#that instead…life feels actually manageable. I can draw strength from myself. and rest from him.

[void-tiger]

I’m just going to work on accepting that what I do want romantically IS a Friendship and Life Partnership and Marriage in every way that matters.

I’m just asexual.

And I’ve always been transparent about it.

[j-graysonlibrary]

Heartbeats; Paradise VII

Title: Heartbeats; Paradise

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 112K

Genres: Psychological thriller, drama, sci-fi, LGBT+

Available on: Kobo and my website

Synopsis: Melvin Hardy and Kade Axel appear to be a match made in heaven. After a meet-cute in the rain, the two quickly find themselves in a burgeoning, wholesome relationship.

Yet, things feel…off. It isn’t the ghosts of their pasts that resurface to test the strength of their partnership—no—it’s something nebulous. Something indescribable. Melvin can’t put his finger on it but, the more time he spends with Kade, the more he starts to wonder what’s real and what’s pure fiction. 

VII:

The scenes are plentiful but not at all chaotic. I feel as though I remember each instance as it passes me by so I’m not overwhelmed with the information. Instead, I’m gently reminded and my chest swells with nostalgic comfort. Even in the quiet moments where I am alone, I can sense pride and gratitude to still be alive.

I catch glimpses of myself in mirrors and I see that I no longer look the same. There is a distant similarity in my eyes and parts of my face but so, so much has changed as well.

Those round corners and soft features are now broader and wider—my shoulders stretch out and my face has filled out around the chin and jaw. Stubble lines my jaw and there are some patches of hair along my chest as well (though they are far spottier).

I don’t mind at all—I’m happy to see them, as unattractive as others might find them.

Gavin likes my changes as well. He tells me in almost every memory that I come across.

The passage of time is more evident on my husband with slight wrinkles forming around the corners of his mouth. They’re just smile lines though and I see them as a mark of our happy life together.

We watch our son grow together and every time I see him, he’s older too. He’s getting tall and I bet that he’ll end up taller than us both. He’s already bigger than me.

Cameron is off at a friend’s house for the weekend—an old childhood friend who has come back to town for the holidays. They don’t get to see each other much so Gavin and I let him just pack a suitcase and stay over so they can catch up.

Besides, the time alone gives us plenty of opportunities for dates.

We travel all over town like a couple of high schoolers in their first few weeks of dating; giggling and holding hands everywhere we go. Sometimes it draws attention but I don’t care.

As far as I’m concerned, the world is just me and Gavin.

Our break crescendos when Gavin wins some dinner vouchers at his office Christmas party. They’re for a nice restaurant—the kind we would never dream of being able to get a reservation at—and I definitely fuss through my closet over what to wear.

I have some dress clothes but I don’t know if any of them are quite nice enough. As I flip through each article with a huff, I am reminded that I have some old pre-transition clothes stuffed in the back.

A smirk comes to my face and I reach back for the old, silky red dress I used to wear out on fancy dates. There’s no way it would fit me now. The straps would burst if I even managed to get my shoulders through.

That doesn’t stop me from getting my husband’s attention. “Hey,” I call out and place the hanger to my neck so the dress rests over me.

Gavin glances over, halfway through figuring out what he wants to wear as well, and raises an eyebrow. “Huh?” Then he gets a good look at me. Instantly, he’s doubled over in laughter. When he catches his breath he says, “I would love it if you went out in that. I think you’d look great.”

“I think so too,” I respond with little sarcasm. I actually think I’d look great in a dress—only one that’s actually my size. “Shame the shoulder straps would break.”

My husband snickers again. “Maybe while we’re out we can go shopping for you.”

I laugh at the dramatic way he wiggles his eyebrows. He’s such a dork. I love him.

Eventually, we both decide on some basic but nice dress clothes that are almost matching. Mostly blacks with little pops of dark, cool colors. It’s cold out so we grab a couple of coats and scarves as well.

It’s snowing and there is a light fog that hangs in the air. Snow flurries just seem to manifest in front of me and fall to the ground. It’s magical, in a way, and I nearly forget how cold I am.

Gavin takes my hand as we walk and I can feel his warmth through his glove. We stay close together on the sidewalk as the fog grows a little thicker and more and more people join us. It’s always busy during this time of day and most people are leaving work so they’re not in the best moods. Several times, I have to dodge out of the way of the occasional business man or grumpy intern.

It’s nothing new but Gavin pulls me closer and lets go of my hand but only so he can wrap his arm around my shoulders.

We pass by the large, outdoor ice skating rink and have to walk around the line that’s formed on the street. It’s always crazy busy during Christmas time. I understand though—the romantic nature of skating with a lover under the bright, sparkling lights and massive Christmas tree is, well, very romantic. I bet many young folks have their first kisses on that rink.

Gavin and I went, ages ago, and we always comment on how we’ll go back one day but we still haven’t. With the crowd, it’s obvious we won’t be stealing a spot anytime this weekend but I’m alright with that.

And I guess he is too because he doesn’t mention the rink this time.

I check to make sure he’s alright and I promptly see what’s stolen his attention. A man, sitting on the border of the rink, is barely dressed for the weather and he’s got a cap turned out to the crowd. He looks like he could freeze at any moment.

Gavin picks up his pace, almost leaving me behind to meet with this man.

“Hey, friend,” he says straight away and kneels down close by him. From his wallet, he pulls out some cash. How much, I don’t see before he’s already passed it over. “There’s a restaurant down the street having a promotion. You could probably get a bit of food with this.”

The man’s eyes go wide as he’s certainly used to people ignoring him. The homelessness situation in the city has improved in recent years but it’s difficult to completely solve. And, unfortunately, most people’s attitudes remain the same as always.

“God bless you, kind sirs,” the man says, regarding me for a moment as well.

“Here,” Gavin says, clearly not done. He stands and pulls off his outer coat before giving it to the man. “Take this, it’s too cold out for just one coat.”

“I-I can’t take this!” The man shakes his head and tries to pass the coat back.

“Sure you can.” Gavin grins. “I’ve got plenty to spare. It’s stupid for me to keep them all, ya know?”

I watch him and a proud smile begins to stretch across my face.

I really couldn’t love him more if I tried.

The light from the rising sun warms me through the memory and pulls me out of the dream. I blink a few times as my surroundings come back, fuzzy but recognizable.

I’m in my bed and, to my side, lies a sleeping Oswald.

He told me to let him know if I have another dream and give him the details. While it’s still unclear what any of this has to do with us, my gut is trying to tell me that it is important. That it definitely relates to me and that I should get to the bottom of it.

Oswald groans in his sleep and I stare at him for a long while. He doesn’t look a thing like Gavin and I certainly look nothing like Liam but, I wonder…

I decide I’m through being the only one awake so I set my hand on Oz’s shoulder and begin to rock him back and forth. “Oz,” I say lowly and put a little more gusto behind my movements.

His brows pinch together and his mouth thins as he starts to wake. “Mmmn…Melvin?”

“Good morning.” I plant a kiss in his hair and then make myself comfortable by propping up on an elbow.

“Morning.” Oz finally opens his eyes and stares up at me. “How long have you been up?”

“Few minutes,” I guess and rest my head in my hand.

He mumbles and rubs his eyes, seemingly fighting the urge to go back to sleep. I feel a little guilty for waking him but I remind myself that I need to tell him about my dream before the details are lost to me.

“You told me to let you know if I had another dream, right?”

That wakes him up. Oswald glances up at me and then pushes himself further up on the pillow. “Already?”

I nod with my head still in my hand. “I’m even more sure now that what I’m seeing is the real world.”

As I’ve meditated on the dream, I’ve noticed how much…fuller…that world is than ours. Every person looked like they had their own worlds—their own stories—that they carried with them. There was no spotlight just on me and Gavin and we were probably extras in someone else’s life.

I relay the events to Oz and explain how busy and bustling the city was. It’s the first time I’ve gotten a vivid peek at the world and I feel there’s no way it isn’t real.

Aside from that, there is another theory I’m forming but I’m a little nervous to reveal it. With Oz’s eyes on me, his undivided attention directed toward me, I almost chicken out.

But I swallow the lump in my throat and I take the dive. “I think these memories are about us, Oz.”

His brows raise but, other than that, he shows little surprise. “You mean…who we were before ending up here?”

I drop my hand and sit up a little more. “I know it probably sounds ridiculous…”

“No,” he interrupts and follows me up. His eyes are narrowed and serious. “There’s a reason you’re having these dreams and a reason you’re having them now. I think they are important and if this has something to do with the real people we were before all this then…that would make sense.”

