#the silver lining is that at least being sick over break meant i could completely dedicate my time to resting

[fifty-ten]

i've healed up pretty well from being sick, which i suppose is all one can really ask for these days (although only time will tell if i gain any new or worsened Permanent Problems 😁←teeth gritted) but I'm still really pissed off that i had stuff i wanted to do over break and wanted to relax and then had to spend all that time being sick

[hex-obsession]

Silver Lining- Three

word count- 2,389

content warning- language, sexual acts (potentially rough)

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Nothing like getting pulled out of a deep sleep to go repair bulky, strident machinery and run, literally, for your life. You were, physically and mentally, in a fog. Worn out from the emotional runaround mere hours ago, you weren’t your usual bubbly self. To make matters worse, Leon was here and saw the discomfort on your face. Who wouldn’t? You were always bad at masking your feelings.

“Everything okay y/n?” Chills trickled through your ears and down the back of your neck at the soothing hum of his voice. It was too early for this, but at least you were fully awake now.

“Y-yeah, just tired.” Your hand defensively moves to your other arm, sending him the opposite message of ‘I’m fine’. Leon tenderly places his hand over yours, ducking slightly to be eye level with you. Instead of speaking, you just stare back at him blankly. Mind racing yet empty, you're completely lost for words. You forgot how to even speak, let alone move your tongue. Finally, your sense of self-preservation kicks in and you blurt out “I’m fine, really. Just in a haze, I guess. Really tired.” You force a smile, praying he buys it, or at least takes it as a hint not to pry. He’s still staring at you, studying your face and body language. This man was far too perceptive to fall for a lie that poorly executed. Not wanting to interrogate you and possibly upset you further, he let it go. His face relaxed, the puzzled, disapproving expression now replaced by one of empathy and concern.

“If there’s something on your mind, please tell me when you’re ready.” He extends his other arm and gently pulls you toward him, which you do not resist. You sheepishly wrap your arms around him, worried he might feel the pounding in your chest and return to questioning you. You couldn’t help but melt in his arms, which did help calm your nerves some. Consoling each other (let’s be real, it was always him consoling you) was no new feat. His uniform was rough on your cheek, a mix of harsh fabric and dried blood, but you didn’t mind. With your head turned, resting on his chest, you saw Jeff and Laurie coming closer. As much as you wanted to stay in this exact spot forever, you were grateful to direct Leon’s attention to anything other than you long enough to compose yourself. Hands eager to touch him longer, you lovingly rub his back and give his sides a little squeeze before releasing him.

“Sorry, hope we didn’t interrupt anything,” Laurie chimes innocently.

Cheeks ablaze, you jump to defend yourself. “No you’re fine! I’m just feeling a tad under the weather and Leon is a great friend.” You smile, eyes darting back to him only long enough to see he’s staring at you. Fuck, fuck, your face was on fire. Back on Laurie, she ever so slightly squints, so quickly you would’ve missed it if you weren’t excruciatingly observant. Her lips curl at the edges. She knows. You look back to Leon, who is still staring at you. Shit, fuck. You look to your left trying to avoid everyone's gaze. Her dainty hands latch onto you, pulling you into a hug. You stumble slightly, intoxicated by nervousness.

“Oh, sorry love.” She tilts her head back just enough for her mouth to line up with your ear. “Do it.” Her voice is heavy and breathy. It almost startles you, and a nervous chuckle escapes you.

“Th-thanks Laurie. Yeah, I just had a weird dream and I’m feeling really, uh, off.”

Heart racing, you thought it might be trying to escape, the force with which it was beating. You push your hair away from your face, hoping it would make breathing less labored when, you only made it easier to see how flustered you were. A final glance at Leon confirms he is indeed still staring. You’d never been thankful for the entity taking you before, but there’s a first time for everything. The fog surrounds you and the trial ensues, scattering you across the map. Completely disregarding everything other than your feelings, you shake your head and stretch your arms above you. They come down, folding around your head and you stare at the lockers in front of you, eyes out of focus; not actually taking in what you were looking at. A few deep breaths later, you pull yourself together enough to move your feet, one in front of the other. Midwich Elementary School; possibly your favorite of all the entity’s destinations. You recognized your surroundings. This was the locker room. Leaving the second floor was your first goal. As you entered the hallway, a bright light flickered in your face. At the end of the hall, Jeff pointed to the room to his right. You jogged over to him, said brief hellos, and knelt down to work on the repairs together. Shortly thereafter, with little remaining progress, a faint heartbeat echoed in your ears. You peered around the broken wall; no sign of the killer. The generator dings to life and you decide to split up to cover more ground. Jeff drops through a hole in the bathroom across the hall, leading you to divert from your original plan and head toward the other upstairs classrooms. As you near the stairwell, your heartrate increases. Not from the unbearable sexual tension you had for Leon, but the killer was close. You see nothing down the hall to your left, which meant the killer was below you. You sprint ahead, trying to make as little noise as possible. To your dismay, you were detected. Feet heavy on the ground, your footsteps echoed around you. You tripped on something but were far too agile to lose your balance, and never fell. Before rounding the corner, you look behind you to see what terror you were up against this time. A human figure with a red stain; the Legion. Extremely misleading the first time you ran into them. Extremely. You dart left, breaking line of sight. The chemistry lab is your best bet. Dropping through the floor will most likely get him off your trail. To prevent leaving scratch marks, you slow to a brisk walk. Just as you thought you would evade the killer, something grabs you and you lurch backward. Before you could scream, a hand covers your mouth. Leon spins you around to face him and pulls you close. The two of you are pressed tightly together between lockers and a wall. Heart racing, for multiple reasons, you stare at the small space where the floor is visible. Confused, the red light was bouncing around, taunting you. All that was on your mind was the heat radiating from all the areas your bodies were touching. The sudden realization that Leon had his arms around you, protecting you, made you jerk your head back to look at him. His eyes, normally brooding, were instead intently locked onto you with, was that, adoration? You didn’t want to get the wrong idea, or make assumptions rooted in your own feelings. A gen on the other side of the school is completed, and you see the Legion vault a window into the courtyard, leaving the two of you alone in the hall. Although the killer was nowhere near you, your heart was racing, painfully. You were agonizingly aware of the recurring flush that filled your face. You couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes, so you focused on his neck instead. So smooth and inviting. Every fiber of your being wanted to kiss it and bite it and moan his name into it. Your legs felt as if they would give way beneath you at any moment. You straightened your back to put more pressure on the wall behind you, allowing you to bend your legs slightly to prevent them from buckling under you. He had put himself slightly to your left as to

make sure he could block you from any attacks, if need be. If either of you moved forward so much as an inch, your legs would begin lacing together. Noticing how close your hips were to his sent a rush of heat to your crotch. Sick with suspense, you finally force yourself to look up. Before meeting his eyes, you analyze his lips. You craved them on your own. Your tongue on his; tasting each other.

“Y/n…” You’d never been turned on by your own name before. It was less your name and more the way it eased out of his mouth. Longing, impatient. Watching his lips emit your name made you crazed. You bit your bottom lip, wishing it were him biting it instead. Almost gasping for air, you take a deep breath and look into his eyes. Chills breeze over your body like a crisp fall evening. Muscles so weak you could barely move, you ease your hands around his waist, locking your fingers behind him. Your desire for him was borderline primitive at this point. If given the chance to pull him into one of the classrooms and fuck him right there on one of the desks, you’d take it without contemplation. Hell, you might initiate it in a second. Your pussy was throbbing, begging for him. You shifted your legs again, intertwining them completely. The pressure of his thigh on your clit sent electric chills through your legs to your toes. A short, pleased sigh escaping you drew his attention. His head eased forward slowly, sealing the distance between the two of you. His nose grazed yours and you gently nudged into it. You were panting in his face, which you would come to feel embarrassed about later. He continued forward until you felt his lips brush against yours. It tickled in the most satisfying way possible, like a flower against velvet.

“Yes,” you whispered against his lips, and just like that, every worry or care in the world vanished.

Softly, he pressed his lips to yours. It was electric to say the bare minimum. You took a staggered breath causing him to pull away. Your eyes shot open, darting wildly between his facial features, searching for any indication of regret. Instead, he places a hand on your cheek and pulls you into him. This time your lips met, they were ravenous. You suck his bottom lip into your mouth and bite down. Not enough to cause damage, but enough to cause him to let out a low rumbling moan into your mouth which sent you over the edge. Your non-dominant hand leaves his back and latches onto his gorgeous blonde hair. It was so soft in your fingers, like silk. You tilted your head and ran your tongue across the lip you still had trapped between your teeth. You released it which allowed Leon to open his mouth against yours and slide his tongue inside. Oh God, he tasted better than you’d imagined. Fleshy yet almost sweet, like the faintest hint of cinnamon. Your head was spinning and you felt light-headed from the stimulation (and the fact there was a good amount of blood in the lower half of your body). You were fixated on the fact that his saliva was in your mouth. You’d end up swallowing it, and vice versa. Your grip on his hair tightened and you let out a faint whimper. The combination made him growl with pleasure. His hands roamed your body briefly, coming to a stop at your waist. Seemingly effortlessly, he bent forward slightly, just enough to put his hands directly under your ass and prop you up against the wall, tongues still tangled. You wrapped your legs around him, wanting him to be even closer. You wanted, needed, him inside you. Given the new position, you could feel his engorged cock between your legs. You were almost- almost- concerned by the size of it. From what you could feel, he was well endowed. The hand on his back lowered to his ass cheek, which you graciously squeezed. You pulled him forward into you, just slightly at first, increasing the pressure of his bulge on you. You released and did it again. In any normal situation, you’d have never made a grown, fully clothed man grind on you like a horny pubescent boy, but these feelings for him had been pent up so long that they mutated from a sweet crush to full blown irrefutable lust. He caught on to what you were doing and abruptly removed his tongue from your mouth, leaving you confused and wanting all the more. His left hand came up to your chin and turned your head to the side, allowing him to press his lips to your ear.

Barely above a whisper, just a susurration, “You want me that bad, huh?” he taunted you. You were incapable of feeling embarrassment at the moment, brain flooded with desire. The warmth of his breath in your ear made you salivate. In a different setting, you would have begged to choke on his dick right now.

“Yeah? So what?” was the best retaliation you could think of in the moment. He chuckled; lips still pressed to your ear. The hand on your cheek traced your jaw and slid down to your neck. His slender, graceful fingers wrapped around your throat and gave it an intoxicating squeeze. Just hard enough to make you gasp but not hurt.

“I want to hear you beg for me,” his deep, warm voice filling your ear.

Your eyes shut and you tilt your head back in utter bliss, letting out a satisfied moan. He responded by nibbling your earlobe, which made you curse delightedly under your breath. Wanting to look at his irresistible face, you opened your eyes. Only, instead, you were greeted by eight beady black eyes peering down at you.

Snapping out of your drunken state, you blurt, “Oh fuck, Leon, the birds.”

He looks up to them with resentment and lets out a frustrated sigh. “Can we pick this up again later?” Ocean eyes begging you.

“You bet your fucking ass we’re picking this up later,” you demand before crashing your lips into his once more. “Now let’s get the fuck out of here before the whole flock follows us.”

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Silver Lining masterlist

[moonbaby26]

Title: Diamond in the Rough

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Continuation from last chapter. You and the others get some more down time in your last day and night on the ship together. Reader talks about some sensitive things with Peter, culminating in more bonding and fluff at the end.

Warnings: Some cursing, mentions of sex and arousal. Nothing explicit though.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @drikawinchester , @n0obmaster69 , @alexloveskili , @what-a-silver-lining , @bluesprings18 , @weakmoony-stuff , @slytherinsi-mp , @wintwrsoldiwr , @tommy-braccoli , @amourtentiaa , @cringingmemeries , @bi-panicatthe-disco , @himbos-are-my-lifeblood , @simp4mcuwomen

Peter Maximoff x Reader Masterlist

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“So you really weren’t going to tell me that you just said ‘screw it, peace out, guys!’, and pulled the sacrifice card to throw yourself out of a plane?”

Peter’s voice carried through the barracks as he looked at you like you were the crazy one for once.

“Well...it was in the middle of crashing at the time.” You countered, much quieter by comparison and looking to Jean or Kurt for any help here. Some of you were sitting on the floor, others on the beds, roughly in a circle as you talked.

But Kurt only piped up to make it worse. “Yes, I did not like that at all. Next time we must find another way. I thought too that you’d chosen to go down with the plane so we could escape, (Y/N).”

“But you can fly right? None of us could fly.” Scott butted in a bit unexpectedly though, on your side of the argument no less.

“(Y/N) can levitate like me.” Jean corrected. “The flying is newer though, not yet perfected.” She smiled at you then in a way that told you she wasn’t about to let you back out of getting credit for that risk taken in Egypt. “You still hit the ground, hard.” She added. “I went back in your mind to make sure you’d made it after we teleported.”

The others all looked at you, and you tried not to lose your nerve. “My energy field was still up though when I hit. That’s the important part...”

“I mean I could jump off a building with a helmet on, I’m pretty sure it still wouldn’t work out for my head.” Peter retorted, though with a very self aware look before he finished. “And no, that’s not what’s wrong with me.”

Scott actually laughed at that, which surprised both you and Peter at least. Maybe he was different when alone with Jean, but in front of the group he’d stayed fairly no nonsense since Egypt. Though who could blame him for being a bit uptight after all he’d been through recently.

“We did all get pretty wrecked.” Peter admitted after a moment though. “Thanks for the save, Jean. Up top.” He held his hand up in front of her to signal for a high five.

She obliged, but a bit half heartedly. “I had the Professor in my head though, egging me on. He helped me unlock that. But I still couldn’t have done anything if you all hadn’t held that guy in place for that long for me. He just would have escaped.”

“I wonder what happened to the woman?” Kurt considered. “Do you think she learned her lesson too?”

“I doubt it,” Ororo answered then. “We called her Psylocke. But she just wanted to be more powerful. I don’t think she’d care now about who we hurt.” She looked at all of you at that. “I am sorry...if I hadn’t said well enough before. I thought he wanted to make the world better for us, but he didn’t. He really did just want to control everyone, human and mutant alike. I was wrong.”

Scott shrugged. “You figured it out by the time it really mattered.”

“And he probably just would have tried to kill you if you’d shown disloyalty any sooner than that,” You agreed.

“Can’t stay mad at anybody with a sick mohawk like that anyway.” Peter commented too, clearly admiring her hair.

Ororo chuckled. “If I’d known other mutants like you all before, things likely would have been a lot different.”

“Well you know us now.” Jean offered.

“Yes, I’m new here too,” Kurt added. “There’s a lot to learn. I’m glad Raven found me as well to bring me to the school. I never had mutant friends either in the circus.”

“Woah, wait. You were in a circus? Like the whole bit? Elephants and clowns and stuff?” Peter turned his head to look at him, curiosity easily peaked.

“Ja.” Kurt replied.

As those two went off into a separate conversation about whether or not there’d been bearded ladies, strong men, and the like in the Bavarian circus, you just looked back to Jean.

“We’ll definitely have a lot to catch up on when we get home. You think Jubilee is going to be mad that she missed all the action?” You asked, only half joking.

“Oh man,” Jean conceded. “She’ll be all over us wanting details.”

But her next words surprised you a little as her voice so easily transitioned just into your mind afterward for privacy, her lips no longer moving.

“You know as soon as she finds out you met someone, she’s going to go nuts wanting details about Peter.”

You could only look at her for a moment. It was such a strange thing to consider. This had all happened so fast. But with her bringing up that point, it was the first time you’d really thought about what it would be like to potentially introduce him to other friends of yours back home, to try and communicate what he meant to you already.

Could you call him your boyfriend? Would you say you were dating? He’d already called himself that label, but did that mean you could say it? Would the others even believe it was possible to feel these things for someone you’d only known such a short time? Would they think you were naive, or just caught up in the whirlwind of the moment and that this would all fade?

“Hey, relax. I wasn’t trying to send you into a tailspin.” Jean’s mental voice broke back through that wave of anxious thoughts. “I haven’t known Scott for very long either. If anyone wants to waste energy judging us, I would say that’s their problem.”

“Yeah,” You just answered then, remembering you still needed to respond in a way that made sense to the last thing she’d actually said out loud, about Jubilee. But you went quiet afterward, letting the others steer the conversation to new things as you all continued just trying to pass the time.

It wasn’t too very long later though when you’d had another visitor to the barracks. You were all a bit surprised to see Moira walk in, noticeably without the Professor and carrying something in her hands.

“Some new brass arrived today, or officials I mean. They wanted to speak to Charles themselves.” She said quickly, obviously realizing by your looks that you were all wondering the same thing of where he was. “But I wanted to come by and take care of this for the ones that needed pictures.”

As she spoke, she raised up the thing in her hands as if that should also be some clear explanation for her purpose here. It still took you a moment honestly to realize it for what it was, accompanied by what she’d said.

“For your licenses and passports that we’re printing.” She clarified anyway before continuing, the polaroid camera in her hands. “You two,” She pointed at you and Peter, and then at Raven. “And you. You already had valid driver’s licenses. We’ll reuse those photos for a new license and passport. Charles wanted everyone to have both, as you’ll still need to travel within the U.S. as well once we’re back. The rest of you I need current photos of.”

The thought of Peter actually taking the time to get a driver’s license seemed pretty absurd when he could travel anywhere much faster on foot, but before you could ask him anything, Hank was speaking up.

“But I already had a license and a passport,” Hank responded in some confusion.

Moira looked a little awkward, but still answered kindly. “But the pictures were of you before. It won’t match how you look right now for us to get back into the country.”

Raven snickered and Hank shot her an unamused look.

“Uh, but I can’t take off my glasses. You want me to take it with my eyes closed?” Scott asked dryly, though it was a legitimate question.

Belatedly you realized this also meant he’d been completely prepared to drive one of the Professor’s cars illegally then, before you’d asserted yourself to be the one to drive you all to the mall that day. This was a mental note you’d have to save for later.

“Glasses on is fine. We’ll note it as a medical exemption.” Moira answered easily, though already looking for a spot to have them stand against. “And this might actually be better to do in the hallway, if you could- Hey!” Her hands were abruptly empty, as she startled, then looking around.

You blinked after the flash that came almost simultaneously. A hand squeezed your shoulder before Peter pulled back away, the stolen camera in his other hand as the photo began to eject from it.

“I thought you couldn’t move like that with your leg,” Moira chided, now realizing what had happened. “And that thing isn’t mine to break, just so we’re clear.”

“You’re like three feet away, I don’t have to run if I can just lean over and grab it.” Peter responded smoothly, pulling the photo out before offering her back the camera. “So what, that thing is CIA issue? If I push the wrong button is it going to laser me or something?”

“No.” She huffed. But didn’t look as if she wished to extend the conversation any further to get drug into this right now. She just motioned for the others to follow her into the hall as she then turned away. “Come on, guys. We’ll try to make this quick.”

Peter didn’t seem to mind either way, just putting his attention back to the photo he was now holding as if it were a prize. “What do you think?” He asked you after a moment, the image becoming more and more visible as the film developed.

You saw yourself there, though surprisingly not a terrible image considering you hadn’t even been prepared. Your expression in the photo was simply neutral, glancing elsewhere even as Peter’s smile was wide and bright, him leaning in with his face almost touching yours in the photograph.

“I’ve taken worse,” you said truthfully, but then looked back to him, amused at his seeming satisfaction with it. You wondered if he was actually planning on keeping the photo, instead of it just being a little joke. Wouldn’t he rather a better one at least?

“What?” He questioned, seeing your expression. He flicked the photo gently. “It proves you’re real if anyone asks later.”

“Why would you have to prove...” But you ended up just smiling, and gave up before you even really started, seeing how happy he still looked. “If you want a picture together, I’m sure she’d let us take another if we asked. You know, if we asked nicely, and didn’t just steal her camera this time.”

“I like this one.” He insisted though, holding onto it regardless. “It really looks like you.”

“Um...wouldn’t I always look like me?” You asked quizzically.

“It’s real,” He tried to explain. “Natural? If we took another you’d just smile on purpose.”

You still didn’t fully understand. He was smiling in the picture after all. But to his point maybe, he did look almost giddy in the photo. Not something you would be able to replicate on command. “Okay.” You said, fine either way. “If you like that best.”

“There is something I think I’m going to ask Moira anyway though when she comes back,” He admitted.

It wasn’t very long either until you were able to find out what that was.

When the others did start to file back in after taking their pictures in the hallway, Moira had just leaned in the doorway briefly to thank them. “We’ll have these made up in time for tomorrow for your travel documents, thank you.”

She was already turning to leave again before Peter stopped her.

He cocked his head, piping up. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

She did pause, but her look back at him was slightly wary. Likely not knowing if this would be more humor or not. “Yes?”

He didn’t mess around though this time, just getting to the point outright. “Do you think you could send somebody to my Mom’s house? You know, just to say everything’s cool and I’ll be home soon? She’s probably losing her mind right now.”

Moira’s expression changed fully at that, empathy going to the forefront. “Of course. Yes. What’s her name? Her address?”

That mood faded just as quickly though as he raised his eyebrows, teasing. “Well shouldn’t the CIA know that?”

She sighed. Staring at him as the annoyed look returned.

“You’re so serious,” Peter smirked. “Magda Maximoff, suburbs outside D.C.” He rattled off a street address afterward, but still continued, “We’re in the phonebook anyway. Prof.’s been there too, he’d know.”

“We’ll look it up.” She agreed. “See you guys later.”

With that she was gone. The rest of you settled back, just sitting and talking again. And you’d gone off with Peter down by your beds after a while. Just the two of you again.

You’d realized obviously before now by their interactions that the Professor had met Peter at some point previous to his coming to the mansion the other day. But like so many things, in the rush of everything, you hadn’t learned much more.

“So Xavier’s been to your house. Was he trying to recruit you for the school?” You asked, honestly just curious. Though it was a little disappointing to consider you may have had a chance to meet Peter much sooner if he’d accepted any kind of invitation like that then.

You had been sitting on the bottom bunk together again, but he leaned back behind you now, stretching before putting his arms behind his head. He pulled his legs and cast awkwardly back up into the bed as you shifted to try and let him get how he wanted.

He looked pretty content though as he lowered an arm back to put it across your lap. “Well that was years ago. He had hair, he was walking. He didn’t want me for your little private school though. He just wanted me to help them spring my dad from the Pentagon...but I don’t think he knew it was my dad either then. It was all Logan’s plan to bring me. Really I didn’t find out much else. These dudes just showed up at my house, and I went with them to commit a felony.” He shrugged a little. “Probably not that smart, right? But I didn’t have anything else cool to do that day I guess.”

You wondered how much of that story Xavier would really tell you if you asked one day. You could only imagine what reasoning someone like the Professor would have to do something so brazen, even if it was to help Erik. Especially when Xavier had always preached to you all the importance of staying within the law and not using your powers to exploit any rules that would apply to non mutants. For now, you only asked a little bit more though. “How many people actually came to your house to do that then?”

“Oh, it was just three. Prof., Hank, and Logan.”

Well that made it even more interesting really. Hank was also so well known for always following the rules. But then again, he also was one of Xavier’s longest friends, like Raven and Erik. They’d all known each other since many years ago.

But this was the second time Peter had said this name of ‘Logan’. Shouldn’t you know that name? Well yes, you knew at least one. You couldn’t forget the name Jean had told you back in Stryker’s base. The man who’d gone on a rampage, though also cutting you violently from your own restraints before he’d escaped. Honestly you might even have scars from that when this was all said and done. But the name in and of itself wasn’t that unusual of a name. And what Peter was talking about apparently occurred years ago.

“I don’t think I know a Logan,” You said honestly. “Was he a mutant too?”

“Oh hell yeah,” Peter answered, raising up a closed fist. He made a noise, and a motion you didn’t understand as if he was doing something in midair with his fist, before adding. “Three big claws come shooting out this dude’s hand. It was so gross, but badass.”

You stared, the realization finally hitting hard. It couldn’t be a coincidence then. “Peter!” You exclaimed abruptly. There was just no way they were two different people. It was too unique of a mutation. “That’s the guy!”

“Huh?” He looked up at you in surprise. Confused at your sudden excitement.

“The one from the base! Didn’t Jean tell you?” Without thought, you lifted your shirt enough to show him those long claw marks still red across your stomach. They were dry now, already trying to heal. But it was three in a row, still clear as day. “The guy that tore through all those soldiers and freed me, she told me that his name was Logan.”

“She didn’t tell me that.” Peter stammered slightly, definitely caught off guard as you’d raised your shirt. “She just said to expect you to be bloody when I went looking for you.” He was staring at your exposed skin now though. “So Logan did that?”

You tensed slightly as you felt his fingertips graze your abdomen. It wasn’t unpleasant, just a bit unexpected. You lowered your shirt back down, but noticed obviously when he just let his hand stay under it.

When you didn’t show further aversion to the touch though, his hand continued idly wandering on the skin that was unbroken. “Well damn, that’s super screwed up then. I know they said a guy went full rage mode and tore the place up. And yeah, I saw the bodies he left when I went looking for you. But they didn’t say his name. I didn’t see him either before he took off.”

“It has to be the same person.” You reiterated. “But if you really want to be sure, you can always think of those memories of him, the Logan that you knew. If you let Jean look into your thoughts later, she could tell you for certain if it was him.

Peter looked a little disconcerted, but just agreed anyway. “Yeah, sure. I just, man how long did they have him there then? What a dick that Stryker guy was. Fuck him.”

But after the little bit of anger, he was only looking back at you. That thought of Stryker seeming to also remind him of your initial meeting with him. “How’s your ribs?”

You felt his fingers trail up across them at the question. “Sore,” You admitted. “But what isn’t?”

His voice was quieter then though, his hand moving back down before it reached your chest. “Then don’t jump out of any more planes please.”

You paused, wondering if he really was so bothered about that to have brought it up again. You’d all played so fast and loose that day though, doing whatever you felt you had to do. “It was a big day of firsts that’s for sure.”

“No kidding.” He agreed.

And nothing was ever going to be the same again was it? Even when you were all home again and the mansion was finally rebuilt. Were you all just going to go back to class like you hadn’t almost died? Would you just pretend that you didn’t know there were still entities out there that wanted you dissected, destroyed, or both?

“I think it gave the Professor a lot to think about too.” Is what you finally said. “I feel like he’s going to change some things going forward. But I don’t know how much yet. I don’t know if this could really mean the resurrection of the X-Men.” It was a crazy thought. Xavier and Hank never really liked to talk about that part of their past. They’d lost a lot then, or at least that’s always what you’d inferred from the bits and pieces you had heard over the years.

“X-Men...” Peter repeated, making a face like he wasn’t sure if it was a decent name or not. “Guess it’d still be better than being called Charlie X’s Angels or something like that.”

You smirked. “You know they used to all have codenames too.” Though you were sure not all of them were self named. “Xavier was just Professor X, Hank was Beast, Raven was Mystique, Scott’s brother Alex was Havok, your dad was Magneto of course. But there was Banshee, Darwin, and Tempest as well.”

He gave you a contemplative look. “Can I call you Lite-Brite then?”

Your look must have clearly said no, but he just kept going, very amused at your reaction.

“Glo-Worm?” He offered instead.

“Seriously? You’d name me after a bug?”

“Nah, they’ve got these super cute toy ones. Wanda had one. She slept with that thing all the time. They glow when you hug them.” He was grinning again now. “I mean, you’re comforting too right? Think I could make you glow?”

“I don’t think it works that way.” But honestly you might be lying to save face as he was now rubbing his hand further up into your shirt again.

“Don’t we all lose a little control when we get excited?” He countered, his tone getting a little more dangerous. “I know I do.”

You felt that statement was likely a bit of a trap, hesitating as your curiosity swelled. What could happen with his powers if he did have an uncontrolled moment like that? He was likely right though. Just like the onset of mutant powers came for most of you around the same time as puberty, they could also be triggered by intense emotions or stress. So it was reasonable to think that another powerful feeling such as arousal could also lead to some issues for those of you already less experienced in controlling yourselves.

“Brings a whole new meaning to safe sex doesn’t it?” He said as he let go of you then, putting his hands back behind his head. He still looked too amused, even though he seemed to sense when you needed another break from the touching to process your own thoughts.

“Did that happen with her?” You asked though. Not afraid, but yes, maybe some concern in your expression. You really hadn’t considered any of this before.

His smile faded at the unexpected mention of Crystal again. But he only hesitated a little, looking at you as he answered honestly. “Sometimes. She uh, burnt me a couple times. In the literal sense. She was like the band, Earth, Wind, and Fire. I mean she could control water too, but I liked the band joke better.” He frowned slightly. “She always hated that joke though.”

“Did you do anything to her?” You responded quietly before you could think better of it. Was this really any of your business? No, not really. But, it could be a part of your future.

There was a little surprise in his eyes, but his answer was immediate. “Babe, I’m the last person you’d ever have to be afraid of.” He looked bothered still as he continued though. “And no, I never hurt her. She would have knocked me into next week if I had.”

“So what does happen if you lose control that way?” You still asked, deciding you still did want to know.

He gave you an awkward look. But if he was going to offer out this information, it seemed there was going to at least be a small price for it. “If I’m really riled up? Turned on? You can say it outright you know.”

You weren’t going to say it in any more explicit way than that though, but you nodded at least. “Yes, you know what I mean.”

He sighed at your modesty, but reached out his hand after a moment. “Let me see your wrist then. Way easier just to show you.”

Well, if it was anything dangerous, he wouldn’t be so casual about it would he? You did offer him your wrist, not knowing what to expect as he clasped his hand around it.

You could tell he was focusing on something for just a moment, before the oddest sensation you’d ever felt shot from your wrist, down into your fingertips, and all the way up into your shoulder before you jerked your hand back in surprise.

