#what if she never comes back.... JUST LIKE MARSHMALLOW....... forgot how traumatizing marshmallow leaving was for them

[br1ghtestlight]

we all come and go thats what its all about :( WHAT IF SHE NEVER COMES BACK JUST LIKE MARSHMALLOW :(

[slyttherins]

Unexpected flame (part 3) | Fred Weasley x Sirius Black’s daughter

June 1995

After the grim end of the Triwizard tournament, the return from Hogwarts was gloom.

Two weeks had passed since the final task and many students were still mourning Cedric Diggory. His death had been traumatic for a lot of people - they had expected to see a winner come out of the maze, not a cadaver -, and the image of Cedric's lifeless body in the middle of the pitch will forever be inked in their memory.

Juliet didn't know Cedric a lot. He was three years older than her and they didn't cross paths a lot at Hogwarts. All she knew was that he was the embodiment of the qualities of a Hufflepuff and was their quidditch team' seeker. She was sad and disturbed about his death, as everyone was, but wasn't weeping in mourning.

As they neared London, a smile formed on her lips. In his last letter, Remus had informed her that she'd be spending a small part of summer with the Weasleys and she was thrilled.

According to Ginny's letters, summer at the Burrow sounded really fun. The younger of the Weasley clan would always tell Juliet about the many pranks the twins would pull, swimming in the pond during hot days, playing quidditch above the field and even de-gnoming the garden.

''I don't mind you coming over during summer vacation, Juliet, but don't make it a habit. I see you enough at school,'' Ron said as he dragged his trunk onto a trolley.

''I'm just so obsessed with you that I can't leave your side, Ronald,'' Juliet replied jokingly. She wrapped her arms around him and attempted to kiss his face, but Ron dodged her lips. His cheeks were bright red from the attack, not used to girls being so close to him - beside his mother and sister.

Ginny and the twins laughed.

''Worry not, I won't be staying for long.''

''Well, I don't mind you staying for the summer. We're gonna have so much fun!'' Ginny said excitedly.

''Mom's here,'' George pointed out, seeing her hurry through the mass of parents and students and trolleys full of luggages.

.

The Burrow's back yard was beautiful during summer. Molly's large garden was filled with flowers, overgrown weeds and...chickens running around. It was a lot livelier than the old flower box at 12 Grimmauld place that she and Remus never watered and had left to die.

''You can stay in Percy's room if you want, dear. You'll be more comfortable than on Ginny's floor. I've put an extra blanket for you. The nights are cold, even in summer,'' Molly informed, tearing Juliet's attention from the window.

She thanked Mrs. Weasley and frowned. ''Where's Percy? Won't he need his room?'' she asked, confused. She didn't personally care about Percy, but she didn't want to steal his room and cause more trouble between them.

Ron shook his head, walking past her and looking around the kitchen, in search of anything he could steal and eat before dinner. ''He's not here. He got himself a job at the Ministry of Magic as assistant to Bartemius Crouch.''

''So you won't have to worry about him attacking you during supper,'' Fred added with a grin.

Juliet bit back a smile, shaking her head. Of course he remembered that.

''Mr. Crouch can't even remember Percy's name, it's hilarious. He calls him Weatherby,'' George added, not even holding his laughter.

Fred mimicked his brother and Molly scolded them both, using the hand towel she had in her hands to swat at Fred's arm. ''Quit making fun of your brother, will you? He worked really hard to get this job.''

''What's for dinner, Mom?'' Ron asked as his stomach made a growling sound.

Beside him, Ginny rolled her eyes. How could he always be hungry?

.

Percy's room being on the same floor as Fred and George's, Fred decided to be a decent host and show her the way.

''Here's Percy's den,'' Fred said, opening the door. ''Careful not to stay too long in here, you might lose your humor.''

The room was neat and clean compared to Ginny and Ron's. There were no posters or family pictures on his walls, but Ministry law books, ink pots, parchemin papers and old Daily Prophet newspapers all over his desk.

Juliet walked in and set her trunk down at the end of the neatly made bed. ''Fear not,'' she reassured the redhead, having no intention of staying in Percy's room for longer than necessary. She'll come here to sleep and that's it. ''My humor is deep in my blood.''

With Sirius Black for father, it was impossible to not have a great sense of humor. Juliet didn't share his attraction for mischief - not to his extent -, but she liked to tease people and joke around.

''I'll make sure to make jokes everyday, just in case. If you stop laughing, I'll know it's because of Percy's bedsheets.''

Biting her cheek, Juliet fought a smile. ''Always have my back, uh Freddie?''

He grinned in confirmation. ''If you need anything, just knock on my door.''

.

The next day, the sun was shining high in the sky as Ginny pulled Juliet through the backyard, both dressed in their bathing suits. They went up to the small deck that led to the pond, excited to jump in and cool off.

The first day of summer vacation was usually dedicated to cleaning the yard, but Molly had made an exception and let the kids play in the water since they had a guest.

When the girls arrived, Ron and the twins were already in the pond, fighting with pool noodles.

''Get him, George!'' Fred cheered as George hit their younger brother with a green noodle, a slapping sound echoing.

''Go George!'' Juliet joined in, taking George's side too.

Her voice had distraught Ron and his short moment of inattention cost him to get hit square in the face by George - and losing grip of his noodle. ''Bloody hell, what are you wearing?'' Ron asked, catching sight of the girls and staring at Juliet with wide eyes.

''I won!'' George exclaimed, turning to his twin for a celebratory high-five.

Juliet sat on the edge of the deck, about to get in the water. ''It's a bathing suit, Ronald. You wear it to swim,'' she explained, making the others snicker.

''This is a bathing suit.'' He pointed to Ginny's bright red one piece. ''Not...whatever this is.''

Juliet rolled her eyes and got in the water while Ginny jumped, cannonball style and splashed everyone - including Ron who scowled.

''You seemed in need of a cold shower,'' she told him as she resurfaced. ''Let's play chicken fight.''

''In case you forgot, we're an uneven number. It won't work,'' Ron reminded.

''Well, one of us is gonna wait on the sideline and replace the first person who falls. And, that person is you. You can be referee.''

''Me! Why me?''

''Because you're the one who mention it and I don't trust you to keep me up on your shoulders.''

Ignoring the bickering between his two siblings, Fred had dove under to refresh himself, starting to feel a burning on his pale shoulders. He emerged of the water and shook his head, sprinkling water everywhere with his long red locks. Those boys really needed a haircut. It was getting out of hand.

Ron grumbled some more, reluctantly accepting his fate as Ginny went over to George, ready to play.

''Juliet, you go with Fred. I'll go with George.''

Upon hearing his name, Fred caught eyes with Juliet and swam up to her. ''Ready?''

Fred's body had changed a lot over the past year. Puberty was most likely one of the reasons, but also quidditch. As beaters, they couldn't be frail and lanky; they needed muscles.