I look away from him. Even if he’s a little blurry without my glasses, his stare is still too intense to look directly at. “I don’t have any proof though. It’s just a feeling…”

Oswald lets out a short, breathy laugh. He pushes me back onto the bed and leans over me, forcing me to look him in the eye. “That doesn’t matter at the moment. Until we find solid evidence for these dreams, I’m okay with acting under the belief that we were married in a past life.”

I feel the smile forming at the corner of my lip. When he puts it that way—so plainly—I can’t help but feel elated.

“Yeah…” I agree. “It would make our desire to be together against all odds make more sense, right?”

Oz answers me with a kiss. He is far removed from his usual intensity but he still slips his hands between us, caressing my body and dipping down south. Everything feels very slow and borderline reserved.

We’ve had sex more than I can count but the way he’s touching me makes me feel like this is our first time. I almost blush at the thought. I do, however, let out a small moan into Oz’s mouth.

He responds to it with the introduction of his tongue, rolling against me in the same slow manner that his hands move on my body. One hand remains on my chest, working against my pec and massaging the muscle while the other reaches down to my member and wakes it up.

I play through his hair as my body moves with a mind of it’s own to better feel the warmth of his touch. My mind hums with the pleasant idea that we were, at some point, married to one another.

It means more than I realized when I first thought it. But, after seeing Oz accept it and seeing how much he wants it to be true… I nearly can’t stand how happy it makes me.

Oswald parts from me but it’s so he can lean over to the nightstand and recover the bottle of lube he brought over from his apartment. He pops the cap back with one hand and pours a decent amount into his opposite palm. He warms it up before getting it anywhere near me which I appreciate.

I close my eyes and suck in air through my teeth, tensing for a second before releasing that tension. It helps to make me more relaxed, I’ve found, and makes the preparation go a little smoother. Of course, Oz would take all the time that was necessary to ensure I’m comfortable and ready before doing anything anyway—I know that for a fact.

He works his fingers in me and I watch the look of concentration on his face that I’ve become so familiar with. Married, I think, basically on a loop.

We might have been married.

When he continues on and slowly pushes his way into me, I’m filled with something distinctly different than lust. I’m still terribly attracted to him, of course, but my need to be connected to him isn’t coming from just that carnal place.

I wrap my arms around his back and hold him close as he slides in and out of me, keeping that slow and gentle pace. My stomach still coils with that tight heat—it’s just not as desperate, not as explosive.

Our lips meet occasionally as our bodies rock together, moving rhythmically like the tide. Every other beat, I catch a kiss and, on the off-beat, I catch my breath.

The heat in my eyes alerts me that I’m on the verge of tears and I tighten my hold around Oz. My heart beats wildly even though we’re still taking it pretty slow.

The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them but, even after I say them, I can’t bring myself to regret them. “I love you.”

Oz captures me in a fierce kiss, pushing himself all the way into my body and holding me there for a moment. That fullness breaks the dam and I feel a tear roll down my face and into my hairline. A soft smack sounds when Oz pulls back from my lips and he rests his forehead against mine, staring straight through my eyes and into my soul.

“I love you too.”

I moan without restraint when he moves his hips again. My hands clasp together around his back and I stretch my legs out to their limits as Oz quickens his thrusts, taking us both to the end in a matter of minutes. His confession still wracks my body with a matching intensity as my orgasm.

We keep holding each other and Oz stays inside of me as we catch our breaths. Everything feels still—peaceful—and I forget we’re living in a simulation with no plausible way out. I’m happy to just exist in this moment.

I think we’re both ready to go back to sleep like this and I have no intention or will to let Oz go any time soon. It’s still early anyway, I argue with myself. We can afford to laze around a little.

But I don’t get to make that choice.

The doorbell rings and sends us both to our feet in an instant. My heart nearly bursts out of my chest but I still manage to throw on some clothes on my way to the door.

There are only a couple of people it can be and I’m not sure I’m ready to see any of them. Oz certainly isn’t and the two of us have a lot of explaining to do depending on who is on the other side.

The bell rings again so I call out, “Coming!” as I struggle to button my pants.

Oz hangs back (probably worried that it’s Kade) and I approach the door alone. Before opening it, I check the peephole.

It’s not Kade but Bree.

I unlock the door and open it in a flurry. Is she finally ready to tell me what she knows? Oz and I could definitely use the input.

I ready myself to ask but she beats me to the punch. “Kade needs your help,” she blurts out and her expression tells me it’s serious.

“What?” I ask on reflex.

A crease forms on Bree’s forehead and her body tenses. “We need to go. Now.”

[glowingbadger]

So many thanks to my lovely followers who helped me come up with this concept! Arranged marriage has been the vibe with some of y'all lately and I am here for it.

Dimitri x Reader arranged marriage

AFAB reader ('wife', but no pronouns)

NSFW 18+

You lie in bed beside your husband- your Lord Husband, you should say -and there seems to be no cure for the anxious restlessness that's made a home in your heart. It had been like that since the moment you'd learned you had been betrothed to the infamous Boar King. A man of legendary strength and rumored temper. A one-eyed titan who had struck down countless foes with untold brutality. Yes, he and his allies had unified the continent. But great deeds can certainly be done at the hands of monsters.

He'd hardly touched you. Hardly looked at you, at first. You believed he must be disgusted by you, by this whole arrangement. But the need for an heir would be of even greater importance in the wake of the recent war, and so the most suitable arrangement (which turned out to be you) had been hastily made the moment the treatise had been signed. And so you'd come to live with the Boar King, and even to share his bed- though not yet in the fullest sense. It had taken a week for him to meet your gaze directly. When that bright blue star leveled on you, you expected to feel aggression, the rage that common folk told tall tales of in taverns. Instead, you felt hesitation. Sadness. Remorse. And a whole host of other things you didn't have names for yet.

By week three, he had tentatively taken your hand to help you off of horseback. That was the first time he ever touched you. You remember that he held you like fine parchment a little too close to a flame. After that, things had come a little more easily. You shared meals, and even a few polite words and the occasional briefest physical contact. He asked about your comfort in the castle. He assured you that anything you should need could be called for. Now, lying next to him in your bed- the bed you would share for the rest of your life -there's a geometrically perfect space between you two. A gap, seemingly exactly calculated to ensure that your bodies were unlikely to meet in the night.

"Ngh..." He groans, his body twitches and tenses. You've learned that the King suffers from nightmares, though of course you haven't let on that you've noticed. Tonight seems to be worse than the others.

"No..." he growls through grinding teeth, "Stay away... go... no-!" his fists grip the sheets so tightly you worry for the fabric. Then, you're not sure what madness prompts it, but you move closer to him. Just a little at first. Inching towards him as though approaching a frightened animal.

"My Lord..." you whisper, and your fingers just briefly graze his arm. He's warm, his body is firm and strong. You'd never allowed yourself to really look at him in his nightclothes before, but the relaxed collar of his shirt reveals defined collarbones and fair skin, but also a cross-hatched web of old scars. Some part of you had known all along, but for the first time, you truly, fully realize that he's actually strikingly handsome.

You lean over him a bit further. His head turns toward you, but he's still in the throes of his nightmares. Panting breaths cause his chest to rapidly rise and fall beneath you, and you can't help but feel the ache of sympathy in your heart. Gently, carefully, you bring a hand to his face. You can feel how tightly his jaw is clenched.

"Your Highness," you speak louder this time. His eye bolts open. His hand seizes you by the wrist hard- too hard. It hurts, and you flinch, but keep your voice down. For a moment, you fear the inevitable retribution that will surely follow. But then, he exhales, and he releases your hand.

"I- I'm sorry- I didn't realize-" he stutters out, and in this moment, he looks softer and sweeter than you've ever seen.

"You were, uhm... having a nightmare, My Lord."

He nods at you, then sighs deeply. You're at a loss for what to do. Shouldn't the King's wife comfort him in such a situation? Would he even accept any comfort you might offer?

That shock blue eye meets you, and you can tell he wants to say something. All he manages is,

"Why do you call me that?"

"I... I'm sorry?"

"'My Lord', 'Your Highness.'" it's too dark to tell for certain, but you almost think that you see a pink flush across his face.

"You're my King." you say meekly.