Your reaction didn’t seem to faze him at all though as he’d easily let you go. It looked like you’d only done exactly as he expected. “You’ll still feel it for a bit after, just so you know.”

And you could still feel it, fading but definitely there as you flexed your fingers. “What did you do?” It wasn’t painful, but it was like a tingling, instantaneous whenever he’d done it. Not just through the skin, but into the bone, the muscle, everything. The only thing you could liken it to at all is when a limb woke up from being asleep, yet it wasn’t as uncomfortable as that and it was far deeper.

“Well you asked what happens if I get too excited. I, uh, vibrate?” He tried to call it something without really knowing what to call it. “I’m no science guy, but I’d guess it moves everything I’m touching down to what, the atoms right? So that’s what you’d feel. But it wouldn’t just be from my hand. I was doing it on purpose there. If it wasn’t on purpose it’d be literally all of me doing it.”

So that would mean, well...that would be a very intense sensation to say the least if you would happen to be having skin to skin contact in more places than one when he would accidentally do that. You tried not to let your expression change much at the realization. The last thing you wanted to do was to throw this very personal dialog further down into the gutter.

“I still think you’d glow though.” He added confidently. “And if your energy deal is always as warm as it was in that elevator shaft back at the base, I think it’d feel really good too. Just for the record.”

Yes, this was definitely teetering on that edge of going fully into a place you weren’t ready for just yet. But you only had yourself to blame. You asked him to elaborate, and he did. You knew your powers could be a lot more than harmless though. Much more than warmth. You didn’t know if it’d be too pessimistic to mention that right now though.

“I don’t know what I would do.” You finally said, just speaking the truth when you didn’t know what else to say.

“We can talk about something else you know if you want.” He poked you gently in the arm, seemingly offering you an escape route if you wished to take it. “Like we’re still going to the mall at some point right?”

“Definitely.” You answered gladly.

“You should come over too, play some video games when we get back. I’ve got an Atari and a Nintendo. Or we could watch a movie. You like Bruce Lee? Karate Kid? Stuff like that?”

The genuine eagerness emerging in his tone was something you really appreciated. A reminder that in reality, even though he evidently enjoyed any physical contact he was allowed to have with you, it was only a part of the whole picture. He just wanted to be around you too.

“Yes, I think that’d be awesome. I haven’t seen many of those movies, but usually Jubilee picks for movie night. Breakfast Club, Pretty in Pink, Sixteen Candles...over and over.”

He laughed. “Oh, no way. There’s more to life than Molly Ringwald. Time to expand your horizons!”

You were smiling too, about to say something back when Scott’s voice carried from further down the barracks.

“Hey, they brought dinner if either of you want to eat!”

“But is it even worth a crap!?” Peter called back immediately and just as loudly.

“Heck if I know!” Scott answered and you could swear you heard a lot less loud Jean tell him to quit yelling in her ear.

“I’m still salty about that fake strawberry garbage from earlier.” Peter said, just to you then as he sat back up.

It wasn’t much of a surprise to you though that the food would be brought to you all this time, considering the episode in the mess hall before. The only thing that did surprise you was that it would already be dinner time. Though it was hard to have much concept of time right now really, especially when there were no windows to see the sun or sky below deck.

But it did give it more of that prison feel too. The hours running together, locked away in close quarters, and now with government mandated food being dropped off impersonally. It either felt like prison or being in a rare species exhibit at the zoo.

“Well, you said you’re like a hummingbird metabolism wise, right? You have to eat something.” You spoke, while hanging back to give Peter a chance to get up on his crutches.

Really the hummingbird analogy you were liking more and more though as you personally thought they were adorable, and they literally were the bird equivalent to him in your opinion. This flamboyant little bird that beat its wings so fast it could actually hover in place or disappear in a blur once they did decide to take off. Not to mention the exclusive high sugar diet.

“Glo-Worm,” Was all he replied back, but very pleased when it still got a strong reaction from you.

“Please don’t make that one stick. It’s a lot less cute than Hummingbird.”

But he just offered a non-committal smile, walking past you. “We’ll see.”

——————————

Some few hours later, when it was time for lights out again, Peter had wanted to take a shower so you were already in the bottom bunk alone.

You tried to stay awake to wait for him, but you must have already been asleep for how bad you startled when you felt something pressing down against the mattress beside you.

And when you shot up, you were even more confused at the sudden pressure against the top of your head before you finally woke up enough to realize Peter now had his hand splayed there, pushing your head back a little.

“Woah,” He whispered in the dark. “You about nailed the top of the bunk. It’s just me.”

You relaxed, trying to look at him before you felt him let go, laying down beside you. As you laid down as well, he shifted several times, trying to get comfortable.

“I hate this damn cast.” He complained. “Do you know how weird it is to have to shower with a garbage bag tied around your leg?”

You could feel his still wet hair though on the pillow as he nuzzled in closer with you. You’d both joked a little earlier about looking forward to getting to share this bed one more time tonight before heading back to the U.S. and your sort of more normal lives tomorrow. The emphasis of the joking though had been about getting to continue the kissing that had been interrupted on the flight deck.

But now that you were here, you found you really just wanted to hold him and enjoy the warmth and quiet together. Because you didn’t know when this chance would come again. Would you go your separate ways tomorrow? You back to New York and wherever the other displaced students were now staying, and him back to D.C. to reunite with his mother? He wouldn’t be able to run and come to find you again until his cast was off. And how many weeks would that take, even with mutant healing factors?

You didn’t really know what the exact plan was after you’d arrive in the U.S. either, but maybe there was something you could do after all. “Hey.” You said quietly after a bit, hoping he was still awake.

“Mmm?” He made a questioning noise, hugging a bit tighter to you.

You took it as enough response to say that he was listening. “So they said that we’re landing in New Jersey tomorrow, right? Well everyone else is going to want to go north to get back to Salem Center, New York.” You didn’t really need to clarify where the school had been though, he’d obviously already found it. “But you’ll need to go south to get back to D.C., and it’s not like Xavier is going to expect you to find your own way home. Someone’s going to have to drive you and-”

But Peter didn’t even let you finish, already very on board with the idea. “And we give Prof. the old puppy eyes and beg for it to be you.” You knew he was grinning again then just by his tone. “I like it. Road trip.”

You felt relief that he approved of your spur of the moment plan, but then again he’d already said he wanted you to come over to his house sometime. You wouldn’t be able to stay very long you were sure, but at least you’d get the car ride together if this all worked out. And you’d get to see where he lived, maybe even hang out for a little while before having to drive back to New York.

It was funny how just like that you now had something to look forward to again. But would Xavier really be on board? Would he feel comfortable letting you drive back alone? You’d just have to convince him that you were old enough now and capable.

“I guess I should have cleaned my room a little better before I left.” Peter mused. “Can be a bit of a train wreck, just like the dude that lives in it.”

“Oh, someone else lives there too?” You teased slightly.

But Peter only played along. “Yeah, a real piece of work. Guy just plays video games all day, and wears out the same shitty records playing them over and over with the volume up. Maybe reads some comic books or jets off to nab some Twinkies from the convenience store down the block. Real outstanding citizen. I heard he’s dating now though. Who the hell would want that charity project?”

“Hmm.” You knew he was only half joking, Peter really still seeing himself in the way he just described to a large degree. But you were patient, and determined to keep working on building his self confidence little by little. “I think if he met someone then, it’d be someone who believes in the old ‘diamond in the rough’ expression. They must really just like him for him. They probably even see his real value even when he can’t yet.”

Peter was quiet for a few moments at that before you felt him run a hand through your hair. “I guess that would make him really lucky then. He probably should bust his ass to make sure he doesn’t disappoint them then and screw that one up.”

You smiled softly. “All he has to do is be himself. If you have to fight too hard just to maintain a relationship, it likely was never right to begin with.”

“Been there, done that.” He at least agreed, but was now running his fingers down along your face.

You knew what he was hoping for and leaned in to meet him as you kissed. It was very soft though, like he was still thinking of what you’d said. He didn’t press for much more either, just a few more kisses before he nuzzled his face back down against you.

“I’m still going to do the best I can.” He spoke quietly against your neck. “I want you to be happy.”

“I am.” You said. Feeling every bit of those words as you stayed warm against one another. It felt safe. It felt right.

And no one said anything else. You were both content to leave it that way, falling asleep just as you were.

———————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Vantage Point.

Commissioned by the very patient, very lovely @yandere-vale.

Word Count: 5.1k.

Pairing: Yandere!Glimmer/Reader (She-Ra).

TW: Fem!Reader, Aged Up Characters, Imprisonment, Implied Kidnapping, Isolation, Emotional Abuse, Slight Infantalization, Mentions of Physical Abuse, Past Injury.

At least the view was nice, in Bright Moon.

You should know. You’d had plenty of time to take it in, by now, not that a single glance wouldn’t have been enough to convince any battle-weary refugee that the destination was worth the tiring journey. The jutting canyons, the darkened forests, the permanent twilight painted across skies so stunning, the bay surrounding Glimmer’s kingdom couldn’t rest until it was beautiful enough to reflect them – it was pretty, you could admit that, and it was nice to finally have enough time to take it all in. It was a small silver lining, running thin enough to border on the verge of complete nonexistence, but it was a silver lining all the same. You were allowed to appreciate it. You’d give yourself that. You liked being able to appreciate it.

You just wished you didn’t have to do so from such a distant vantage point.

It might’ve been a tower. You thought it was, at least, from what you could tell from your perch at its peak. Tall, looming, just as rounded and just as seamless as every other building on Bright Moon’s shores. There was no ladder, no staircase, no way down beyond finding the nearest ledge and hoping for the best, and if there was anything to discover beyond the confines of your bedroom, there certainly wasn’t a way to access it. You’d already tried, searched for hidden doors and passageways, tried every possible escape route Glimmer might’ve overlooked, spent a memorable week attempting to break through the solid stone floor, but it was fruitless, pointless, an effort you could only look back on with resent for your own naivety. There was no way for you to get out, not without risking your own life, in the process, and there wasn’t a way for any would-be savior to get in. You were trapped, isolated, cut off from everything you’d ever called your home. Cut off from everyone you’d ever called your friend.

Except her, obviously.

But you’d never made the mistake of calling Glimmer your friend.

You could hear her, your routine silence broken by slow footsteps, but you didn’t look, you didn’t bother to. You’d already been sitting there for hours, perched inside of a carved-out windowsill, admiring everything that you couldn’t have, not anymore, not after Glimmer decided you didn’t deserve it as much as she deserved you. No, you didn’t acknowledge her, you didn’t let yourself acknowledge her, but that never made a difference. She was already approaching you, already behind you, an arm soon wrapped around your torso and a chest slotted against your back, pulling you into something you might’ve called a hug, if she thought to let go. You bit back your rising complaints, swallowing the urge to shove her away and give her another reason to think of you as immature, irresponsible, incapable, but if she appreciated your self-restraint, she clearly didn’t think it was worth her praise.

Glimmer only sighed, shaking her head at your absentee reaction, more than content to act like she couldn’t imagine why imprisonment might lead to some lingering resentment. “Still busy sulking, sweetheart?”

You didn’t answer, not at first, keeping your eyes on the scenery below. You didn’t like it when she got so close, not after everything she’d done. You didn’t like that you had to let her get so closer, or risk spending another month in somewhere far less pleasant than a homey, familiar, inescapable tower. “I’m not sulking,” You mumbled, fighting not to curl into yourself. “You keep me here, imprisoned and alone, and you know I don’t like it. I don’t have to pretend I’m happy to see you.”

“No, but it might be nice if you tried.” There was a laugh, a squeeze, but she pulled away quickly, sliding into the space next to you and forcing you to shrink further into the nearest wall, forcing to you avoid her, if only because she refused to give you the space to reach out on your own. “You can’t act like I haven’t given you plenty of chances to make yourself happy,” She went on, her tone still light-hearted, vaguely amused. She wasn’t taking this seriously. You doubted she would, until you said something to upset her. “It’s not my fault that you refuse to accept my gifts without a fight.”

You didn’t have to ask what she meant. The evidence was still scattered around your bedroom, found in torn lace and ripped silk, crushed flowers and chipped gems, neglected toys and trinkets she'd offered, half-heartedly, attempting to fill she'd left in your life. On good days, you could ignore it, pretend they were meant for someone else, anyone but you. On most days, felt sick at the thought of indulging Glimmer's one-sided show of kindness.

“Presents won’t make this bearable. I don’t need distractions.” You let yourself exhale, leaning back, your posture just slack enough to make the idea of continuing this conversation tolerable. Something shot through the flesh below your shoulder blade, a single strike of agony before the feeling faded into a steady throb. A reminder of a wound that wasn’t quite healed, but one you’d already disregarded, nonetheless. “I need to go outside. I need you to let me go. I need you to stop acting like you’re doing this for my safety.” Glimmer flinched, her jaw locking into place, but you ignored the small pang of guilt that followed. Good. If she expected you to find a way to live with this, she could find a way to live with the discomfort. “I was doing fine before I met you, and I’d still be doing fine, without your help. It’s not fair to assume I’d—”

“Really?” Glimmer cut you off, any trace of her levity gone. “Are you sure you can’t come up with a single reason I might be hesitant to let you take care of yourself?”

Immediately, you fell quiet, turning away yet again. This time, Glimmer didn’t seem to mind your silence.

“Believe it or not, I’m not trying to make you miserable,” She said, not for the first time. Like you were supposed to believe it. Like she could expect you to believe it. “I just want to keep you safe. If you have to be unhappy for me to do that, then so be it.”

And, just like that, she was gone.

For a moment, you almost missed her.

~

You didn’t break her next gift.

You wanted to. The temptation was always there, you doubted you’d ever grow fond enough of Glimmer for it to completely go away, but you ignored it, brushed it off, pushed it just far enough down to pretend it didn’t exist at all. It helped that she’d given you a book, this time. Usually, her gifts were materialistic, unsubstantial, things that were better at making you look cute and harmless than helping you pass the time. She hadn’t left, yet. That helped too. You still had bruises from the last time you didn’t give her rage time to cool, and you weren’t eager to reopen old wounds.

Books could be used. Books could be read. Books were heavy, and they meant you could do something, if only sit passively and take in a story that wasn’t yours. That was more credit than Glimmer had ever given you before. Part of you worried it was more credit than she’d ever give you again.

That might’ve been why you asked. You wanted logic. If there was a method to her madness, there would be a way to predict what comes next, to try to guess if there was a reason she’d done this at all. You wanted there to be a reason. “Aren’t you afraid I’m going to use this?”

Glimmer didn’t look up from the letter in her hands, multiple pages of important political correspondence, you were sure. She’d taken your bed, when she first arrived, and you’d hid yourself away at the vanity on the other side of the room. A part of you hated it, how she dominated what was supposed to be your space so easily. Another part of you was just glad to have a reason to feel like you actually had a space you felt was yours, if only when someone else invaded it.

Her response came in the form of a hum, light and curious, then a question. “Use it?”

“You know,” You started, before you were entirely sure what you wanted to say. “To escape, or something. I might still find a way to.”

Glimmer laughed, and suddenly, you knew why she was such an unopposed ruler. By the time she actually spoke, you’d already begun to regret saying anything at all. “Planning to beat the walls in with a paperback? I think I’d have to hand over my crown, too, if you managed that.”

Your face burnt, and your grip around the novel tightened. If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve reconsidered your decision to keep this one. “I could always attack you.”

“Do you want me to take it away?”

“Please don’t.” You spoke quickly, as softly as you could, but your panic was still audible, the rush of anxiety you wished you didn’t have to give weight, after so many months of letting your instincts lay dormant. “I just… I guess I just want to know why you didn’t do this earlier. You’ve always given me clothes and that kind of stuff, and this seems more—”

Glimmer didn’t let you finish. She rarely did, when you spoke for any longer than she cared to let you. “C’mere, angel. You shouldn’t be so far away.”

It wasn’t a demand, not really, not when she said it so casually. It wasn’t, but you treated it like one, pushing yourself to your feet and reluctantly approaching her, your eyes never leaving the ground. In your defense, you didn’t fall into her arms, choosing to sit on the edge of your bed and retain a fraction of your dignity, but your aversion didn’t matter. All it took was a strong arm wrapped around your waist, a light tug, and you were tucked into her side, regardless, your head resting on her chest and your legs folded underneath you. For once, you were glad she kept you so isolated. You wouldn’t have been able to live with the embarrassment, if anyone else was around to see you like this.

“Everything I do, I do because it’s what I think is best for you.” There was a pause, like this meant anything. Like she thought she was comforting you. Like this could be comforting, to anyone who didn’t share in her twisted fantasy. “Don’t worry about the details, that’s the kind of thing you’re supposed to let me take care of. It won’t do you any good to overwork yourself, like that.” Her hand fell to your waist, signaling for you to agree. You managed a quick nod, and Glimmer went on, pleased. “Just sit back and relax. No need to worry your pretty little head over anything I think you do or don’t deserve.”

Your throat felt dry. The sheets below you felt scratchy, uncomfortable, like you were sitting on sandpaper rather than satin. You wanted to get up. You wanted to, but you didn’t. “I don’t… I mean, you’re probably right, but—”

“I am right.” She was laughing, reaching over to cup your cheek and tilt your head back, her lips soon pressed against the top of your head, but the gesture was hollow, it felt hollow, and you could’ve hated yourself for ever trying to give it meaning. Glimmer was good at that, making you feel like you were paranoid, too preoccupied with yourself to ever see the bigger picture. She was good at making you feel like you were in the wrong. She was good at making you feel like you’d always been wrong, even if you knew she couldn’t be right. “You just need a little help, that’s all. You were too reckless, when you came to me, you just got yourself into too much trouble. I just want to make sure you don’t get yourself hurt, anymore.”

You believed her. You could believe her. If you wanted to, you could make yourself believe her.

You’d have to believe her, if you ever wanted to survive what came next.

~

It felt like fire.

In your veins, in your blood, under your skin and spreading, every time you moved or shifted or took a breath deeper than the shallow, airy inhales you’d gotten used to, by now. It didn’t have any right to hurt as much as it did, honestly. The wound was old, mostly healed, a shadow of a scar of a lasting injury that’d already overstayed its welcome, but it felt like something new, something fresh, something that you’d gotten the other day, rather than so many years ago. Something raw, something bloody.

Something that Glimmer was making worse with every passing moment, whether or not she meant to.

She was trying to help. You reminded yourself of that. She didn’t trust a medic with you, and you’d had to beg her not to use the temperamental healing magic that so often left much more able-bodied soldiers in much worse condition than simple, external wounds could ever achieve, but you almost wished you hadn’t bothered. She must’ve been using the wrong ointment, the wrong elixir. She must’ve been being too harsh, or too gentle, or messing with something that made flesh and tissue smolder where it shouldn’t have, the pain vivid enough to make you curl into yourself, sink into the mattress, try to escape something that you already knew couldn’t be as bad as you were making it out to be, in your own mind. Whatever she was doing, it hu-

“Does it hurt, love?” Glimmer asked, slowly.

“It doesn’t,” You answered, without hesitation. “It just… It stings more than I expected it to.”

You tried to sound confident, but your voice wavered as her fingertips skirted over scarred tissue, your fists curling around the pillow you were clinging to, despite the way you knew it must’ve looked. Her bed was so much softer than yours, everything in her chambers so much more plush, but that made sense. She was royalty, and you were her prisoner. Your bedroom wasn’t simple, not by any means, but Glimmer's was…

She was a queen. You shouldn’t forget that, however convenient she made it to try. She was a queen, and you weren’t.

“If you’d let me tend to it earlier, it wouldn’t be so bad.” She was scolding you, but playfully, tenderly enough to let you calm down, some of the tension in your rigid form dissolving as you crossed your arms under your head and tried to relax. There was a moment of reprieve, the sound of glass clinking against glass, and a wave of cold air rushed over your injury, dulling any lingering pain into an unpleasant awareness. You would’ve thanked her for it, if the thought did leave a bitter taste on your tongue. You might’ve, still, if she hadn’t chosen to keep going before you could say anything at all. “Count yourself lucky it’s not infected. It’s almost as bad as it was, when we first met.”

It wasn’t. It really wasn’t. Or it might’ve been, you couldn’t really remember. It’d been so long since it was first inflicted, since the last spark of a war that’d spanned longer than your lifetime died out and you were left with the scars to prove you’d survived it, even if the majority of your hometown hadn’t been able to recover in the years that followed. You could barely walk when you first arrived in Bright Moon, but that might’ve been the exhaustion, or the stress, or some other vague, abstract concept that’d been just apparent enough for Glimmer to catch and take pity on you, despite the horror’s she must’ve faced on her own.

You stopped yourself before your thoughts could spiral any further. She pitied you, but you wouldn’t pity her. You refused to. You’d seen where it led, what kind of obsession it could create, and you didn’t want that. You wouldn’t let yourself believe you did.

“But it’s going to get better, right?” You couldn’t keep that hopeful lilt out of your voice, an equal mix of manufactured positivity and genuine optimism, despite yourself. “That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? So you can take care of me?”

There was a brief silence, then a small chuckle. Your wound felt warm, again, smoldering around the edges, and for a moment, you almost found it reassuring. “Of course,” She agreed, but she was still laughing. You wished she would stop. “That, and because I like having you around.”

It was almost funny.

You thought you’d be relieved, when she was finally honest with you.

It hurt, again. It must’ve been the paste she was using, something thick and elastic that kept a cluster of soft, generously applied bandages plastered to your skin. It was far from comfortable, too tight in places, too loose in others, uneven in a way that meant you’d have to tear off what you could and wrap your chest more thoroughly in an hour, at most, but you forced yourself to smile, to sit up and stretch as if doing so didn’t leave something in your spine twisted and cramped. You could complain, if you wanted to, you doubted Glimmer would be that petty, but there wasn’t a point. It was easier to keep her happy, with or without any caveats. You could live with the mild pain, for now.

Glimmer rewarded you with a small grin, a gentle hand on your cheek when you turned to face her. “My brave little sweetheart,” She started, nearly cooing. You tried to tell yourself it was unintentional. “You should probably rest, I might not be able to help if you make things any worse. I’ll take you back to your—”

It was a flare of panic, sudden and unmistakable. A shot of anxiety, a sudden burst of pure dread – something so mindless and so overwhelming, you were throwing yourself at her before you had a chance to think better of it, burying your face in her chest and latching on to her shirt, letting her wrap her arms around you when she recovered from any short-lived shock. “Do I… do I have to go back?” You managed, reluctantly. You didn’t want to ask, you didn’t want to fall so far, but you couldn’t go back to that tower. You just couldn’t. “Please, you can restrain me again, I just don’t want to—”

You were cut off by a squeeze to your side, an idle chuckle. You already knew what she would say, but the way she paused still made you hesitate. It made you feel unsure, obedient, like anything she’d done had ever mattered to you.

Like you were starting to need her as much as she claimed to need you.

“All you had to do was ask.”

~

It took you three hours to pick the lock on Glimmer’s door.

Three weeks, technically, if you counted the time you spent observing, watching, waiting until she trusted you enough to leave you to rest in her palace, rather than sending you back to that freezing, forsaken tower. It was a frustrating precaution, molding yourself into something submissive, begging to spend just one more night in her bedroom rather than your own, but you needed to know Glimmer’s schedule, the rotation of her guards, what you had to work with and how many flimsy, flat trinkets you’d be able to get your hands on before Glimmer started to question your new fascination with hairpins and letter openers. You needed to know who else was in the palace, who else you could get to before you were caught.

You needed to know who to run to, when you finally got out of the softened, insufferable cage Glimmer kept you locked inside of.

Three hours. On and off, one minute at a time, every little creak and jolt and tell-tale snap serving as another reason to hold your breath, to stop and listen, to shut your eyes and hope you’d never have to do this again. You could’ve cried when the lock finally gave away, when the polished marble of her door finally slackened and relaxed, falling open without a struggle. There weren’t any guards outside, you timed it so there wouldn’t be, but you doubted you would’ve cared if there were. You could already hear footsteps against solid tile, and hope flared in your chest before you could think to press it down, bright and burning and overflowing as you took in your soon-to-be savior – a girl, a few years older. A woman. Her name came to you in a moment.

Catra, a warrior, a war hero.

Someone who could help you.

You didn’t throw yourself at her, not like you threw yourself at Glimmer. You didn’t have to, you didn’t want to sacrifice your pride like that, not anymore, but that didn’t stop you from grinning like an idiot, from stumbling over your own feet as you sprinted in Catra’s direction, barely listening to her stifled swearing before it came to a jarring stop. You might’ve said something. You might’ve just opened your mouth and closed it again. You might’ve stuttered and mumbled and blabbered incoherently until her expression shifted, gave away, more out of relief than kindness. More out of understanding than any real empathy.

She cut you off, and something in your heart clenched painfully.

“You’re Glimmer’s, right?”

You shook your head. You would’ve denied it, but you couldn’t remember how to speak. Part of you wondered if you’d ever really known how to, at all.

“Dressed like it,” Catra went on, rolling her eyes, her tone only a touch above sardonic. You didn’t have to throw yourself at her – she was already taking you by the wrist, dragging you in the same direction she’d been heading, regardless, never giving you the choice not to follow. “C’mon, I don’t want to deal with Sparkle’s tantrums, today. You’re coming to the war room.”

You didn’t get a chance to refuse. You doubted she would’ve listened if you did, but you could’ve tried, you should’ve said something. It would’ve felt right, if nothing else, to put your foot down, to make a run for it, to tell someone what Glimmer had done to you, even if it was starting to seem like Catra might not make much of a shoulder to cry on. Even in the moment, you knew you’d regret it, but…

But, you couldn’t bring yourself to do much of anything.

You didn’t know what else you’d expected, honestly.

The palace was bigger than it looked, from your usual vantage point. The adrenaline had started to die down by the time you reached the ‘war room’, leaving you drained, tired, dragging your feet as Catra tugged you through a door twice your height, the guards that stood on either side of the entryway barely batting an eye at your bare feet and disheveled appearance. The ceilings were too high, the gold accents just a little too polished, everything too bright despite the lack of an apparent light source. It hurt, in a way. You wondered if it would hurt this much if you actually got outside.

Catra didn’t introduce you. She didn’t have to, not when you were abandoned as quickly as you were brought in, left to stand at the head of their table, tense and alone, as Catra drew attention to herself, instead, clearing her throat as she approached the other Princesses. You recognized most of them, anyone would – Mermista, barely glancing over you before she lost interest, Perfuma, kind enough to try to smile in your direction, and Adora, the Adora, She-Ra, still dressed in full armor, her arms crossed over the rounded table, her lips pressed into a thin frown and her expression…

And her expression identical to the one Glimmer wore, back when youstill had the option to look at other people.

It hurt, obviously, but you didn’t have much time to linger on the festering sting. You were already being lifted off your feet, a pair of strong hands or… claws, rather, clamping around your biceps and pinning your arms to your sides, squeezing so tight, you could hear something in your torso crack. You didn’t have to guess at a name. Even if you couldn’t see Scorpia’s face, her voice was enough, light and jovial, as if you hadn’t flinched away as she touched you. As if you weren’t close to tears. “Catra brought a friend!” You could’ve cried. You might’ve, if your embarrassment hadn’t been so much less ignorable than your mounting trepidation. “Finally, I was starting to think our wildcat would never break out of her shell. This is great, right, Adora?”

“It’s perfect,” Adora replied, obviously upset, but Catra only shrugged her off, draping herself over Adora’s shoulders she scoffed, keeping her glare centered on you. “You’re late. Is this supposed to be an excuse?”

“This,” She said, gesturing in your direction, “is supposed to be one of Glimmer’s. I wouldn’t have mess with it if I had a choice, but she looked lost, and you know how Glimmer would get if she wandered off.”

There was a huff, a chuckle, a mumbled ‘you know I’m right’, but it was hard to listen, it was hard to care. Your vision was blurring, your throat tightening up, but you fought back the tears as well as you could, knowing it’d only make your frustration that much worse. You didn’t want to make yourself look helpless, not here, not surrounded by people who were obviously so much stronger than you, but you couldn’t hold your hands steady, you couldn’t stop the way your breath hitched while it was still in your lungs. You wanted to hide. You wanted to run. You wanted to go back to your tower, and you hated yourself for it. “Please, I… I’m a captive, I shouldn’t—”

“Ah, why didn’t you say so sooner? Glimmer must be worried sick.” It was Perfuma, this time, still watching from a distance. You couldn’t tell if she’d heard you, but you choose to believe she hadn’t. It’d be easier, if you assumed no one was listening to you at all. “Scorpia, you’re not holding her too tightly, are you? It’d be a shame if there were bruises, after we finish.”

“Who, me? You know I’d never hurt a fly,” Scorpia laughed, tightening her grip. You made a breathy, pitiful sound, something between a gasp and a whimper, but neither seemed to notice. Neither seemed to care. You weren’t sure which you would’ve preferred, anymore. “Even if this one’s a little more… fleshy, than what I’m used to.”

You opened your mouth, ready to tell her she would leave bruises, that she wasn’t being gentle, but you didn’t have time, not before Adora spoke up, her posture a fraction more relaxed than it had been, a minute ago. “Don’t worry about leaving marks,” Adora cut in, nonchalantly. She had an arm strung around Catra’s waist, now, but she was still looking at you. If you’d been a touch more desperate, you might’ve thanked her. If you’d felt any smaller, you might’ve asked her to stop. “Glimmer’s been talking about this for months. I haven’t seen anyone that excited since…” She trailed off, throwing a glance in Catra’s direction, earning a wicked grin in response. For a moment, you wondered why you’d ever thought either one of them would try to help you. “Since someone realized she didn’t have to wait for us to fight to get her claws out.”