Standing so close to him, Juliet was surprised by how broad and strong those shoulders were underneath his robes and sweaters. She couldn't help but dart her eyes to his naked chest and the galaxy of freckles on his wet skin.

Shaking her head, she pushed those thoughts away. ''How do I get up there?'' she asked, having never played this game before.

Fred lowered himself down in the water and Juliet awkwardly climbed on his shoulders, fingernails digging into his freckled skin in panic as he stood up, feeling herself wobble.

''I'm not gonna drop you,'' he said in a reassuring voice, putting his hands on her knees for security. ''If I can hold Ron up, you've got nothing to be scared of.''

''Get ready to lose, losers!''

.

After playing in the pond all afternoon, the Weasleys had gathered in the backyard for a campfire. Mrs. Weasley had brought out the marshmallows to roast and Fred and George had decided to show off their firework skills.

It was a day Juliet wasn't going to forget anytime soon.

But, all good days come to an end and it was now time to go to bed.

After an hour of tossing and turning, the young witch came to the conclusion that she wasn't going to find sleep anytime soon. It wasn't because she wasn't tired - she was -, but sleeping in Percy's bed made her feel uneasy. His loud comments regarding Sirius had hurt her and she’d honestly rather sleep on Ginny's wood floor than here.

She had fallen asleep fast enough last night, but she always fell asleep fast after a train journey.

Sitting up, Juliet reached into her trunk and grabbed a book. Might as well read instead of sitting there in the dark and waiting for sleep to come.

A gentle knock on the door made her slightly jump, and then, someone poked their head in. Fred.

''Everything okay?'' He was in his pajamas and his hair was slightly mussed from sleep. ''I was on my way from the bathroom when I saw some light. Given the hour, I decided to check on you.''

Juliet put down her book, heart warm. It was very kind of him to check on her.

''I just... I can't seem to find sleep.''

''It's because of Percy's smelly sheets, isn't it?'' Juliet looked down at the bright patchwork blanket, doubt and disgust in her eyes, and Fred laughed. ''I'm kidding. Mom washed them.'' He stepped in and sat on the end of the bed. ''So, tell me. What's keeping you up tonight, Black?''

Juliet sighed. ''Lots of things,'' she half lied.

''Let's play a game. I tell you something I haven't told anyone and you tell me one until you fall asleep. I'll start. I'm gonna be graduating Hogwarts next year and I'm scared. Worried, mostly. As you know, George and I want to open a joke shop. It's always been our big dream. It used to be an almost impossible dream to reach because of our shortage of money, but with the money Harry gave us, it's allowing us to make test samples and slowly build a small variety of candies to sell. But what if we fail?''

Hearing Fred confess his worries about the future changed Juliet's perspective of him. Fred was always so bold, confident and positive, going around telling people that anything's possible if you've got enough nerve. He gave the impression that he was never afraid of anything, but he was just good at hiding it.

''I think everyone's a bit afraid of the future. It is scary.''

''I try to stay positive, but there's always this 'what if' that's in the back of my head. If we fail, what will I do with my life, work at Gringotts? At the Ministry of Magic? Become a teacher? Absolutely not.''

''You're great at quidditch. You and George are the best beaters Gryffindor ever had.''

Fred chuckled. ''I’m flattered, but I’m not good enough to play professionally. And I like to play with George. Quidditch is something we’ve always played together. I’d feel weird to play without him. It’s your turn.''

Finding something Juliet had never told anyone turned out to be more difficult that she'd imagined. In their Ravenclaw dorm, she and Luna had a lot of late night conversations over the years. They’d talk about everything and nothing, typical girl things and...stranger things, but Sirius was a subject they never dipped in.

''I almost didn't meet my father,’’ she started, which immediately caught Fred’s attention. ‘’When Harry and Hermione saved and helped him escape in third year, I almost didn't follow Harry into the yard. I was scared he wouldn't be the person Remus had told me about. That he wouldn't be as great as I had been told. I was scared to be disappointed. I also knew that it might be my only chance and I'd regret it all my life if I didn't go.

''When I got to the yard, he wasn't at all like I had imagined him to be. He was...scary looking, as anyone would be after spending so long in Azkaban. I almost turned around and ran, but he called my name, his voice so hoarse and broken, and a smile had curled on his face. The first in Merlin knows how long. At this moment, I realized that I held a power. A power to bring him a sliver of happiness after all those years of coldness, darkness, misery and despair.''

''I'm sure it was an emotional experience for him too. It must've been a shock to see you.''

''I write him letters almost every day, but I don't have an address to send them to so I keep them in a shoebox under my bed.'' Juliet laughed at herself. ''It's silly, I know-''

''It's not,'' Fred countered. ''I think it’s cute and understandable. You had gotten your father back when he was taken away from you - again. It's a way for you to talk to him, even if he can't read your letters or respond.'' He yawned and apologized. Unlike Juliet, he had been sleeping before knocking on her door.

''You can go back to bed if you’re tired.''

Fred shook his head. ‘’I’d rather stay and talk with you. It’s my turn now, is it?’’

They kept going for a few more minutes, talking in Percy’s room while the rest of the house was asleep.

If Molly were up, she’d undoubtedly scold them for being awake past midnight and Fred going into Juliet's room. Her rules were clear about guests from the opposite sex: no visiting after bedtime.

While they were talking, they had shifted on the bed and changed positions. Their knees were now touching and their feet were buried under the patchwork blanket.

''I didn't want you to go back to Angelina after we danced at the Yule Ball,'' Juliet said, surprising herself. She found herself panicking inside, realizing that, although true, it could ruin their friendship in a disastrous way.

A smug smile curled on Fred’s lips. ''I'm a brilliant dancer, am I?''

She chuckled, but didn't deny. Although Fred Weasley wasn't great at following through with the classic steps when ball dancing, he knew how to spice it up and make it really fun.

''I didn't tell you, but you looked gorgeous in that dress.''

Juliet blinked.

It wasn’t the first time Fred complimented her, but he had never been so bold. He’d usually say something subtle that he could easily say to his sister, but tonight, it sounded very flirty - and Juliet didn't hate it.

After that, it was a blur. She could recall Fred talking, but one of them fell asleep and the other followed.

.

Fred was gone when Juliet woke up.

At first, she thought last night had been a dream, but the blanket was moved as if somebody else had slept there. She grabbed the blanket and a faint smell of Fred lingered on the blanket. Juliet smiled.

''Morning!'' Ginny greeted, walking in and inviting herself on the bed. She was still in her pajamas so it must've been still early. ''Luna sent an owl this morning, inviting us to have tea at her house tomorrow,'' the redhead informed, holding the piece of parchment in her hand. ''I'll ask Mum if we can go, but it should be okay. She doesn't live too far.''