"I am your husband." he replies, and his eye narrows. It's not quite scolding, but there's definitely frustration there. Truly, it's impossible to tell exactly what he means by saying it, but you can't help the warmth building inside of you. He raises a hand to your cheek, and you're not afraid, though your heart races much the same. His hands are large and calloused, the hands of a man who has created miracles and atrocities, and now it's gingerly brushing your hair from your face. You move closer to him on instinct, and you notice with some relief that he doesn't shy away- not this time. Then, you open your mouth to speak, and nothing comes out at first. You sigh, and try again,

"My- My Lord Husband, you should sleep. I didn't intend to bother you, only to make sure that you were-"

He sighs once more, and his eye closes.

"Sleep will not come, I already know. Not on a night like this."

You certainly don't know what to say to that. Anything you can think of would be meaningless platitudes and hollow assurances. You don't know the man well enough to know his demons, but you're certain there are plenty. The two of you are quiet for a time, and though his breathing has steadied, he shows no signs of regaining sleep any time soon.

And so you do the only thing you can think of to do for him.

You lean forward and press your lips to his. He breathes in sharply, and you feel his frame tense beneath you- but he doesn't pull away. Your hands cradle his face as you place gentle and tentative kisses to his lips, which are far softer than you'd dared to imagine. And as you carefully move atop him to straddle his hips, you feel his hand tightly grip your thigh.

"What are you-?!"

"I thought that I would... perform my wifely duties to you, My Lord Husband. If you'll have me." you add, a slight tremor sneaking into your voice.

His pupil is wide and this time, you're certain that you can see a charming crimson flush across his cheeks. He speaks your name almost incredulously, though his hand hasn't left your body.

"You- you are under no obligation-" he stammers, and when you try to assure him, he presses on, "you're a prisoner to this marriage, don't you understand? I have no right to ask anything of you- much less that you give your body over to me!"

He seems to have completely forgotten that the entire point of this union was to produce an heir.

"I certainly wouldn't force myself on His Highness if I'm not pleasing to you..."

"That is absolutely not what I mean to imply," he says, almost laughing as he scoffs away the very idea, "I desire you as much as any sane person would, of course, but to think that you would be made to do such a thing merely to placate me-"

"I want this." you say, surprising even yourself with the strength of your words. You sound even more confident than you feel. But every word the King says to you peels away at the wall of anger and fear that you both had been content to keep between you until now, and you feel strongly about your decision. Still, he pauses a moment longer, as if waiting for you to back away from your claim. And when you don't, he draws you down to him and kisses you deeply. You can already feel his manhood rising between your thighs, but soon enough it's just one more piece of information amidst a whirlwind of sensations.

His strong arms wrap around you and his kiss travels down your neck to your chest. He fumbles awkwardly with the front of your nightshirt, so you remove it for him and he wordlessly returns to sucking gentle love-bites to your skin. Shy and curious moans and sighs surround you both in the dark of your bedchambers as you eagerly explore each other. His hands are rough, but he's trying so dearly to be delicate with you. You're more direct, your fingers tangled in golden hair and your body flush to his, creating an intoxicating friction between you.

Your lower body shifts more firmly against him, grinding his now quite stiff member between your thighs. He growls against your skin, and you feel his fingers drag down your back.

"I... ought to do more for you..."

Ostensibly, he means in terms of intimacy, but you have a strange feeling that he intends this to be a more general statement. You rest your forehead to his and murmur,

"I want you, My King."

"Dimitri." he says as his hands trail down to help remove your underclothes, "Just Dimitri, I beg of you."

And soon enough, he's pressed hot at your slick entrance, and you cling to him as he begins to push inside. He's thick- it hurts just a little, and you think for a moment that he was probably right that you both should have done more to prepare. But now he's filling you inch by inch, stretching you out around his cock, and your mind is numb to every thought except one- this is my husband, my lover.

"Dimitri..." You moan into the evening air around you as he bottoms out deep within you and the tinge of pain begins to fade into pleasure. He gives no reply other than the potent throbbing of his cock, rubbing against your inner walls as you both begin to move. You're surprised by how easy it is to fall into a natural rhythm with him. Your hips sink down onto him as he thrusts up towards you, and each pass sends a jolt up your spine. Dimitri buries his face in the crook of your neck, panting softly, holding onto your hips as you squeeze tightly around him.

Your nails dig along his muscled shoulders as you feel your climax winding tight at your core. He doesn't seem to mind- you're not sure if he even notices. His pace picks up. Briefly, his hands ease their hold on you, as though offering a means of escape. You have no need for such a thing. With a whimpering moan, you press yourself as far down onto his cock as you can until his tip hits your core, then sway forward, grinding his length into you until, with a gasp of his name, your body slacks into his arms.

He whispers your name in turn with something like awe in his voice. With his cock now coated in your climax, Dimitri loosens his restraint, and begins fucking into you in earnest. While your thighs tremble and you can hardly keep yourself supported above him, you manage to meet his gaze and smile warmly, then press a tender kiss to his parted lips. He grits his teeth, and he holds you to him with such strength that you no longer even need to support yourself. Then, he swells, twitches, and his pleasure is spilling out deep inside of you, filling you and warming you through.

You moan happily as you feel his release, then relax your body to lay comfortably against his sturdy frame. He's panting harshly still, but neither of you rush to separate from one another. Once he's just barely composed himself, he lifts your chin and kisses you with a sweetness that you never thought you'd find in a man, let alone the Boar King himself.

Though, once you've eased his spent manhood from you and laid your head against his chest, you hear his heart beating, still just a bit too fast and fluttery. You think for a moment that, yes, your husband is the legendary, ruthless Boar King. Your husband is also Dimitri, a man who looks at you with sincerity that makes your heart ache. A man you don't know well- not yet -but who you find yourself opening to more and more each day.

"I... don't wish to keep you awake terribly long..." he says, with a stilted nervousness to his voice, "but, if you're not overly tired, I- I'd like to... talk for a little while."

You smile a warm, but private smile, then say,

"I'd like that very much, Dimitri."

[mmvalentine]

You're Home | Jurdan

Canon divergent. Scene lift from TWK. The smut I wanted but was not given...

I slip into Cardan's room. Though it is not yet dawn, I am lucky. The room is empty of revelry. No courtiers doze on the cushions or in his bed. I walk to where he sleeps and press my hand over his mouth.

He wakes, fighting against my grip. I press down hard enough that I can feel his teeth against my skin. He grabs for my throat, and for a moment, I'm scared that I'm not strong enough, that my training isn't good enough. Then his body relaxes utterly, as though realising who I am.

He shouldn't relax like that. "He sent me to kill you," I whisper against his ear.

A shiver goes through his body, and his hand goes to my waist, but instead of pushing me away, he pulls me into the bed with him, rolling my body across him onto the heavily embroidered coverlets.

My hand slips from his mouth, and I am unnerved to find myself here, in the new High King's new bed- one I am still too human to lie in, beside someone who terrifies me the more I feel for him.

"Balekin and Orlagh are planning your murder," I say, flustered.

"Yes," he says lazily. "So why did I wake up at all?"

I am awkwardly conscious of his physicality, of the moment when he was half awake and pulled me against him. "Because I am difficult to charm," I say.

That makes him give a soft laugh. He reaches out and touches my hair, traces the hollow of my cheekbone. "I could have told my brother that," he says, with a softness in his voice that I am utterly unprepared for. "Where have you been?" he asks me. I don't know how to answer.

"Madoc says you've been ill," Cardan goes on, when I say nothing. His fingers still move lightly over my face. "Must you take your convalescence so far from me?"

"I must," I say stiffly, "since you've allowed Madoc to bar me from seeing you. I have information that cannot wait."

Cardan shakes his head. "I know not of what you speak. Madoc told me you were resting and that we should let you heal."

I frown. "I see. And in the interim, Madoc would no doubt take my place as your advisor," I tell Cardan. "He gave your guards orders to keep me out of the palace."

"I will give them different orders," Cardan says.

"See that you do," I say. "Now, I need to tell you about the plans from the Undersea."

But Cardan just tugs me closer, moves the cover over me so I am under it with him. "I don't care," he says.

"You need to care," I tell him. "Your life is in danger, and we need to make a plan."

"Later," Cardan says. "We have all the time in the world for planning. There's only one thing I've learned tonight that has been worthy of note."

"And, what, pray tell, is that?" I ask him impatiently. I am all too aware that the warmth now enveloping me is Cardan's own body heat, that I'm here in the cocoon of his sleep and his breath. That he is completely naked beneath the sheets, and is not at all shy about it.

"You're home," he says simply. "You're home and that's all that matters." And then he draws me into his arms, and just holds me to him, and I am so surprised that I don't move at all for a moment.