Perfuma rolled her eyes. Scorpia groaned. You wanted to ask what she meant. You wanted to scream for her to go on, to tell you what that was supposed to mean, to just go on until you could pick one of the awful, dark, twisted thoughts swirling around in your head and let that shove you off the edge before anything worse could. You had to know what was going to happen to you. You didn’t want to know, you didn’t want to anything, but you had to find out. It was a matter of survival. It was a matter of life and death. It was something you needed, and for a second, you thought you might be able to vocalize that. You thought you might be able to say it. You thought you might be able to actually say it.

Then, a familiar voice called your name, and again, you lost your chance to do much of anything at all.

Scorpia didn’t have to be told to put you down. By the time you could think to ask, you were already back on your feet, your knees threatening to buckle as you struggled to keep yourself upright. You could’ve collapsed. A part of you wanted to, most of you wanted to, but it only would’ve made things worse, it only would’ve made you seem more childish, even you doubted anyone was paying attention to you, anymore. No, Scorpia had gone back to the other Princesses, Catra and Adora still preoccupied with each other, and you were left alone, shaking, at the mercy of the woman currently positioning herself in front of you, cupping your cheek, tilting back your head as you fought not to push her away. You didn’t want her to touch you.

You weren’t really sure what you did want, anymore.

“Poor little thing,” She said, her voice already soft, sweet. She might be angry, later on, she probably would be, but you tried not to think about that. You could only be thankful she wasn’t, right now. “I think you’ve had enough fun, for today. All of this is clearly too much for you to handle.” She stopped, leaning down, her lips barely brushing against your forehead. It wasn’t a kiss, but it was close to one. It didn’t hurt, and that was all you could bring yourself to care about. “Are you ready to go home?”

She might’ve been talking about her room. She might’ve been talking about the tower. She might’ve been talking about something else entirely – a dungeon, a prison cell, a cramped, darkened room you wouldn’t be able to slip out of quite as easily. You didn’t know. You should’ve, but you didn’t.

“I…” You were barely able to whisper. It was pathetic, honestly, but you forced yourself to go on. It would be worse, if you drew it out. It would be unbearable, if you had to stay here.

You just wanted to be alone, even if you had to be alone with Glimmer.

“I’m ready.”

[thenovelartist]

A Blanc Slate, Chapter 5

<Previous Next >

13. Flower Shop

She was alerted to Chat’s presence not because of a knock on her window, but rather a horrible crash on her balcony.

I swear, if that cat broke my favorite flowerpot, I’m going to skin him alive.

When she flung open the trap door, she saw Chat, sitting pitifully on the ground with his ears hung low as he lamented over what was, er… had been not her favorite flowerpot. Thankfully.

“Sorry,” he muttered, looking over the dirt splattered across the balcony with broken pieces of pottery scattered around it. “I’ll go to the flower shop tomorrow and get a replacement.”

Marinette almost opened a round of teasing on him, except something in his demeanor had her pause. “You okay, Chat?”

“Hmm?”

“You seem a little… off.”

He shrugged, then after a moment shook his head. “I mean, I will be. But not right now.”

Marinette bit her lip. Where was the ‘pry’ line versus the ‘concerned friend’ line? Because she was certainly concerned but knew better than to press for information he wasn’t going to give. “Are you not feeling well? Have you been overworking yourself or something?”

“Or something,” he muttered, slowly collecting the pieces of the pot.

Upon watching the pitiful scene, Marinette couldn’t help but bite her lip as the pain in her heart grew. “Just leave it.”

“But I broke it.”

“It’s okay,” she said, taking the pieces from his hands and setting them aside. From there, she took his cheeks in her hands, guiding his face towards her to examine. There was a hollow look in his eye, and his skin looked pale. Though, she wasn’t sure if that was just an illusion of all the white of his suit paired with the blue glow of the moon playing a trick on her. “You’re not okay.”

He didn’t even try to argue. Which proved he really wasn’t okay.

“When was the last time you slept?”

“Slept?”

“Oh, dammit, Chat,” she muttered, gently patting his cheeks. “Focus, kitty.”

He blinked a couple times, and a little clarity came back to him.

“Have you been sleeping?”

“Uh… not well,” he eventually answered.

“And have you been eating?”

“Yes.”

“When did you last eat?”

He fell silent again.

She sighed, standing and then pulling him to his feet. “Get up, Chat. You are coming inside, and I am forcing food into you.”

He didn’t argue. He just stood. And swayed.

Marinette tightened her grasp on him. Chat, I swear, you fall over or pass out on me, I will go full Ladybug on your ass and cage you until you recover.

14. Dancing

It took two hours, a croissant sandwich, and a short nap for Chat to mostly recover.

“You want to tell me what that was all about?” Marinette challenged, shooting the not-really-a-question question his direction.

He shrugged. “I haven’t been sleeping.”

“Yeah, I’m not going to say that wasn’t it, but there’s definitely more than that.”

Chat just stayed silent.

“Have you been eating?”

He nodded. “My friend makes me.”

That was a relief that someone was looking after her stupid cat. Although, a part of her was upset that that friend wasn’t her. “Good. Glad to hear that,” she said, forcefully shoving aside her jealousy. “Have you been overworking yourself?”

He quirked a brow in her direction. “You promised not to pry?”

“I’m not prying. I’m demanding to know what the hell happened to you that almost made you fall off my balcony and crack your head open on the sidewalk below. Because cats may normally land on their feet, but you sure weren’t going to in that state.”

Looking appropriately cowed, he turned his head away from her.

“So, you want to tell me why you looked like death warmed over up there?”

“Are you just mad that I accidently took out a flowerpot?”

“Your eyes looked completely glassed over.”

“Because I promise to fix it. That was an honest mistake.”

“Stop dancing around the subject, Chat,” she snarled. “Something is wrong. You looked a million miles away standing right next to me. You’re not sick again, are you?”

He pursed his lips, playing with his miraculous and twirling the silver band on his finger. “In a way, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“I am.”

“Then what are you doing out?”

He shrugged. “I had stuff I had to do, but I wasn’t feeling great and knew I could crash here safely.”

Half of that sentence really worried her, but there was a tiny part of her that was relieved he felt comfortable at her place. She was thrilled this could be a safe space for him, and she would do everything she could to keep it that way.

And while she knew that meant not prying, this, she decided, was a perfectly reasonable exception.

“I can set up a blanket and you can sleep on my chaise to recover.”

“Thanks, but I can’t,” he said. “I really should get home.”

Her brow furrowed in worry. “Are you sure you’re up for that?”

“Trust me when I say it is for my well-being I do.”

He still seemed a little sluggish, but nothing like he was before. And she supposed it would be far better for him to go home and sleep in his own bed. “Okay. But please, for the love of everything good in this world, will you be careful?”

He gave her a small smile as he slowly got to his feet. “I promise, princess.”

She sighed. She wished he had the ability to text her that he got home safe or something of the sort, but she supposed he couldn’t do that. She would just have to trust her kitty to make it home safe and sound. “Okay. Then have a good night and take it easy, Chat.”

When he grinned, it was small but genuine. It warmed Marinette’s heart to see. “Thanks, Marinette. You have a good night, too.”

15. Moonlight

Marinette thought Chat would be better in a week’s time or so.

Marinette was wrong.

He frequently came around now with a dazed look in his eye. And sometimes, it didn’t improve by the time he was getting ready to leave, no matter if she gave him food, water, or a place to rest.

Which worried her to no end.

Then came the day he’d actually passed out in her arms, and true to her mental threat three weeks ago, Marinette went full Ladybug on his ass.

She dragged him down into her room, then transformed, ready and waiting for him to wake back up. She’d lie and say she happened to be passing by and that Marinette was downstairs. Whatever. Her cat was sick, and she was going to drag answers out of him one way or another.

The night crept on, but she didn’t leave his side, instead sitting by him on the bed as he slept. It didn’t just break her heart to see him like this but utterly destroyed it. The moonlight that shone through the windows highlighted his white suit, causing it to practically glow in the night. It just felt wrong. He was supposed to be black, his suit blending into the shadows because she was his opposite, her red suit standing out boldly in the light. And she wanted nothing more than for things to return to normal, or at least some semblance of it.

She just wanted her kitty back.

Tears prickling at her eyes, she slowly began stroking his white ears and white hair, the feeling so familiar even if the sight wasn’t. “Come back to me, kitty,” she whispered, feeling one of those tears escape and roll down her cheek.

Eventually, he stirred at her touch. Her heart stepped up its pace, both happy and relieved to see him recovering. She never stopped petting him as she waited for his eyes to open. Eventually, when they did, they seemed to be a little clearer than before, but they still had an exhausted haze hanging over them. “Marinette?”

“Not quite,” she said, mentally begging her voice to stay steady.

He blinked several times, that haze lifting a bit more as he looked up to meet her gaze. “Milady?”

At the name she had grown far too fond of over the years, a name she hadn’t heard in too long, something in her broke. “Dammit, Chat.” She flung herself over him, practically tackling him to the bed as she clung to him. “Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

He was stiff under her touch as she tried her best not to cry into his shoulder. But the moment his hand came down to rest on her head, that fight was lost.

“Sorry,” was all he said.

They stayed like that for a while before Chat slowly grabbed hold her shoulders and pushed her up and off of him, clearly creating distance between them. It hurt, but she supposed he did allow her to hug him for a little while. She would have to take the wins she could get.

Wiping the tears, Ladybug began, “Marinette told me everything.”

Chat sighed, propping himself up on his elbow. “I knew she would.”

“Don’t hate her for it, okay? Please. She’s just worried.”

“You begged her, too, I bet. And I doubt she’d tell you ‘no’.”

Ladybug decided to nod. “I did.”

He sighed again, sounding more like a groan or grunt this time. “I won’t be mad at her for it. She didn’t mean any harm, even if she’d too nosy for her own good trying to play superhero caretaker.”

The words may have sounded disapproving, but the gentleness in his tone as he spoke told Ladybug that he didn’t mean it that way. She knew her partner well enough to know those were more swords of concern for her well-being over a condemnation. “She’s kind that way.”

“Too kind,” he muttered. “She reminds me of you; both of you being so sacrificing and willing to help others at the drop of a hat. You can handle yourself as a superhero. I worry for her, though.”

His words warmed her heart more than he would ever know, endearing him to her yet again for the countless time over all the years she’d known him. “She can handle herself.”

“If you knew half the things she did, you might question that,” he muttered, fully sitting up and leaning back against the wall. “So, guess I’ll bite the bullet and concede. You cornered me, and I’m ready for the other shoe to drop.”

His eyes took on a hard glint to them, as though he was steeling himself for a fight.

Geez, kitty. I’m mad at you, but I’m not going to fight you.

With a sigh, Ladybug prepared herself for the conversation she knew they needed to have. “I know you said you wanted space,” she began. “But if you think I’m going to give you space now when you nearly passed out like that, you’re wrong. I’m your partner and your friend, and as such, I don’t think I’m entitled to know, but I would like to be by your side and bear your burdens if you’ll let me. So please, tell me. What’s going on?”

At her words, that steel in his eyes softened before his gaze fell to his lap. He was silent for a moment, playing with his miraculous again. As the time ticked on and he still didn’t speak, Ladybug had to practically bite her lip in a desperate attempt to not push too hard.

Come on, kitty. Trust me.

“When I found out who Hawkmoth was,” Chat began, answering her thoughts in such perfect time she almost questioned if she’d spoken aloud. “It hurt, more than you could ever think possible.”

“I’m sure it did.”

“And my emotions ran wild.”

Her brow furrowed. “Were you akumatized?”

“Almost,” he quietly admitted. “But I destroyed the butterfly and found out where Hawkmoth was hiding so I could face him directly. While he didn’t get a second chance to use a butterfly on me, my emotions ran rampant enough to cause a different kind of problem.”

He lifted his ring for her to see. “Apparently, you can overload a miraculous with emotion,” he explained.

Suddenly, things began to click into place. “And that’s how you became Chat Blanc.”

He nodded, turning his gaze away from her. “When you have that much hate and anger and spite raging through you, it’s possible to corrupt the miraculous when it’s so deeply tied to who you are.” He turned back to her. “And a broken miraculous is a dangerous thing. That’s why I have to give it back to you once I finish this mission.”

Her gut sank. “How dangerous? Like, do you mean it’s power is out of control?” If that was the case, she was sure they could find a way to control it again.

“In a way,” he said. “It’s not like I can’t control the power, but rather the miraculous begins to feed of the emotion its user emanates and drains them.”

“Why do I not like the sound of that?”

Chat was silent.

Which only made Ladybug worry more. “Chat,” she said, swallowing down the bitter feeling that was bubbling up from her gut. “What do you mean by ‘draining you’?”

He looked like he didn’t want to answer. “I don’t know how it’s fixed,” he admitted. “But until it is, I can’t wear it anymore.”

Her mind was on overdrive, but a thought soon popped into Ladybug’s mind made her physically ill. Don’t tell me…

“Because, basically,” Chat continued, tone somber and sad. “This ring is slowly killing me.”

[mandoclan]

COURAGE // Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x F!Reader

A/N: I just really love Din, and this is possibly the easiest thing I’ve ever written. This is my take on a “5 times Din realized he loved me and the one time he did something about it.” Set about two months after saving the kid (middle of season 1). In my mind, it took over a year for Din to return Grogu to his kind.

Warnings: Mentions of violence and blood and a wound (you get shot), major fluff, conflicting feelings, marriage talk.

The first time Din realized he loved you, he froze. The sight of you with the sleeping kid strapped to your chest while you asked a trader in the market questions about your cooking arrangements on the Razor Crest warmed him. He overheard you asking about ingredients and cooking methods and snacks for the kid and even for him and his heart almost burst.

“Thank the maker for this helmet,” Din muttered as he watched you. He’d just settled the bill with another trader for some extra blankets and clothing for you, knowing you’d been nicking his tunics when you thought he wasn’t looking. He knew you didn’t have much from the planet he picked you up on, and hoped this would be helpful even if he couldn’t deny that the sight of you in his well-worn clothes was something he could get used to.

“Mando!” You called, breaking him from his concentration. “Are you ready to go? I got the supplies you asked for, but they’re a bit heavy and I don’t want to squash him.” You gestured to the kid, asleep and drooling on your shirt. You didn’t seem to mind though, and Mando found himself smiling at the sight, fingers gently rubbing the kid’s big, green ears. He babbled a bit in his sleep and you smiled down at his adopted son.

“I’ll grab the crate. Meet me back on the ship, okay?”

“Perfect. Thank you!” you pressed a kiss to his helmet where his cheek should be and walked away, murmuring to the kid as you did.

“Your dad’s gonna get the big heavy crate and then you can have some cookies later, you silly little womp rat. Your buir spoils you.”

He couldn’t deny it, he loved when you spoke mando’a, or at least the few words he’d taught you. Din shook his head, his cheeks heated as he picked up the crate and followed along behind you.

The second time Din realized he loved you, he smiled.

He’d been on a hunt for three days, one of his quarries giving him more trouble than he had expected. He’d come back to the ship to find you’d cleaned everything, put the kid to sleep, and even made up his sleeping area. He suspected you’d been cooking too, judging by the smell.

He’d caught a whiff of it when he came in, but hadn’t expected to find a plate with the food still hot up in the cockpit. You were up there as well, trying to put the silver ball the kid always liked stealing back on the controls.

“I made you a plate.” You smiled at him once you noticed him standing behind you, flustered as you tried replacing the ball. It wouldn’t attach, and Din placed his hand on yours to still you. You moved your hand.

“Sorry,” you stuttered, not making eye contact, “he took it again. I wanted to have it back on before you came up here.”

“It’s okay. He can keep it.” Din gave the ball back, and you smiled nervously. “Really, it’s okay.”

“Okay,” you murmured, heading towards the hatch. “Don’t let your food get cold.”

Once you’d left the room, he locked the hatch door and removed his helmet. Din had originally planned to move on to Nevarro immediately to hand over his bounties, but the food was enticing and won him over. After all, you’d said not to let it get cold and it smelled amazing after the ration bars he’d been eating on his hunt.

He took a bite and was a goner. “Maker, I don’t know what I did to deserve her.”

The third time Din realized he loved you, he hid.

He’d been coming back inside from cleaning his blasters to find you in one of his shirts again, singing softly to the kid.

Din didn’t recognize the song, it being in your mother tongue and not in the basic you usually spoke, but it was nice coming from your lips. From the look of things, the kid liked it too as he cooed up at you, his clawed fingers reaching for your cheeks.

You smiled down at the kid in between lines of the lullaby and he laughed when you tickled his little sides.

Din stayed where he was by the blast doors, just watching you both interact. He was struck with the thought that if this was family, his aliit, he wanted to keep it forever. But did you feel the same?

He frowned at himself, disappointed in his lack of courage. You placed the now sleeping kid in his hammock above Din’s bed and murmured goodnight before closing the door.

Din kept himself hidden outside until after you’d climbed up to the cockpit before replacing his weaponry in the hold. He didn’t want to interrupt you before, but now he missed your warm presence. He sighed, wishing he’d been able to hold you as you sang.

The fourth time Din realized he loved you, he sat there in disbelief.

He looked at his spare tunics and pants, then at one of his capes, and then his spare duraweave flight suit. All of them had previously been riddled with hastily sewn up holes (Din had never been very good at sewing). But now—now they were fixed. In fact, you could hardly tell they’d been damaged at all (except for that one cape he’d worn with a particularly nasty bounty who’d ripped huge holes in the cape. That one, you’d put patches in).

“Cyare!” Din called from where he stood at the edge of his quarters.

“Yes, Mando?” you looked up from your cooking to see him staring over at you. You didn’t know what the word meant, the name he kept calling you, but you figured it probably meant nanny or mechanic. After all, isn’t that what you were.

“Did you fix my clothes?” he asked pointedly as he lifted his cloak.

You smiled down at the soup you had simmering down on the stove range and nodded, not making anymore eye contact with the helmet’s dark visor.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” Din smiled under his helmet, but you shrugged.

“I didn’t want you to get sick from all the holes in your clothing. You should really be more careful, big guy. We need you here.”

Din didn’t know what to say, but he managed a curt nod and attached the cape to his shoulders.

“I’m going out,” Din told you and you looked up at him once more. “I should be back in a few hours, but I’ll use the comm link if something goes wrong.”

“Be safe.” you murmured as he disappeared down the ramp. You didn’t realize how much he loved those words.

The fifth time Din realized he loved you, he was holding his hand to a nasty wound on your thigh and cursing in Mando’a.

“Mando, please.” You whimpered in pain. It hurt like hell, but it burned at the same time.

“Hold on, cyare, it’s going to be okay.” He worked swiftly to stop the bleeding and sprayed some of his emergency bacta spray on the sizzling wound.

Din blamed himself completely. You’d asked to go to the pond near the landing zone for the Razor Crest before he’d set out for the new bounty so you could wash the clothes you’d all been wearing for weeks. His quarry was supposed to be peaceful, whatever the species, but it hadn’t been. It knew he was coming and it aimed for the both of you. In the process of you turning to shield his son from being hit, you caught a nasty blaster shot to the thigh.

“Just a little more.” He said, removing his fingers from the spot and holding you closer as the spray started to heal your leg. You cried out, struggling against his beskar. He knew from experience that the wound didn’t really hurt anymore, but the healing was uncomfortable.

“I’m almost done. You’re going to be okay, cyar’ika. You’re okay.” he said just loud enough to be heard with the vocoder as he shushed you.

The pain and desperation you’d been dealing with to keep the child safe had exhausted you, and Din soon realized you’d slumped unconscious against him. He sighed, struggling slightly to pick you up and set you in his quarters instead of your own. If you asked when you woke up, he’d just argue that his bed was closer.

While he blamed himself for your pain, he was overcome with how much he loved you. You would willingly have sacrificed your life for his foundling, and you were injured in the process, but maker did he love you. You were protective and so caring, and you’d won him over.

Din watched you sleeping for a moment, fingertips brushing your sweaty hair from your face. He sighed, wishing he had the courage to tell you how he felt. You didn’t even know his name, despite you traveling together for an entire cycle by now. Din closed his quarters’ door and stepped away, knowing if he spent any more time there that he might be willing to do anything for you, including giving up everything he knows. What would that feel like?

Two days later, you watched Din as he moved about the ship in hyperspace. He hadn’t said a word to you since you’d been shot, and you feared the worst. You were afraid he saw you as a nuisance now, not having been able to take care of keeping the child safe as well as yourself even though the kid was fine and you’d been the one who’d gotten hurt. Did he want you to leave?

“Mando,” you asked nervously, waiting for him to even acknowledge you.

He hesitated before answering. “Yes?”

“What’s going on with you? You haven’t spoken to me since, well—“ You cut yourself off and twiddled your fingers in your lap, unsure of his response. You heard a crackling through the vocoder and looked up to see him walking closer to where you sat on a few supply crates in the hold.

“It’s my fault,” he started, “that you got hurt. It’s my fault. You’re my—“ He stopped just as suddenly as he’d started.

“Your what, Mando?” you asked softly. He stood beside you, taking your hands in his gloved ones.

“Gar ner aliit.” He answered finally. “You’re my family, my clan. I love you.”

“Really?” you gasped, tears brimming your eyes. He shocked you with this confession, but in a very good way.

“I would never lie to you, mesh’la. I love you. The way you have cared for me and my foundling, and chosen me over and over again has won me over, cyar’ika.”

“Oh Mando—“

“Din. My name, it’s Din Djarin. You should know it.”

“You have a beautiful name.” Your voice was quiet as you continued, “All those things you said I do, I do it because I love you. I care for no one else in this whole galaxy more than I care for you.”

Din brought his helmeted head down to lean against your forehead in a keldabe kiss. Your eyes closed briefly and he brought your hands up to where his mouth would be beneath the beskar.

“If you would have me, I intend to make you my riduur, my wife.” Din said, the vocoder catching on his words. “And when I do, I will bare all for you as you have already bared my soul.”

Your voice shook as you breathed out a “yes” and surged up to hug him. He wasn’t expecting the movement and nearly stumbled from the force of it, but he smiled beneath his helmet and laughed happily. He would always be grateful for the courage he had to bare his soul to you and for you to take it and keep it safe inside your heart.

Taglist: @bestintheparsec @softpedropascal @sanchosammy @scribbledghost @clan-djarin

[iknikblackstonevarrick]

Red Lightning (Part 1)

---

“What are you doing?”

Lup ignored Magnus’s voice as she clutched the warm silver glove to her chest. Merle was looking at her too, but with far less urgency. Taako stood beside her and didn't waver.

“How do you know?” she asked, looking up at the human woman on the throne with serious intent. “I asked you a question. You said you’d never acquired one of these things before, so how do you know how to destroy it?”

The Director looked down at her evenly, not showing a reaction to any of her words. “We have gone through exhaustive theoretical study of these weapons based on their observable effects on the world and the traits we’ve managed to record. I am fully confident that this process will succeed in destroying it.”

Lup continued to stare with narrow eyes, and the Director sighed.

“If it would make you feel more comfortable, the glove will not touch any hand but yours from now until its destruction. And you have my word, if, by some unforeseen happening the process fails, you will be immediately re-entrusted with the item’s care.”

Lup’s shoulders fell a little bit. Care didn’t feel like the right word. Eventually, she walked slowly up to the metal sphere and dropped the glove inside.

Throughout the entire drawn-out, flashy process, Lup felt sick to her stomach. When the theatrics were over and the Director declared with far too much joy that the gauntlet had been destroyed for good, she knew in her gut something was terribly wrong.

*

“Are you afraid?”

The boys around her tensed with apparent fear as the skeletal figure appeared in front of them, Magnus jumping straight to swinging through the thing with Railsplitter, to no effect.

“Are you afraid… of the dark?”

Taako opened his mouth to say something, but he was too late to be heard before she burst out laughing.

The others followed suit after a pause, the dramatic tension of the moment cleft in twain. The Red Robe floated helplessly before them, seemingly at a loss.

“Oh god, oh gods, okay. Gimme a second, it’s just-” Lup attempted to collect herself, poorly. “I can tell you’re trying really hard babe, but the spookiness really isn't doing it.”

“Lup?”

She froze. The lich’s voice had changed completely in the moment- gone was all the distortion and the theatrics, and in its place was… a guy's voice. A regular guy’s voice. And she swore to god she knew it.

The space where the lich’s face should be was nothing but a void, but she could feel the creature’s gaze boring into her with such strong, unbridled emotion. Hope. Fear. Something she wouldn’t dare name, not right now, not like this.

“Yup,” she said. Her attempt at being casual came out small and squeaked.

The lich’s gaze slowly became less intense, until he seemed to be looking through her. He looked back toward the rest of her party and delivered a speech about the people they’d fought up to this point and their ‘Hunger’.

“This is your first lesson,” he finished, and just before he disappeared she felt him look at her one more time. Her feeling as this monster disappeared from the room was unmistakably that of heartbreak. Something deep inside her was tossing and turning and bursting to get out, but she couldn’t put a name to it.

“Lup?” she heard again and started, but it was her brother’s voice this time. She turned to reassure him, but then followed his gaze when she saw he was looking at her hands.

There was red lightning arcing between them, but just as she realized it was there, it was gone.

*

“Something’s wrong.”

Lup spoke aloud to her brother in the middle of the night. The new rooms they’d been given were too spacious not to share, so the room that had been Taako’s was now an extended closet while the two beds stayed in here.

“You had the nightmare again,” Taako said, not a question.

“We’re being lied to,” she insisted, turning to face the opposite wall. She had had the nightmare again, but they’d already exhausted every line of conversation they could have about it over the last ten years.

Ten years. The same starting point as the relic wars. Static started scratching at her brain, and she knew what that feeling meant, even if she couldn’t comprehend it.

“Probably,” Taako agreed. She could feel his eyes on her back. “Do you wanna bail?”

There was no hesitation in her brother’s voice. It was a line of conversation they’d had a million times, throughout their childhood, and more recently in their adult life, after-

After what?

She stared at the wall and breathed.

“Not yet,” she said. She waited silently for his breathing to even out.

*

“Hey boys!”

Lup cheerfully twirled her umbrella as she approached the guards stationed outside the brig. It was still the dead of night, and she had half-hoped they wouldn’t have bothered to set up a night shift for guarding their sole inmate.

They looked at each other briefly.

“Miss Taaco,” one of them acknowledged.

“Yuh-huh, so I was just gonna head down to give my friend Pringles a visit, it’s totally cool, if you would just let me through here?” she mimed nudging one of them aside with her Umbrella.

“No one is allowed to see the prisoner without the Director’s permission,” the other one explained.

“Totally got it!” she reached into her bag to subtly Fabricate a note.

“We don’t accept verbal or written permission, she has to be here with you,” the other one continued.

She paused for a moment. Then quick as lightning, she whipped her staff between the two of them and hit them both with Sleep.

She clicked her tongue and stepped over them. There was no one out and about to see them right now, and she would have them cleaned up by the time there were.

Pringles didn’t actually end up being worth the risk. As far as she could tell he was never a real red robe- just possessed by one, briefly. Honestly, she questioned the Director’s reasons for keeping him locked up for so long, but at least she knew the next place she was gonna secretly break into during the night.

Oh. That was probably why. She laughed aloud to herself.

“I cannot imagine what’s so funny.”

She twirled around so fast, shooting off another Sleep right in the direction of the voice, but The Director was faster. She put up a shimmering barrier around herself- and Lup narrowly missed her own spell as it bounced back off.

Before she had time to react there was another barrier, around her this time. Lup could tell this one was for containment, not protection, mostly by the draining feeling of the anti-magic field that came along with it.

She looked the Director in the eye, and the expression on her face was… not what she expected. She looked shattered. Heartbroken. Like she had been betrayed in the utmost way. That last thought made a firelight in Lup’s chest.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Lup asked, walking as close to the edge of the barrier as she could get. “What, are you gonna lock me up in here just cause I know you’re full of shit, too? Newsflash: I didn’t need to come here for that, I figured it out on my own.”

The Director sighed deeply.

“I’m afraid you’ve given me no choice.”

The bubble she was in started moving slowly inside the cell next to Pringles’s, which seemed redundant. She pushed on the bubble wall as it pushed her along with it, but she couldn’t gain any ground.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” she said as the cell door swung shut, trapping her inside bubble and all.

“This is more important than you could understand,” The Director said in an infuriatingly mournful voice.

“Like hell I couldn’t- You never gave me the chance! You never gave any of us the chance! Does anyone up here know what you’re actually doing? Is anyone up here physically capable of it?” Lup glared at her through the bars.

The Director looked more neutral now. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Then she turned to depart from the hall.

Right before The Director disappeared up the elevator, Lup heard her voice again, softer, kinder. Resigned. “It’s just for a little while,” she said, like a mantra, like she was trying to convince herself.

“Fuck you,” Lup said just before the elevator doors closed.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “Letting Go.”

Wrote this today, hope you like it, and hope you all have a great day :)

“We have to take him to a hospital.”

His hearing echoed, his ears rang, and his body felt cold and numb. He hurt all over.

“No! That's the last thing he needs right now.”

“Not to be rude but, are you stupid! The last tie i checked, I am the only one here with a Doctorate in actual doctoring.

The world swirled slowly to the left and then to the right.

“Last time I checked I’ve been in his shoes before. You have any idea what they are going to do, they are going to assume he jumped off that bridge on purpose. They are going to strap him down, which is going to make things worse, they are going to bring in psych, who are then going to determine that he should be locked down. That is the last thing this man needs right now, and believe me I have been in his shoes.” he faded out and then back in again.

“Than what do you suggest.”