Juliet rubbed her eyes, still washed with sleep and nodded, looking forward to seeing Luna. One of the things she didn't like about summer was not sharing a room with Luna for two months. She missed her so much. They'd write letters, but it wasn't the same.

''Mom is making pancakes. She sent me to get you.''

''Oh, yum!''

The raven haired girl pushed the covers away, excited to eat Molly's delicious pancakes, but Ginny stopped her. ''Before we go down, there's something I wanted to talk about...I think my brother fancies you.''

Panic flashed in Juliet's mind. Was Fred that obvious? His flirting was pretty subtle and rarely when there was people around. How could've Ginny come to that conclusion?

Juliet laughed. ''What? He doesn't. Gin, you're insane.''

''He was so red at King's Cross when you hugged him! And, he kept staring you when we were at the pond yesterday. He's into you.''

Ron. Ginny was talking about Ron, not Fred.

''See it the way you want. Now, let's go eat pancakes!''

[jflashandclash]

Traitors of Olympus IV: Fall of the Sun

Fourteen: Ajax

I Set Up a Play Date in Exchange for a Canadian

             As soon as Thanatos vanished with Reyna and Calex in his comforting, Slenderman, trust-me-this-isn’t-the-first-time-I’ve-abducted-children-way, Pax searched around their makeshift racetrack and the Roman’s body-collection tent. Pax had to wonder if Slenderman could shadow travel—what he assumed Thanatos had done. You know that situations are desperate when taking a creepy stranger’s hand and getting into his metaphoric car is the best options.

           It was a good thing Pax’s apples worked. Having the damnation of Calex’s soul and his not-death on Pax’s consciousness would have probably been added to Pax’s Daily List of Traumatizing Experiences. He wondered if the death counter on the Silver-Tongued Helm would have gone up if the plan had failed, or if Eris and Phobetor would have popped up with a fireworks display to celebrate the failure.

           “An errand, Ajax?” Alabaster asked as soon as Thanatos, Reyna, and Calex melted away. “What are you planning?”

           “Planning? I never plan. I just get ideas.” Pax stepped in a sweeping circle, glancing around. His brain chattered in broken sentences, the way he imagined Ares would if Axel ever got his hands on him again. Had to be here. Too good a show not to watch. “Ideas that involve me being in a place of potential ruin, where I’m about to make a likely dumb decision that could result in a lot of mischief.”  

           “This sounds like a shitty idea,” Alabaster grumbled.

           A hand touched his shoulder.

           Pax yipped before he realized it was Kally. She gave him a worried smile. “Ajax, what is going on?” she asked, holding one hand out like Pax was the wild, cute baby panda he was.

           Why did he always tell his lovers his weakness? That he had a hard time speaking indirectly when they called him by his first name and looked at him like he wasn’t just comic relief? That and bullets, but he figured his weakness to celestial bullets was pretty general knowledge.

           “With Jason, Thalia, Leo, Axel, and now Reyna off doing hero things, we’re missing five heavy hitters—Calex doesn’t count. What happens if they don’t make it back in time for the party?” As Pax spoke, he ruffled his hair. He hoped the sweat and grossness of a hero’s shower schedule and constant pain would act as Hair Gel de Natural. “We need as many fighters as we can get, since Percy is—ha ha—benched and Annabeth is spreading the kissing disease to the table with how much she’s napping. Plus… I want leverage if the Romans decide to take vengeance on the Triple A Chimera. It’s always good to have a little blackmail.”

           Important father-to-son life lessons.

           “Leverage?” Alabaster asked, his glare softening.

           Kally took a careful step towards Pax. Amazing to think that the one time she wanted to hold his hand again, he would have to shriek and run from her if she did. “A lot is going on. I—Axel wouldn’t want me to let you do something…”

           “Stupid?” Alabaster supplied.

           “Rash.”

           As if that was the magical summoning word, Pax saw Atë.

           He puffed up his cheeks and popped them.

           A chill went down his spine as the smoke twisted up off her clothing. She lay, stomach down, on the ground, kicking her legs behind her. A black tarp—an empty body bag?—acted as her picnic blanket. Points for unnerving creativity. Pax just hoped there wasn’t an annoyed ghost in the tent, wondering where its deadtime blankets went.

           Her white T-shirt’s sleeves hung off her shoulders. That and the cloth’s looseness let her shirt collar hang away from her skin and rest on the ground. Several chain necklaces encircled her neck and dangled against the ground atop the material, except one cord that clung tightly to her skin, running taunt down her chest, like a divider for her black and red, very noticeable, bra. That chain must have been attached to her belt. Her shorts were black and white checkered. Fishnets ran down to her muddy, bare feet.

           As per Atë mode, her skin was smudged with dirt. Her jagged, black hair had streaks of red, magenta, and white. In one hand, she held Frank’s stick, pressing it against her lower, crimson lip, so the lip jutted to one side.

           Pax swallowed. Amazing how he could forget that his super hot sister wanted to seduce him.

           Like the best cockblocking knights from a heroic tale (or, from what Pax had heard, like teachers at a school dance), Alabaster and Kally stepped between where Pax was standing and Atë lay.

           “Ajax…” Atë cooed, leaning to see around where Kally had withdrawn her Argonaut statue.

           “Don’t call him that,” Alabaster snarled as he withdrew the deck of cards from his back pocket.

           “You’re fraying around every edge,” Atë said.

           “You’re not wanted here, Atë,” Kally snapped.

           “I don’t want you to unravel,” Atë continued, those lifeless, red eyes giving their most expressive I told you not to come back to camp look that lifeless eyes could manage. Under Lapis’ command, she had warned Pax, not to come back, but there was no way for Pax to know it was to prevent some good ol’ fratricide.

           Pax swallowed again. He forgot a pivotal point in his plan: his ability to talk with words and sentences. That, and his ability to speak to her without his cockblocking knights preventing him from a potentially terrible decision.

           Hoping Atë could do some cool god thing to fix this, Pax summoned the best devilish smirk that he could, sidestepped more into Atë‘s view, winked, and nodded towards the death tent. Perfect romantic location.

           Pax cleared his throat. “I found Calex’s potentially suicidal ultimatum with his godly stalker inspirational.”

           Pax liked to think Kally and Alabaster both made sounds of disapproval: Alabaster’s hopefully sounding like a stuffy, old British gentleman. That’s how Pax would write Alabaster if he could write fanfiction.

           The sounds came out muffled.

           During one breath, smoke twisted in front of him, icy fingers touched his hand, then he was sitting down in a dimmer place. The sun warmed the tent walls like God decided to catch some humans with a Styrofoam cup the way a child might catch an ant or a tiny leprechaun. Pax stayed firm: if centaurs existed, then so did tiny men with golden pots that shot marshmallows. Kouta could never lie to him otherwise: that the marshmallow thing was an ad campaign for a cereal company. That was just what the leprechauns wanted you to think.