And then my arms are moving, quite without me telling them to, to wrap around his shoulders and to hug him back. His hands stroke at my back and my fingers curl in the hair at the back of his neck. He tangles his legs in mine.

I've been so focused on plotting and scheming and keeping ahead of the enemy, that it only now occurs to me what a relief it is to actually be here, with Cardan, in the silent hours of the early morning.

My arms tighten around his neck and before I know it I'm clinging onto him for dear life, and the horror of the days and weeks I spent under water figuring out how I was going to get back to him, if I was ever going to get back to him starts streaming in from whatever small corner of my mind I had crammed it into. I start shaking in Cardan's arms, and he just smooths circles between my shoulder blades and says "Shhh, you're home now." And that gentleness just freaks me out more, and it is minutes before I can relax.

When I am finally still again, Cardan pulls back just enough to study my face.

"What's this?" he asks gently, and wipes his thumbs across my face. They come away wet, and I realise I've been crying. I'm mortified, and I start to pull away from him, but Cardan put his hands on my face and stops me.

"I'm so sorry I let you get taken," he whispers. "I'm sorry I did not keep you safe." He leans forward and kisses the tears from my face. "And I've been wanting to tell you for so long now that I'm sorry I've always been unkind to you. I realised, when you were gone, truly gone beneath the waves and I hated myself as I never have before, that I've never apologised to you for that. For any of it."

He is so unlike himself in this moment that I cannot help but look for the trick in his words. I am aware that I am just gaping at him like an idiot, but I can't for the life of me conjure coherent words to say. Cardan laughs, his bed-warmed hand going to my shoulder.

"Either I've surprised you or you are as ill as Madoc claimed. Perhaps I am foolish, but I am not a fool. You like something about me," he says, mischief lighting his face, making its planes more familiar. "The challenge? My pretty eyes? No matter, because there is more you do not like and I know it."

And although this Cardan is the Cardan I know, I feel sorry to break the moment. So I shoot back at him, "Not your eyes. It's your lips. You have a cruel but lovely mouth. That's the reason I like you."

Cardan's eyes light. "So you admit you do like me," he says. His hand strokes down my side now. "If only for my beautiful features. I suppose I cannot blame you, for I am a sight to behold."

I go to smack his arm then, but he catches my hand and links his fingers through mine.

"Still," he murmurs, face only inches from mine. "Whatever you like me for. I'll take it. And if it's my lips you like, you can have them."

And then he leans in and presses his mouth to mine.

Desire floods instantly through me, and I am shocked by the strength of it. My lips part for him, and his tongue is hot and lush against mine. And as we kiss I realise that I've missed him, so much, and his kisses are like the piles of food I devoured after starving so long.

Cardan's hands slide beneath my shirt- his own doublet, it occurs to me, stolen only hours ago from his old bedroom. They find the shape of me, and tell my skin secret things that only our bodies know. Soon I'm sliding out of the jacket, and he's tugging off my hose, and although I am very warm in Cardan's bed, I shiver under his fingers.

Yet my skin knows his touch. I am still inexperienced, but we've been here before and this time, my body knows where to expect him. Arches up to meet him as he gets there. This time, my hands know better what to do.

This time, it is both of us breathing raggedly as we spin closer and closer together.

Kissing Cardan has always felt vaguely horrifying but he's right. I just don't care anymore. I'm home, and he's here, and all that's in my mind is chasing the pleasure that he's trailing along my lips, down my throat, across my belly, and between my legs. It's a molten heat that travels wherever Cardan's silvery skin touches mine.

And now his tongue is moving under my ear as he rolls to cage me in his long limbs. His lips descend down my sternum and his teeth catch under my navel. He kisses across my hips and I think I might die from the pleasure. I reach forward and run my hands through the curls of his hair, and he makes a pleased murmuring sounds that vibrates across my skin. I'm so comfortable here that I'm utterly unprepared when he dips his head and licks his tongue between my thighs.

My hips buck off the bed and stars burst before my eyes. I gasp, and see nothing, and my fingers tighten involuntarily against Cardan's scalp. He repeats the motion, over and over and I'm too overwhelmed to be self-conscious about the moans that he's pulling from my lips. Then he slides his fingers into me and I'm dead. I'm sure I'm dead because the world has ceased to exist and I float in boundless rapture. I couldn't say how long for.

Cardan moves back up my body like a wave of heat. He settles over me and his naked cock presses against me where his tongue was moments ago, and I still can't move.

"Jude," he whispers. I don't recognise my name. "Jude." He kisses my lips and still I float. "Are you alright?" I manage to nod. Cardan slides himself against me, wet from his mouth, and asks, "Do you want me to keep going?"

It's enough to bring me back, to meet his eyes as I nod again, and now he's nudging at my entrance. My legs slide up and curl around his hips. His tail coils around my lower leg, and my hands tangle in his hair once more. I can't stop touching it, it's soft like nothing else.

And then he's sliding inside me, incredibly slowly, and the world drops away once more.

In this moment, there's only me and Cardan and the sweetest ache between us, and he's whispering my name like a mantra. "Jude," he says, letting his head drop on my shoulder. "Jude," and this time it's a moan as his fingers interlace with mine and hold them against the mattress. "Jude, Jude, Jude, Jude, Jude..."

After that I stop hearing him, because blood is rushing in my ears as his hips start to speed up, and although I feel full to breaking with him inside me, I find all I want is more and more and more.

In that moment I wonder briefly if lust and power and love and hate might all be the same thing after all.

Cardan pulls out of me, and for a second I'm empty and dismayed. Then he's rolling me onto my side, curving his body around mine and pulling my hips back toward him. All I want is to have him back inside me, and I am gratified a second later when he pushes into me from behind.

Cardan has his mouth on my neck, and his hand is pulling my top leg over his hip so he can reach my clit with his fingers. Before I know it, I'm coming undone there in the High King's bed, my fingers grabbing at nothing.

I start to scream and Cardan leans up to cover my mouth with his, kissing me over and over until he, too, is shaking and coming and gripping my hip so hard I'm sure the marks of his fingers will be there for days to come.

We lie there, curled together in the dark and for the first time I'm not at all angry at the command he has over my body.

In fact I'm not angry at anything, and I don't know when else that has ever been true. I just have this bone-deep calm, and it's never, ever been like this with Cardan. It would scare me, if I wasn't so damn calm.

Cardan wipes my legs down and then kisses the back of my neck, and seems to settle back to sleep with ease.

I lie awake for a little longer, wondering what Cardan will be like in the morning, and how we will scheme ourselves out of the Undersea danger.

But Cardan is so warm around me that I do not scheme for long.

****

Soft jurdan, for once in their lives 🥺🥺🥺 My babies.

@asteria-of-mars and @swankii-art-teacher!

JURDAN MASTERLIST

[ordinaryschmuck]

What I Thought About "Through The Looking Glass Ruins" from The Owl House

Salutations, random people on the internet who most certainly won’t read this! I am an Ordinary Schmuck! I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons!

When Disney announced episode titles/synopsis for the new season (On a day that left my head SPINNING!), there was one episode that I knew deep down that would cause controversy and discourse amongst the fandom. And that episode was "Through the Looking Glass Ruins." Not because it would be bad, far from it. Instead, because the episode was a Gus episode with a Lumity subplot, that meant that discourse would start as fans decide which story they prefer more. A situation that, might I add, would result in no winners.

Do you prefer the Lumity plotline? Well, guess what! You're a racist who chose to talk about an overrated ship rather than a heavily underrated character who just so happens to be a person of color.

Do you prefer Gus' plotline? Well, guess what! You're a homophobe who decided to shine a light on a character who's underrated for a reason instead of praising a ship that just so happens to involve two girls.

Either side you pick is going to result in making people mad. The only way to avoid that is by explaining in heavy detail that you still enjoyed one side despite preferring the other. Even if you loved both, you'll most certainly have to explain to everyone that you mean it and that you're neither racist nor homophobic. And all I have to say is this: F that.

F that S in the A right now.

Because I, or anybody else for that matter, shouldn't have to explain myself when it comes to saying why I prefer one plot line or the other. I shouldn't have to prevent getting ripped apart by some bulls**t, black and white mentality of people who can't accept that others like a show for different reasons than they do.

You wanna know what I think about "Through the Looking Glass Ruins?" Well, continue reading to find out. You'll have to make your way through spoilers, but it's the only way for you to learn why I consider this episode not worth any discourse that I'm already certain is cropping up.