“You’re a doctor aren’t you, so as long as we have you, he is going to be fine. Let's just get him back to my hotel, but I am telling you the last thing he needs is a noisy smelly hospital room.”

“And how are we going to get him back?”

He faded back in and back out again, “I can carry him.”

“He weights over two hundred pounds.” “Than I will take lots of breaks.”

He faded out again, this time for a long while, waking up only briefly an unknown time later. He was lying, uncomfortably over someone else’s shoulder and staring at the ground as it passed by below him. Little streaks of light dotted his vision from the pain, and he felt back unconscious before he could really understand what was going on.

***

Kier Lindsay stared down at the young man, watching as the strange little alien creature got to work. He had once heard that multitasking was pretty much impossible for humans as the brain was too interconnected to allow for it, but his creature didn’t seem to have any problems. All four of its arms seemed to work independently of each other as it stitched the unconscious man back into one piece. Looking him over the doctor had determined that he had managed to fracture his good leg and some of the bones in his right arm and side, but otherwise he was less injured than they had hoped. 

Then again this was without considering the psychological duress he might be under at the moment.

He grimaced thinking about it.

He had been there before, he had been there and he had hurt a lot of people in the process.

He continued to watch as the alien stitched the other man up with great precision…

Man? 

Honestly he wasn’t much more than a kid, his face was still smooth, unscared by time . Not a hint of white showed in his blond hair, and as he slept, the lines of his face were soft enough that Kier couldn’t shake the feeling that he WAS nothing more than a child.

A child who had had responsibility placed on him far to soon.

To be only in you late twenties and have command of an entire galactic armada.

That was too much to ask for anyone, much less someone like him. Kier couldn’t shake the thoughts as he stared down thinking about how despite technically being an adult for a long enough time, he doubted this man had ever been given a chance to grow up, at least not in the right ways. Turned to the academy at age fourteen, he had been doing adult jobs for longer than most people. He had been thrown into an environment where intelligence and performance mattered but social opportunities were sort of lacking, and then to be thrown right onto the enterprise and into war before trying to recover and immediately turning back to the one group of people that had failed him so badly…..

Adam vir was just a kid, an overly optimistic too trusting kid who had been taken advantage of by the system time and time again. He was like a golden retriever hurt by his master but still loyal enough to come crawling back.

It almost made him sick to watch, but he knew just by looking at him that he would never consider leaving. 

Even if it were for his health.

Kier sighed and sat down by the bed staring at the boy with his chin cupped in one hand.

He had a son about Adam Vir’s age, a boy that was just beginning to pull his life together into some semblance of controlled. It had taken him a lot of mistakes and a lot of experience to figure out who he was, and he ached for the realisation that this man probably never got that.

He knew the feeling all too well.

He shook himself a little, dad mode was something you couldn’t really just turn off, at least not in his case. If there were people younger than him, he felt the automatic obligation to adopt them whether they wanted it or not.

Young people deserved guidance from someone who was older and the more people to do it the better. Lindsay hadn’t seen any of Adam’s family members at the trial, which didn’t necessarily mean anything, but he also got the impression that maybe the had avoided telling them on purpose, which was another red flag he was going to have to discuss with the boy woke up.

If he woke up.

***

He woke up some time later, though he couldn’t have guessed what time. The room was dark aside from the blue light of the TV. A little bit of natural light filtered in from the window, but rain clouds dotted blanketed the sky above. Rain pattered against the window in sheets obscuring the city landscape.

He groaned and tilted his head to the side.

A soft whimper, and something warm and wet ran over the back of his hand.

He tilted his head to the side.

The room was small, only big enough for a queen sized bed, a tv and a small desk. There was adoor to a small bathroom right next to a door that likely lead out into the hallway. The hotel room was small, but clean.

And it wasn’t his.

He turned his head a little further, gritting his teeth against the pain as his bleary eyes fell on the silhouette of a man sitting at the end of the bed. He was slightly hunched forward one hand resting on his knee as he flipped through the channels.

“Adam, can you hear me.’

He turned his head a little further to the right, to where Kril was standing beside him, a look of concern on his face.

The silhouette turned to face him, no more than a balck blob against the light. It was impossible to make out his face.

“Where am I? He croaked

The man stood and stepped forward, stepping out of the way of the TV and allowing some light to fall on the side of his face, “My hotel room, sorry about how cramped it is, but until yesterday I was kind of short on cash.”

Adam blinked, the cogs in his brain grinding to a slow start as he stared at the man’s face, which was familiar but he just couldn’t…

“Cigarette.”

It was the first word his brain could think of to describe the man when he finally recognised him, and in his goggy state it was the only thing he could think of, “Where do you even buy those these days.”

“Lets just say if I could quit my smoking habit than maybe I wouldn’t be so short of cash…. Anyway, how are you feeling.”

“Like shit…. What…. What happened.”

The other man sighed and pulled up the chair from the desk, sitting next to him, “You must have had a pretty bad PTSD attack. Looks like you jumped off an overpass and then rad headfirst into a brick wall.”

He grunted, “that explains a lot I guess….” he paused, “I thought…. I thought I was doing fine. I felt…. Fine and now…” A hand rested on his shoulder, “I know, I understand.”

Adam blinked, squinting at him slightly in the darkness, “Who are you/”

“The name is Kier but most of my friends call me Lindsay. I don’t know why, guess our days in the army just sort of rubbed off on us, now we only refer to people by their last names really.”

“What were you doing at the trial.”

The man smiled a little sadly, “Watching some assholes git their comeuppance, oh, and being awarded about five million dollars compensation.”

It took Adam even longer to digest that, “You….. you’re Steel eye-” The last two words came out as a squeak.”

Lindsay turned on the light by the bed, bathing them both in a warm yellow glow. Now that Adam could get a good look at him, he saw an older man probably in his late forties or early fifties. His hair was steel grey but well groomed, and he had the body of a man half his age. He wore only a tattered flannel rolled up to the sleeves and a white T-shirt. The back and sides of his arms were dotted with familiar circular scars  all with a silver sort of sheen.

And, surprisingly, little silver dots….

Iron eye implants.

He turned his head to stare up at him, “You…. you are one of the five.”

“Yep, we never met during the war but I’ve been watching your career on the news for some time now. Some real impressive stuff kid.” he smiled, smiled and easy smile of someone who actually meant it.

Adam felt a sudden pang of guilt and shame.

For a moment he couldn’t figure out what it had stemmed from, until he realised. This man seemed fine, and here he was a complete wreck.

“How are you….. Ok after all that?” he wondered almost bitterly.

Lindsay shook his head, “Don’t start with that. I've jumped from one war to another my entire life. I have more experience than you.”

Adam went quiet, “So you were fine…. After steel eye.”

The man snorted, “No… no no, not even close.”

“What happened, if you don’t mind me asking.”

The man shrugged, “Lost both my legs in the war, one above the knee and one below. When I got home my family didn’t have enough money to get me good prosthetics, so I was pretty much wheelchair bound for a year or so.” he sighed, “I came back a shell of a man to a family who really needed a father. It was so bad for a time, everyday I thought about just…. Not being there anymore. I didn’t  talk to my wife, I didn’t talk to my kids, and when I did speak I was angry all the time or apathetic.” His shoulders slumped, “For a time, I didn’t have much of a relationship with my middle daughter or my oldest son. I had drug withdrawals so bad I even wheeled myself halfway across town to try and find something…. Heroin maybe, anything that might take the edge off,” He snorted sadly, “I see it as a blessing now that no one would sell to me. I went over the edge drinking, and chain smoking and trying to bum pills off of any doctor I could find. Luckily with regulations on pills these days, I wasn’t given any.”

Adam felt his mouth go dry, “That bad.”

He nodded, “Woke up screaming most nights because of the dreams. For a while my kids moved out of the house because my wife was scared for thor safety.” He held up a hand, “Even during that time I would never have hit them intentionally, but my dreams were getting so bad that I would wake up flailing, and I would jump at the smallest sound. Anything could set me off.”

He sighed sadly, “But my wife bless her soul, is the strongest woman I know.” He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a photograph showing it to Adam with a look of pride so profound  it made even Adam’s heart ache.

What he saw was a nice family. Two younger kids, a teenage boy, and a woman.

She had short black hair spiked up and dark lipstick on, and the look on her face was indicative of someone full of mischievous humor.

“My angel. She stayed by me even though she should have left. I tried to get her to leave, even made my behavior worse at one point to drive her off. She SHOULD have left me, but she didn’t. I had the mot amazing support system. She held me from falling any further into it, and my little girl, my little girl Bethany, that little girl pulled me out by my hair and dragged me back to reality. She was too young to realise how horrible I was being, and she just thought I was sick. No matter how much my wife tried to keep hr away from me, she always came to see me somehow, with ‘medicine’.” 

He smiled, “Generally it was just a tube of baby M&Ms. I refused at first, but she insisted, and the one day I decided to take them just to quiet her down, she told me that I would be all better.”

He waited with pent up breath.

“That night, I slept without nightmares…. The placebo effect is a hell of a thing if a child can convince a grown ass man that M&Ms ar medicine. I woke up and my head had never been so clear in my entire life. I saw what I was doing to them, and to my little girl and to my other kids…. I have never cried that hard in my entire life, but it was just what I needed. Some emotion to break the cycle of anger and apathy. It wasn’t an easy road from there, but I finally got smart and started listening to my wife. Somehow managed to get my kids to forgive me, and from there we worked as a team to get me back on my feet.” he patted the cigarette in his pocket, “This is what remains from those days…. Can’t seem to quit, but working on it.”

Adam was quiet for some time, 

“It was that hard on your family.”

“It was. I am glad they stayed but at the same time I wish they hadn’t been so hurt by me.

He sighed and leaned his head back, “I don’t think that is possible for me.”

A hand turned to rest down on his shoulder, “I know it sounds hard right now but…. I have a theory if you want to hear it.”

He sighed, “Shoot, it's not like I have any other bright ideas.”

“What are you?”

“What do you mean.”

“I mean when all the trappings are stripped away from you, your job and your title…. What makes you…. You.”

He paused for a moment, opened his mouth and then closed it, “I…. Im a….I….” The other man waited, his eyes sad.

The only things Adam could think of were related to his job.

When he was silent for some minutes, the man patted his arm, “All these years of service and you've never taken time to construct a framework for yourself that can survive outside of your job. If you keep defining yourself by what you do and how well you preform than you aren’t going to last. You constantly do everything for everyone else, but why not think about doing something for yourself for once, be completely selfish. Don’t go on vacation because, I bet this will calm me down and make me a better leader when I return, go on vacation because you bloody well want to job be damned.”

Adam opened his mouth to protest, but the man silenced him.

“Even if you love your job, you need breaks from it. You need to set the line to where your job ends and you begin, otherwise you won’t have a personality left when you are done. Take some time to fix YOU before lending yourself to everyone else.”

He rested his head back, “That sounds….. Difficult.”

The man patted him on the arm, “You’ve proven you can do hard things, now is just the time to do another hard thing.”

Adam nodded but inside his head he was beginning to feel a little hopeless. He knew that Lindsay was right. He knew that he was messed up, and everything he had done up to this point was just going to be a bandage. 

And until he was fixed.

He was going to have to give up a few things.

He hated the idea of hurting people like Lindsay had described, so…. So that meant doing something that he wasn’t going to like.

“Do you…. Do you mind if I…. speak with you…. On occasion.”

The man smiled, “I already put my number in your phone if you need me. I work law enforcement now so I might be busy, but if you need my help Ill do my best.”

***

He didn’t want the court’s blood money. He would have tossed it away if he could, but he knew that was just his confused mind talking. Money was money, so he mostly gave it away. Gave it away to his parents for their retirement, and to his brothers and sisters for their kids college funds. He gave some to his brother to get him a better house in a new area, but he kept some for himself. It would have been irresponsible not to buy himself a house, to get himself a place away from his job and the ship.

He didn’t know where to buy it at first thinking that earth was too mundane but anything further out was too far removed. So, he bought a little private property on the moon. It cost a shit ton of money but, he had that in spades now. He only told his family about it.

They weren’t exactly happy with them when he finally told them where he had been. They had wanted to be there to support him, but he couldn’t find t in himself to feel bad that they hadn’t see the pictures and the videos he had been forced to see. He apologized and promised he would do better in the future.

He felt disconnected from himself.

Out of touch.

The crew of the Omen was just as angry with him, perhaps even more so than his family.. The intervening days that led him back to his ship feeling detached was like…. Some sort of horrible dream. He felt like he was slipping backward down a slippery slope and watching the light fade away from him. 

He was scrambling on the rocks but couldn’t find purchase.

Perhaps it was the idea of what he had to do next that hurt  him so much. Hurt him so much that he didn’t want to think about it, but he knew he had to. He didn’t want to but he knew he had to. It was the only way he was going to be able to feel ok about himself, about fixing himself.

Maybe things would change when he finally came back.

Maybe when he recovered, he could change what he was about to do.

And maybe he was about to ruin it forever.

He walked down the hallway of the engineering corridor despondent, like he was watching himself in third person.

He reached out a hand that didn’t feel like his and knocked on the wall of the ship.

A familiar face turned to look at him from her workspace in the dark. Sunny stood and paused to look at him, “Adam, are you alright.”

“Sunny…. We…. need to talk.”

She paused eyes narrowing in confusion.

“Are you ok.” she repeated.

He walked in taking a seat on her work bench and staring down at his hands.

“Is this about, the trial….. I mean yes I am a little mad that you didn’t tell me. Is it because I’m a Drev, is it because it would have looked bad. I know I don’t understand human politics, but maybe….”

He held up a hand, and she grew quiet.

He sat for a long moment fighting himself on the inside,and then forcing himself to look up at her. He could feel hot tears prickling at the back of his eyes though, for some reason he couldn’t get them to fall.

She deserved that he at least LOOK at her.

He felt sick.

He just wanted to throw up. 

This…. This was the hardest thing he had ever done. 

“Sunny…. I… while I was away, at the trial.”

She stared at him slow horror and confusion passing across her face.

“Well, I learned some things about myself. Number one being that, I….. I never recovered from what happened to me. From Steel eye and the war. Ive been bandaging it up for the past few years assuming that I can fix it, but at this point…. I wonder if I ever will.” He took a deep breath and locked eyes with her, “I’m broken, and until I can fix myself…. I think its best if-”

“No, no no no that's not how this works.”

He continued speaking, “I think it's best if we take a break.”

“NO!”

“Sunny I love you but I. I am not Capable of being what you need or deserve.” he stood reaching a hand forward, “I can’t subject you to myself like that.”

She jerked away from his hand, “that should be MY decision it would be OUR decision.”

“Sunny please…. I am so sorry.”

“On my planet, battle pairs fight WITH each other no matter how hard the battle is.”

His voice shook timorous and fading fast, “And on my planet, sometimes loving someone means letting them go.”

[sonic-wildfire]

Emotion Sickness: Diary Entries from Shadow the Hedgehog (Part 1)

Select entries from Shadow’s diary were found and compiled by Sonic (with Shadow’s permission) as an homage to both Shadow’s development and their relationship together. The entries were made between March 2009 and October 2013. This part of the compilation contains the entries made between March 2009 and December 2010.

10:53 PM - 4 March 2009

Hmph. Another day behind me. I crossed paths with Sonic today and he offered to have lunch with me. The request was somewhat flattering, but I turned it down. I don’t really need to eat.

Why is Sonic always so nice to me? It’s a liability to be within ten feet of him at this point, considering how much trouble he gets into. Whatever. I’m better by myself anyway.

5:02 PM - 19 July 2009

Amy visited me today and said she was here on Sonic’s behalf. Don’t know why, but she wanted me to know Sonic was offering to have me over at his place.

Sonic has a permanent home? Who knew?

I thought about it for a bit, but I declined. Again, I don’t understand why Sonic continues to do nice things for me even though I’m the most miserable being on the planet. It’s not that I hate them or anything, but I just can’t get close to anybody else. What if they reject me? What if...

Forget it.

I can’t think about this stuff. I’m going to take a nap. My thoughts are the last thing I need to be with right now.

6:46 PM - 30 November 2009

Wouldn’t you know it, that stubborn blue hedgehog turned up at my door today and again asked me to spend time with him. I was about to just tell him to piss off, but something about this interaction was different. I don’t know what, why, or how, but... it actually sounded appealing this time?

Very hesitantly, I said I’d think about it but don’t expect me to take you up on the offer. He just smiled, said okay, and left. 

Maybe I should at least try to be somewhat charitable for once. I called up Rouge and told her about what had happened and she just teased me over it before hanging up. You know, typical Rouge.

But she did tell me that it was ultimately my decision to make.

Hm. I think I might go after all.

12:25 PM - 2 December 2009

Just got back from having breakfast with Sonic. He was actually surprised I showed up. Honestly? I was surprised, too.

I didn’t talk too much, but Sonic... oh boy, Sonic. It’s like he never ran out of things to talk about. He’s smiling the entire time he’s with me, too. It was almost alluring just how much his bright demeanor contrasted with my moody self.

One of the things Sonic talked about was his friends. I was fully ready to just stop him right then and there (it rubs me the wrong way when anybody mentions friendship), but then he told me I was a “good friend” to him.

I asked him if he was serious. Sonic said yes.

In retrospect, it was certainly more eventful than most days. Perhaps little meetups like this would be healthier for me if I did them every once in a while.

3:59 AM - 28 May 2010

I can’t rest. I keep thinking about Sonic.

We’ve been meeting occasionally like I said I should. The longer I’m with Sonic, the more I begin to see in him what I could’ve been.

He’s a caring, generous man with everything going for him. People like him. He has a purpose in life. He’s coolheaded, rational, and valuable to society.

So why on Earth would Sonic be spending time with me, a reprehensibly depressed alien who is so completely worthless and undeserving of care? How could he possibly like me when I don’t even like myself?

I’m tired and tears are pricking at the corners of my eyes. I need to talk to someone in the morning.

1:51 AM - 29 May 2010

I called Rouge and told her about last night. She wasn’t very vocal, but she did offer a little encouragement. She said I don’t get enough sleep and that a little bit of rest would put me at ease for a bit. But I’m still on edge. What does Sonic see in me that I don’t? Or am I just overthinking this? My thoughts are erratic right now, so I’m sorry to anyone reading if this doesn’t make sense.

Ugh.

I can feel tears welling up in my eyes already.

I’m so weak. I’m so pathetic.

Who would ever want to spend time with someone like me?

All I do is brood in the corner of the room all day and be an asshole to everybody. I don’t understand how anybody could be tolerant of me, much less a “friend.”

Yet... I’m still drawn to Sonic. For whatever reason, he’s just so inviting. He’s nice. Too nice.

11:32 AM - 8 August 2010

Over the past few months, Sonic and I have been visiting each other more often, and not much has changed.

From me, at least.

Sonic has been growing even kinder towards me than before. Sometimes, he’ll give me small gifts like a scarf. Other times, he’ll ask me about myself. If I were ready, I would’ve just spilled my true feelings about myself right then and there.

But I wasn’t ready. So I just talked about the very few things I did find enjoyment in. Gardening, space, and Chao. I begged him to never tell anybody about what I said to him, and he looked at me like I had three heads but vowed to keep it a secret anyway.

I just don’t know. Sonic’s a good guy, but... I can’t bring myself to be friendly with him. If I start growing close with people, they’ll just die or leave me and I’ll be heartbroken again just like last time. I can’t go through that again. I’m not strong enough.

I appear tough on the outside. But the truth is, I’m always on the verge of breaking down. My mental state is so volatile and virtually uncontrollable.

Chaos damn it, just get out of my head already!

3:40 PM - 23 December 2010

The holiday season. A time for joy, reminiscing on the past, looking forward to the new year, and exchanging gifts.

For everybody else, that is.

Ever since I came here, I’ve spent every Christmas alone.

All the others have a big gathering at Sonic’s house, having a good time (allegedly). I was never interested in these and I always declined every single invitation I got from Sonic. Yet, like clockwork, he still sends me one every year. Maybe hoping that I’ll change my mind one year.

After a lot of self-reflection over the past year, though, I’m not sure how much more invitations I can reject before Sonic gives up trying.

I crumble in social situations. Interacting with anybody other than Rouge, Omega, or Sonic for more than ten seconds takes an insane amount of willpower.

Something has to give. Either I go for once or they stop trying.

12:48 AM - 24 December 2010

I’ve decided I need to go. Maybe bring one of my Chao if things go wrong. I’m not necessarily doing this because I want to go. In fact, I’d be a lot happier if I didn’t go because at least I know things can’t go wrong if I’m by myself.

But I can’t stop thinking about Sonic and his friends. It drives me crazy.

9:21 PM - 24 December 2010

Party’s tomorrow. Note to self: don’t fuck this up.

11:17 PM - 26 December 2010

How quickly things can change has always amazed me. Tonight proved that.

Everybody was really surprised to see me showing up, but they said they were all grateful I showed up. Sonic, of course, was the first to welcome me, giving me a hug that admittedly felt like a breath of fresh air after so much time alone. Then again, I have a reputation so I needed to act like he was crushing me to death.

I didn’t spend much time talking with other people, though I did exchange some small talk with Rouge. The usual.

As the party grew longer, I found myself being... complimented by others?

Knuckles said he hoped I was “doing well.” Cream gave me a single flower while wishing me a merry Christmas. Tails shyly waved at me (I put on a smile and waved back). Omega said I was “one of the only creatures made of flesh” he trusted.

I’m sorry. Did these people forget who they were talking to?

Dinner was fine, though I was particularly eager about the sweets. Oh, right, I forgot to mention I have a knack for candy. The more you know.

Of course, then it was time for gifts. I swear you could fill the Grand Canyon with the sheer amount of presents under the tree. I guessed that roughly three of those were for me, ready to be mailed to me if I didn’t show up.

So you can imagine my surprise when I saw eight presents being dropped into my lap and all of them reading “To: Shadow.”

We all took turns opening our presents. I had two presents from Amy (a coffee mug and a Chao toy), one present from Espio (a kunai), one present from Tails (a bag of coffee beans), one present from Knuckles (a Kill la Kill DVD) and... three presents from Sonic?!

The first one was classic Sonic stuff. A sweater with the word “faker” sewed on the chest. He thought that one was really funny. I didn’t really care.

The second one was more genuine. A pair of rocket boosters for my shoes. My old ones are just about dead, so this was welcome.

The third one... subverted all expectation. It was a small box that contained a piece of paper. It read:

“Dear Shadow, stay after the party and meet me upstairs when the others leave. Signed, Sonic.”

The others were curious about what Sonic meant by this. Silver joked that I was being sent to the principal’s office.

Eventually, the party came to a close and people left. I went upstairs as Sonic had told me, and there he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

He motioned for me to take a seat next to him. I sat down and asked him what he wanted me for, half-expecting something stupid.

“I understand you haven’t had the easiest life...”

I instantly got up to leave. No way I was sticking around to hear this again.

But Sonic grabbed my arm and yanked me back to the bed, his face now spelling genuine concern.

“...I know you mean well. Sometimes, you do things that we think are dumb but actually turn out to be smart. Other times, you just do dumb stuff. But that’s not the point. The point is, I want you to know that I’m still here for you. I can tell you’re bothered by your thoughts. But the bottom line is that I, and we, care about you. We love you, Shadow. I love you. Please don’t think you’re not worthy of being cared about. We have our ups and downs, but we always work it out eventually, right? I know your thought process works differently than mine. That does not make you any less deserving of respect. My greatest wish is that you would love yourself as much as we love you.”

I was stunned. That bastard. Quickly losing my composure, I began blubbering about how I couldn’t stand the thought of getting close to someone just to lose them again. How I’m so terrified that I will just be manipulated and used by people pretending to be my “friend.”

Sonic told me that he would never go away and that he would never “use” me.

Fuck. Fuck.

Sonic embraced me and I’m embarrassed to admit that I began sobbing as I wrapped my arms around him. I swore to myself that I’d never show any kind of weakness around them.

“It’s okay to cry,” he told me. “Don’t be afraid anymore. I’m here now. I’m here.”

“And I always will be. That’s a promise.”

[awyeahitssam]

The urge wasn’t anything new per se, so Harry didn’t think to attribute it to magic.

It was like when he painted his lips in the early hours of the morning, or charmed his nails a sexy, sparkling red only to whisper it away when he thought somebody might notice.

Harry was a boy, but he was a boy that liked makeup and nail polish and the daring swish of his robes with no constricting trousers underneath. 

The Room of Requirement was a safe haven of sorts. Harry did not have to fear discovery here. He could line his eyes with black, paint his lips in bold colors, and let his nails sparkle to his heart’s content. Even better, he could resize and don the somewhat ambiguous dress robes he’d been too cowardly to wear to the Yule Ball. And if he sashayed around the room, watching his movements in the mirrored walls—well. Everybody liked to feel sexy once in a while.

When he was here, Harry could be completely himself. 

His lips tilted with the unusual confidence he always found clad in this armor, silky-smooth fabric and a carefully painted face. It was a smirk, and it looked good. Pretty. Alluring, even. Words he would normally never associate with himself. 

Harry broke away from his own gaze, turning with a dramatic spin and enjoying the swish of silky-smooth fabric against his bare legs. 

That’s when he saw it. It was painstakingly intricate silver, with a lovely aquamarine stone in the center.

Harry grinned. The room had provided him with materials before. He preferred to put the lipstick on directly, rather than with a spell, and painting his nails himself, watching the steady transformation, was immensely satisfying. Sure, the diadem was a little ostentatious, but the gem matched the trim of his robes. And why not? It wasn’t like anybody would ever know. Would ever see.

Yet when he looked up to check his reflection after settling it on his head, Harry found that he was not alone. A boy stood directly behind him, several inches taller and broader, with handsome eyes and night-dark curls. His thin lips were curled into a smirk as he observed Harry right back, and when he spoke the silver of his voice was just as polished as the diadem.

“Hello. Who might you be?”

Harry inhaled sharply, because he may not have been recognized but he remembered the shade of Tom Riddle rather vividly from the Chamber of Secrets and being pulled into his boyhood diary. He reached up, hands clasping the edges of the diadem, and gave a sharp tug.

It didn’t budge. 

“Yes, you’ll find that it won’t come off,” Riddle said. He held Harry’s startled green eyes easily in the mirror, unconcerned. “A harmless little spell, but binding nonetheless. I suppose you’ll just have to wait for the enchantment to wear off…” 

“Harmless?” Harry murmured lowly, and for a moment Riddle looked surprised. He glanced Harry over, then, and—was he just realizing he was a boy? Harry swallowed, waiting for the disgust and derision. It hardly mattered, this was Voldemort, but still… he hid who he was for good reason. 

But when dark eyes met his own again, Riddle’s expression had hardly changed at all. In fact, he seemed almost intrigued, though he held his tongue well enough.

“A sticking charm,” he wrote off Harry’s concerns lightly. “The incantation is extremely old, which means there’s little way to break it with modern counter-spells.”

He sounded genuinely apologetic. Harry hadn’t properly appreciated what a terribly good liar Riddle was at twelve, but at sixteen he could at least recognize that it took a certain kind of bravery to look someone dead in the eye and lie to them. Harry would know. 

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t trust the word of a Dark Lord,” Harry muttered rhetorically. If he focused he could feel tendrils of the diadem's magic clinging to his scalp. He closed his eyes and began to wave his wand, intent on severing the hold. There were already hundreds of eager, clinging curls. He severed one—five—as soon as he reached the tenth they began reforming. 

“You know of me,” Riddle murmured a bit blankly, watching Harry repeat the process with limited results. He seemed more intrigued than worried, but of course he didn’t realize how many times Harry had foiled him. “It is only fair that you return the favor, is it not? What is your name, darling?”

Harry ignored him. He made it to thirty tendrils without any reconnections, but as he neared forty he felt them begin to reattach. 

“Why are you trying to take it off? The diadem looks remarkably striking on you. It’d be a shame to remove it,” Riddle said slickly. 

“Excuse me for caring more about my life than my looks,” he muttered irritably, making a harsh slashing motion with his wand. Over half the strands were severed, and Riddle tensed for the first time.

“What makes you think I would hurt you?” he coos, and Harry can feel the weight of Riddle’s palm settle over his hip, long fingers trailing up and down his waist. The motion is soothing and intimate but the contact is undeniably startling. Harry had closed his eyes—had just assumed that Riddle was intangible. In his grip, Harry’s scar buzzes. He feels something hot lick down his spine, warming his gut. “I do like pretty things, darling.” 

Harry pressed his lips together, ignoring the way his cheeks warm at the compliment. It was false praise, meant to distract him from his goal, but nobody had ever called Harry pretty before. 

(He was a boy, he wasn’t supposed to be pretty, but…) 

Hot breath against his neck sends shivers down Harry’s spine. “I’ve been alone for so long.”

Harry trembles, twisting away from the apparition. Voldemort was not meant to be soft promises and gentle touches. Even as a teenager he had been more likely to kill Harry than caress him. So then why…?

It can possess you, he told himself sharply. Or steal your life force and magic.

“You did this to yourself,” Harry bit out. “I’m not about to end up magicless or dead to get you a body.”

Riddle’s brow arched. “It seems you’ve encountered my diary,” he said lightly, seeming amused. His eyes, dark and hungry, betrayed any benevolence he wished to display. “While I am drawing on your magic, I’m sure you can sense how minor the drain is. And don’t I already feel corporeal, my dear?”

Riddle took another step forward, long fingers reaching out to stroke Harry’s face. They ended up on his fringe, brushing the hair that covered his scar away. A thumb reached out, and when the RiddleR touched Harry’s scar he moaned, limbs going weak at the unfamiliar pleasure.