           The tent flap was shut, cutting off the view of the outside. The sunlight that glowed through the fabric felt smothered. A few real rays shined through the poles of the tent.

           Pax couldn’t decide what was worse: that Atë chose an occupied bodybag as a picnic bench or that she’d smoked into existence, sitting close enough for their knees to be touching.

           If Atë could just teleport, Pax wondered why she bothered with any of this fighting stuff since she could relocate all of her enemies into far away cruise ships or convenient wood chippers. Pax shouldn’t ask that though, since that might give her idea—

           “Why don’t you magic all your enemies into romantic hovels?” he asked.

            Atë kicked her feet against the dirt. She stared at the two corpses in front of them. Leave it to a child of Eris to pick the center of the room, so they could be surrounded, from both sides and below, by corpses. Now Pax was waiting for Thanatos to deposit one from the ceiling for good symmetry.

           Outside, he could hear the muffled voices of Alabaster and Kally as they panicked.

           “I can’t. It’s easier with you, because you wanted to come in here and you’re more god than mortal,” Atë explained.

           “Yep, that totally checks out in my book of not-lazy godly physics.”

           Atë leaned back, so she could put one hand behind Pax. With the other, she tapped Frank’s stick against her off-sleeve shirt.  “You’re asking me to trade Frank’s stick… for a date with you,” she said, those glassy eyes boring into him.

           “I’m touched by how easily you read me,” Pax said. He tried to think of how he would treat this if Atë were Kally or Alabaster, but the scenery was a little distracting. “A playdate. Yes.”

           “What kind of date?” she asked. Pax couldn’t tell if she was playing coy. He supposed it fit the “mischief” part of her moniker.

           Pax puffed up his cheeks and popped them. He had decided this was it: his moment for inspirational character development, where he took control of his life, where he stopped being protected and became a protector. He didn’t have Axel’s strength or courage, but he was skilled. He’d earned the name Silver-Tongued Snake for a reason, and it wasn’t just because of that paint-eating incident in Alabaster’s laboratory.[1]

           He just wished it happened somewhere sunnier with… cuter surroundings.

           Only one thing had to happen before he acted on his epiphany.

           “Off the corpse,” Pax said. He slipped one arm under Atë’s and slipped the other under her knees. Repressing a shudder at the chill of her legs and back, Pax carried her a few feet away from the bodies, sat down on the ground, and kept his arms around her. He whined at the pain in his right hand.

           Atë blushed and stared at him with those unblinking eyes. Either that or she’d smudged some blood on her cheeks. Probably the latter, from puppy corgis? As Pax watched, her typically blank face cracked into a small smile. He remembered how much fun he had with her when they searched Rome’s files to discover the identity of Mount Othrys’ spy. She said that he was always nice to her. In her thousands of years, had Atë never been romantically carried by someone before?

           “Your dad and our mom used to flirt a lot while seated on corpses,” she giggled.

           “Atë, you know that little voice inside your head that tells you stories like that don’t need to be said out loud?” Pax said.

           “I don’t have one and you don’t either,” she said, then repeated, “What kind of date?”

           Ideas for how he’d treat Kally or Alabaster raced through his mind. “We can start by playing some video games. We’d go get ice cream, of course.”

           Atë cocked her head to the side. Chains rattled against her neck.

           Right. Child of Strife. Goddess of Mischief and Ruin. He didn’t need to pretend.

           “We can dress up as monsters and scare kids walking home from school,” he said.

           Atë rocked in his arms with a laugh. “We can recruit the weasels to help us wreak havoc.”

           Pax sat up in excitement. “We could ride Hunnie into battle and Baller could—wait—no—I mean, yes to weasel recruitment. But, let’s leave specific weasel anarchy idealization until later.”

           “What happens after destroying children on their way home from school?” she asked.

           Pax chose to ignore her choice of verb. “Afterwards, we could find some local church picnics and pass out pamphlets on the good word of Discordia.”

“In wizarding robes,” she said.

“Pointed hats and brooms included. And lastly…” Pax wasn’t great at doing that whole think before you speak thing, but this next part needed to be worded carefully. “I’ll take you back to my place and we can watch Deadpool, use the hot tub… get to know each other a little better.”

Atë stopped laughing. Her expression went blank again. “The Paxmobile doesn’t have a hot tub and Axel would never leave us alone.”

           The sound of Alabaster and Kally’s voices were getting closer.

           “Holy Kronos—we should install a hot tub in the—right, sorry!” Pax struggled to keep focus. The idea of a mobile hot tub complete with trick telekhines was distracting. Percy could do water tap-dancing for Alabaster’s entertainment. “I meant my place my place. Not the Paxmobile.”

           Atë didn’t respond. He had hoped she’d dramatically repeat his line in confusion, but Pax guessed he’d have to continue explaining without theatrical prompting.

“The temple/club/house/building that the Pax boys are about to inherit from our Dad’s will. You know… once we get Axel’s name cleared up with the police for that whole ‘kidnapping me’ thing. You and I would have to follow house rules for the date, since that’s what we’d be using, like don’t run by the hot tubs.”

           Pax remembered how hard Lapis worked to be able to go out with… would it have been Sapphire? It happened right before he and Axel ran away the second time. Pax felt nauseous about moving back there, to his room with a blank, bare corner, designed so Dad wouldn’t get blood everywhere when he beat and whipped Pax for acting out.

    ��      At least his father had been considerate to the cleaning staff.

           “But yea, it has a fancy hot tub, lots of private rooms, and a labyrinth of back passages that would leave Axel’s head spinning for hours. We could make it into a game. How many places we can…” Pax tightened his grip on Atë’s legs and dug his nails into her back as best he could with the ruined tendons. He leaned his forehead against hers. The musk of dried blood was—surprise—not a cure for his nausea. “Do stuff without Axel being able to catch us.”

One of Atë’s hands clutched his neck, where she’d bit him. Despite the rapid healing from his extra godly blood, and Kally’s attempts with her Apollo magic, the discoloration remained. Perks or curses of fooling around with a goddess: eternal hickies. Pax wondered what Ares’ neck looked like after a good Aphrodite fondle and vice versa.

           It was like a mark of ownership, like how the tattoo on Pax’s hip made him feel like—even in death—his Dad still owned the part of Pax that could have been happy.

           Pax felt his eyes watering. Focus, he snarled at himself. He had to make sure Atë felt the sunshine and rainbows, or, in her case, bunnies with chainsaws. He tried to think of how giddy he would be to hold Kally like this—albeit gentler—or be held by Alabaster.[2] The hand on his neck and the cold, red eyes made it hard to imagine Kally’s caring, shy smile and touch or the glint of knowing humor behind Alabaster’s expression and caress. Either one perfecting the balanced look of adoration with simultaneous annoyance in their green eyes.