Now, let's review, shall we?

WHAT I LIKED

The Opening Scene: I'm kind of digging how snappy and to the point these opening scenes are getting. In the span of what has to be less than a minute, we're given all the information we need to know: Gus is insecure about his illusion magic because he accidentally got Willow injured. It's a great way of setting up why Gus wants to prove himself to the Glandus students and a great way of showing how much Willow's friendship means to him. Look at how he's reacting a few days after the incident. He's still mopey and guilty about it, and I feel bad for the little guy.

Gus in General: And while we're already talking about him, let's give this episode a round of applause for giving Gus the spotlight without having him screw over his friends...except for Willow.

"Through the Looking Glass Ruins" really fleshes Gus out much more so than past episodes. As I said, it plays heavily into his own insecurities while proving how he's capable as an illusionist. He's also the best possible outlet to explore more about what illusionist magic can really do. It can't hurt anybody or work well in a fight. Instead, its strengths lie in the act of convincingly tricking others into thinking that something that should be fake is actually real. And Gus got to prove he really is a super witch because of his illusions through a jaw-dropping scene that's as dark as it was enthralling. The fact that he did it all by himself, without the help of an illusion elder who was right there, is honestly even more impressive. A lot of people aren't that interested in Gus as a character, but I feel like, after this episode, he certainly won a few more fans over.

Willow Getting Injured and Missing the Episode: This is a smart move, in my opinion. Willow acts as the voice of reason in the friend group, so if she tagged along with Luz and Gus right away, she would have easily talked Gus out of joining the Glandus kids on a dangerous quest. I love Willow, she's a solid character, but writing her out is really the only way the plot could have progressed.

(I also love that she wasn't mad in the slightest over Gus getting her hurt. She has every right to be, but she also understands that it was an accident, and Gus wouldn't do anything to purposefully hurt her. And that's sweet!)

King’s Prerecorded Message for Gus: That's just adorable. We need more cute friendship moments between these two, DAMN IT!

Gus Being Sick of Luz’s S**t: Of all the characters I expected to get sick of the whole Lumity situation, Gus wasn't really one of them. I'd always thought it'd be Willow, primarily because the rest of the fandom latched onto that idea, but for Gus, I'd figured he'd be more supportive rather than annoyed. That being said, seeing him call Luz out for borrowing his library card to see Amity (Not ask her out. Just to see her) is not only a hilarious moment for Gus but also an adorable moment for Luz. It's something I would never have seen coming, but now that I have it, I want more. GIVE ME MORE!

(Sorry if I'm being a little intense)

Luz Trying to Cheer Up Gus: It's moments like this that prove why Luz is my favorite character.

Willow might have the most common sense out of the group, but it's Luz who still has the biggest heart. She knows her friend is down in the dumps, so Luz pulls out all the stops in cheering him up. Whether it's researching the first-ever human (really surprised he wasn't the tiniest bit excited about that, by the way) and lending him glyphs for his mission to help show up Mattholomule. She may be slow in the romantic relationship department, but episodes like this prove that she excels with a platonic friendship.

Bria: I consider Amar adorably optimistic, and I have no strong feelings for Gavin, one or the other. But with Bria? Holy hell, did the writers do everything they should with her!

At first, it seems like she'll be a generic nice girl for Gus to have a crush on. Only for that writing to be a perfect twist into how she's kind of the worst. You see hints of her true personality in the overly sweet way she threatens to force Amar to eat a bug he gets distracted by. A viewer's initial reaction to that would be to think that while she's sweet, she still means business. But no, it's actually a perfect way to reveal her true intentions while hiding them at the same time. Bria may be rotten to the core, but with how perfectly executed this twist was, I can't help but adore her contribution.

Mattholomule: ...I would sooner expect to have gone insane before believing that this little s**t weasel would make his way onto my good side. Despite that, here we are in episode five of the new season, and I like Mattholomule now.

The reveal that Glandus High forces students to believe that the strong survive and the weak are inferior explains so much for Mattholomule's thirst for power in "Something Ventured, Someone Framed." It doesn't excuse his actions, not by a long shot, but it definitely paints a clearer picture. It also explains his treatment of Gus, as well as Mattholomule's reasoning to help him. Because of Glandus High inserting a "the strong survive" mentality into Mattholomule, he belittles Gus due to thinking that illusion magic makes Gus weak. But after seeing how they're both stooges to Bria's mistreatment, he's quick to apologize and willingly helps Gus out. In the process, the two of them create a believable and cute friendship...a friendship that is absolutely going to be interpreted as something else by the fandom...which is something that I'm more than supportive of--HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?! I WENT FROM ONE OF THE BIGGEST GUSTOLOMULE DENIERS TO ONE OF ITS SUPPORTERS IN LESS THAN A DAY! HOW DO THESE WRITERS MANAGE TO TAKE ELEMENTS THAT WERE ONCE ON MY S**T LIST TO THEN MAKING ME MORE THAN OK WITH THEM!

IT'S INSANE!

Mostly impressive.

BUT ALSO INSANE!

Edric and Emira: More so than ever, I am so happy that the writers took their course correction with Edric and Emira. These two work so much better as supporting characters rather than minor antagonists like several fans thought they would be after their treatment of Amity in "Lost in Language." They're quick to pick up on Luz and Amity's mutual affections for one another and do their part to help their friend and baby sister out. It's wholesome to watch, and, you know what, I'm gonna go ahead and say it: Edric and Emira Blight are much better mischievous twin characters than Fred and George Weasley. As much as I adore Fred and George, there is an issue how they're always referred to as Fred and George, not Fred or George. It's because their personalities are as identical as they are, so separating them is pointless. With Edric and Emira, they have enough individuality that you could enjoy them separately as much as you could seeing them together. Emira is more emotionally supportive in how she listens to Amity vent her frustrations about her feelings, while Edric is more of a doofus who can't take a hint to save his life. It creates a great set of characters who can potentially work well on their own. I hope they get explored more at some point, but for now, I'm happy with the cute moments these two offered already.

Lumity Moments: BUUUUUUUUUUUUT, nothing compares to the cuteness of these two.

I don't care if I'll be called a racist for it because these! Moments! These moments are the highlights of "Through the Looking Glass Ruins" for me! Seeing these two interact in this episode, now that the pining is mutual, was everything I could have ever hoped for, and so much more. Seriously, how can you complain about anything about all of this when you get cute bits like:

Luz getting flustered of seeing Amity with her hair down

Amity risking her job to help Luz

Amity being motivated to find the diary due to the possibility of a date with Luz in the human realm

Luz going through hell and back to get Amity her job back

All of the blushing

And that F**KING KISS AT THE END HOLY SH--Don't you dare think I'm not going to further discuss that. DON'T YOU DARE!

Gus' story was entertaining with how it surprised me in all the right ways, don't get me wrong. But seeing Luz and Amity's relationship develop more and more always fills my heart with glee that, believe it or not, I'm always going to remember it more. I love you, Gus, but I love Lumity more.

Philip Whittabeen: So we finally have a name to the alleged human who was here years ago, and we get properly introduced to him through a really visually appealing animation change. I'm personally curious to see where the writers go with him, but it's too early to say if his inclusion will be worth something. But I will say one thing, though. One thing, and then I'm going to move on.

Here it is:

Philip sounds eerily similar to Emperor Belos to me.

That is all I'm going to say about that.

Luz’s Sentences in Spanish: I want to give a personal shout-out to mi buen amigo @l-egionaire for pointing this out because there are some things to analyze in what Luz says in Spanish in this episode. Knowing what she means, it's clear that they are ideals that Camila instilled into Luz. Ideals that possibly show a lot about Camila's personality on top of revealing where Luz got her hopeful optimism and sense of determination. It's the second sentence that Luz says later on that I really want to delve deep into:

"Nada funcionará a menos que lo haga funcionar."

Translated, that means "Nothing will work unless you make it work." Again, this proves the dedication that Luz has filled into her soul, but to me, it says a lot about Luz's dedication to Amity. She wants to make this relationship work but fully understands that it won't unless she puts in the effort. It's a sweet sentiment that says so much about how Luz feels about Amity that some fans might not be able to pick up on if they don't speak Spanish. Or, in my case, have a good friend who finds the translation for you (thanks again @l-egionaire).