Pain, Harry could bear. Pain he was used to. This, however…

“Yes,” Riddle hissed. His fingers were trembling the faintest bit, and Harry’s gaze rose to find a flush on his cheeks. “That feels good, doesn’t it darling? Wouldn’t you like some more?”

Had Riddle felt it as well? The rush of tingling, mind-numbing pleasure that shot down Harry’s spine to the tips of his toes?

“That scar marks where you tried to kill me when I was a baby,” Harry got out through trembling lips. “He ended up dead instead. So whatever you’re thinking, this is the wrong way to go about it.”

“Have you been Confunded, darling?” Riddle demanded. His thumb pressed over Harry’s scar again, sending a jolt of inexplicable pleasure down his spine. “This marks you as mine. It marks you as my diary was marked, as Ravenclaw’s diadem is. A piece of me is already inside you, sweet boy. I am already inside of you.”

“You’re—?” In spite of the static shivers still shooting through him, Harry felt abruptly sick. He and Voldemort might have a connection, but he would hardly have imbued Harry with a piece of his memory. There was no sense behind it, no logic.

Of course, there was no logic in trying to kill a fifteen month old child after killing its parents, either. 

“I am already inside of you,” Riddle repeats, the words spilling from his lips like venom. Long fingers stroke down Harry’s face, linger against his lips. “And we need not limit it to the one way.”

[legends-of-nisty]

E.N.D.  AU

Fandom: Fairytail

Ship Title: Gajevy/Gale

A.N.: Hello Everyone! So I wanted to make good on a promise I made a long time ago to an anon that recently came up again. It’s a AU where Gajeel is E.N.D. instead of Natsu. I didn’t want to start another series as I already have at least two of them on the go so here’s a oneshot. @bearandbirdfan I hope you enjoy this as you re-requested it. ^_^ @starscreamjosh because you liked the re-request.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fairytail or it’s characters.

_______________________________________

I held the book in my hands, trembling, looking down at it. 

A big heavy leather bound book, similar to hundreds in my collections. It smelt old and dusty like it hadn’t been taken off a bookshelf in years. 

“Gajeel is END” Mavis had said when she handed the book to us. She hadn’t had time to explain much but we knew enough for this to be a shock.

Gajeel was the final demon of Zeref, the one meant to destroy him, and if he succeeded he would die too.

It was a sick fitting name for such a demon to be called END. It would be the end of Zeref and the end of END.

A paw landed on my shoulder bringing me back to the moment. Lily stood beside me on the park bench, looking just as somber. We both knew Gajeel was on his way to fight with Zeref and our job was to simply protect the book. 

There was nothing we could do. We had to make sure the book was kept safe, until Zeref was defeated and then the book would disappear and with it Gajeel.

I hadn’t even realized I was crying until I looked at Lily and he was blurry. I quickly wiped my eyes to clear them. My heart was breaking in my chest. We both had just started getting used to the idea of being a couple. We hadn’t even announced it to the guild yet and he was going to be gone. Months of pretending we weren’t falling for eachother and then that night when we were on the council… 

We came back to the guild together but it was a secret from everyone but Lily, we weren’t ready to announce it yet and everyone was so focused on the rebuild and then finding the master and then the war with Alvrez. 

We wanted to wait till we could celebrate properly with everyone. Well, I did, Gajeel didn’t want to deal with the headache of it all but at my insistence he agreed to tell them after the war.

But now there would be nothing to tell. He was going to disappear.

Gone.

He would disappear with the rest of the demons which was an insult to injury. As if he was a monster to be erased from the world and forgot along with the dark mage Zeref.

My tears fell more steadily, the drops rolling down my cheeks and falling from my chin to land on the book in my hand. The book that was Gajeel. 

Could he feel my pain? Could he tell how much my heart was breaking? Could he feel my tears for him?

I lifted the book off my lap to look at the cover closer as if I may see him in it somehow. But it was not him in almost every way. The leather was rough and smelled dead and dusty. It wasn’t alive or smelt of iron and earth. The font on the front was jagged and sharp which was at odds with his handwriting which was smooth and clear.

That originally had been a surprise to find out that he had very neat handwriting. I had been helping him with paper work and thought he had been making Lily do all of his work. He had almost been embarrassed to admit that it was his writing and he had even blushed slightly.

I smile at the memory but even as I do the pain in my chest squeezes harder knowing he’ll be gone soon and I won’t even get to say goodbye. All I’ll have is this stupid book to hold that was Gajeel and yet wasn’t him at all. I want to slam the book down on my lap but I don’t, instead I hug it, holding it close.

Did he even know? Did he know if he defeats Zeref he dies too? Would it even matter?

Of course it would matter. Gajeel had admitted to me in the past he didn’t always see the point to living but that his mindset on that, had changed in recent time. A sentiment that had taken my breath away at the time but now just made me feel all the more worse.

He wouldn’t give up thought. He would fight till he couldn’t anymore which would happen this time even if he won or lost.

The result was the same, victory or defeat he would be gone forever.

So did it really matter if we opened the book or not? 

I slowly lower the book from my chest and look at the cover that I’ve memorized over the last hour. 

What would happen if I opened it? 

“Lily…” I said and looked at him and in his eyes, through their own watering, I could see he was working to the same conclusion and after a moment he nodded. I don’t know if I was looking for his consent but regardless I had it.

Armed with Lily’s approval and my own resolve I took hold of the front cover and gently lifted it open.

A wave of light shot from the pages and the book lept from my lap to the ground, the pages flipping rapidly, hundreds of pages went by but the book looked no closer to the end, the book seeming to hold thousands more pages then it’s weight had suggested. Lines of red ruins flew out from the pages, extending outwards and around then back into the book, scrolling text continuously, almost too fast for me to read but I managed and the words made my eyes widen.

It was Gajeel’s life. It was everything, even things that the book had no business of knowing when it was written. It was undeniable now that this book and Gajeel were linked, one and the same. I watched the words go by with my mouth open and then I noticed it. Was I imagining it? 

Quickly I reached into my bag and pulled out my reading glasses so I could catch every word and there was no mistaking it. The words, the sentences, the chapters, They were all linked to Zeref, but more importantly, I knew how.

It was advanced script magic but one I had seen before when I had stumbled upon an actual library in Tartors. I found books, discarded by Zeref there. Pages devoid of magic that had once been there. As if he had started the project but got frustrated and removed the life from them but still the physical pages remained. The ruins had been dead but I felt that connection and had stolen one to study while on the council. 

I hadn’t told anyone about it. I knew it was dangerous to mess with a demon book but if there was no magic in it, I didn’t think it could hurt anyone. I studied the words and the characters one at a time but it always felt like there was more that I wasn’t quite seeing in each bit of text.

Then I discovered it. The pages suddenly stopped having new text and all that was written was the character for the dark mage himself, over and over and over again. And it gave me the piece of the puzzle I was missing. Every ruin that was played out was written with bits of ruins that Zeref had infused with his life force. He wasn’t simply writing a book like I would scrawl a note on paper.

He filled pages with his magic and his life force in the form of his name in ruins and when he was finished he would deconstruct those ruins and reform them into new ones that still held his name. They could say anything but would always be tied back to him. Tied to his life.

I had been fascinated at the time, It was a major discovery, but now it just made me feel like I wanted to vomit. 

Gajeel was one and the same with the book which was given life by Zeref. In a way it was almost as if Zeref was his father. 

I reached my hand out to one of the closest ruin circles spinning around us and it paused at my touch and I felt it. I felt him. I could feel Gajeel within the text as much as I could feel Zeref. I could feel his magic as if it was him I was touching. He was there within the text and bound to a life force that wasn’t his.

Wait…

No, there was a second life force there! It just wasn’t embedded in the text, it was the text! Zeref in making Gajeel had written everything there was to be Gajeel without needing Zeref, why would he bother adding any unnecessary words when every word was a bond?! 

“What is it?” Lily asked me as he could see my expression changed, I looked at him, my tears changing to be lighter. 

“I think I can save him.” I said quietly, almost afraid to hope. 

I took a shaky breath and reached into my bag for my ruin pen, all I needed to do was separate Zeref from Gajeel. That was all I needed to do. Rewrite it word for word if I had to with new ruins, ones that did not start in Zeref’s name. I pulled out my pen and reached out to the closest ruin circle again to stop it. 

Just rewrite it. That’s all I had to do to save him.

I pressed the pen to the line and felt immediate resistance but I forced through and almost cried out as I broke the first ruin barrier and started writing. It hurt. It hurt badly but I could bare it. I had too.

Gritting my teeth I started rewriting, erasing the pieces that were tied to Zeref only after I had made a replacing character. The pain was awful, but it was nothing compared to the idea of losing him. I had to do it, he had to live.

I knew I wouldn’t be free of consequences when I started my plan but when the skin of my hand started to turn silver it was a shock. The pain seemed to focus as a wave of it moved up my hand and up my arm, the faster I rewrote the faster it moved up my arm. 

“Levy your hand!” Lily said grabbing my shoulder and pulling my back from the writing and I shook him off. 

“I’m fine! I need to keep going! We don’t know how much time we have!” I shouted feeling my cheeks wet again but this time the tears were from pain, raw hot pain as I continued writing and the silver continued growing.

I don’t know how much time passed but writing became more difficult and my hand began moving slower. The silver had completely coated my arm and disappeared beneath the sleeve of my shirt.

My fingers started getting clumsy and I dropped the pen.

“Damn it.” I said and reached to pick it up with the same hand but it wouldn’t move properly anymore, it felt frozen and I could no longer feel my fingers.

“Levy! You need to stop!” Lily said again, reaching to take the pen and I swatted him away sobbing.

“I can’t stop and you know that!” I screamed. One of my eyes wasn’t working properly and seemed fuzzy.

I picked the pen up with my other hand and pressed it aggressively into the ruin barrier and kept going. It wasn’t my first time writing with my non-dominant hand and it wasn’t as fast but it worked and was clear. Like my first hand the pain was scorching and started to bleed silver into my skin.

I couldn’t stop. I wouldn’t stop. Not until Gajeel was free of Zeref. Not until he was free and safe.

“I will save you this time!” I sobbed to myself as one of my eyes went dark.

_____________________________________________

The pen dropped from her hand. 

The text was blue now, the script so clearly Levy’s hand-writing. The ground beneath the ruins was littered with soot piles as the old red ruins had been erased. The book seemed to slowly be taking the writing in, almost uncertain at first but then faster till it all had receded into the book, the pages flipping in the opposite direction as they had when they had opened the book but now it was closing on itself.

With a solid clap the cover closes and the title now reads Gajeel’s name with a heart in the ‘A’. 

I stepped forward slowly and picked up the book that had been completely transformed by her hand. It felt lighter to my paws, not weighted by black magic anymore. All that was in it was Gajeel now.

My eyes water as I look at the book and then up at Levy. 

“You did it Levy.” My voice isn’t strong like it should be, she saved him like she so wanted to, but the cost…

The cost was too much.

____________________________________

“Lily!” I’m waving at him as I limp around the corner, He’s sitting at the end of the path with a book in his lap that makes him look tiny.

What the fuck is he doing with a book? We just fought a war and he took a break to go to the library? He’s been hanging around with Levy too much.

I grin at him down the path getting closer.

“Lily we did it! We fucking won!” I say excitedly but he isn't even looking at me. What’s wrong with him?

“Oie! Lil’! Where’s Levy?” I yelled at him as I got closer and I can finally make out his face, he’s crying. My grin falls away making way for concern and I hobble over to him faster.

Why would he be crying, did something happen? Can’t be a fight, Lil’ don’t cry over a fight.

Confused, I make my way closer. What book is he holding? Is that my name?

“Lily what’s going-...” The words die in my mouth as I get up beside him. Lily and the book are forgotten because I see Levy now. She had been blocked by one of the trees at the end of the path but now she’s in front of me and I don’t know what I’m seeing.

It’s her, no doubt, I can still smell her scent but she’s... 

Her skin in silver, dull and buffed like iron and her eyes... Her beautiful, amazing, deep, brown eyes are coated over and empty. Metal. 

Her clothes hang off the statue, moving lightly in the breeze and it’s silent. She’s reaching out and her expression is pained but determined, tears are molded into the metal on her cheeks. A ruin pen sits on the ground, chipped from where it hit the cobblestone when she dropped it.

My mouth is open and my brain isn’t processing, too many questions crowd my mind. It can’t be her…

It can’t! None of the twelve wielded iron based magic!

I don’t even notice my feet hitting the ground as I step up to the statue that only reaches my chest in height.

“Sh-shorty?” My voice breaks in disbelief. “How….?”

“She saved you Gajeel.” Lily’s voice sounds behind me but I don’t remove my wide eyes from her steeled over ones. I reach a hand to touch her cheek and my chest feels hollow through and I taste the acid of vomit in the back of my throat as I realize it.

“She wouldn’t stop. I begged her but she wouldn’t listen. She saved you.” He says again but I’m not listening.

The woman that stole my heart, is a solid iron statue.

_____________________________________________

A.N. Thank you for reading! I hope you all enjoyed! If you have any questions or comments about me, this fanfic, or another one I wrote feel free to send me a message or an ask. I’m always welcome to comments and feedback. 

I haven’t attempted angst in a while so hopefully this made you sad(?) I don’t know if it held the power but I tried. I hope it was worth the wait for those of you waiting on it.

Again thank you all so much for reading and I hope to see you all in the next fanfic! :) 

[unbearablylight]

New Year, Old Beginnings

I don’t think I posted... any content last year. 2020 was rough, and my brain did not want to write anything for most of it. But back around November I tried to do a bit of Nano, and then in December I dusted off a WIP I had mentioned a couple times on here a while back. It had a few false starts back then, but I think it’s finally in a place where I’m ready to commit to writing it. I think sharing some of it as I go along will help with that commitment, hopefully.

So, here’s the prologue for The Vestige of an Unwonted Wind.

Prologue: Sleep Like Death

*WC: 4,585. CW: Death, Plague, PG13 “Sexual” Content.*

Hope was difficult to inspire in an empty world.

Princess Aurelia h’Raine walked the streets of Sovran with steady, measured steps. Though she had ignored all advice to stay home and rest, she dared not exert herself more than was necessary. It took every ounce of effort to keep her spine straight, chin up, legs moving. More than once, the facade slipped, and a foot came down a little too heavy, the short sound of her shoe meeting stone echoing across the roofs. Normally it would be swallowed whole by the bustle, lost to the voices and horses and carts. Now the only competition were coughs and low, labored moans escaping houses through cracked windows.

The shops and bars were closed, work and life suspended. Only the inns kept their doors open to offer a bed to those too sick to travel. Many visiting the city had left at the first signs of illness, so that they may be with their loved ones; others had flocked to it, seeking treatment from Sovran’s exceptional healers. But it was hard for healers to do their job when they, too, were unwell. Everyone was.

Even the princess.

She remembered the purple wind as if it were a lifetime ago, but it had been only three days. The streets were full then, children and adults alike venturing out of their houses to marvel at the peculiar happening. No work was completed that day for a much different reason. People chose to stay outside and play in the wind, running and dancing through its violet wisps. Musicians, both professional and amateur, performed on every street corner from sunrise to sundown, while bakers and butchers handed out their wares for free. It was a full day of celebration. The colorful breeze, which felt no different than regular air, was interpreted to be a sign of coming beauty and prosperity, so they rejoiced.

If only they had known. Perhaps it was best that they had not, that they instead had that final day of pleasure before everyone fell ill. It was not as if they could have avoided the air. Even fomoire needed to breathe eventually.

A shiver passed through Aurelia’s body, and she fought the urge to wrap her arms around herself. Purple-tipped fingers tapped lightly against her side as she continued her walk. They were the only symptom of the sickness she had no control over, and she refused to wear gloves to cover them up. She did not want to hide them, as if the illness were cause for shame. The whole purpose of this stroll, her idea, was to appear strong, undaunted, as if certain the fever would break. With no one around to witness her strength, however, there was little she could do. The hope she desired to spread was slipping away.

At last she resigned herself, having tried main roads and tucked-away alleys alike, and turned back towards the castle. Each moment saw her gait become less even. She could hardly wait to be back inside, her shoes off, sitting in her favorite chair by the fire. It was the beginning of The Bloom, and the sun was shining unhindered by clouds, but she could not deny the cold she felt.

The front gates of the castle were open, as they usually were during the day, and as she neared them, she heard a noise from behind her. A crimson dot was arcing downwards out of the clear sky, growing closer and larger by the second. The gouldiae landed mere feet away from her, smoothing his feathers out with a couple brief shakes before straightening and taking note of her. “Your highness,” he said by way of greeting. His eyes flicked to the purple hue of her fingertips. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

His feathers were untainted, which meant he was one of the lucky few who had not contracted the illness. “I find it hard to sit still when so many are suffering.”

“I understand.” Aurelia believed he did, what with the way he kept looking past her at the gate and fidgeting. Thankfully he had better manners than to simply push right by her. Instead, he fell in line beside her, accompanying her through the grounds to the front door.

“I saw you here yesterday,” she said. “I watched you arrive from my window.”

“As you said, sitting still doesn’t feel good,” he responded. “I wanted to see if I could be of any use.”

“Were you?”

She watched him as they walked. He allowed his eyes — dark, nearly all pupil with a slim ring of yellow — to wander anywhere but to her: straight ahead, around the gardens, down at his feet. “The queen, your mother, her majesty—” Aurelia had to suppress her laughter. He was clearly unused to being in the royal family’s presence. “I was tasked with gathering information.”

They had reached the door. “What did you learn?” she asked. He glanced at her, their eyes meeting only briefly, then his went lower to her fingertips once more. Without a word, he opened the door and waited politely for her to pass through first. She stood, studying him, his gaze diverted once more, then entered the castle.

The barest breaths of warmth reached them from somewhere deeper in the castle, but Aurelia did not abandon her shawl yet. Despite its purpose, the entry hall was the least welcoming room in her opinion. It was ostentation, gilded ornamentation. Silver chandeliers loomed overhead, a red velvet runner spread out in front of them, and expansive, brightly pigmented artworks lined the walls. It was beautiful in an ugly way, the kind of beauty that came out of others’ expectations rather than one’s intentions. Worse was its current abandoned state. The staff was all resting, leaving Aurelia with the task of showing the visitor to where he needed to go.

“Follow me,” she said. “My father likely knows where my mother is.” There was a loud crash from another room, which caused the gouldiae to tense, but she was unfazed. “He’s been… attempting to cook.”

She led him through the halls to the kitchen, where they found the king on the floor surrounded by pots and pans, the result of the crash they had heard. He was sifting through the pile, searching for a specific one. The apron tied around his torso was covered in many a colorful stain, as was most every surface, especially the floor.

The queen was also there, tucked away in what appeared to be the only clean corner of the room, a glass of wine in her hand. “Isn’t it a little early, mother?” Aurelia asked her.

“Perhaps,” Queen Nayeli said, swirling the red liquid, “but it pairs so well with watching your father humble himself.”

“I can figure this out,” Meginfrid assured them from the floor.

Aurelia scanned the ingredients lined up on the counter. “Are you trying to make stew?”

“No.” Her father looked at her. “Should I be?”

“I honestly wasn’t sure what those ingredients were for.” The gouldiae, who had been standing silently in the doorway, shifted his weight, causing a floorboard underneath him to squeak. “Oh. You have a visitor.”

“Your majesties,” he said, taking a step into the room.

The queen snorted. “Always the formalities. Does that look majestic to you?” she asked, gesturing to her husband. The king would have protested, but a couple of pots that had not yet fallen finally gave in to gravity. Their visitor looked unsure of how to respond. “I’m only teasing you. What have you learned?”

He hesitated, once again looking at Aurelia. She didn’t care for the look, the pity it held, as if she were too weak or too young to hear what he had to say. Not that she even needed to, the look said it all. “We’re dying.”

“No,” he said, a little too quickly. “At least, no one knows. The only people who have died were those that were already suffering from another affliction, or the very young or very old. Everyone else is like yourselves: sick, with no signs of healing. No cure has been found yet; the most some healers have managed is to treat a symptom or two, but new symptoms have developed. Tremors, most commonly, but a few people have full spasms of their muscles.”

“Yes, I had noticed those,” Nayeli said. Aurelia was suddenly very conscious of her fingertips tapping against her side. Their purple hue was no longer their only giveaway to her declining health. Her mother wasn’t looking at her fingers, though; she was looking past her to Meginfrid on the ground, surrounded by cookware that should be on shelves. The queen continued, “What of the other matter?”

“There were whispers, assumptions mostly from what I could tell, but the others believe the same thing you do.”

Aurelia had no knowledge of what they were talking about, and her mother’s reaction didn’t help. She simply accepted the statement as if it were the one she had been expecting. “Aurelia, why don’t you show our guest around the castle? Your father and I need to discuss some things.”

Nayeli may have phrased it as a suggestion, but her tone indicated it was anything but. Although she hated to be left out of diplomatic discussions and felt it was her right be involved as princess and heir to the throne, Aurelia knew which battles to pick with her mother. This was not one she would win. “Certainly,” she said, flashing a fake smile. “Come along.” The gouldiae followed her back out into the hallway, closing the door behind them.

“You seem upset,” he said to her as they made their way back to the entry hall. As sick as she was, her anger propelled her to outpace him, and he had to hurry to keep up.

“I don’t care to be left out of conversations,” she huffed. “And giving a tour of a rather large castle is not my idea of a good time when all I want is to sit and get warm.”

“Why don’t we do that then?” He ran around her, cutting off her path so that he could face her. “I could draw you a bath.”

Aurelia calmed herself. She knew it wasn’t fair of her to take her anger out on him. “What’s your name?”

“Cyneweard, your highness.”

“Aurelia will do just fine.”

Instead of continuing to the front, she turned down another hallway, heading for the north wing of the castle. The deeper into the castle they went, the more personal it got. Regular visitors never usually saw beyond the entry hall or the throne room, or the dining hall if they were lucky. Therefore, the other passages and rooms were allowed to be far less formal. Warmer colors took over in the rugs and decorations, illuminated by torches in sconces. Furniture was chosen to be practical and comfortable, and the paintings on the walls were simple and pleasant — some were even Aurelia’s own work.

After leading him up a flight of stairs and to the end of another hallway, she stopped outside a door. “Here we are. Don’t make the water too hot.”

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“It’ll take a few minutes to heat up. I want to check on my brother, he refused to get out of bed this morning.” She turned the corner, but poked her head back around to add, “Don’t get any ideas about going through my stuff.” The stricken look on Cyneweard’s face was better than she had hoped for, and her laughter echoed down the hall.

Her brother’s room was dark still, the curtains drawn, the last embers of a fire slowly dying on the hearth. Aurelia left the door open, the crack providing light for her to navigate by. While she didn’t need to see to know there were a number of toys and gizmos and probably dirty undergarments scattered about the floor, she did need the light to know where they were and how to avoid them. She wasn’t about to repeat past mistakes.

Kalfr, half-asleep, rolled over to face his sister as she sat on the edge of the bed. He shivered when her hand went to his forehead, despite the three quilts covering him, and mumbled, “Cold.”

“Have you been taking the medicine?” He nodded, which was somehow the less comforting answer. “You shouldn’t be this warm.”

“I also shouldn’t be purple.” The bronzed skin of his face, although quite flushed, looked otherwise normal, but she understood what he meant. His fingers and toes had looked the same as hers the day before.

“Really? I thought that was a new look you were trying.” On the bedside table was a cloth soaking in cool water, which Aurelia grabbed and placed on his forehead, pushing back the hair plastered down by sweat. Kalfr tensed, the wet cloth felt like an ice wrap on his head. “Sorry. It’s supposed to help.”

He didn’t protest, rolling onto his back so the cloth wouldn’t slip off on its own. “Have you been twitchy?”

Her right hand tapped softly, restlessly against the quilt. “A little.”

“My leg won’t stop.” She could see it bouncing underneath the covers, but placing a hand on it did little to calm it. “At least it’s not just me.”

There was a comfort there, Aurelia agreed, in not being the only person suffering from this mysterious disease. Whatever was happening, they were going through it together — as a family, yes, but also as a nation. The whole of Halcyon was sick.

Certainly they couldn’t all be dying?

“Try to rest,” she said, standing. “And find a way to cool off, if you can stand it.”

“Call me for dinner.”

“Dad’s cooking.”

“Doesn’t he know we’re already sick?” They both laughed at that, until Kalfr gave in to a deep, rattling cough. “Still, I’d like to be there.”

“Alright. Sleep well.” She waited in the doorway for her brother to close his eyes and fall back into a fitful sleep, then slipped out of the room.

The door to her own chambers was wide open, light streaming in from the north-facing windows. Through them she could see where Bulwark Bay met the Exigent Ocean, the rough waters and powerful waves of the latter easing up as they reached shores and cliff faces. The ocean was dangerous to navigate. Only the boldest, most capable sailors dared to stray too far from land, while regular traders and travelers stuck close to the coastline.

A four-poster bed sat between the windows, its pale yellow curtains drawn to somewhat hide the fact that Aurelia hadn’t the energy to make it that morning. She folded her shawl and laid it on a chair opposite the bed, placed her tiara on the vanity, and made her way into the adjoining bathroom.

Steam rose in curls from the cast iron bathtub that stood in the center of the room, its marbled sides reflecting the light from north and east windows. Cyneweard was stooped over it, testing the water inside. “It’s hot,” he said.

“I can see that.” She took the pins out of her hair, letting the loose golden waves fall down to her shoulders and back. He watched her almost absentmindedly, as if he didn’t realize she could see him, too. It didn’t dawn on him what was happening until her dress was unzipped and falling to the floor.

He bolted upright and turned his head to the side, shutting his eyes tight. “Sorry, your highness.”

“Is that out of respect, or am I that hideous?” He opened his eyes to look at her when he responded, realized again she was nude, and shut them once more, stammering out something of an apology. She giggled. “You’re easy to mess with, but in this case my apologies for unsettling you. I’m used to being naked in front of staff when they bathe or dress me.”

“No apology necessary, your highness,” he said, refusing to open his eyes. “It’s just, I was expecting— You weren’t wearing any undergarments.”

“I also put my father’s shoes on this morning. Twice. The sickness makes everything a bit clouded.” She dipped two fingers into the bath, testing the water for herself. It was the perfect temperature. “How old are you? By your looks I would have put you in your twenties, but your mannerisms suggest younger.”

“Same as you, your highness,” he responded. “Eighteen.”

She nodded, smiling to herself. “That’s it. You’ve never seen a girl naked before.”

“No, your highness.”

“Aurelia,” she reminded him as she walked around the tub, stopping mere inches away from him. She reached up and used one finger to tilt his head down to her. He opened his eyes slowly, uncertainly. “It’s alright. If I’m to die, I’d rather not have the last person to see me naked be an old healer who smelled of branded salmon.”

“You shouldn’t think like that.”

“Aren’t you the tiniest bit glad I am?” She stepped sideways into the tub, one leg then the other, and sank down, reclining until only her head was above water. “Why don’t you pick something from the wardrobe for me to wear?” It took Cyneweard a moment to register he was being spoken to; his eyes and mind were slipping from his control, but he regained his composure and left her to her bath.

The warmth of the water enveloped her, and she was grateful her fever had not progressed as Kalfr’s had to a point where there was no relief from the cold. She tilted her head back so it rested on the edge of the basin and closed her eyes. There was no need to wash since she wasn’t dirty; instead, she was free to relax. Sleep had been restless and infrequent the past couple nights, but lying in the heated bath, Aurelia felt she could sleep peacefully, maybe for a few years. A nice long nap. That would have been rude to her guest, however, so once she could no longer feel the chill in her bones, she rose from the tub and wrapped herself in a towel.

Cyneweard was tending to a rather robust fire he had started to heat the bedroom. There was a dress lying on her bed, a simple one, aquamarine in color with a small amount of darker green embroidery for decoration around the neck and down the sleeves. She dropped the towel and stepped into the dress. It was about half on when he finally turned around and noticed her, but he didn’t seem nearly as ashamed of seeing her in a state of undress this time. “I hope that dress is alright.”

“It’s an interesting choice.”

“How so?”

She motioned for him to help her with the back. “Most people like to see me in something more flashy.”

He had no trouble fastening it up. Then, he surprised her by spinning her so they faced each other, bodies pressed together. “I thought it would bring out your eyes.”

Her hands had gone to his shoulders when he turned her, but they slid lower to his exposed arms, feeling the soft down feathers and the cords of muscle they covered. She could feel his hands at her waist, holding her a little too tightly, as if she might lose her balance and fall. His wings were no longer tucked tightly against his back. They had spread ever so slightly, whether from nerves or anticipation she couldn’t tell. Even with the sickness and all the coughing it caused, Aurelia had never felt so out of breath before. She reached for his tunic, grabbing it and leaning into him at the same time as she pulled him closer.

There was a knock at the door.

Whatever spell had captivated them dispersed, and Aurelia took a step back. Cyneweard, desperate to cling to the moment, asked, “Do we have to open the door immediately? Can they not wait for one kiss?”

She straightened her dress out, smoothing any dishevelment. “A kiss would be selfish of me, and dangerous for you.”

“Is it possible for the disease to be spread that way?”

“I would prefer not to find out.” He nodded, understanding, but his hands still hovered around her waist. She took them gently, squeezed them once, then went to open the door.

Nayeli and Meginfrid stood there. Her father was holding a glass filled with a smoking, bronze liquid. She assumed it to be a cup of tea, but she’d never seen tea that appeared to have a thick fog rolling off of it. Without explanation, they passed by her and entered the room.

“Good, you’re still here,” the queen said upon seeing Cyneweard. “We may need your help once more.”

“What’s this about?” Aurelia asked.

Nayeli turned to her, a great sorrow on her face. “Why don’t you sit?”