           With Atë’s other hand, she pressed Frank’s stick into his chest. Pax felt compelled to remind her that he wasn’t a vampire and there were, in fact, easier ways to kill him. Maybe his vulnerability to celestial bullets was less well known than he thought.

           “Do you swear on the River Styx to all the terms listed above?” Pax asked.

           Thinking about the others brought on an icy flash of Flynn. How he held her like this when she was sobbing over Jack’s chopped up corpse, about how she wished she could have seen Jack one more time to say goodbye.

           Pax swallowed the memory. His mouth moved without his mind, saying what he knew he should be saying, since his brain was preoccupied with the whole trauma thing. “I’ll even give you a private tour of my room. Only Kally’s gotten that.”

           He winked, giving Atë a devilish smile. Tiny Baby-Panda Pax marveled at how his body didn’t feel like his own, the smooth confidence of his exterior belonging to some other, darker, older Ajax.

           Atë rubbed her fingers along his neck. “We could always make a tent in there and turn it into an exclusive slumber party.”

           “Shake on it, and we’ll make it binding. All that and all you need to do is give me Frank’s stick as a forward payment,” he said, releasing her legs to offer his hand.

           Atë pouted, an expression uncomfortably similar to something he’d practiced in the mirror to adorable perfection. “Kiss on it,” she said, biting her lower lip.

           Pax puffed up his cheeks and popped them.

           He felt cold and numb, watching a movie reel that some other person had already acted. Internally, he wondered exactly what consent Atë thought kissing gave, since she seemed to think a hug consented to making out. Externally, Pax tilted his chin down, pressing his mouth against hers.

           Atë went still. For a horrifying moment, he feared she’d poofed away and put one of the corpses in her place as a practical joke. Ha-ha! Made you kiss a dead person! Then she sat up with a soft noise, so she could lean more into him. Atë dropped Frank’s stick.

           This was opposite how he expected her to react after how aggressive she’d been the night she tricked him into a romantic prelude to decapitation the night before. Her words fluttered through his head, You’re always nice to me and you’re fun. Most people are really mean when I’m around.      

           No one had been nice to her. No one had made her feel special. Maybe, she only knew to mimic the way their mom flirted with his dad, like making out near corpses and sending cards that pre-apologized for future abuse.

           Sympathizing with a tiny psychopath like Atë was dangerous. But, for a few dizzying seconds, Pax softened his touch to make the kisser proper to what he thought a kiss should be, instead of what he assumed Atë wanted.

           When the panic mounted to the point where he wanted to ask Atë if she’d eaten nuts before their kiss, he firmly removed Atë’s mouth from his own.  

           “Atë,” he said and slipped Frank’s stick into his pocket, “Big Sis. You know how children of Strife always hurt those we love the most, especially the more we’re around them? And you know the definition of ‘cruel irony?’”

           Atë’s small smile flattened. “What?”

           Pax stood up and gently set his half-sister down. Relief made him add a dance to his step as he backed towards the exit. “I should have warned you, my dad had a lot of rules. Like, no messing around in the house. No one was allowed to touch a Pax kid without Santiago’s direct permission, and he’s dead now, so that’s a little difficult, huh? You’d have to ask the next head of the house, Kouta—oh no.” Pax tilted his head pensively to the side, crossed his arms, and tapped his chin. “He won’t do—oh! I guess that would be Axel. According to the terms of our agreement, we’d have to get direct permission from Axel to do anything physical or too romantic. Shucks.”

           Pax snapped his fingers, like he was disappointed.

           Atë opened and closed her mouth. “You tricked me.”

           “Yes and no.” Pax shrugged. “I’m still really excited to have a play date with my half-sister where I get to wreak havoc and get to know her better and spend time with her as a friend.”

           He gave her a gentle smile. Pax knew what it was like to feel like the whole world was a cruel place. If Axel and his other siblings hadn’t been there to show him protection and kindness, Pax would have probably turned out a lot less fluffy. “Just because I’m the first person to be nice to you, doesn’t mean I’ll be the last. And you don’t need to express appreciation of that through possession or forceful cuddles. We’re siblings. And yea, we’re children of Strife so, we’re pretty fucked up, but I think we can work together to have a healthy, fun friendship.”[3]

           Atë didn’t seem to know how to react.

           Pax nodded at the sentient. “But seriously, you touch me sexually once and the date is over.”

           Pax pivoted to push open the tent flap, only to slam into Alabaster. Alabaster’s Stygian staff was drawn, and he was prepping spells under his breath. He grabbed Pax’s arm, like he feared Pax would dematerialize again.

           “Pax!” Kally shouted in relief behind him. She fingered her Argonaut statue. “We thought Atë kidnapped you.”

           “Aw, it would have been much more dramatic and movie-like had you showed up when Atë and I were making out,” Pax said. All that water that he’d stored in his eyes glistened to the surface. Seeing these two made him want to collapse in a puddle on the ground, Phobetor conscilepsy style. But, Pax reminded himself, he was Strong Pax. In-Control Pax. Pax that Waits Ten Minutes to Start Crying Pax.

           Pax snuffled back a few tears.

           When Atë stepped out of the tent after him, he almost screamed. Instead, he held Frank’s stick aloft. “We need to go shove this in the face of the others, so we can tell them that we have blackmail on Frank.”

           “You mean that the concussed Canadian can fight in the battle tonight?” Kally asked warily. She pulled both boys further from the death collection tent, towards Percy’s fancy light up sign and throne.

           “That’s what I said,” Pax said, like Atë had just vanished as she should have in his internal plans.

           “Mom was going to use that stick to light the Big House on fire. Something about using the fires of life to start the wave of death?” Atë said, stepping with them towards the ping-pong table.

           After Pax had his whole family-time-happy-speech, he didn’t feel right telling Atë to get lost, but she was kind of on the wrong side of their fight. “Very poetic,” he admitted.

           “We thought so too. Frank would have probably been the first casualty.”

           “Pax,” Kally whispered, taking the hand not holding Frank’s stick. Her touch made Pax feel all gooey inside, encouraging those tears that he kept trying to repress to come to the surface. “What did you do?”

           “And why is she still here?” Alabaster growled.

           As they got closer to the ping-pong table, Pax could see it was mostly empty. The other campers must have been tending to defenses. Annabeth napped on a pillow beside Percy. He held her hand on the table, glaring at the sand timer. Piper sat a few feet away from him.

           “Uh—guys?” Pax could just hear Percy say with some panic in his voice. He held up the sand timer.

           “Atë, you can go back to Mom,” Pax said, knowing it would be much simpler if he only had to manage two-sort-of-not-ex-lovers.