The Galderstones: Pretty interesting concept, I'm not going to lie. It's also interesting that of all the types of witches in the Boiling Isles, it was illusionists who were the ones that guard over the Galderstones. Because illusion magic can't really harm anyone, it makes a weird type of sense that they would be the ones to keep the Galderstones out of the wrong hands. And, even better, it showcases Gus' strength as an illusionist when he was able to take down Bria, who was hopped up on Galderstone power, through that same "harmless" magic. It just goes to show that if you have a big enough brain, you don't need to overpower somebody. You need to outthink them.

Malphus Being a Surprisingly Cool Dude: What can I say? I'm a sucker for expectation subversion.

Luz and Amity Crying: First of all, a HUGE round of applause to VAs Sarah-Nicole Robles and Mae Whitman through their vocal performances in this scene! They really sold how upset and broken apart Luz and Amity were due to their feelings for each other messing things up. More so with Sarah-Nicole.

Second, this might be the closest these two have gotten to a confession so far ("so far" being the keyword). I specifically latch onto Amity's expression after hearing Luz agree that she's always weird around Amity. In one way, it looks like Amity is surprised to see she made Luz cry, but in another, it could be that she realizes that perhaps that Luz has feelings for her as well. Or, at least, that's how I interpreted things. The thing about art is that there's no one interpretation to agree on. And that's what this scene is: Art. It's performed, written, and animated well, that no matter how you look at it, it's a masterpiece.

“I’ll call the hounds”: One line. One line was all it took for me to love the Keeper of the Looking Glass Graveyard.

Amity Dyes her Hair: I always assumed that Amity would let her original hair color grow out as defiance to Odalia. But dying it lavender? Thus crafting her own identity without having her be compared to either Odalia or Alador?

...yeah, that's brilliant. Whoever thought of that, you are a genius and deserve all of the credit that comes from it.

ALL of the credit.

Amity Kisses Luz on the Cheek!: I'll save my "Wha-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo" for an actual kiss, but for now, THIS IS AWESOME!

This moment, much like other Lumity moments, was everything I could have ever expected and so much more:

Amity's instant panic after realizing she seriously just did that

Ed and Em looking fondly at their sister taking such a big step

The look on Luz's face, which may or may not hint that she realizes that the feelings are more than mutual

And the fact that Luz's legs give out soon after Amity leaves

It was adorable as all forms of hell, and it was a perfect way to end such a perfect episode...or, at least, an almost perfect episode. I do have some issues.

WHAT I DISLIKED

Mattholomule Helping Gus too Easily: The Glandus kids were right there, in-ear and eye-shot, yet did nothing as Mattholomule effortlessly helped Gus and the Keeper escape...how?

Gavin falling for Gus’ Illusion: I want to laugh at how stupidly easy that was...but it's too stupidly easy for me to forgive.

And that’s about it. Just two nitpicks that don’t really take away that much enjoyment from the episode

IN CONCLUSION

"Through the Looking Glass Ruins" keeps Season Two's winning streak going by being another solid A. It fleshes out characters, develops cute relationships, and keeps the story going despite being so character-driven. It's easily more than worth the time...but it's not worth any discourse that comes from some fans preferring one plot over the other.

I highly doubt that some people are racist for loving the Lumity plotline or homophobic for loving Gus'. Maybe some people are, but also consider that maybe, just maybe, a person loves a ship because it's their favorite, or a person likes a character cause he's their favorite.

Which.

Is.

Fine.

There's no definitive way to like a series, and demanding that people like it for the same reasons you do is not worth anything. Because, believe it or not, even Dana Terrace doesn't care how people love her show. In the AMA she did, when a fan asked if she's upset about fans obsessing over Amity's crush on Luz, this is her word for word reaction:

"Not at all! No, the main focus of the series will never be on any romantic thread but that doesn't mean those threads aren't important. And I'm thrilled that people connect to our characters!"

THERE YOU HAVE IT! The creator herself fully admits that she doesn't care what fans latch onto. She's just glad to have people who like the show in the first place! So don't create discourse just because some people enjoy a part of an episode more than others. The second you get that through your heads, the sooner we can all move on with our lives.

(Also, that's five episodes in a row that are hits. And, man, is that stinker going to hit harder because of it.)

[bluebellhairpin]

No More

Fantasy AU!Levi Ackerman X Fem!Reader

Part One - No Feelin’ - Part Three - No Regrets 

A/N: SO I wrote a piece for a Discord Event and ummm I wrote a part two? instead of anything else I have backed up? In my drafts? And ask box? Oopsie? - Nemo

Summary: A year past, and word from you has been scarce to none. After leaving Levi high and dry last time, he’d been preparing for your return ever since. What he didn’t expect was to see you so suddenly - sitting atop the throne he was supposed to protect. 

Warnings: Violence. Language. Character Death. Blood (I feel I should emphasise this one, it’s... gorey. For me). Mentions of rape. Slight Misogyny. More of my bad poetry. MC says Zeke has a small pp. 

Listening to: ‘MORE’ by K/DA (slowed) - ‘When I go it’s for gold yeah, they cool but I’m cold. I don’t fit in the mold, I’m a rebel.’ 

Series Masterlist

Masterlist 

There was something about the eerie silence that followed your first ‘visit’ that set Levi on edge. 

He remembered how quiet you were as his subordinate. How you stood back and watched when you could, but managed to surprise everyone when you had to get in and get dirty like all those others training to be a knight. He wondered what he could’ve done to change things, to have stopped you from becoming that monster he fought in the throne room. 

He knew there was nothing he could do about that now, but something about those last words you spoke to him - ‘find your advantage’ - they just stuck with him. 

He knew the sword he was given was special. That it had abilities that no human blacksmith could’ve given it. It gave him strength. Immunity. It could heal, rebuild, and it gave him the ability to endure. Yours was not like that.

The people the King put in charge of studying it said it was destructive. That everyone who tried to wield it in the past had suffered nothing but pain, and in trying to control the power it held they’d only succeeded in killing themselves. 

Levi knew that you were not like them. Not before. Not a year ago. He knew, not now either. 

“You’re very diligent in welcoming me back, Little Captain.” 

And how he hated it. 

He was left frozen in shock, watching you as you sat atop the throne - legs crossed, the fingers of one hand tangled in the hair of the old king’s body-less head, while the other held that damn sword. The crimson of his blood matched your tainted skin, dribbling down your arms to match your bright veins, and the color of your dreaded blade. 

It was like the color of corruption was red, and you were so soaked in it that it stained the floor. With that thought he could almost fool himself into thinking it wasn’t the king’s blood at all.

Except for the stench of it. It was like he was punched in the face with the reek.  

“Oh don’t look so surprised,” you said, tutting at him and waving the kings head in his direction, “I thought you would’ve been preparing for my return.” 

“You weren’t supposed to come back.” 

“Oh, but the king was sitting so nicely on his throne just then, I had to.” You said, letting the head drop to the floor. It rolled down the stairs, meeting it’s limp and pale counterpart. “Can you just imagine my joy when he was here to welcome me with a pretty little concubine between his legs. I couldn’t help myself!” 

“You’re insane!” he said, taking his sword in his hand and rushing up the stairs to be met with the tip of your sword at his throat.

“Ah ah,” you said, “You pledged your life to the crown, to serve and protect. I killed the old king, now the crown is mine.” 

He grit his teeth, cursing himself for not noticing. For not being fast enough. Then, and now. 

“Bow. To your new Queen.”

Levi would never admit how easily he obeyed you.

Despite knowing he had the power to over-power you, he didn’t dare use it. 

The old King - Fritz - had not been laid to rest. As far as he knew you had him turned to garden mulch. Him and anyone who decided you weren’t fit to wear the crown. 

He had to say, the rebellion that broke out once your position was made public - from those that wanted you gone, and those who thought that meant they could break the law because you did - was silenced much quicker than he’d seen a rebellion be silenced in his whole life. 

You slaughtered those who stood at the castles gate, pushing those who wanted you gone with a heel to the back of their heads. They who rebelled against you had a choice - die like those who banged on the drawbridge, and have their blood and innards join the muck in the moat, or submit like the knights. 

Then you took to the streets and made those who deserved it pay back what they had taken. If they stole from a market stall, they returned with interest. If they decided to rape, their manhood was taken. If they decided to kill, they paid with their own lives in turn. 

So despite your aloof yet demanding nature, your lack of empathy, and love of - putting it lightly - a hunt, you made peace reign over the kingdom. That was something all the knights could admit.

“She’s kinda hot though.” His eyes snapped over to a newer knight, Flotch, who was muttering to Jean, who was in turn doing a very good job of ignoring him. “You know, if you take away the creepy eyes, and those nasty veins on her arms. I’d tap that.” 

