knife out of her stomach. Blood spilled from her abdomen, the crimson blossoming across her corset, staining her white linen shirt. In a matter of seconds, she slumped to the ground before her former lover, her last sight the lips of the boy who had kissed her, loved her, and lied to her.

—

Pan was practically frantic. Devin and Y/N were nowhere to be found, and Pan cursed himself. It was his fault. He knew Devin had poisoned her, and he should have killed him while he had the chance.

The lost boys were on recon, scouring the forests in search of either party. Peter himself was headed to the the shore of the pond Y/N frequented. Upon arrival, he saw footprints. Fresh. He assessed the situation, noting the struggle. One thought pulsed through his brain. Y/N was in danger. He followed the prints, crashing through the forests, and the flora and fauna of the region were disrupted for the second time that day.

Pan stopped short when the trail ended. In front of him was a clearing, a field of green. No. A sea of green. Dread settled over him as he sprinted into the clearing, remembering the Shadow’s words. Make haste, lest you find the one you have been searching for asleep in a sea of green.

“Y/N!” Pan yelled, as he spotted her body, still amongst the grass.

He collapsed next to her, unable to tear his eyes away from her blood-stained body. The red of her blood contrasted sharply with the soft greens of the clearing, such a gruesome sight looked out of place in such a tranquil place. She looked peaceful. He scrambled to find a pulse, every fiber of his being praying she was alive. He grasped her wrist, thumb searching for a pulse. He breathed a sigh of relief. It was there, but slow and thready.

Carefully, oh so carefully, he gathered her body in his arms, paying no heed to the blood spilling onto his clothes. As he stared down into her face, he realized that she had never looked so at peace. How could he of ever acted so spitefully towards her? With a wave of his hand, the wound in her abdomen mended itself, her organs pierced themselves together and skin fused over the hole, leaving not even a scar.

Breaths were drawn shakily by both parties as Y/N’s eyes slowly opened.

“Peter.” She whispered, her words nearly torn away by the breeze.

Pan smiled, actually smiled. Not a smirk, or a sneer, but a grin filled with relief and happiness. She was alive.

—

Peter Pan was many things. Loving, was not one of them. He hardly showed any emotions other than anger and smugness. Oh, and his keen sense of pride for himself and Neverland. This was not to say that he didn’t experience other emotions. But could hardly keep up his domineering and cold exterior if he showed them, could he?

Besides, not showing emotion would protect his heart. His trust had been shattered too many times for him to even imagine letting anyone in again. Or so he had thought.

Then, along had come the one person that was the exception to his rule. She had made him feel things he had never truly felt before, and as a result he had pushed them, and her, away.

But now… After everything, he had no choice but to give in.

There she sat, on the other side of the bonfire, laughing and talking with all the other lost boys. The young ones, Timothy, Flynn, Caspian, Aravis, crowded around her, listening to her tell a story. She punctuated her words with dramatic facial expressions and over exaggerated gestures. Even some of the older boys like Owen and Baelfire were listening. Felix and James too were attempting to not look like they were paying any mind to the children’s story, but they too were enraptured in her words. All too soon (but also not soon enough) the story was finished, and the boys went back to laughing and talking and dancing and eating around the fire.

Peter pulled out his reed pipes, and lifting them to his lips, began to play. A haunting tune filled the air, winding through the atmosphere, carried on the warm breeze. He watched Y/N through the flames, and as she met his eyes, she smiled. She could hear the music.

She walked over to him, her white linen dress swirling around her. She sat next to him on the log, listening to the tune.

“Peter.” Her voice, like her smile, was soft.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Do you know where you are?” He asked, setting the pan flute down.

She replied with love and sincerity. “I’m home.”

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