           Atë put her hands in her black and white checkered pockets, tilting her head back to look at the sky. “Mom never left. Why do you think everyone has been so unproductive and argumentative?”

           Alabaster rolled his eyes. He focused on whatever was happening at the ping-pong table. “I thought Eris was best for inspiring people to productivity,” he said sarcastically.

           The sarcasm seemed to miss Atë. She removed her fingers and flexed them. A tire iron appeared in one hand and a baseball bat with nails appeared in the other. “Jealousy, spite and strife are excellent motivators. But the productivity doesn’t matter anymore. You’re out of time.”

           Pax blinked. His stomach twisted as he felt some sort of shockwave ripple through the air. “Uh, no,” Pax said, “Mom told Percy she’d be back when the sun comes down.”

           “And it’s noon now,” Kally said.

           Children of Apollo: better than any clock.

           A buzzer sounded.

           Party poppers popped.

           The neon sign above Percy’s head flashed wildly like the ball drop on New Year’s Eve. A digital timer went to zero in the colorful mix.

           Hiro’s mirror still floated beside Percy. From what Pax could see, Hiro ran to the edge of the mirror, pressed his face against it, and looked up in excitement.

           Clouds darkened the sunlight.

           Kally screamed and, in the distance, Pax could hear a chorus of children of Apollo joining in the cacophony.

           When Pax glanced up to stare directly at the sun—something Axel had tried to stop him from doing dozens of times—he didn’t find himself blinded. Apollo’s sun chariot was too close, easily observed by the fact that everyone could see his Sun Chariot. The image blurred between a Lamborghini Diablo and a cart drawn by four horses. From what Pax gathered from science books and mythology, Apollo was supposed to have a fairly set path.

           He had altered it.

           Pax choked.

           A wave of darkness descended from the east. The rapid approach gave Pax vertigo as it engulfed the landscape like an apocalyptic cloud.

           Despite Apollo’s attempts to either step on the accelerator or spur his horses on, the blackness was gaining.

           When Pax squinted, he could see what it was: a woman. A terrifying woman with her own chariot and horses. She was so void of color and substance, Pax would have thought her a churning swirl of ash and smoke. Her chariot seemed to suck the light from around it. Her indigo wings and whirls of black locks trailed madly behind her, twisting into coils of blackness that cast the net of her cloak. That blackness asphyxiating the landscape was her cloak.

           Terror shook Pax. A deep sense of wrongness made him want to hide in the Paxmobile and refuse to come out.

           Nothing would have changed though. None of their heroes would return in time: Jason, Leo, and Sadie wouldn’t have had time to fight Lapis yet, Calex and Reyna would have just met up with Axel and Thalia in Tartarus, and Merry had likely just gotten to Hiro and Percy’s little sister. That meant Percy also wouldn’t be able to fight. Annabeth could barely lift her head off the table.

           It was just them, a concussed Canadian, a recently plague-ridden daughter of Aphrodite, and a daughter of Pluto that was probably frantically trying to keep her unconscious brother out of the shadow realm.  

           The primordial goddess of night’s chariot intercepted Apollo’s.

           The sun fell out of the sky.

           They were enveloped in darkness.    

           As Pax’s eyes adjusted to the sudden blackness in the middle of the day, he panted with panic. He almost laugh-cried when Alabaster set a hand on his shoulder, until he realized it wasn’t Alabaster.

           “Oh, my little Terror Muffin,” Eris whispered sweetly into his ear. “It’s beautiful isn’t it? How much a mother will do for one of her favorites when that favorite is threatened with annihilation by execration or Kronos��� staff?”

           That joker-like hysterical laughter filled the air.

           “Now that Nyx has taken care of the sun…” A light flickered beside Pax. He could see his mother toss a lit Molotov Cocktail up and down, “Let the festivities begin!”  

  Sorry for the delay, guys! I hope you enjoyed the Pax family madness :D They could probably benefit from some family counseling. May your Fall festivities be as mischievous as Pax’s, but, you know, without the trauma.

Tune in next week to Axel: If you’re tired of being electrocuted, clap your hands! (or: On the Shore of Two Underworlds).

Footnotes:

[1] Alabaster said we had to put a warning label out here: do not eat paint. You are not Pax (unless you are Pax) and you will not survive an acrylic slurpee (and even if you are Pax, stop trying to eat paint. Alabaster is tired of cleaning your throw up).

[2] Though not frequently the other way around. Pax has done everything in his power to pretend he’s physically weaker than Alabaster, including frequently fainting into his arms when they were younger. One problem with this: Alabaster opted out of catching him.

[3]Public service announcement where Pax and I differ: if you have a family member that is acting sexually aggressive to you, tell someone and take action to prevent anything further from happening to you or to others. If the person you tell doesn’t believe you, keep telling people until you find someone who will listen. Whether or not you know the aggressor, even if they’re a family member, you owe them nothing. You definitely don’t owe them silence. But, you DO owe yourself and you DO deserve a safe, healthy environment. And, you owe open communication to others in to the aggressor’s path to assure that the aggressor won’t hurt anyone else.  

And, regardless of what anyone else might tell you, including other family members, you don’t need to keep talking to the aggressor, as Pax decides to do. Blood-related doesn’t mean indebted. It doesn’t mean an annulment of wrongs. It means you’re supposed to keep each other safe and healthy, and taking advantage of someone’s trust isn’t safe or healthy.

Now, if you’ll excuse me for this bout of seriousness, I have a baby panda to catch to tell him to talk more openly with his friends. *chases after Pax*

[thepilotanon]

Thunderstorms II.

Someone asked if I could write more, so I made a small second part to the first one. I’m very surprised and grateful to everyone who liked, reblogged or commented on the first Thunderstorms, and want to thank you! I wasn’t expecting much when I first posted it, so it means a lot when I noticed how many liked it - and I hope you will like this one, too!

Warning: Symptoms of PTSD, Sad/Self-conscious Clyde, but lots of fluff.

“Clyde, come pick out how many mini marshmallows you want for your hot chocolate!”

Having finished preparing the TV with the laptop connected to screen the old movie, Clyde got to his feet and strolled over to the small kitchen where he found his girl dropping in six marshmallows into her mug to fill the top. Rain pelt against the windows and the roof of the double-wide trailer, a lot more soothing soundtrack for his day off and staying inside from last night’s event. He felt calmer now, leaving his metal prosthetic off for the time being as he snuck his other arm around her waist to see that she filled his favorite mug with the hot drink. Inhaling the faint scent of chocolate powder and his girl’s flowery aroma, Clyde felt an itch of a small smile emerge as he bent his head and gave the top of her head a gentle kiss.

“Here you go, handsome,” Belle smiled as she held the bag to him. “Take as much as you want.”