He had to resist from groaning. Of course there’d be people lewding their new ruler - a murderous one no less - and one of such people had to be one of his subordinates. 

“Seriously though, look -”

“- Watch your tongue, young one.” A voice said, and Levi did a doubletake to find you behind Flotch with a clawed hand around his throat. “Diminish me to a piece of flesh like that again and I’ll brand your forehead with a big fat ‘M’.”

“W-what’s that supposed to mean?” he slurred, his own grip now ghosting over yours.

“‘Misogynist’.” you hissed, tightening your grip on his throat before withdrawing, leaving dripping red marks behind. He stood still for a few short moments, then doubled-over, clutching his neck and letting out garbled noises of pain. 

“Serves him right.” Jean said, stepping past Levi and over Flotch’s legs to follow you as you walked away. 

“Something needs to be done about him.” you mused. 

“I agree. For once.” Levi said, stepping to his side to face you before mumbling an addition, “I bet his ass looks as hairy as an ape.” You barked out a laugh - loud, and as smooth as whiskey.

“That would account for the little monkey he’s hiding in his basement.” you said, leaning down to hush the comment in his ear. Levi could tell that there wasn’t an actual monkey, nor a basement, and a rushed glance down Zeke’s body also told him it wasn’t entirely true, however you had been everything but subtle about anything anymore. 

“Do you want war?” Zeke asked, covered eyes narrowing over at you. You tutted him, reminding Levi about the time you directed such an action at him - taunting with his failure of protecting the old king. 

“Would you go to war over a dick joke?” 

He wouldn’t. That Levi knew. No one was petty or childish enough to go to war with another whole-ass country just because it’s ruler said your dick was small. But Zeke was unpredictable. 

“I’d advise against it, personally.” you said, tapping your nails along the oak table, “It’s so mediocre. If I were to go to war with you I’d do something much more grand.” 

“Like what?” 

You smiled, wide and wicked, and Levi was reminded again of who you were. You’d beheaded the old king like he was just an unneeded piece of paper. You’d painted the castle moat red. Despite the good that was no doubt still there - somewhere - you were still very much evil. 

You were still corrupt. 

You raised a hand, performing a universal signal that meant to wait, and then a man came in. Huffing and sweaty, with eyes wide and broken. 

“Ze- you highne- Sir.” 

“- What?” Zeke asked, turning in his chair. Clearly unimpressed.

“Our capital. They… She attacked it!” Zeke turned back around, now looking much angrier.

“What?”

“Oh, it’s nothing major.” You said, waving him off as if he were just a child complaining about his socks not matching. “But your place of residence might have a few scorch marks now.” 

Zeke stood abruptly, drawing his sword, and causing a chain reaction. You mirrored him, drawing your own - abhit longer and glowing red in aggression. Levi drew his, as did the other guards, Erwin and Miche. And the two with Zeke drew theirs as well. 

There wasn’t a single person in the room that didn’t have a sword on them, and not even Levi could say he wasn’t on edge. But you? You just laughed, lowering your weapon.

“Okay, this is stupid. Let’s just -” 

“If you call burning my city ‘stupid’, then I’d love to know what you’d call me lathering your streets in your blood.” 

“Oh,” you cooed, “Looks like I struck a nerve. Or maybe you’re on your period?” 

“Quiet!” He yelled, pushing his sword closer to you. “Or do you want me to slice off your tongue.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

He tried. 

And much like anyone else who crossed your path, he was lucky to have just left with his tail between his legs. However, him being Zeke, had to leave behind something to be remembered by. 

This particular time it was in the form of a huge gash, spanning across your shoulder and up your neck. 

Despite your all-powerful nature, the power your sword gave you was not one that could heal. It took what it was given, and it corrupted it. So even if all Zeke gave you was a scratch, the power of your sword meant it took that scratch, and made it into a cut. Oozing blood, and pulsating with a pain that made you wince with every heartbeat. 

You skulked away towards your chambers, a bottle of alcohol in your hand, and closed the door behind you. 

Levi knew that it could very well kill you. That’s what you were warned of. It would give the kingdom a chance to regain a sane ruler. It would be good if you died. 

‘From chaos to healing, is where to gain the sealing; 

Where they be kneeling, you’ll have no feeling.’ 

Those were the words you told him the first time you met. But later, after you started ruling and he became your own personal guard, you told him there was more. There were ruins. Books. A whole civilization even. Those two phrases were just a part of a whole. A whole that you knew. 

‘The one who stops the war, to try and reach the core;

Along the gentle shore, they will gain more.’

There was more to that sword than just corruption, and there was more to his sword than just healing. 

Leaning against the wall outside your room, he took his sword in his hands, watching as the symbols along it’s blade glowed up at him from the interaction. 

He could save you, but would it be worth it? 

[bytheangell]

Love Me When It Hurts (2/3)

Chapter Two: Stop Fighting With Yourself ( @shadowhunterbingo​ square: Children of the Night)  (Jimon to Raphael/Jace/Simon, Rated Teen, No Major Archive Warnings) (Read on AO3) (Read Chapter 1 Here) -------------

Simon can’t breathe. It’s dark and he can’t breathe, and-- wait. He doesn’t need to breathe. The initial panic subsides just long enough for him to process that he still isn’t breathing, but it seems to be fine.

Which is definitely not fine.

The panic kicks in again.

So do other, new instincts, primal and urgent and hungry. Simon begins to claw his way up out of fresh, loose dirt. It gets in his mouth, stings his eyes, clumps under his fingernails. His hand breaks the surface and someone latches onto it to help pull him out. Once his head is free of the ground he can see that it’s Jace, with someone Simon recognizes as vaguely familiar but not enough to immediately place the face or recall a name.

“Jace?” Simon asks, his body once more trying to breathe in the cool night air now that he’s free of his shallow grave, and his mind once more chiming in with the unsettling reminder that he doesn’t need the air. Why doesn’t he need air? It’s a reasonable question, one he should probably ask, but instead what comes out of his mouth is: “What the fuck?”

Jace pulls Simon in for a hug without answering, despite the immediate protests of the other person. Simon remembers him more now, pretty certain he’s one of the local vampires, probably someone higher-up if Simon can recall seeing him around the Institute. Simon leans into the hug for only a split-second before he feels the pulse of the vein in Jace’s neck, the sound seeming to echo in Simon’s ears like the most deafening roar.

Painful fangs tear through his gums and the other man pulls Jace back, situating himself between Jace and Simon while shoving a blood bag into Simon’s hand instead.

“I told you,” the vampire says, his voice low.

“Raphael, please,” Jace starts, but Simon’s only half-listening as he stares down with muted horror at the blood bag in his now shaking hands. The instincts kick in again, fangs tearing through the bag and draining the blood almost before he realizes he’s doing it. Simon wants to throw up but he can’t stop, and when that bag is empty and another is immediately held out in its place Simon takes that one, too, desperately ravenous.

“You need to leave,” the vampire, Raphael, insists. Simon thinks he’s talking to him at first until he sees Raphael glaring intently at Jace. “I’ll return him to you when he can control himself.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jace says stubbornly, bringing Simon’s attention back to him as he drops the second blood bag. Despite the greater distance between them, Simon can swear he can still hear Jace’s pulse, feeling it thumping through his body like a bass drum.

Simon considers chiming in before another bag is unceremoniously placed in his hands and he’s drinking again instead of speaking. The desperation he first felt has subsided slightly, but the desire to lunge at Jace - and not in a sexy way - is still very much present.

“You should go,” Simon says, trying and failing to keep his voice even.

Jace looks like Simon slapped him.

“I don’t want to hurt you. Please, Jace. I can’t--- I couldn’t live with myself if I--” Simon’s voice shakes with the words he can’t bring himself to say.

“You wouldn’t,” Jace insists. “You wouldn’t hurt me. I know you, Si.”

Simon shakes his head, averting his gaze from Jace’s face, from the temptation of visible veins in Jace’s neck and exposed arms. “I would,” Simon admits quietly. “I want to.” Not wanting to meet Jace’s gaze Simon looks around them instead, taking in the shovel behind Jace and wondering if he dug the grave Simon just dug himself out of. He doesn't dare to ask.

“I suggest you leave, Shadowhunter, before you make Simon do something your precious Clave would have him punished for,” Raphael suggests. That gives Jace pause, fear crossing his face immediately.

“Jace, please. Just go.” Simon pleads, and when Jace hesitates Simon doesn’t.