Ordinarily, Aurelia would have refused such a request, wanting to be on equal footing as princess, but when Nayeli sat on the edge of the bed, she realized this was not a queen making a request of the princess. This was a mother asking something of her daughter. So, she sat next to her. Cyneweard, unclear on whether or not he was meant to sit as well, ended up opting for the chair, moving her shawl out of the way. Meginfrid placed the glass on the bedside table and chose to remain standing there.

They sat there for a minute, mother stroking daughter’s hair with one hand while the other quivered on her lap. Aurelia reached out and placed her own hand over her mother’s, brown and purple-tipped fingers curling together. “We must make an unfair request of you,” Nayeli began. “The world is dying, but we cannot let it be destroyed.”

“You believe the illness is a death sentence?” It was hardly a question.

“It’s accelerating far too quickly, with no signs of slowing or curing.” Her mother looked into her eyes, searching. “You feel it too, don’t you?”

Aurelia couldn’t explain how, but she knew what she meant. From the moment she had first felt sick, there had been something else there, a nagging feeling, or a pit of dread.

A tiny voice whispering: This is the end.

She nodded.

“There are those who seek chaos, believing it to be power. If they find what they are searching for, everything that Halcyon has stood for—” Nayeli paused, the mask of queen slipping further, the crown tumbling off. “Everything good in the world will fall. It won’t matter how many survive the illness. There won’t be any point.”

“What are they searching for?” Aurelia asked.

Her mother’s hand rested on her cheek. “Our little secret.”

She looked between her mother and the cup of billowing liquid. “Have you come here to ask me to drink poison?”

“No,” Nayeli said quickly. “No, the secret must live on. That is a tea infused with powdered dewdrops. Drink it and you will fall into a deep sleep. An unusual sleep. It will be like you’re trapped in a moment. The illness won’t advance, and more importantly, you’ll be unaffected by the passage of time.”

“For how long?”

“That is where his help will be required,” she said, indicating Cyneweard. “We need you to watch over her while the disease runs whatever course it may. Once it’s over, if we are not here to wake her, we need you to do so.”

He agreed without hesitation. “Yes, your majesty.”

“I could be asleep for months!” Aurelia protested.

“It’s unlikely you will be asleep for more than a week,” her mother said. The statement was meant to be reassuring, but the implications were not. She pressed on. “When you awaken, seek out other survivors. Find someone you can pass the secret on to, and if you can’t… Do what you think is best. The world may depend upon it.”

“Not to intrude, your majesty,” Cyneweard said, “but why not pass this secret on to me? Just in case.”

Nayeli stared at him for a few seconds. “I cannot. Can you?” Aurelia did the same and shook her head. “It isn’t a normal secret,” the queen explained to him. “It can only be passed on to someone it believes can be trusted with it.”

“The secret chooses who keeps it?” he asked. “How does that work?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Which is why your help will be invaluable. Guide her to as many people as possible. The more she meets, the greater chance she has at finding someone worthy.”

Aurelia stood and took a few paces away from the bed, staring intently at the fire. Her hands were balled at her side, clutching fistfuls of her dress, to keep them from shaking worse than they had all day. “When I wake, you won’t be here.” She turned to face her parents. “This will be the last time I see you.” Tears hadn’t fallen yet, but she could feel them stinging the back of  her eyes.

Meginfrid came over and wrapped his arms around her. “Many goodbyes are said too soon, but they are better than those not said at all.”

She buried her face into his chest, willing him to never let her go. Eventually, he did, only to be replaced by her mother, who squeezed her far too tightly, but she didn’t mind. “I am so proud of you,” Nayeli said. “You are a ray of hope shining on the darkest days. My only regret is not being able to pass Halcyon onto you, but I know you will save it.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“You will. You always have.”

When her mother finally let her go, she was surprised to feel Cyneweard take her hand. “You won’t be alone. I’ll be right here.” She squeezed his hand, a silent thank you.

The tea waited for her on the bedside table, still smoking. She picked it up and held it, inhaling its mild floral scent. “Are you sure you don’t want to do this?” she asked her mother.

“You are healthier than I,” Nayeli said. “You will have more time.”

Aurelia raised the glass in mock toast, said, “Cheers, then,” and downed its contents in one long gulp. It wasn’t an unpleasant taste — sweet like the smell of morning dew — but she worried if she didn’t do it all at once, she would never finish it. Once it was empty, she replaced the cup on the table.

“You should lie down,” her mother said. “The dewdrops work quickly.”

She could already feel the effects, a light grogginess, a desire for sleep. She climbed into bed and put her head against the pillow. Her parents stood at her side, while Cyneweard watched over her from the foot of the bed.

“Sweet dreams, princess,” Nayeli said.

“We love you,” Meginfrid added.

“I love you,” she murmured back. Then, she remembered something. “Call Kalfr for dinner. Make him something nice.”

“I will,” her father promised.

“You better.”

Sleep tugged at her, pulling her down, down. She could not imagine the world she would wake to, but she could wish it were no different than the one she fell asleep in. So, she wished. She was not ready to say goodbye. Not yet, not for good.

Her last waking thought was one of gratitude, the result of a small attempt to look on the bright side.

She was finally getting that nap.

[ghosthunthq]

Not All Treasure Is Silver or Gold

By: @humanrebel

Ghost Hunt Fanworks Weekend 2020

Prompt: Ghosts at sea. Ghost ships/haunted lighthouse -Anonymous

Summary: It’s not an old location; it was built just ten years ago. The haunting was severe, though, already causing physical damage. Just an average case, like the ones theyve investigated before. The only difference? They were investigating a ship out at sea. And it unnerved her to know that help is so far away. [Post manga]

Word count: ~4.5k

She breathes in the salted air and sighs into the breeze. Sure, she’s seen the ocean – she’s basked on warm summer beaches and jumped over white-tipped waves – but it holds a different quality during the winter.

The kick of sand turns to the crunch of snow. Icicles hang from wind chimes, adding a delicate touch to the sound. And the breeze from the ocean carries a different scent – lighter, fresher, it chills her to her bones in a decidedly good way.

Yes, Mai decides. The ocean is even better in the winter.

“Are you coming, Mai?” asks Naru. “Or do you plan on staring at the water all day?”

“It’s just refreshing, that’s all,” she pouts, but follows him onto the ferry anyway. In the distance, quite a ways out, she can see their destination. She’s not sure how it became haunted — it’s a large ten-year-old yacht — but maybe that’s why the case piqued Naru’s interest. A deceptively innocent place with no exciting history to speak of.

And they had it all to themselves.

Well, mostly. While rooms were often rented out for vacation, there were no tourists here. They still had the crew — none of the SPR team could operate a ship this size — as well as the client and his family, which went against Naru’s wishes.

Because the ghost was violent. It claimed the family as its own, punished them, left them bruised and battered and begging for help. Sure, they’ve had violent cases before, but they were all, for the most part, on solid ground. The only brush they’ve had with the sea was the Yoshimi case.

Mai shivers as she remembers it. She agrees with Naru, there should have only been a skeleton crew and maybe three adults, but when you’ve got as much money as this Ando-san, you don’t listen to logic. Ghosts aren’t motivated by money. While Mai hopes for a quick, painless exorcism, she’s not about to hold their breath.

She’s grateful for the ferry, though. At least they’ll have full supplies while they’re at sea — all the cameras and microphones and screens will help to keep an eye on things. It gives her a small sense of security. (Plus the wind in her hair feels absolutely amazing after being stuck in that stuffy old van for hours.)

She’d rather they investigate while the ship was docked, but apparently the ghosts were only active away from the coast. Which, you know, is fair when you want people to disappear, which has only happened once or twice. To complete strangers. People who rented out Ando-san’s yacht for a quick vacation.

Mai suddenly doubts the client’s intentions. As far as she knows, Naru did nothing to piss him off. Still, Naru pissing someone off is a very likely happening, so she’ll just keep an eye on the Ando family. To make sure they don’t pull any funny business, that’s all.

(She’s joking, of course.)

=•=•=•=

Her mouth drops open when she sees their base. There’s nothing set up yet, but the room–the room is huge. Way bigger than their usual bases, way bigger than she thought would be on a ship this size. The ceiling sits above her, the same size as the rest of the rooms on this floor(deck? level?), but the walls! The walls are far apart, lined with tables and chairs — this is a dining hall, Ando told them. There’s a kitchen through the doors in the back, and chefs that made meals all throughout the day — though Naru dismissed them upon arrival.

She entertains the idea that, perhaps, they were meant to use the dining room as a shared bedroom — but of course Ando thought of that. They each have a room, three in a row across from base. It’s not unusual for her to have a room alone, being the only girl among the official SPR crew, but Naru and Lin often had to share one. She wonders how they feel about that — sure, they shared a hotel room before, and now share an apartment, but to be on a case and have extra rooms? It must be so odd to them.

Then again, their usual clients aren’t always as well off as the Ando family. Mai wonders, not for the first time, what they did to earn such wealth. Sure, Ando rents the yacht out for a not-so-subtle fee. He refers to it as a ‘floating hotel’, but she thinks a cruise ship is more accurate. Either way, he’d need to have some serious money to set up the whole thing. According to him, he came from a small family in a somehow smaller village until he was discovered by a foreign talent agency. That wasn’t how he ‘struck gold’ though. It was just a stepping stone, and he refused to divulge his secrets past that.

Sketchy client or no, Naru took the job. They had no choice, and since the ferry was under Ando’s command, they wouldn’t be able to escape if they wanted. Not that they were ever planning on it. Naru doesn’t run, not when ghosts are involved. He watches and he learns. He’ll figure out what this haunting is and he’ll make sure to solve it with as little damage possible.

He’s saved her life before, and she trusts he’ll save it again if need be.

So she sets down the cameras and sets up the shelves, and she helps Naru with some preliminary camerawork. She throws herself into her work, taking temperatures and running cables, and when she yawns she doesn’t notice. It’s not until her limbs feel like lead and her eyes slide closed that she checks the clock.

“Naru,” she says as she places a box on a table, “I think it’s time to call it a night.”

“We’re almost done setting up.” He digs through the box and pulls out a cable, handing it off to Lin. “You can go ahead and lay down. Lin and I can finish here.”

“You two need rest, too!”

Lin’s voice chimes in, soft and smooth. “It’s almost two in the morning, Noll.” He hooks the cable to a monitor. “This should be fine for right now. We probably won’t get much activity, considering it’s the first night.”

Naru sighs. “I just don’t want to miss anything. You never can tell.” But he scans the monitors, checking over the four that are running, and then he nods. “Very well. Mai can take the room in the middle. That way one of us is bound to hear her if she wanders off.”

“Hey! I’m not–”

He shushes her. “It’s late, remember. Don’t want to wake up the clients,” he says with a smirk.

=•=•=•=

The caffeine in her tea is severely insufficient. Her yawns follow her throughout the day, and it only reminds her of the four hours of sleep she got. Naru wanted to argue for more time, but surprise, surprise! No activity on the first night, as usual. Not a flicker, not a fluctuation, not even one of those vague feelings she sometimes has. The only thing she felt last night was sick.

The rocking of the boat wasn’t so noticeable when she was up and working, but she felt it when she laid down. As soon as her mind settled, her stomach rolled, tossing about like the waves outside her window. It took several stumbling trips to the toilet to finally calm herself enough to sleep.

A yawn breaks her concentration, the twelfth one since she woke up three hours ago. Exhaustion clings to her mind, pulls it further and further down. She rests her head against the table, watching Lin and Naru discussing something in front of the screens — the schematics of the yacht are pinned to the board beside them, dots marking cameras and mics. Deciding where to record next, then. Surely they wouldn’t mind if she took a quick nap? She wants more control over her visions anyway, and what better way than to practice?

She doesn’t even have time to shut her eyes.

“Mai, go set up a camera in dining room B.”

So much for her nap. “Okay!”

With forced cheer and false energy, she stands and collects one of the night vision cameras. A headset, a tripod, and a coil of wire later finds her one level lower. The room isn’t nearly as big as base, but is still formidable in size. Her eyes scan the walls, more decorated here than above. The biggest picture hangs from the wall beside the door and is of Ando and his family — an older, foreign blonde woman, a teenage son, and twin little girls. The other photos are guests, she presumes, though she recognizes a few faces from movies.

All the portraits are haunting, in a way. They line the wall, glaring through glass panes and hanging crooked from their nails. She hurries through the process of setting up the camera, listening to Naru’s directions as she positions it. It takes all her self control not to sigh in relief when he tells her to return. She pulls the door open and steps out–

Four eyes stare up at her, glowing in the dim light.

A small Eep! escapes her, but she reigns it back in when she realizes it’s just children — living children — watching her. She smiles down at them. “I’m sorry. You startled me.”

Two girls stand before her, seven-year-old twins if she had to guess. Their stare grows just a touch unnerving when they speak.

“You’re here with the ghost hunters?” the one on the left asks.

Mai nods, and the two girls look at each other before they look at her.

“And you’re staying up there.” The one on the right points to the floor above, to where her very room would be located if they were up the stairs.

“Yes…” Mai answers. The girls look at each other and lower their voice to a whisper. She tries to listen in, but can’t hear.

“That pretty boy,” the one on the left starts, “his room is beside yours, isn’t it?”

Her face heats up. “It sure is,” she says.

The girls burst out in a giggle. “Secret boyfriend,” they sing to themselves. “Secret boyfriend, secret boyfriend!”

“I bet he sneaks over to her room at night,” says one.

“I bet he kisses her to sleep,” says the other.

“He doesn’t do any of that!” says Mai. Her face is hot, a blush exploding across her cheeks. Seeing her face turn red only proves to excite the girls. They giggle and sing, teasing still, hopping in one place.

And then they stop. They stand still, faces solemn as they look from Mai to the corridor.

“She’s not going to like that,” whispers one.

“She’s going to take him,” whispers the other.

“What are you talking about?” Mai asks them, dread settling in her stomach.

“Naiya,” the girls answer as one. The one on the left continues with, “Naiya owns the boat.”

“I thought your father–”

“She likes to collect things. Pretty things.” The girl on the right says.

The one on the left turns to her twin. “She might want to collect her, too,” she says.

They look at each other, then run away.

“Wait!” Mai runs after them, but they’re gone when she turns the corner. Her walk back to base is full of racing thoughts — namely Naiya and her collection.

“Don’t tell me you got lost on the way back.”

“Hm?” She raises her eyes to Naru’s raised brow.

“I expected you back ten minutes ago. What took so long?

“Oh. I ran into two of the children on board. I think they know something.” He says nothing, waiting for an explanation. “They said someone called Naiya owned the yacht, and that she liked to collect pretty things.”

“I guess I’ll have to be careful, then.” Naru smirks as Mai rolls her eyes, then says, “Yasuhara-san is already investigating the history of the ship. I’ll tell him to look for this Naiya person, as well.”

Mai nods. “I wonder if Masako would be able to help.”

Naru stiffens beside her. “I believe even Matsuzaki-san would be more helpful than her right now.“

“What? Naru, don’t be rude! She’d be able to tell if there were spirits here! Besides, there aren’t any trees nearby. Ayako can’t do anything here.”

“She can make charms and at the very least drive the spirits away. She’s not useless. Hara-san only knows basic warding magic.”

“I only know basic warding magic.”

“But I’m keeping an eye on you,” Naru says, smiling as her face heats up again.

“Nope! No using PK to protect me, Oliver.”  Mai smiles as his face hardens. “I’m not about to be the cause of you being hospitalized…”

Again hangs in the air, but she won’t admit it. The Yoshimi case still burns in her mind, only a few months behind them. She still blames herself. His eyes lose their edge, but his frown deepens.

“It’s always been my fault,” he whispers to her.

She shakes her head, but changes the subject. “Maybe Ayako should be here. Better to have an actual doctor, just in case. Right?”

Naru sighs. “Lin, go ahead and call the regulars, and let me know when they can arrive. We’ll need to tell Ando to have a ferry ready for them.” Lin nods. “As for now, I’d like to start interviews. Mai?”

“Yes, sir!” She grabs her notebook and pen and follows him down the hall.

=•=•=•=

When the case was brought to them, Hiroyuki Ando showcased spectacular showmanship. He was an actor, hamming it up for a captive audience, but the bruises that lined his arms were all too real. His plea was ignored at first — spending time on a ship could mess with one’s equilibrium, after all, and stumbling one day could develop bruises the next.

Naru would have dismissed this case if it hadn’t been for the grizzled old captain. He’d spent most of his life on the sea, and actually was rather shaky on land. He had bruises as well, hidden beneath the long sleeves of his jacket. He didn’t want the crew to panic, he claimed, when they saw that even their captain was subject to whatever this mysterious force was. And, well, it worked.

The crew had no idea anything was going on. None of them had experienced the bruising or the noises; in fact, they thought SPR was there as guests, not as investigators. A few of the younger ones tried to flirt with her, and a few of the older ones turned their nose up at them. They refused the interview, claiming the ghosts to be a figment of imagination, and Mai threw them a nasty look when their back was turned.

“You shouldn’t be so childish,” Naru tells her after the fifth one walks away.

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just don’t act like it doesn’t bother you, too.”

“They’ll either believe or they won’t. Nothing I do will change their mind. The best we can hope for is them staying out of our way.”

“That shouldn’t be too difficult. You’ve driven away worse with just a look– yeah! That’s the one!” Mai laughs as his face sours further.

“You two seem to get along well. If I had known better, I would have given you a room together.”

“A-Ando-san!” They turn to face him. “It’s not like that-” Mai starts.

“Can you tell us where the rest of your family is?” Naru asks. “We’d like to ask about their paranormal experiences.”

“Of course,” he says, leading them down the hall.

Naru ignores her as she pouts. In fact, he seems to be smirking at her. Did he want Ando thinking they were together? She’d drop it for now, she had to focus on not falling when two blurs in blue collided with her legs.

“Nee-san!” They cry, smiling up at her.

“You brought your boyfriend with you this time!”

“He’s really pretty, isn’t he?”

“He’s like a prince, I bet!”

“Nee-san, are you okay? You’re all red!”

She chokes out something that she hopes at least resembles an affirmative, and when she looks at Naru, his lips are set in a thin line. But oh, she can see the amusement in his eyes, and he’s going to pay for it.

“Keiko! Kimiko!” Ando-san calls. “That’s no way to treat a guest!”

“Keiko and Kimiko?” Naru ignores Ando, and so do the girls. He kneels down to study them. A smile tugs at his lips, but other than that his expression is unreadable. “You told Mai a little about Naiya, didn’t you? Can you tell me a little more?”

The twins look at each other, expressions flying across their faces in a language only they can decipher. Naru’s eyes soften as he watches until they nod. A decision has been made. They turn back to him.

“She’s a mermaid!” they yell as one.

“She came from far, far away!” says the one in navy blue.

“She bought this boat a long time ago!” says the one in deep purple.

Naru shoots Mai a glance, and she starts writing.

“What makes you think she’s a mermaid?” he asks.

“She lives in the water! She’s always there when we see her, and she never shows us her legs. She told us she doesn’t have any.”

“We want to join her crew, but she says we’re too young. But she does keep an eye on us, and if someone hurts us, she’ll hurt them.”

“Is that so?” Naru mumbles. He glances at Ando and back to the girls, quick enough that only Mai notices. He turns back to the girl in purple. “So you’re able to talk to Naiya, Kimiko?”

She nods. “Yes! She likes to watch us play. She taught us how to play pirates. She says we’d make fine additions to her crew, but only when we’re older. Right now, we just find coins and stuff to give her.”

He turns to Keiko, the one in blue. “How do you give it to her?”

Keiko looks to her twin. “We throw it,” she says.

“And where do you throw it?”

She looks at her father, standing behind Naru. “We, um… we throw it in the water.”

“Is that what you’ve done with your mother’s earrings?!” Ando asks– no, demands. “I’ve told you time and time again, this Naiya is just-just an imaginary friend! Don’t throw stuff away just because–”

“Ando-san!” Mai cuts him off. The girls are huddled behind her, hiding from him. Her hands hover in front of them, as though she can protect them.

Ando glares at her. “This is a family matter, Taniyama-san,” he yells. He steps forward to grab the girls, but Mai backs up with them. He waves his hands towards the stairs. “They’ve thrown tens of thousands of yen into the ocean! Because of some stupid, fake pirate!”

Mai opens her mouth, but his ranting doesn’t stop until Naru steps between them. “Ando-san,” he says, voice smooth and unbroken. “There are many cases of spirits befriending children in the form of imaginary friends. Don’t discount them just because they’re young.”

He turns around to face the children. “Thank you for your time, Keiko, Kimiko. You may leave.”

Keiko grabs Kimiko’s hand and pulls her away, running down the hall. Ando huffs, opening and closing his mouth. His face is red and drawn, eyes narrowed at Naru. He clears his throat, shivering as the temperature drops. “Excuse me,” he says, opening one of the doors in the hall, “it’s gotten rather cold, hasn’t it? Must be an open window somewhere…”

He walks away, checking each room as he goes. Mai sticks her tongue out at him.

“Let’s go back,” Naru says, “before they accuse me of being unprofessional.”

“What was that?” She ponders as they walk. “He seemed so mad about their imaginary friend.”

“He was mad because they’ve been throwing valuables into the sea.”

“He owns a yacht. It’s not like he’s going to miss ten-thousand yen. I spend about that much on groceries for a week.”

“Then he’s greedy. Don’t worry about it, Mai.”

“Well, let’s just hope he doesn’t throw that much of a fit when he sees the bill for this case.” Naru rolls his eyes, but she smirks at him. “I know you’re charging extra for the inconvenience of working on a ship. Don’t think I haven’t seen the nausea medicine you and Lin are trying to hide.”

A smirk plays at his lips. “You’re getting more observant, aren’t you?”

“I have to be when we’re fighting ghosts all the time. Oh! Can I have some, by the way? I get motion sick at night…”

=•==•=

Thunder rolls in the distance. The moon hides behind clouds, and the threat of rain pulls Oliver into bed before he’s done reviewing notes. Mai left for her room earlier, and Lin not long after with a warning for him to sleep soon.

He’s only an hour behind them, really. He can sleep at any time he wants. It’s not that hard.

Except for when the voice calls out for him.

“Noll,” it says in his own voice. “Find me, Noll.”

But he did. He found Gene, and took him home, and laid him to rest, what else could he want?

“Naru,” the voice shifts. It changes, growing higher, then frantic, morphing into Mai’s distressed tone. “Please, Naru! Hurry!”

Well that’s just playing dirty.

He still stands. The floor is cold against his feet, and it almost makes him want to crawl back in bed. But then Mai screams his name again, and he tears himself away from it.

The hall is empty — Mai’s door is shut tight, probably locked. But then, why wouldn’t it be? He knows it’s not really her calling him. It’s some phantom voice that can read him well enough to use her as bait. But her safety is not something he’s willing to risk, so he follows it anyway.

Oliver follows the voice up the slippery staircase and out onto the moonlit deck. The cold knocks the breath from his lungs. He can’t even see the way it clouds before the wind rips it away. He takes a deep, shaking breath, ice sinking to his lungs and spreading through his limbs.

Mai wouldn’t be out here. No one would. They’d freeze before they took two steps. He should just check on Mai and return to bed.

He doesn’t, though. He hears his name again. Ignoring the urge to run to it, he scans the silvery deck. Shadows dance at the edge of his vision, only to vanish as he turns his head.

The voice isn’t on the ship. It’s yelling from over the side.

He walks to the rail and studies the water. It’s the only blotch of darkness in this moonlit scene. The voice changes again. Soft, lilting, it beckons him now, no longer afraid. He circles the ship, trying to pinpoint its location.

It still sounds like Mai.

Anywhere should do, he thinks. He can swim to her. She wouldn’t hide from him. His hands grip the rail, and he jumps. He kneels on the metal, fingers going numb. He just has to find the source. That shouldn’t take long. He tips forward.

A loud bang wakes him. His shoulder explodes in burning pain. Chanting fills his ears, and he can’t sit up. He’s too disoriented, and there’s a weight on his chest holding him down. Rain pelts his face, stinging as it hits his skin.

Then the weight is gone and he’s pulled to his feet.

“Run, you idiot!” Mai yells in his ear, but she’s dragging him anyway. Her clothes cling to her body, and her fingers freeze against his. She drags him down the stairs and into base, slamming the door. She pants as she leans against it, too tired to move.

“That was too close,” she mutters between breaths. Then she glares at him. “What the hell, Naru? What was that?”

“How long has it been raining?”

“Naru!”

“I heard–”…you… “–someone calling me. I went outside to investigate and…”

“And tried to jump into the ocean!” She’s breathing heavily, still, and her shoulders shake. He can’t tell if she’s cold or crying, but if he had to wager a guess, he’d say both.

He’d been tricked. Mai’s shivering worsens as the air chills, and she wraps her arms around herself. Naru stands, offering her his hand. She takes it and lets him lead her to her room.

“Go take a shower and change,” he tells her. “You’ll freeze at this rate.”

“No thanks to you,” she mumbles.

“Meet me at base when you’re done. I’m going to get Lin. We’re going to sleep there tonight, and when Matsuzaki-san and Hara-san get here, you’re all going to share that room.”

She almost refuses — there’s no need for such precaution, she thinks. But then she remembers Naru, dragging himself through the storm, wobbling on the thin handrail. The adrenaline that surged through her, tearing him from the spirit’s grip. The emptiness in her limbs as that adrenaline fades.

“Okay,” she ends up saying, swinging the door shut. Naru stops it with a foot before it closes, and opens it as he leans forward. His lips tickle her earlobe, and when he speaks, his voice is warm.

“Oh, and Mai?” he whispers, grateful for the cold that hides his blush. “Thank you.”

[screamingatanemptyroom]

I Can’t Eat Love pt 17

We’re moving on to the second half! More intrigue, and a new antagonist! 

Master Post linked here. 

So this story picks up after the first scene of the entire story. The first half led up to the engagement being broken, and the second half starts immediately after. 

Since it’s been a while, will link the first part here for anyone who wants to re-read that part before moving on to the second half! 

I hope you guys enjoy!

____________________________

 “That went well.” I muttered, walking back into the ballroom. I patted my pocket, now filled with the crowns I had extorted off of the Prince, reassuring myself that at least this time I had not come out empty-handed.

Now, off to find some food.

Ronan had grabbed me the moment the party had started, pulling me outside towards the gazebo so that he could break the engagement as dramatically as possible. I hadn’t even had a chance to look at the tables holding the food…

I stopped in my tracks, deeply disappointed.

Most of the food was already gone.

“That’s two lifetimes!” I growled under my breath. “Now that’s just going too far!”

Before I could mourn too long, however, Hallers stepped up behind me, holding a plate. My eyes widened with surprise. 

“How…?”

He gave the smallest hint of a smile. “I saw that His Royal Highness had pulled you aside, and that you had not had a chance to eat today. I took the liberty of preparing a plate of the dishes I thought you would most enjoy.”

I grabbed the plate, smiling brightly. “Hallers, you are an angel! Definitely the best butler in the entire kingdom!”

He stepped back towards the wall with a quick wink, “Naturally, Miss.”

As I happily enjoyed the party food, I heard a voice behind me.

“Did the prince talk to you?” Edith was wearing an unnatural smile, her eyes searching me closely, as if expecting to find me in tears. 

Ignoring the question, I looked her up and down, nodding in approval. “I like the dress!” 

She was wearing one of my newest designs from “Prosperity.” Ever since I had “recommended” her, allowing her to shop there, she had been purchasing gowns on a frequent basis. I had no issues with this, despite her stealing my fiancé in both lives, having decided that I was going to be the bigger person.

And if I happened to have the store charge her twice the usual price?… well, no one was perfect. 

In fact, given the fact that her purchasing hadn’t slowed down despite the increased pricing made me wonder if the prince wasn’t funding her shopping as well. Which should have offended me, but I did enjoy the idea of both of them unknowingly supporting my business.

Edith preened at the compliment. “Don’t I look amazing in it? Prosperity is expensive but definitely worth the price!” She looked over at me with a pitying look. “I see you aren’t wearing any of their new line. It’s okay, I know that your family has… financial difficulties.”

“Don’t worry about us, we’re doing just fine.” And we were. Given the revenue from my multiple stores, we were one of the wealthiest families in the kingdom. It was true that I wasn’t wearing any of the dresses released at the store, as I didn’t want them associated with me being dropped by my fiancé, but I was happy with the dress I had designed, a deep blue gown with silver embroidery.  

“Of course you are.” She looked around, obviously frustrated by my casual attitude. “I think the Prince was looking for you.”

I smiled. Edith must have assumed he hadn’t broken the engagement yet, as I didn’t look upset enough. “I’ll keep that in mind, but first, I need to go greet the queen.”

 “WHAT?” Her voice was a little too loud. She flinched the whispers around us, and looked around, seeing the queen enter without introduction. “What is she doing here?” She sounded upset.

“It’s her son’s birthday, where else would she be?” Not giving her a chance to answer, I walked away, heading towards the queen.

____________________________

“How are you feeling?” I felt a flash of relief, looking her over. She didn’t seem ill at all.

“I feel fine! Really, everyone was fussing over nothing!” The Queen reached out and gave me a hug.

Perhaps too much has changed in this lifetime, and she simply didn’t get sick this time. Shrugging it off mentally, I stepped out of the hug, giving her a serious expression.

She saw my face and her smile fell. “Oh no. Did he break the engagement?”

At my nod she swore under her breath, shocking me. “What a fool!”

Queen Amerande turned, looking over at her son, who was walking towards the center of the room with a determined expression. “And of course he’s planning to make a scene.” Reaching out and grabbing my hand, she quickly leaned towards me and whispered in my ear. 

“Please, play along with what I do next!”