Taking the bag with his only hand, Clyde slipped it from around her while she mixed her drink with a spoon. Stealing a glance between her and the bag of marshmallows, Clyde then proceeded to dump nearly half the bag into his, piling the white, sugary puffs. Taking a glance to see Belle’s reaction, Clyde smirked when she took notice and looked back to him with a blink.

“You better not let those go to waste, mister,” she said coolly, placing the other spoon into his mug for him. Going to her toes to kiss his jaw, she scratched under his chin on his scruff before trying to slip past him. Clyde was quick to lean against her escape route, trapping her for another moment and wrapping his hand around her once more to grab his drink, leaning down to steal a long kiss until she snickered against his lips.

Outside of the public eye, Clyde was easily an affectionate man and would take any chance to display his love for his significant other. With Belle, she normally wouldn’t expect it with how shy he normally was in public, but she certainly never complained when she would be surprised by a kiss or being picked up by one arm to be carried away for cuddles. Clyde found it even more endearing whenever he finds Belle returning the affection or blush from his actions, making him feel successful in telling her how much he loved her without words no matter what situation they are in alone. He was a very loving boyfriend, that was for sure.

“Are you -” Belle giggled while Clyde kept kissing her repeatedly, interrupting her “- almost done? Or do - you not want - to watch the - movie -!” Belle couldn’t stop laughing as Clyde wrapped his stumped arm behind her head and dipped her for another kiss without spilling their drinks. “Clyde!”

“Darlin’!” Clyde said back with his own chuckle before finally stopping. He allowed Belle to hold onto his short arm as they walked back to the couch, allowing her to sit down first while he set his mug on the coffee table.

A low rumble instantly caught his attention and Clyde felt his legs lock up. His head shot towards the open door, where the screen allowed fresh, rainwater scented air in and kept the bugs out, noticing the pattern of heavier rain falling from the sky. Swallowing thickly, Clyde took a deep breath before biting his lower lip rather hard, not wanting to get worked up so quickly just while everything was going so perfectly just seconds ago. He hated how everything can change inside him in a split second - instantly wanting to blame the Logan Curse.

“Clyde?” Belle’s soft voice slipped into his clouding mind. He jumped a little bit when her warm hand touched his jaw and turned his face her way, forcing eye contact. Caressing his cheek carefully, Belle’s expression was gentle with worry. “Do you need me to close the door?”

Swallowing again, Clyde shook his head and she whispered an ‘okay’ to him, feeling him tilting his head into her palm with a distant expression. “How would you like to watch the movie, handsome?”

He didn’t respond verbally, only seeming to roll onto the couch and wrap his arms around Belle’s waist, his face instantly nuzzling into her chest as she leaned back for him to get onto the couch properly. She allowed him to grab one of the pillows from bed they had previously dumped in preparation of the film and place it on her lap for cushioning, her legs curled onto the couch as he slung his own legs over the other side of the armrest. Laying on his side, Clyde used his hand to rest on her ankles, his thumb unconsciously stroking the skin as her hands instantly went to his thick hair, making him shiver just a bit.

“Is this okay?” she asked softly, bending down to kiss his temple when he nodded. “Alright, I’ll start the movie.” After hitting the spacebar on the laptop, Belle pulled down the throw blanket over Clyde, making sure majority of his body was covered as far as she could reach as the opening credits played in a melody that drowned out a good portion of the rain.

“It’s been years since I have seen this movie,” Belle whispered after a while. “I almost forgot how sweet this movie was, even if it was just about dogs. I should have seen it more often.”

Clyde hummed thoughtfully, ignoring the vibrations the thunder by focusing on Tramp’s first meeting with Lady and how Belle’s hands soothed his head. His heart still hammered at the thoughts of his missing arm, but he didn’t voice it.

The scene of Tramp and Lady’s first date in the alley of the Italian restaurant, with Tony and Joe serving spaghetti before beginning the musical number that Clyde remembered listening to his mother sing along, something took over his thoughts.

“Yer name could’a been this,” he said in a low voice, turning his head to look at his girl’s face. “Like the song, Bella.”

“Mm? Oh, I suppose they sound a little bit similar with the original audio,” Belle responded with an amused smile, tucking his hair behind his ear so he could see her better. “If only I was given the Italian name and not French, then we probably could sing this all the time, huh?”

“Still can,” Clyde suggested, his hand reaching to take hers, making her smile bigger.

“Oh, Clyde, no. I didn’t mean it like that! Clyde, this is something special between you and your mom,” she spoke softly. “I know I asked if we could watch it together, but I wouldn’t want to take anything special you had with her.”

Shaking his head, Clyde slowly rolled to his back and tangled their fingers. “Nah, not like that, Darlin’. Ma would’ve loved hearing that yer name is Belle,” he professed confidently. “Ma loved Disney, and that wouldn’t stop her from lovin’ yer name. She’d love everythin’ ‘bout you.”

Belle giggled and used her other hand to push his hair back. “Well, I wouldn’t think she would love everything about me,” she shook her head. “You know how Jimmy says I’m too stubborn with him with almost everything, or how Mellie says I’m too simple - not like Mellie means that in a bad way, but you know.”

“And I’m sayin’ she’d love everything ‘bout you,” Clyde chuckled. “She was a sweet lady, but she also could run Pop’s gears with how stubborn and feisty she was.”

“Really?”

Clyde took a deep breath, a half smile on his lips. “Yeah, I remember one time she bought so much flour, because of a sale, and had t’ make ‘bout three loaves of pumpkin bread and four cakes. Pa came home with the kitchen a mess, and Ma and Mellie frostin’ a cake. He got yellin’ ‘bout how she shouldn’t take sales so serious, and she jus’ told him to hush up and shoved a forkful in his mouth.”

“Oh my gosh,” Belle giggled in surprise. “She got that much?”

He nodded. “‘Course, Pa couldn’t stay mad at her for long, but he sat there with a grumpy look on his face while eating cake. I think him and Jimmy ate a whole one in one sittin’. It was nuts. But, everytime Pa tried to argue with her, she’d put ‘nother fork of cake in and shut him up.”

Belle giggled again, covering her mouth and Clyde stared at her in awe. His thumb rubbing her knuckles slowly, as if in a trance. “Yeah, both Ma and Pa would’ve loved you, baby,” he exhaled softly. “She’d try gardenin’ with ya and learn how to tell a message with flowers, have ya bake with her and gush ‘bout Sadie. Pops would’a found you great in kickin’ Jimmy’s ass and bein’ like a sister to Mellie…”

“I’m sure I would have loved them, too,” Belle said with a genuine smile. “And, I’m sure that my grandparents would have adored you, too.”

Clyde grinned at that comment before a crack of thunder rang into his ears, the lightning causing a blinding white glare that made him nearly choke. Practically jumping when the power went out - the movie cut off before the end of the song - Clyde released a yell before grabbing onto Belle. His breathing on the verge of hyperventilation and chest pounding from an erratic heart, Clyde hid his face against Belle’s stomach.

“Goddammit! Goddammit, please stop!” Clyde yelled loudly, holding on to her for dear life as he began shaking, his fingers unconsciously digging into her shirt. “It hurt! It hurt, please don’t do this to me!”

“I’m right here, Clyde,” Belle spoke gently, her hands resting on his back, unmoving. She was only letting him know she was there with him, that he wasn’t alone, but she knew better than to push herself on him when it happened so suddenly. When he let out a weak sob, her fingers slowly massaged his skin. “Clyde, baby, I’m right here.”

He was starting to shake, his left arm resuming the familiar ache of his traumatic past. The rumble of thunder pounded around the trailer, making his voice cracked and frightened. “It hurt. It hurt so much. I lost it. The doctor took it off - couldn’t fix it! Why didn’t he fix it!?”

“Clyde, do you know who I am?” Belle asked him, her hands keeping the right amount of pressure to his body. When his body hiccuped, Belle knew he was trying to control himself. “Say my name, Clyde. Who am I?”

Through his tight breathing, his teeth grinding, Clyde forced himself to try and focus on who was talking to him. The sweet voice asking him a question, something simple, yet his mind was haywire. However, this voice pierced through his memory of waking up in a hospital cot and tied down.

He knew this voice, because it sounded like an angel.

His voice was stiff, speaking through his teeth as he kept shaking. “B-B-Belle…”

“That’s right. Good, good,” Belle said calmly. “Who am I to you, Clyde?”

He thought very hard on this, trying to focus on this voice named Belle. He wanted to follow this voice, dragging himself out of his hospital bed, ripping off his restraints to follow the angelic being. “Y-Yer my...my darlin’. Belle’s my girl, my darlin’.”

“What do I call you?”

“Handsome,” he responded quickly. Clyde was now reaching out to the voice in the darkness, wanting to remain with it and never let go. “Ya call me handsome.”

“Why do I call you that, Clyde?” she asked him next. Her hands slowly coming up to lightly pet his head; no pressure, but feather-like touches to his dark hair. “Why do I call you handsome?”

“‘Cause you say I am,” he exhaled shakingly. “Don’t know why, because I lost my arm… I was scared, and I lost my arm.”

“Shhh, no no,” Belle soothed. “I call you handsome because I thought you were the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen when I first met you. You were shy, but so, so handsome that I probably fell in love at first sight.”

And angel loves him? Yeah, he remembers that. He felt the voice having hands now, and a warmth that enveloped him in comfort; taking him out of the hospital he was stuck in - no more roadside mines, no jeep or hospital beds. “You were so pretty,” Clyde croaked. “Mellie brought ya to meet me and Jimmy…”

“Uh-huh, that’s right,” Belle nodded, combing his hair now as his shaking had slowly ceased. “What else, handsome?”

“I was nervous askin’ ya out, knowin’ ya for a few months,” Clyde slurred, closing his eyes and sniffing his tears. He registered himself clinging tightly to Belle, his fingers finally lessening their strength against her. “I went to yer table and stood there...couldn’t talk to ya ‘cause you were so pretty and smilin’ at me. Ya waited ‘til I asked, and ya said yes.”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed. “Keep talking, sweetie.”

“I took ya to dinner. We took a walk ‘n I found flowers and picked them for ya,” he spoke. He remembered seeing something colorful in the distance of their little walk, excusing himself and scurried over to pick flowers to bring back. He remembered how Belle’s eyes glittered with stars and her cheeks reddening when he offered them to her; he watched her take a long sniff before giving him a sweet grin, only to offer her hand for him to hold for the rest of the date. “I found flowers...pretty flowers jus’ for you. Just for my darlin’ Belle.”

“And they were the most beautiful flowers anyone has ever given me,” Belle responded with a soft smile. She carefully pet his back with one hand, long strokes of gentle caresses to release more tension from his spine.

Nodding against her stomach, Clyde sniffed and held on to her. He tried to relax his breathing, following Belle’s long, slow strokes on his back, inhaling through his mouth and exhaling through his mouth. He remembered that he was home, still in his pajamas, with his sweetheart right there with him. He was home, safe. Safe with his darling holding him and bringing him back to reality. The rumbling continued, but it didn’t affect him as terribly as before.

“That’s my handsome Clyde,” Belle whispered, tucking his hair at seeing his relaxed face. “You’re doing wonderful. Just keep breathing for me.”

“I wish...I can hold you,” Clyde swallowed. “With both hands, but…”

Belle slowly went still again as he opened his eyes and looked to her with a tired expression. His eyes red from crying and a very light touch of sweat on his forehead, he stared at her longingly, yet the glow of his honey-colored eyes were so loving. “But ya already make me like a real man, Darlin’. Yer the first woman who had ever made me feel like there’s nothing wrong with me.”

“You are a real man, Clyde,” Belle told him seriously. “You did what many haven’t, and your heart is so big and full of love that it amazes me every day. I wouldn’t change you for anything else, not a single thing.”

“Yer too good to me…”

“You are too good to me, handsome,” Belle responded with a soft, loving smile. “I never thought I would ever meet anyone as amazing and strong who would make me feel loved like you do. I wouldn’t need you any other way, with or without both hands - you’re perfect to me.”

Feeling his chest swell in butterflies, his eyes tired, Clyde turned his head to nuzzle against Belle’s stomach. Feeling her hands play with his messy hair, Clyde took a few deep breaths as he listened to her beginning to hum the tune of Lady and the Tramp’s Bella Notte, earning a surprised chuckle from him. In return, Belle giggled in midtune.

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember all the words,” she confessed, poking his bubbling cheek. She started over, trying to make sure she got every melodic note before noticing how Clyde’s body slowly relaxed and his voice just shyly joining in.

“Oh, this is the night, it’s a beautiful night,” Clyde sang softly, ignoring his gruffed voice from his previous breakdown. He followed Belle’s tune and kept up to the beat. “And...I call her my Belle Darlin’.”

Hearing her giggle, Clyde smiled as he went on with his own version. “When she looks at the skies, she has stars in her eyes...and she’s my Belle Darlin’.”

Throughout the whole power outage, the two remained on the couch with her humming and him singing his own version of the song. His hand holding on to her, feeling any exposed, soft skin that reminded him of flower petals and the vibrations of her voice against his head; her keeping track of his progress while keeping note of the rain outside, and him tucked with the blanket. Clyde eventually realized that he was holding on to Belle with both arms wrapped around her, his stump forearm resting so casually against her…

And there was no ache or bad thoughts weighing him down any more.

I’m considering trying out a Kylo piece, but I’m not too sure yet. Hopefully I’ll do better with reader inserts with that one? Other than that, I hope this second part was good and you enjoyed it. Thank you for reading and hope to hear from you!