“What do you mean?” Before she could explain, however... 

“Everyone, I have an announcement to make!” 

Prince Ronan spoke loudly, waving his hands until the crowd quieted down. “As many of you know, Lenora and I have been engaged since childhood.” His eyes moved over to me, his mouth forming a vindictive smile. “But today, now that I am legally an adult, I am breaking that arrangement. I will not marry Lenora, and she will not be Queen.”

Everyone seemed to be talking at once, the room filled with shocked murmuring. More than one sympathetic glance was directed towards me. Just as it seemed that the noise would continue indefinitely, however, Ronan held up his hand again, and the room fell silent once more. 

“I have one more announcement to make….” A more genuine smile crossed his face, and I noticed Edith starting to make her way through the crowd of people, looking excited.

I held back a sigh. This was the twisting of the knife that had hurt so much back in my first life. Not only had I lost my love, my future, my reputation… but within minutes of the first blow, Ronan had replaced me with my best friend. 

It’s much nicer this time around, not caring.

“Before you do, Ronan, May I say a word?” The Queen spoke up, her loud voice startling me from my reverie. It was phrased as a question but her tone made it clear that she was going to speak, whether he liked it or not.

Confused, Ronan nodded, motioning to Edith to stay where she was for the moment. Edith’s smile faded, turned in our direction, her hands clenched visibly at her sides. I wondered briefly if I should feel sorry for disrupting her big moment, but was quickly distracted as the Queen turned to me, holding my hands between her own.

“Lenora, dearest. I have loved you as my own daughter since you were young, and always hoped that you and Ronan would marry and make us officially mother and daughter.” 

She reached out tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Unfortunately, I know that you and Ronan simply didn’t love one another, and it wasn’t meant to be. This is through no fault of your own, I don’t want you to blame yourself for the strange workings of fate.” 

I felt like laughing, but held it in, nodding seriously instead. She was very adroitly deflecting any shame of the broken engagement from me. By pretending to keep me from “blaming myself,” she was subtly warning everyone else that they couldn’t blame me either.

She wasn’t finished. “I will always think of you as my daughter, and so I want to bestow this necklace, a family heirloom to you. “ She pulled out the necklace, the small sapphire amulet twinkling in the lights of the ballroom, and placed it over my head, taking care not to disturb my hair. The necklace I had refused several years ago. 

I put one hand on the jewel, its weight so very familiar to me, but strange at the same time.

____________________________

“Please, the bread was only a quarter crown two days ago.” I begged the shop owner,  feeling powerless. The small coin in my hand was clenched so tightly it was painful. My stomach was empty, had been for too long, and if I didn’t get food soon…

The man stared at me, shrugging. “The price was raised. The ingredients are more expensive so I charge more to sell it.”

“But…”

“No exceptions.” He paused. “Unless you have something you can trade for it.” Looking me up and down, he laughed. “Not that a beggar like you would have anything of value.”

I paused, deeply unsure. I had one thing left. The only thing I had clung to in all this time since losing our home. I had hid it from my parents, knowing they would sell it immediately and spend the money. It was my last connection to my old life, the last connection to the woman I had thought of as my mother.

But I was so hungry.

Desperate, tired, with tears in my eyes, I pulled the necklace from my tunic. The blue jewel seemed to sparkle in my hand, but I averted my eyes, ashamed.

“How much for this?”

____________________________

Confused, I almost started taking it off, and then caught the queen’s eye. She mouthed silently, play along, and so I put on a smile, thanking her.

“You are a wonderful young woman.” She grinned. “I have never seen your match when it comes to intelligence, poise and hard work, a true role model for everyone around you.” A mischevious light came into her eyes. “I must say that I feel very sorry for whoever follows behind you. No one will ever be able to match up to you as a daughter in law.”

With that, she hugged me again, and turned to Ronan. “Alright dear, I’m done. You had another announcement?”

Ronan’s face was bright red with rage as he stared back at his mother. He had clearly been about to announce his engagement to Edith, but how could he do that now? The Queen had just publically declared that whatever girl he chose would be inferior. If he brought her forward now, it would completely color the nobility’s perception of her. 

He took a deep breath, trying unsuccessfully to hide his anger. “It can wait for another time.”

Ronan stalked off to find a drink, and the music and talking resumed. Through the crowd I caught a glimpse of Edith’s face… I had never seen her so angry. She was staring at the queen as if ready to kill her right then and there. But soon she controlled her expression as well, walking away, likely to find the prince.

I turned to Queen Amerande. “Why did you…?”

“He was about to announce an engagement to another woman, wasn’t he?” She made a disgusted expression. “Even if you weren’t my daughter. I would never let him humiliate a young woman by announcing her replacement immediately.  But especially you! As if I would stand by and watch you be hurt by such a terrible thing!”

____________________________

“Please, I just need to speak with the Queen. Could you tell her Lenora wants to speak to her?” I felt so out of place standing in front of the palace, where i had so freely entered in the past. But I had to know if Edith had been telling the truth.

The guard looked down at me with an unsympathetic expression. “Lady Lenora is dead. I would advise you to not come back in the future.”

Dead. 

I shook my head. “There must be a mistake...”

“The only mistake is that you continue to stand in front of my gate.” The guard pushed me down, and i fell with a grunt of pain. He continued to stare down at me, his eyes disdainful. “Leave, trash.”

____________________________

I looked down at the necklace and then back up at her. It didn’t make sense. I desperately wanted to believe in her. She was here, by my side, even after the engagement was broken. But then why? Why had my first life been so different?! I shook my head. 

I needed to think this over. 

“Let me return this…” I started to remove the necklace, only to be stopped by a gentle hand.

“Please, keep it.” Her eyes were sad as she spoke. “Something happened to you, dear… something that made you lose trust in everyone around you…” She sighed. “And perhaps after your mother... and after what Ronan did to you,  I understand somewhat. But I want you to have it.”

She patted my hand. “Keep it and remember that engagement or no, you will always be my daughter.”

I looked up towards the ceiling, blinking rapidly to keep tears back. I didn’t want anyone to think they were caused by Ronan. I stopped trying to take off the necklace however, and the Queen smiled.

“Now, with that unpleasantness out of the way, perhaps you could try to have some fun. Maybe some dancing?” 

“Dancing?” I laughed. “Not likely to happen, now that I’m ruined.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” She cleared her throat, pointing behind me. Confused, I turned, only to be confronted by a familiar face.

“May I have this dance?” The young man formally bowed, reminding me of a party a few years ago.

“Nate?!” I was shocked. We had kept in touch with letters, but it had been over two years since we had last seen each other. He was taller, his face fuller and more mature than I remembered. He straightened up with a grin, and this was familiar enough to reassure me that it was in fact the young man I knew.

“Hello, Lenora, long time no see.”

“What are you doing here?”

Nate looked slightly offended. “I was invited. It’s not like I crashed the party or anything. And it’s been so long since we got to see each other…”

“Hmm…” Queen Amerande stared at him, narrowing her eyes. “You have impeccable timing.” 

“Well, I- uh, you know…” Nate looked nervous under her increasingly intense stare. “I wanted to be around in case she needed help.”

“Needed ’help,’ huh?” She grinned. “Well at least you’re not dumb enough to miss out on what others have overlooked.” She glanced at me, smiling. “But you and I will need to sit down and have a talk later, given your interest in ‘helping.’ Prepare yourself.”

He nodded rapidly, his face slightly pale. “Of course, Your Majesty.” He pulled at his collar. “I- I look forward to it.” 

“Me too.”

I looked between them, slightly confused. “What are you…?”

“Never mind that, how about you two dance?” The Queen smiled, pushing me slightly forward.

 “Uh, sure.” I stepped toward Nate, taking his hand, only to be stopped by a familiar shout.

“Save a dance for us as well!” Richard, Nicholas and the rest of the young noblemen that I helped teach at Jim’s classes grouped around us, smiling.

I stared at them, taken aback by their sudden appearance. “Really?”

“Don’t take up all her time, we wanted to talk to her some! Especially about where she got her new dress!” I recognized Lady Erica, the young lady who had fallen in love with a captain of the Eastern guard. I shook my head, confused. I had worked with Rig to divert a few small schemes to remove her captain from his post, nothing life-threatening, but she shouldn’t have any idea of that… 

“We all owe you.” Erica leaned in, whispering with a smile. “Maline from Prosperity told me how you paid some of our debt to the store.”

I had told Maline she could forgive a few small balances, they weren’t supposed to know I was involved with the business though. I assumed this was Maline’s way of trying to give me credit anyways.

The Queen took in the small crowd that had gathered on our side of the room, laughing quietly.

“It looks as if you have quite a busy night ahead of you!” She quickly organized the two groups into time slots, making sure I would not be alone for any portion of the party.

____________________________

Stunned, I was led onto the dance floor by Nate, who looked as if he were desperately trying to hold back laughter.

“Did you really not realize how much you’ve impacted the people around you?” Placing one hand on my waist and gripping my hand in his other, we danced together. I finally spoke, still feeling overwhelmed. 

“I didn’t expect…” I had always assumed that everyone would avoid me after the engagement was broken, just as they had in the previous life. 

“You are one of the smartest people I know, Lenora, but sometimes you are really dense.” He chuckled. “Despite your best efforts, you keep helping and caring for other people, and they now they want to help you back. Is that so surprising?”

“…” I stared at him silently, processing this.

“By the way, someone should probably hold back Hallers. He may actually murder the Prince in his sleep.”

 Looking over at his words, I saw Hallers in the corner. He still stood at attention, the perfect example of professionalism, but his gaze was a little too intense as he stared sharply at the prince. I made a mental note to talk to him later. I didn’t want him to get into trouble.

“Thanks for the heads up.”

“No problem. I’ll be in town for a little while, not as long as last time, of course.” He shrugged. “Maybe we could meet up with Jim, for old time’s sake?”

I smiled, “I’d like that.”

We fell into silence after that, dancing along side the other couples. There were a few whispers and stares, but nothing compared to what I had been expecting nothing like the last time. 

“It just seems too simple.” I muttered, feeling a dark unease building. It couldn’t just work out so neatly, could it?

“Oh, it won’t be simple.” Nate responded motioning with his head to the right. “Have you seen the King’s expression since the announcement?”

I glanced over, startled. The King was seated off to the side of the room, drinking wine and watching over the party. His dark blue eyes met my own for the briefest moment, and I felt a cold chill run down my spine.

I hadn’t had much interaction with the king, in this lifetime or the last. He was usually too busy to look in on my training, and although we exchanged greetings and such at parties, we had never had in significant time together to talk. I had thought that since he had not factored significantly in my last life, I needn’t bother with him in this one.

Now I wondered if I hadn’t been mistaken. 

He was smiling, the expression perfectly polite, but his eyes… they were ice cold. He was studying me as if I were an object in a store, something he was considering how much he would pay for. As our eyes met, his smile widened, and he lifted his glass in a silent toast. 

I had a bad feeling that even if I considered myself free of the royal family… he wasn’t done with me yet.

[anubislover]

A Heart to Be Used as Needed (a dark Corazon!LawxBaby 5 fic)

“Joker killed another one, huh?”

Sniffling and tearfully nodding her head, Baby 5 skulked into Trafalgar Law’s lab, the young Corazon’s afternoon coffee carefully balanced on a silver tray. “The bastard didn’t even give me enough time to set a wedding date.” The Buki Buki no Mi user was a mess; mascara blended with tears down her cheeks, her eyes were red and puffy, jet black hair tangled, and there were thin rips throughout her maid uniform. She’d clearly just come from another failed attempt at killing Doflamingo, her rage at once more being denied her dream of marital bliss no match for the shichibukai and his Ito Ito no Mi powers.

Law scoffed as he continued to dissect the man on his table. His victim was barely conscious, chest cavity wide open, any resistance he might make suppressed by restraints, a cocktail of opioids, and the fact that his limbs were in a bin on the other side of the operatory. Doflamingo had caught the guy snooping around the castle, so he’d been generously donated to the lab for the Surgeon of Death’s amusement. He’d started off using his powers, but after a while decided to practice more traditional surgery—minus the anesthesia, of course. The result was a rather bloody operating table, organs lined up in little trays encased in their own Rooms to keep his subject alive as long as possible.

Holding the man’s liver up to the light, Law tsked at the cirrhosis that had formed. “You know, they say insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.”

Grimacing at her superior’s handywork, the maid replied haughtily, “I’m pretty sure it’s also finding pleasure in playing around with a man’s organs while he watches.”

“No, that’s sadism. Completely different.” Turning around, he pulled off the bloody latex gloves and surgical mask, switching them with the coffee mug, warm viscera dripping onto the polished silver. Despite being red with tears, Baby 5’s eyes rolled heavenwards in annoyance; with his abilities, he could have easily thrown those in the trash, but he always left it to her to clean up instead. Frowning at the red stains on his dress shirt and white lab coat, she knew she’d also be spending a good hour on his laundry. Oh, well. At least it made her feel useful.

Taking a sip of the bitter beverage as he leaned against the operating table, Law quickly scanned her for injuries. Apart from a few bruises and some thin cuts, she seemed relatively unharmed, but it was still worse than Joker’s usual retaliation. Either he’d been in a bad mood, or Baby 5 had really gone all out this time. “Need me to bandage those up?” the surgeon asked, indicating the long, thin slash at her waist.

She waved of his concern as she dumped the contaminated gloves into the trash. “Oh, don’t trouble yourself; I’ll take care of them later.”

It was an expected response; heaven forbid the maid allow anyone to do something for her. Half the time he had to drug her just to fix her up after a mission, as she’d insist on not being a burden even while bleeding out. So, knowing it was a lost cause, he pointed to the sink. “Then at least wash your face; I don’t need you dripping snot and makeup all over my nice, clean lab.” It wasn’t clean, and Baby 5 would inevitably be the one to mop up the blood later, but she was smart enough not to comment.

As she dutifully bent over the sink, scrubbing away tears and reapplying her lipstick, Law diverted his gaze from her injuries to instead appreciate the way her short dress and high heels made her legs look impossibly long. He couldn’t help it; as a doctor, he enjoyed studying anatomy, and as an admitted hedonist, he loved a sexy pair of legs on anyone. The way she leaned over, arching her back and presenting her pert ass, filled his head with impure thoughts of burying his stiff cock inside her, fucking her hard and slow while she made helpless little sounds of pleasure.

Joker really was a sadist, parading a beautiful, biddable woman around in such a tempting outfit, then basically forbidding anyone from touching her. It was easier on everyone else, as most saw her as a sister or niece if they regarded her at all, but as Law’d never bought into the family crap, he lacked that barrier. Instead, his main reason for not going after the sexy little maid boiled down to the knowledge that if he did, she’d cling to him for life, and Doflamingo would be pissed.

Even the best fuck in the world wasn’t worth upending his ultimate plans.

Downing half the mug of coffee in one go to quell his urges, he said, “Not that I approve of any of the worthless peons you’re stupid enough to fall for, but if you want to get married so badly, quit telling Joker and just elope. Why ask permission when you know you’ll never get it?” Despite his harsh words, he was vaguely impressed—foolish as it was, he’d give her props for persistence. Her intense desire to get married was almost comparable to his drive to bring the Heavenly Demon’s world crashing down around him before finally crushing his heart in his bare hands.

The fact was, despite being Corazon, Law had spent the past decade plotting to destroy Joker and his sick criminal empire. It was hardly for altruistic reasons; he’d set the whole world on fire so long as Doflamingo burned with it. All that mattered was avenging Cora-san, and there was no line he wouldn’t cross. A man in his position couldn’t afford to have scruples; his job generally revolved around torture, unethical experimentation, helping enforce Joker’s rule, keeping his twisted subordinates alive and in line, and more. How could he ever hope to take down the former Celestial Dragon if he wasn’t willing to do the same for his plans?

Besides his lack of limits, Law’s greatest strength was his patience. Much as he wanted to simply rip out his still-beating heart, Doflamingo was too strong to fight directly. At least, too strong for the Surgeon of Death. At first, Law’d planned on simply earning his trust and killing him on the operating table under the guise of performing the Perennial Youth Surgery, but after seeing how monstrously powerful and resilient he was, the young doctor had been forced to figure out a new plan. Then, two years ago, he’d had an epiphany; to take out a Warlord, you needed an Emperor, and he was in the perfect position to sabotage Joker and Kaido’s partnership. He would break one of the gears that kept the New World running, then sit back and relish the beautiful storm he’d ushered in.

It wouldn’t be easy, and at the moment, his greatest challenge was gathering the right allies to help him enact his brilliant scheme. Violet used her powers and sexual relationship with Joker to keep him informed of their boss’ plans and divert any suspicions of betrayal. Law had amassed a small but devoted crew eager to follow him into Hell. Last year, he’d secretly saved the Straw Hat boy at Marineford, healing and handing him over to Silvers Rayleigh to train with the intention of calling in the life debt once he and his crew were strong enough for the New World. The young upstart’s brand of chaos would be useful for destroying Joker’s SMILE factory and invoking Kaido’s wrath.

Slowly Trafalgar D. Water Law moved the pieces into place, playing a quiet game of chess with the unwitting shichibukai while acting as his sadistic but loyal Corazon.

Perhaps it was that devotion to subtlety and meticulous planning that made him so annoyed at Baby 5’s foolishness. “Seriously, you do this every time; flounce into his office crowing about how you’re getting married, and the next day the guy’s entire town has been razed to the ground.”

“But I want the Young Master’s approval!” she declared. She simply could not understand why everyone was so against her getting married. Ever since she was a child, she’d longed to belong somewhere, to be useful and needed by someone. To be a man’s wife meant that there was someone who truly valued her, who saw how useful she was and was happy to let her tend to his every need. To be useful was to be needed, to be needed was to be loved, and a loved person would never be abandoned in the mountains, determined a burden, or forgotten.

Once more presentable, her cheeks flushed as she basked in a romantic fantasy, imagining her hypothetical wedding day. “I know he’s just being protective and doing what he feels is best, but he’s never even met my boyfriends! Once he sees how truly in love we are, he’ll walk me down the aisle and give me away to my beloved—”

“That’s just it—he doesn’t want to give you away,” the Dark Doctor interrupted sourly, running a tattooed hand through his messy hair in irritation. Really, how was he the only one who saw through their boss’ illusion of “family” for the brainwashed cult that it was? Was it because he’d witnessed first-hand what he’d done to his own brother? The volatile maid was one of the few he cut any slack; he’d spent the past twelve years watching Doflamingo cultivate her psychological need to be needed into something fanatical and horribly unhealthy, whereas the rest were just plain cruel, stupid, or greedy. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t gleefully tear into her I delusion like a pinned-down frog, though. “You’re most useful when you’re solely devoted to him. If you marry outside the Family, your loyalties will be divided.”

“No, they won’t,” she argued, clasping her hands over her heart, eyes sparkling dramatically under the cold, florescent lights. “I’ll always be loyal to the Family!”

“But what if your husband wants you to choose between us and him?” Law pressed, setting down his mug. Normally, he didn’t bother trying to reason with her, but he was feeling particularly sadistic at the moment. Such utter devotion to that monster disgusted him, and something urged him to pick at the fresh scab over the maid’s damaged psyche and watch it bleed as she was forced to face painful reality. “Your taste in men is generally atrocious, so who’s to say you wouldn’t end up falling for the enemy? Let’s say your husband needs you to shoot Joker, but Doflamingo needs you to kill your husband. Who would you obey?”

“I—I would…” she trailed off, eyes dropping to the floor and hands wringing her apron as her mind struggled. Cheeks flushed red with strain, white teeth bit into her plump, cherry red lip, and sweat started to form across her brow. The butt of her cigarette fell to the floor, slowly burning out on the white linoleum. Law didn’t need to check her pulse to know her heart was racing, and her bountiful chest heaved as panicked adrenaline raced through her veins. It was like a computer attempting to process a paradox, slowly frying its own circuits trying to figure out the unsolvable answer.

A wide, cold smirk stretched his lips, gold eyes greedily taking in her mental anguish. Really, it was quite an attractive look on her. Control freak that he was, he got a special, sick thrill from the knowledge that he could play with her emotions so easily, his words as precise and sharp as his scalpel. “Exactly. That’s why he’ll always kill your pitiful fiancés. He doesn’t trust you to make good decisions on your own, so he guards you like a dragon would a princess, incinerating any would-be knights in shining armor trying to rescue you.”

“But I don’t need to be rescued,” she insisted weakly.

“Well, that’s good, because none of those idiots cared about you enough to want to rescue you. They wanted to take advantage of your weakness, just like everyone else.”

“You’re wrong; they loved me!”

“Then tell me all about your latest ‘romantic’ proposal,” he said sarcastically, slowly circling her like a leopard sizing up a wounded doe, deciding what part of her soft, defenseless flesh he should sink his teeth into first. “Did he get down on one knee and declare his undying devotion? Whisper sweet nothings as you gazed at the stars? Give you a sparkling diamond ring and a bouquet of red roses?” he rasped in her ear as his hand teasingly stroked along her shoulders.

“He…he gave me a daisy,” she muttered, hopelessly staring at the floor.

“Ooo, a daisy! I’m sure it was the prettiest weed freshly picked from a crack in the sidewalk a woman could ask for.”

Spinning around, she struck him, the deafening slap of her open palm against his cheek echoing throughout the operatory. “Why are you such an asshole?!” she shouted, tears once again welling up in her big, dark eyes.

Even though he’d been expecting it, Law glared at her like a basilisk for her insubordination, smirk returning as she instantly cowered before him. Toying with her was so amusing, her reactions volatile yet comically predictable. Really, it was something he’d grown to enjoy over the years—seeing just how far he could push her before she snapped, only to watch her immediately regret it from nothing more than a cold look.

Relishing the power trip he got from her fear, the Corazon stalked back to the table. His victim’s eyes were becoming a bit clearer and his struggles had renewed, strained noises bubbling up in his throat as the drugs wore off. It seemed his body had processed the opioids more quickly than expected; too bad for the unlucky fool, but that just meant more fun for the Surgeon of Death.

Chuckling, Law glanced over his shoulder at Baby 5. With no one to cling to like she normally would, she’d remained frozen in place, trembling as she fearfully awaited his response. Dismemberment was his go-to punishment for her if her were in a particularly bad mood, though he always put her back together, and by the next morning she’d be back to scolding him for not showing the young master enough respect or stealing her last cigarette.

Lucky for her, this was one of his better days, so instead of having her join the man on the table, Law threw her a bone. “I need you to fetch me that gag on the counter. I don’t trust my patient not to start screaming again, and it would be rude of him to cause a racket when we’re trying to have a conversation.”

The second the word “need” had left his mouth, Baby 5 ceased her cowering, dashing over to the counter and grabbing the leather gag, nearly tripping over herself in her eagerness to be useful.

Despite himself, the Dark Doctor gave the barest hint of a smile. Much as the woman annoyed him with her fanatical devotion to Doflamingo, her desire to help was just so pure it was, at times, endearing. If he were honest, Baby 5 was probably the one he hated the least in the organization; besides being the nicest to look at, her wants and needs were simple, and she could be surprisingly compassionate in little ways. She was one of the few who, despite considering him a traitor, had acknowledged just how much Cora-san had meant to Law. Held his hand while he’d mourned for his savior after he’d been dragged kicking and screaming back to the Family. Been genuinely thrilled that his Amber Lead Disease was cured. Taken up smoking with him as a small tribute to the former Corazon, huddling behind a tree as they retched at their first taste of tobacco.

If nothing else, he always enjoyed watching her attack their boss when he murdered her fiancés. Even when she failed, Law found it to be catharsis-by-proxy, as he spent most of his days plotting how to horribly and painfully murder the shichibukai. A hell of a turn-on, too; who wouldn’t have the occasional sexual fantasy about a hot maid trying to assassinate the man you hated most?

Sparing a nod of thanks, the surgeon shoved the gag into his patient’s mouth before tightening the restraints. He prided himself on his steady hands, and he wouldn’t have his work ruined because the worthless fool couldn’t keep still. “You may call me an asshole, but I’m the only one who cares about you enough to give the cold, hard truth. Everyone else sugar-coats their words so they can keep you compliant and unwilling to think for yourself. So, you’re welcome.”

Hands fisting on her hips, Baby 5 scowled. It was remarkable how she could go from trembling before him to arguing like they were still children. “Oh, so people who are awful to me care, and yet the men you claim give such horrible proposals don’t? You’re so full of shit, Law!”

He shrugged, taking another sip of his now-lukewarm coffee. “Am I? Even when I was officially promoted to Corazon, you still treated me the same as when we were kids—slapping me when I got mouthy and refusing to kiss my ass like all the other sycophants in this shithole. Are you saying you don’t care about me?”

Her beautiful face twisted in genuine confusion. “I…well, of course I do, but…”

“I let you get away with so much more than anyone else. You hit me, insult me, order me about, and the most I’ve ever done is cut off your limbs for a few hours, and I always fix you back up good as new. Because, even though you’re a foolish, emotional pain in the ass, our little spats are the only thing that feel genuine some days. To you, I’m just Law, and I actually appreciate that.” It surprised him how honest he was being, but he supposed it was as he said; he cared enough not to bullshit her, at least compared to the others.

“You do?”

“Yeah. So that’s why I’m telling you to stop accepting every ‘proposal’ a guy throws your way. You’re famous for your eagerness to please, and men are always looking to take advantage of that. And even if you did manage to find the one decent soul in this world who genuinely loved you, Joker will never let you go. He’ll kill anyone who might take you from the Family.”

Something sparked in her eyes at his words, as if he’d given her the greatest epiphany of her life. “Maybe…maybe I could marry someone in the Family, then! Trebol nearly offered just this afternoon!”

Law gagged on his coffee at the very thought. A man like him needed a strong stomach, but perhaps he did have some limits, after all; not even he would inflict marriage to the snot-dripping freak on someone. “Please tell me you had to good sense not to accept.” He facepalmed at her embarrassed blush. How could anyone’s standards be so low? Was marriage really such an enticing concept that she’d bed that? And the risk of death aside, shouldn’t a woman as sexy and submissive as her attract better suitors?

A sudden, cruel idea popped into his head. What if he married Baby 5? A dangerous assassin and obedient maid could certainly be useful in his scheme. Doflamingo wouldn’t dare kill him for proposing; not if he wanted that Perennial Youth Surgery. He wouldn’t even have a good excuse to refuse the match, considering how it would both keep Baby in the Family and—so he’d believe—further secure his Corazon’s loyalty. After all, what better reward could Law ask for after years of faithful service than a gorgeous trophy wife?

And on the day he finally enacted his revenge against the Heavenly Demon, he’d either have a powerful, completely devoted ally in Baby 5, or she’d be too crippled by indecision to pick between them, keeping her from interfering. Either way, Joker would have lost a piece on the chessboard and not even know until it was too late.

A little voice that sounded disturbingly like Cora-san’s whispered in his ear that using Baby 5 like that made him no better than the Doflamingo, but Law brushed it away. If anything, he was being kind to the silly maid; hadn’t Rosinante wanted to keep him, Baby 5, and Buffalo out of Joker’s clutches? The Marine’s own methods of doing so hadn’t been gentle or entirely ethical, either—throwing kids out of a window wasn’t exactly a safe way to deter them from a life of piracy. Besides, even with his not-so-noble intentions towards her, Law was still a far better suitor than anyone she’d pick on her own. In fact, he was making her dream of becoming a wife a reality, and wasn’t that generous of him?

Putting his mug down, the surgeon reached out to gently rest his fingertips under her chin. Startled at the unexpected contact, Baby 5 nearly stumbled back, but he stepped closer, wrapping his arm securely around her waist to steady her. “It astounds me that a woman as beautiful as you would even consider settling for a disgusting thing such as Trebol,” he said lowly, looking deeply into her obsidian eyes. It would be easy to simply say he needed her or demand she marry him, but he wanted to be sure her loyalty fully shifted to him, otherwise, she could become a liability.

Besides, seduction was just so much more fun; since he’d hit adulthood, Law’d indulged in all manner of sexual vices with hundreds of partners, men and women alike. After all, he hadn’t expected to live past thirteen, and even with his Amber Lead Disease gone, he was on a ticking clock. Death loomed on his horizon, whether it he be killed in battle, forced to fulfill his purpose and conducting the Perennial Youth Surgery, or Joker uncovering his betrayal. So, in between plotting and research, why not make the most out of the time he had? And for all her annoying quirks, Baby 5 was a gorgeous, obedient woman, and he’d be lying if he didn’t like it when she showed her feisty side. She’d starred in many a wet dream over the years, and now he could finally justify making them a reality.

Hot, coffee-scented breath made the wispy strands of hair that framed her face flutter delicately. “You’d see you’ve got far better options if you simply opened your eyes.”

For her part, Baby 5 was utterly shocked. First, Law admitting that he cared about her, and now he was implying there was someone out there who might be interested in proposing? Was he serious, or just making fun of her like Trebol?

Slowly, the tattooed fingers at her chin journeyed south, brushing lightly down her pale throat, over her trembling heart, between her voluptuous breasts, across her trim waist, until they reached the pocket of her apron. Her eyes were fixated on his hand as he fished out a cigarette and her lighter, her breath quickening as he raised the former to her mouth. Instinctively, she opened up to take it, but with a playful smirk, he teasingly ran the filter over her bright red lips, amused at the way the cherry gloss stained the white paper.

Finally, he pushed the cigarette between her lips, murmuring, “Have you ever been kissed before, Baby-ya?”

The way her cheeks went pink was so uncharacteristically demure he had to chuckle, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, sending strange but thrilling tingles between her legs. “N-no,” she stammered bashfully.

With a soft click, Law flicked the sparkwheel with his thumb, carefully bringing the dancing flame to light the tip of the cigarette. He could tell he was making her nervous by the way she hurriedly took several steadying puffs, embers flaring with every inhalation.

“Such a shame. I imagine there are women who would kill for lips like yours. And the way you practically suck on that cigarette,” he growled, gold eyes fixating on her mouth, “it gives a man ideas.”

“What kind of ideas?” she asked, breathless and full of wide-eyed, eager curiosity.

Unconsciously, his arm tightened around her waist at her innocence, forcing her to arch against him, soft curves molding against hard muscle. God, she didn’t even know how tempting that question made her. If he were a man with less control, she’d be on her knees learning first-hand what a mouth like hers was made for.

Plucking the cigarette from her unresisting lips, Law took a long drag before blowing the smoke out his nose as he looked down at her with hooded eyes. Licking his lips, he could taste the lingering hints of cherry gloss, sharp and sweet and delicious. “The kind a sweet little thing like you wouldn’t ever dream of.”

“Are they,” she swallowed harshly, pupils dilating as she instinctively gripped his lab coat, “the kind husbands and wives have?”

“Husbands and wives, lovers, bedmates, bored, horny teenagers; basically, anyone who likes to fuck,” he replied before taking another drag. As he leaned back his head to release the stream of smoke into the air, he smirked devilishly at her rapt expression. Oh, he was going to ruin her.

Gently tucking a strand of raven hair behind her ear, he murmured, “Let me talk to Joker. Maybe I can pick his brain, figure out if there’s anyone he would consider a worthy husband for you.”

He forced himself not to laugh at the shadow of disappointment that crossed her face. Dropping her gaze, she pushed against his chest, trying to break away. “Ah…thank you, Law, but you don’t have to. I’d hate to be a burden, and you’re so busy—”

“Nonsense. A loyal, caring woman like you deserves a husband who appreciates everything you have to offer.” Deftly, he maneuvered them so her backside was pressed against the operating table, caging her in and thwarting her escape. Their legs entangled, Baby 5 had no choice but to meet his piercing gaze as he absently flicked the cigarette’s ashes onto a small puddle of blood by her hand. “I may not always agree with him, but he was right to kill the worthless bastards you were so infatuated with. Hell, my only complaint is that he always got to them before I did.”

“What?”

“I mean, if killing every man on the planet is what it takes for you to notice me…”

Baby 5 blinked blankly, mind desperately trying to process what he’d just let slip. “Law, are you…?”

“Am I what, Baby-ya?” he teased, leaning forward as he took another drag, his hot breath mingling with the sweet smoke as it fanned over her lovely face.

“Are you…proposing?”

“What if I were? Would you blindly accept like you did Trebol’s?” Putting the cigarette down, he ran the very tips of his fingers over her exposed collarbone before resting his palm over her thundering heart. He was positive if he removed it, it would jump right out of his hand. “Are you so desperate that you’d accept the proposal of a man who’s cut you apart for fun?” Roughly, his other hand buried itself in her thick, jet black hair, yanking her head back and pulling her even closer until their lips lingered barely an inch apart. “So desperate you’d give yourself over to a man covered in blood, pressed against an operating table occupied by a half-dissected idiot?”

“Yes,” she replied with bated breath, hopeful eyes sparkling.

God, she was weak. Law could pin her down and fuck her on that table, do any number of depraved things to that luscious, untouched body and she wouldn’t even complain so long as he said he needed her. The thought was tempting, but he couldn’t risk Joker refusing their union because he couldn’t control his libido. The Heavenly Demon had to feel like the surgeon genuinely desired his approval—that he wasn’t trying to go behind his back and destroy his wretched “Family.”

“Then no, I’m not.” Despair crumpled her face, tears once more welling up at how easily he’d played with her emotions. Before they could fully fall, Law released her hair to cup her chin. “Mainly because my pride would never let me give such a half-assed proposal. When I ask you to marry me, I’ll have Doflamingo’s blessing, a ring, and it’ll be somewhere far more romantic than my laboratory.”

Jaw dropping, she stared at him in disbelief. “Y-you mean that?”

“Absolutely. I can’t stand the sight of your tears; if marriage is what it takes to make you happy, I’ll do everything I can to help.”

“Thank you, Law!” she cried, flinging her arms around his neck. “You really do care about me!”

He had to chuckle as he returned her embrace; he knew she’d readily agree, but her pure joy at just the prospect of marrying him stroked his inflated ego.

“I promise I’ll be the best wife you could ask for! I’ll clean your surgical equipment twice a day, launder your lab coats by hand, give you back rubs, make onigiri for dinner every night—whatever you need!”

A tiny smile pulled at his lips. All such sweet, innocent promises from a woman who was far more sheltered than one would ever imagine from an assassin for a family of criminals. Though, he’d definitely take her up on that last one.

“Just promise me you’ll be a loyal, dutiful wife, Baby-ya, and I’ll give you a marriage unlike anything you’ve ever imagined,” he whispered intimately, cradling her cheek. His hand was so big he could fit the whole side of her face in his palm. She turned her face to nuzzle it blissfully, causing his calloused thumb to brush over her plump bottom lip.

Gold eyes darkened at the sight of her red lips against the tattooed appendage. Unconsciously, he stroked it against the seam of her mouth, gently coaxing her to open up and let it slip into her soft, hot mouth. He gave a faint moan at the sensation of her silken lips wrapping around him, molten tongue curiously stroking the rough pad. Experimentally, he gave it a few shallow thrusts, and he nearly lost his damn mind when she responded with an instinctive suck.

“Good girl,” he whispered without thinking, and the way her pupils dilated with desire at his words forced him to pull away, lest he jump the gun and the eager maid before him.

“Is…is that the kind of idea my mouth gives you?” she asked, panting faintly, her pale cheeks flushed as she nibbled on her bottom lip.

“That’s one of the tamer ideas,” he rasped, retrieving the forgotten cigarette. It had almost burnt down to the filter, but there was just enough left for a few steadying puffs. “Once we’re married, you’ll get to experience every dirty thought I’ve ever had about you. Would you like that?” he asked, unable to help himself.

Her harsh swallow was audible in the taut silence of the lab. “Yes.”

The pleasant throb between his legs urged him to start the wedding night early, but besides the logical part of his brain telling him he needed to set things in motion with Doflamingo, it was coaxing him to wait; this wasn’t the time or place to indulge in such a delicious morsel. Baby 5 needed to be savored, like a gourmet meal he’d spent hours preparing, not swallowed down in one bite. Once she was officially his, he’d have plenty of time to mold her into his perfect concubine, subordinate, secret weapon, and tool.

Desire under control, he took her hand, pressing a chaste, gentlemanly kiss to her knuckles. “I’ll meet with Joker tonight; I’m sure I can convince him we’re a match made in heaven. But I need you to not to tell anyone about us until I formally propose, alright? I want everything to be perfect, and we can’t risk Joker finding out too early and thinking we didn’t value his approval.”

Black eyes sparkled as his careful choice of words. “I promise, darling!”

“Such a good girl,” he chuckled, admiring the way her cheeks instantly flushed at his praise. How…interesting.

As Baby 5 giddily skipped out the door, the click of her heels silenced by the door slamming shut behind her, Law turned to the man bound to his table staring at him with wide-eyed shock. He’d nearly forgotten they’d had an audience, and he’d have to make sure he was properly disposed of before meeting with Joker; he couldn’t let anyone spoil his plans before he even got to the good part, after all.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” he said as he pressed the smoldering embers of the dying cigarette against his patient’s cheek, smirking as the accusing eyes watered in pain. A fresh pair of surgical gloves stretched over his long fingers, and as he selected his scalpel, he added, “Trust me—I’m still a better option than that fucking creep Trebol.”

[aggresivelyfriendly]

Summer’s Child

Hi! So, some people guessed, but we going to Woodstock!! Thank you @dirtystyles, @bleedinglove4h, and @emulateharry for the looksies!  

Hardy,

I'm sending you this because I know you want to go all detective and come looking for me. But you can't. It's not time. You have to make that valedictory speech. I wish I could have seen it. I'll tell you why I couldn't once I find a place to land and can send you more than a postcard.

I'm sorry I left right after..... It was selfish, but you let me be selfish with you. I'm grateful.

I love you, Jilly

Three days. It had been three days since she took off, and nobody but him seemed to notice.

Some people noticed, they just didn't care.

Her mom knew, because Jillian took her money. And Will knew, because he asked Harry, snuck into the library to deliver a weak apology for letting Steven continue to ruin her reputation. Harry could feel his jaw squaring, his temples flaring, and his fist clenching.

He didn't hit him, which he regretted a moment later.

He wasn't sure if it was better of worse that he turned back on his way out, "She's ok, right?"

His mind hurt rather than his fist. He didn't hit him, because he was confused.He hadn't known. He'd missed it. He could be pissed at Will for waiting to ask after her, and for apologizing for Steven, but not for his own actions - he had to examine his own disconnect.

When he thought back to the day, prom day, and night, because he couldn't stop himself thinking of that though he couldn't let himself remember that without burning with shame and sadness, he realized he had missed so much.

Like, why did she want to get ready at his? He could come up with excuses, like the ones she had fed him, but, honestly, big clue. And the look on her face when she clocked the camaro. If he had been able to place the black muscle car maybe he could have guessed. She never liked her mom's boyfriends, they always put her on edge, but Dick had made her feel especially vulnerable. She'd basically moved in with Harry and his dad for a bit when Dick was around, well before Will, and slept at his even after. He should have asked!

He should have noticed.

Plus, she was clearly already having trouble with her mom. Jillian made comments occasionally about her indifference, or drinking. But the day of prom, she'd been more vicious and resolute. It was out of character. At least, it was those thoughts you let yourself have, but don't share with even your best friend. The ugly thoughts you pluck like weeds.

Had Harry not been so distracted by her flower decked hair and his dreams of her and white dresses and later by her flesh and the words coming from her lips, he would have figured it out. He should have listened to what she meant not what she said. Goodbye in an I love you.

He wants to be mad at her. For loving him like that only to abandon him. He can't be. He is fairly certain she would not have touched him if she was staying. Definitely wouldn't have told him all those feelings and coupled them with action, not just spoke love, but made love, if she was staying. She'd already told him, that didn't last. Was committed to that conviction. Harry was a greedy idiot. He should have known, she assumed that whatever they were, their forever platonic commitment, was already over, so she gave him what he dreamed of, a gift. She was a stellar gift giver.

He's not mad at her. Well, maybe a little. Mostly, he is forlorn.

He had been since the end of the first day. Up until then he'd been hopeful. Jillian shut down from time to time. Nobody knew that better than him, maybe nobody but him knew it. Usually, it was because the emotion was negative, but maybe she was freaking out because it was positive this time. It was still intense emotion, right?

He thought all this up later, these excuses. First, he panicked.

Harry had flown out of his room to where his dad sat with The New York Times and his favorite brown tea mug. It helped him find the prefect shade of beige when he splashed in his milk.

"Alright son?" Edward half stood up when Harry came into the room. Harry looked about and down at himself to see cause for alarm and realized he was only in his boxers. That wasn't relevant though.

"Da, have you seen Jillian?"

"Um," his father rarely said um. Instead he would think quietly and you'd wait for him to respond. Then he scrunched up the paper a bit, another no-no, while he fussed about. It was so odd, Harry noticed even in his distress. "Well, no, I haven't seen Jillian since you all left last night." There was a weird emphasis on seen.

Harry's face colored tomato red. So his dad heard them. He'd have to be suitably embarrassed, throw himself in front of a train embarrassed, about that later. "She's not in the house then?"

"Well, she's not in any of the common areas, or my, um, my bedroom. Or yours, anymore, apparently. Bathroom?"

Harry shook his head. Was his da daft? Of course he'd checked the bathroom. Risked bursting in on her doing her business in his haste. She wasn't in the house.

The treehouse! Maybe she was hiding out there, or reminiscing. Now he was dreaming!

The treehouse slats felt skinnier everytime he climbed them, though his feet hadn't grown in years. "Please God, let her be here, even if it's because she never wants to see me agin, or touch me again, but she's here and ok, then I can make it up to her."

He'd never prayed before.

His head popped through the square and the only movement is an ant trail going for a dessicated piece of yule log he had forgotten when he waited for Jillian 5 months past. The motion was infinitesimal, he only noticed it because his attention was keen, hopeful.

She's not there, waiting to break up with him or him to break up with her.

Jillian's not at his, at work, in their treehouse, around town. Nowhere he can think she would want to be.

Could she be with Will?

He dismissed that out of hand. In self preservation.

Then went to the last resort.

He'd called her house. But no one answered. But her mother was usually very hungover on Sunday morning. Way hungover. He expected the phone may not ring anymore, because Karen, Jillian's mom, was likely to pitch it completely across the room if it hurt her head too much. There was no answer there. He tried later. But first, he got in his truck and looked for her bike. It was not at the library, which was closed, or outside Dairy Barn . She was supposed to work the 3:10 shift. He knew the owners, a pair of smiling but steel backboned sisters, would kick him out, with genteel manners, if he hung about too long, even if he bought fries and a Coke. So he waited until 2:00 his nails beds raw from chewing.

Harry smiled at Char, the short haired sister while she rang him up and took his money in her no nonsense manner. It was Mel who was the hard ass though, said Jillian. Char smiled back and he distracted himself with how audacious they were, female business owners in a small town, and open on Sunday! But there were still the dregs of the post church rush. Jillian hated working early on Sunday. The church people were judgemental, but they were also the reason Char and Mel saw opportunity in being open. "Hypocrites." Jillian liked to sing song. Sitting here, he could feel it. Externalized self loathing, aimed squarely on his shoulders. Better him than Jillian. He'd noticed since his hair started to grow he got more negative looks. Sneers, also, stares, especially since he'd got rid of the glasses too. Over something as superficial as hair.

He supposed hair madeth the man, the way a covert made its book.

At 3:30, when his soda had long run out and he only had the hard edged drier pieces of fry left, Jillian's favorite, he knew she wasn't coming. Char and Mel had noted her absence. He tossed the fried away and headed for the door.

"Is Jillian sick?" Char, of course, asked. Mel had probably already added it to her personnel file, called in reserves. He wasn't sure they gave warnings actually.

Harry shrugged.

Sandra was less solicitous when she came out of the back with a sneer on her face. "We are short staffed, I actually need the airhead tonight. Martha is out!" Like it was his fault. He was stuck a sentence back.

Jillian was not an airhead. She wasn't empty. She was a hummingbird, she floated.

He was sick to his stomach when he got in his truck. She was never late, not to work. She needed the money bad. For her big move plans. Hadn't she said she had a stash? Because Will could pay for things, unlike him. He shook his head and kept looking.

Harry drove to the lake, it was a Hail Mary. Maybe she was waiting for him there. The drive took longer than the three songs he was used to. Never mind song length varied...

Of course, she wasn't there. The shore wasn't empty, there were post prom revelers, faces he recognized, the ones with lake houses.

Harry took a deep breath and walked down to ask the group.

Bill Trent saw him coming. Harry was glad it was him. He was decent, they'd had classes together.

"Harry?" Bill bulged his eyes? He supposed he looked out of place.

"Hey man, have you seen Jillian down here?" He slapped him skin to the delayed offer of Bill's hand.

"Jillian, Will's girl?" Harry kept his eyes the same size. He'd never be able to think of her in those terms, especially after last night. She wasn't Will's anything. Maybe not his either. Though Harry was hers, to be sure.

He just nodded back he thought he muttered "yeah." Maybe "thanks." And maybe there was a awkward wave before he made his way back to his truck.

Harry didn't remember the drive home.

His da opened the door. He'd been in a bit of a fugue til then. But his da, who hadn't hugged him straight on, only a wrap around his shoulder, since his mum died, opened his arms. And just like the last time, months before America and a silver lined laugh, he cried. The grief came out of his eyes and wracked his body. Edward Styles held his son, while he experienced the second terrible loss of his life and Harry could hear him pray.

He hadn't done that in ages, Harry remembered murmured words at his bedside, then, when he would cry himself to sleep. What did his da pray for?

Harry cried himself out, and his Da gave him a glass of whiskey, from the desk bottle. The next morning, Harry went to school with resigned hope.

Will was the catalyst for him going to her house. Maybe, just maybe.

He'd seen him in the hallway, collecting his attaboys tor getting in there, in Jillian. Harry couldn't see any embarrassment near his mouth, not even in his eyes. He hadn't gotten anywhere. The closest Jilly had gotten to his dick was her knee caps. But Harry knew calling him out meant a beating and would be useless. Everyone already knew the lies, so they'd become truth.

His opinion of Will didn't improve when he came into the library at lunch. Harry couldn't muster the energy to punch him. He wasn't worth it, and Jillian had handled him already.

Harry couldn't sit in the library, or class after that. Those were just space fillers now, grades were finalized. Normally, he'd just wait it out, do his duty, but his priorities had shifted. There was a stone left unturned.

There was a pit, like in the center of a peach, a hard poisonous stone, sat in the center of his belly as he drove. He needed confirmation, of a fact he knew to be truth. And the thing he knew, deep down, since he woke up to a cold bed, was confirmed. By Dick, of all people. She had means, motive, and opportunity.

She'd gone.

She'd gone, probably to California, and she'd left him.

He didn't go to school on Tuesday or Wednesday. He'd snuck his dad's whiskey on Monday night, had the bottle rather than the glass. He'd not been well enough for school Tuesday morning. Wednesday he just couldn't get out of bed.

Thursday, his da threw water on his face. He sputtered and lurched up fighting the wet like it was an opponent. "Get up!" His da's face was red but his mouth was in that hard line of concern it formed, especially lately. "Enough moping - your mum..." he stopped himself with a jerky strike of his chin. "Something came for you."

Frankly, Harry could give a fuck what had come for him, but he'd pushed his da, and himself to the limit with the drinking and lie in. He hauled himself out of the bed like his bones had petrified.

He realized his Dad had undersold the "something." Harry plodded into the living room and saw a pile of mail. He realized immediately that the 'something' was on top, it was a postcard, telling him a fraction of why, at least why he was left behind. For stupid graduation. At this point, his speech seemed insignificant. What bothered him was what it didn't say. Like why she left and where she was, specifically.

It was a picture of Time's Square.

She'd done that on purpose. Harry knew it. Picked a place, a card like that. Finding her in New York was the definition of needle in a haystack. But there was a glimmer, maybe she was waiting for him, hiding out. They had plans in New York soon. In two weeks.

Harry barely remembered his speech. He didn't redraft it, he went with the one he'd read to Jillian the day before...before prom, when she'd clapped. He was focused on the future.

He convinced himself she would be there.

But she wasn't.

Harry waited outside The Beach Boys show until people started trickling out before the encore to avoid the crowds, mostly parents towing reluctant teenagers behind them. Many of the girls were crying. Harry heard some of the last song over the screams of the crowd and the "Mom, I'm missing my favorite song!" From 20 feet away. It was her favorite song too. Of course it was 'God Only Knows'. That's when he left. He couldn't, he just couldn't.

It was his favorite song ever. Because it perfectly encapsulated Jillian for him.

Now more than ever, since she'd left him, life went on. As much good as it did him.

Harry got a job, to save up for the summer. He worked on a farm, with the horses. He'd ridden when he was younger in England, occasionally before high school here, when his studies picked up. His old stable needed a stable boy. It paid well, most kids didn't want to shovel shit. Harry didn't mind, and it was quiet, but busy enough to keep his mind clear, focused on a living being's needs. It made him feel better.

June passed quietly, into a heated July. He spent most of it in a barn, with hay in his growing hair and a goal ahead of him. He worked as much as his body allowed. He was sore, a lot. He needed new shirts by early August. He saw a poster for that festival again. He could head over after work on Thursday, it was his last week anyhow. He'd take Friday off.

Harry didn't ask around to see if anyone was going. He had only one person on his mind. He budgeted money for food out, with the bit of his wages he decided to sacrifice, to hope. His da told him he'd pay expenses when he went to Berkeley, but Harry wanted to help. To not feel guilty if he used the money for, well, for a place where Jillian would want to live if he found her, and the transit costs over the bay to find her if he didn't.

He was hopeful about a festival billed to Peace, Love & Music, with artists he knew she loved. If she was still in New York, Jillian would be there, he just had to find her. It seemed so possible until it happened. Until he saw how many not Jillian's there would be.

He'd driven until the roads got clogged, parked on a backroad he knew from midnight memories and walked with the throng. He just thought he'd spotted her, had himself convinced, was tensing his leg muscles to run.

Lisa must have felt his stare. She turned back and his heart broke a little.

But she was a beautiful blonde, with a carefree smile and careful eyes. After they made eye contact, walking along country roads that Friday morning, she came up and linked arms with him. She friendly, open, and a self proclaimed flower child, from Pittsburgh.

She was just his type. Which felt confusing and all wrong.

He told her about Jillian, and her gaze softened to melted chocolate. She spent all of Friday helping him look. They asked anybody who responded to, "hey man!", covered ground until his feet like to fell off, and ducked into any tent large enough to stick their heads in. He turned down more hippie hospitality than he could recall, a hundred joint and other options. Some hot plates to food and not too few beers and sandwiches.

Nobody knew a Jillian, least not his.

By nightfall, after the last notes played from the big stage, but revelry continued, Harry was hangdog tired and broken-hearted. Lisa held him while he cried a little but didn't mention it, just a dried his eyes with the hem of her white peasant top. That time, she didn't follow his lead and accepted the next joint offered, copped a squat in the little circle, and took a deep inhale, held it in her lungs and blew her breath over his face.

It smelled sweat and skunky, and he was too tired to care and to curious to say no, again.

Jillian liked to escape, to take time outs from her mental landscape. For a long time, those came in music, the long drives they'd share with the radio as loud as they dared, their voices rising above the speakers occasionally, or quick dancing bursts. Recently, once she'd started partying with the popular crowd, she'd decided pot was better than either.

Harry wanted a time out too. From the ache in his feet, the pound in his head, and the rend in his heart. At first, he thought not much had passed into his body, but then he was laughing, a stuck lip smile pasted on his mouth, and then he slept, in the tent Lisa lead him to, better than he had in months.

It may have been the body beside his, familiar but not quite right. But close enough on his high.

The next day saw the same highs and lows. They were sticky and rank from searching. They wound up by a river people were in, naked, bathing. Before he could contemplate it, he was naked too, and he saw a look on Lisa's face that sparked a reaction in him. He'd seen it before. It reminded him of dressing rooms, and gymnasiums, his bedroom.

Maybe he wanted a comparison, or a little sample of free love, or just to touch the breast he'd seen. Proof he could do that again, even if he never found Jillian.

That night, it was a joint for two, and a different time out. If with Jillian, he felt everything, with Lisa making love was about numbness. He just wanted to feel something else for a while. She let him call her Jilly. He barely noticed when she moaned Donny.

Maybe the truth was, everybody would be an echo of his first love. The music he liked, he loved Creedance, his actions, like coming to Woodstock, and the girls he chose, the lookalikes.

He expected to feel badly in the morning. Hungover, emotionally and physically. But, truth was, he woke up like it was a redo. Did the day again.

During joe Crocker's cover of "A Little Help from My Friends" someone handed him a tea to drink. And he did, without thought. He'd been fed and watered and fucked, by the people collected around him. His whole generation in harmony around him.

The mushrooms hit him when the next band got started.

The soundtrack, some band called the Greatful Dead, was perfect. They played for ages, and the music matched his vision. Jilly was flying. And he was grateful, to be dead to his pride and his old life.

He was ready. Harry kissed Sarah on the cheek where she danced with her eyes closed beside him, and ran.

He was supposed to leave in two weeks, for Berkeley. And he would have went. Even without the postcard.

He felt stone cold sober when he made it to his truck, miles of walking tuning him into his path. He'd been turn on and tuned in. He was ready to drop out of his current life.

When he got home, his da took one look at him and said, "Professor Sanders said you were welcome whenever. I'll help you pack." They spent the next day filling up the bed of his truck, and tarping it down for the long drive to the west coast.

After they had shared a few beers, Harry almost asked what was going on. His Da was being so cool and treating him like he was a peer. It was strange, but it made sense when he handed Harry another postcard the following morning, along with his eggs.

Hardy,

You ready?

Jilly

The picture was of Haight Ashbury, under the street sign with a girl in a flower crown throwing a peace sign. Just as he'd seen her during his trip the day before.

"Da?"

"I'm sorry," Edward hung his head.

"Sorry for what?" Harry was so elated, he had a clue! And she wanted him, all of his fears gone in four words.

"It came 4 weeks ago." His da sucked back tears. "I just knew the minute you saw it, you'd be gone. So, I." He coughed. "I'm not proud of it. But I just wanted you a bit longer. But when you walked in yesterday, I knew you were gonna go anyway."

Harry felt his face turn red, like a Man U Jersey. He was fuming. Angry words stacked up like water at a dam, ready to burst through his teeth. How could his father keep this from him?

He'd been right though, 12 hours and he was leaving. And his da was crying. Harry was so hurt by being left behind, he could only empathize. Edward was really the lone lighthouse keeper now. He'd stay in this house, and read his paper, go to his office, but there would be no young voices or awkward hugs for some time. Harry could understand, somehow.

Harry exhaled and let his anger trickle down around the edges, and nodded. He could forgive this.

His da hugged him again, not bothering to clear his eyes. He walked Harry out to the car, "oh wait!" Harry watched him jog back into the house, when he emerged, he had a thermos and a brown bag.

"So you can cover some distance." It was tea and sandwiches. The same ones his da always made him before he made his own lunches. "Those were your mother's favorite!" He times that for when the engine kicked over. Harry heard it. Edward left his hand on the split  window pane and Harry covered it with his own until he had to go.

Edward let go of the truck after a long moment and hurried back to the ranch style porch. His hand was moving against his face, quick and passionate.

"Da!" Harry called over the roar of the idle, "I love you. I'll call you whenever I stop." His da turned then. Harry couldn't hear his words, but saw his mouth move. He wasn't sure if it was drowned out by the ambient noise or emotion, but he read I love you. His dad stayed on the porch, then the sidewalk until Harry took the turn and couldn't see him anymore.

It was monotonous, at first, the trees and lanes he'd known his whole life. Then it was Lake Erie, it had been years since he'd been there. Then the trees gave way to flats.

Around Cleveland he picked up a couple girls headed to Toronto to see Led Zepplin. He took them as far as Toledo and then worried about them making it the rest of the way. They were young, giggly, and excited. He couldn't help but feel the two year gap between their 16 and his 18 was a lifetime, maybe the last year was the real lifetime.

The truck was so quiet after that. He kept an eye out then, for other passengers to fill the silence with radio sing alongs. He picked up a young guy in Chicago, and they rode together until Omaha, a long empty day. He crashed on the guy's couch and was sent off after a hot breakfast and a fill of his thermos with coffee. It was the first place he'd slept that wasn't the cab of his truck for two days. He slept hard and trusting. Used the phone to call his da.

He had trouble staying awake for the next 800 miles and was thankful the sunshine kept his eyes squinted. He'd stop to piss and stretch, but saw no potential companions and few cars. Who knew there was so much empty.

He felt empty. He went through stages. He'd left home without anger, but the almost five weeks since Jillian sent that postcard rode his mind like his tires did the blacktop. Time was a funny thing, it could continue in a straight line with no discernible change for months or years even, and then, like prom night, it could be irrevocably different in an hour, a moment.

All through Wyoming Harry tortured himself with possibilities. He liked to pretend he was an optimist, but really he was always preparing for the worst thing that could happen. Jillian was the one who asked what the best that could happen was. That seemed like bravery to him.

He thought up a scenario that was all bad, that she was gone without a trace. Lost to the 60's just before the decade changed to new possibilities.

Then one that was all good. He found a spot, and walked along the street and found her with just the flash of a picture. "Oh yeah, I know this chick. You must be Harry! She's waiting for you!" And he'd be led to a safe happy apartment full of peace lovers. Full of Jillian until his arms were full of her. He tried to think of that possibility most.

The worst by far was the one that was both his worst and her best. In the ensuing weeks where his selfish beloved father hid her letter, she'd found a new old man. Was shacked up. happy, and pregnant. Radiant and glowing with somebody else's get.

He had to pull over to puke, sympathy symptoms.

In Utah, he entered and alien landscape and thought he may be on the dark side of the moon. The one they didn't explore on TV, with all of America crowded around a glowing box.

When he hit the salt lake, he picked up the first, the only hitcher he saw. Allen was about his age, and he was headed not only the same direction, but the same place. He had a backpack, and not much else. A little money Harry begrudgingly accepted to cover the tank of gas.

There was something about him that made Harry anxious, for Jillian. Maybe it was the cigarette scar on his forearm, not the kind you give yourself, his immediate and deep sleep once he got in the truck, or the look haunting the corners of his eyes.

Allen was running away too.

Harry prayed, (it was becoming a habit) once Allen was asleep. It was for his passenger, Jillian, and all the kids making their way to California hoping to strike gold, running from pyrite.

He also prayed that Jillian hadn't hitched across country, had chosen a safer way. And that she wasn't in love, least not with anybody but him, and was not pregnant, even by him.

Harry couldn't stop driving after he picked up Allen. He filled up his gas tank and his thermos whenever engines were empty. They pulled up to the street sign he saw as a starting point and Allen saw as a refuge as the sun sunk below the horizon.

Harry didn't know where he was gonna sleep, his room was over the bay with Dr. Schroeder. He needed a bed, but he sucked down the battery acid bitter coffee left in his thermos. He wasn't leaving Sam Francisco for Berkeley until he'd tried.

There were throngs of young people cruising the streets. He slipped out the picture from prom, of the two of them in their formal dress. He looked at it, set his shoulders, and opened the door to join his generation.