“Fine, then I will,” Simon says, unable to stand being in Jace’s for another second in this condition. A moment later he’s gone, using his newfound vampire speed to sprint all the way to the Hotel Dumort.

---

“I was hoping I'd find you here,” Raphael says, entering the room one of the other vampires put Simon in to wait (thankfully with a few more blood bags, since Simon found himself surprisingly exhausted from the sprint there). “I was afraid you’d try and go home.”

Simon frowns. Home, to his mother and sister? Or home to the Institute? He couldn’t go to either, not anymore, he wouldn’t be welcome there. He may never be welcome there again.

“I can’t do this,” Simon tells Raphael. “I can’t- I’m not cut out for this life.”

“You can do this, Simon. And I’m going to help you. We all are,” Raphael says, and Simon isn’t sure he’s ever heard him speak so softly before. “You made it this far, and a lot of people don’t. You’re stronger than you think.”

“I didn’t make it anywhere! All I did was get myself killed,” Simon points out. His chest feels tight and he has to fight down the instinct to take several quick, short breaths. “Also it’s really unfair that I can still feel like I’m having a panic attack when I can’t even breathe.”

Raphael gives Simon a rueful half-smile. “Your human instincts will fade with time,” Raphael says, and Simon isn’t sure it’s the reassurance the vampire means it to be. He doesn’t want to forget his human instincts… that feels an awful lot like losing his humanity entirely.

“Promise me you won’t do anything foolish. I do believe your boyfriend will kill me if anything were to happen to you, and as much as I’d like to ensure you transition smoothly, I’m also rather fond of not being permanently dead myself,” Raphael points out.

Simon’s boyfriend. Jace. Is Jace even going to want to be with him now? That sends a whole new wave of anxiety through Simon.

...except he won’t know the answer to that if he can never manage to be in the same 20-foot radius as Jace again. ‘I’ll return him to you when he can control himself’ Raphael had said. Simon needs to talk to Jace, and there’s only one way he’s ever going to reach a place where he can do that.

“Alright,” Simon agrees reluctantly. “Where do I start?”

---

It turns out there’s no singular ‘good place’ to start learning to be a vampire. Every noise is too loud, every light too bright, and Simon breaks every fragile thing he touches for an entire week because he keeps forgetting his new strength. He refuses to talk about the number of walls and corners and tables he runs into while trying to get any sort of control over his speed, but at least the minor injuries heal fast.

Then there’s the blood. Despite his body’s instinctual draw to it, mentally he can’t get beyond the block he gives himself that it’s, well, blood. Whether it’s freely donated into blood bags or animal blood from a local butcher, Simon can’t figure out how to bring himself from vegetarian to consuming blood to survive… and it nearly kills him. He refuses to drink to the point of being too weak to stand some days, then on others caves and binges enough to be at full strength all in one go, then restarts the process.

“You aren’t helping yourself, Simon,” Raphael tells him. “If you’re just going to give in, you’d be better off learning how to ration - figuring out how much you need, and how often.”

This isn’t anything new. And rationally, Simon knows that Raphael is right. Irrationally, Simon thinks maybe one of these days he’ll just not drink long enough to--

No. He needs to stop thinking like that. He misses his friends and his family and Jace. Jace, who he hasn’t seen in a week and a half now because he can’t be trusted around humans with pulses and veins full of fresh, pumping blood.

It’s like Raphael can read his mind, because the older vampire adds, “If I have to turn Jace away one more day because you’re not ready, he might get a search warrant for the place just to see you.”

Simon frowns. “Sorry,” he says. “I told him to just stop coming. I don’t want to-” Simon catches his phrasing, and his frown deepens. “I can’t see him yet. He knows that.”

“Can’t, or won’t?” Raphael says, with the edge of a challenge to his tone. “You’ve taken to everything else surprisingly well this past week. If you let yourself, you could get used to the blood, too. Why aren’t you?”

“I told you, I’m a vegetarian,” Simon repeats, knowing the excuse loses weight every time he says it.

“You know you can’t be, not anymore. And you know that isn’t the only reason. You don’t want to die, but what you’re doing now isn’t going to be much of a life, either,” Raphael points out.

“I…” Simon starts, then stops. “I can’t see him. I don’t want to see him like this, I-” Simon shakes his head almost violently. His next words come out in a rush, wavering and unsteady. “I’m afraid. I’m afraid we’ll never be what we were before.”

There it is, the truth Simon hadn’t fully admitted, not even to himself, until now. As much as he misses Jace and wants to talk all of this out with him, Simon’s even more afraid that the conversation will end with them broken up, and he doesn’t know if he can survive that loss on top of everything else. At least this way he can hold on to the past and pretend a little while longer.

“Well, contrary to what you seem to be aiming for, you can’t avoid him forever by being a shitty vampire,” Raphael says, and Simon’s glad he avoids bringing up anything about Simon’s actual emotions behind his confession. “And you’ll never know about the rest until you can coexist again and see. So how about we get to that step, and you can have some sort of teenage existential love crisis then?”

It’s blunt, and a bit harsh, but since nothing else worked so far, maybe a little tough love is exactly what Simon needs. He can tell that Raphael actually sounds concerned, that he wants to make sure Simon is at least stable if nothing else.

Simon thinks maybe he can do that much.

“Fine. Give me the blood bag,” Simon relents.

---

Simon stands frozen in the lobby of the Dumort, with Jace pounding on the door outside. Each hit of Jace’s fist makes Simon wince - Raphael just told Jace that Simon wasn’t ready to see him yet before locking him out, and Jace’s previous patience seems to be entirely up now.

“Simon, let me in!” Jace’s voice shouts from the other side of the door. “You can tell me you never want to see me again to my goddamn face!”

That isn’t it. That isn’t it at all, but maybe it’d be better if he just let Jace think that-

“Say something,” Raphael hisses urgently. “He’s going to break the door down.”

Simon can’t bring himself to speak, opening and closing his mouth once, then twice. What is he supposed to say?

“Jace, stop!” Simon finally manages, and the banging slows, then stops. “I’m just not ready yet.”

He isn’t. His progress with Raphael, while good, is still far from great. Far from enough for Simon to be comfortable alone with Jace, or any human.

“Bullshit,” Jace shouts through the door, but he doesn’t start hitting it again which is a relief.

“Raphael, I’m not ready,” Simon says, turning to Raphael with a pleading look on his face.

“What if I stay?” Raphael offers. “We meet in one of the larger rooms, keep you apart, and I stay to make sure nothing goes wrong.”

“You’ll stop me if I- if I can’t-” Simon can’t bring himself to say ‘if I lose control’ or ‘if I try and kill Jace’, but he doesn’t have to.

“I will. And I’ll stop him if he pushes you too far,” Raphael adds.

During their time together Simon’s grown rather attached to Raphael… he’d go so far as to say he actually likes him - as a friend, of course. He thinks Raphael might like him too, as a person and not just out of obligation as a fledgling in his clan. Not that Simon hasn’t also noticed how protective of him Raphael’s been ever since he arrived. It’s surprisingly reassuring to know Raphael’s looking out for him.

Simon isn’t surprised to realize that after everything they’ve been through the past couple of weeks he trusts Raphael implicitly, which is the only reason he nods.

“Okay,” Simon says. “Jace,” Simon speaks again, louder now to be heard through the door. “We’re going to let you in and we can talk. But I don’t want you to come too close, alright? Promise me.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then, “I promise, Simon. Whatever you want, I just need to see you.”

Raphael walks to the door and looks back at Simon questioningly one last time, only opening it after Simon gives another small nod. Simon, standing a few feet behind Raphael, finds himself face-to-face with Jace for the first time since he turned.

Jace immediately takes a step forward, and Simon immediately takes a step back, which prompts Jace to stop abruptly. Simon hates the look of hurt he sees flash across Jace’s face, he hates that he’s the reason for it.

“We’re going to go sit down, and we can talk,” Simon tells him, and turns to walk away knowing that both of them will follow. He tries not to think about the fact that Jace is the first human he’s been around, tries to ignore the smell of a living being full of fresh blood. He isn’t sure if the sound of a pulse is something he can actually hear coming from Jace, or if his mind is playing some Tell-Tale Heart bullshit on him.

When they reach the large meeting area Simon motions for Jace to take a seat on a chair at one end of the room and moves himself to the end of a sofa as far away as possible. Raphael hovers, and Simon catches his gaze and looks to the open space beside him on the sofa, a silent question that Raphael answers with a nod before moving over to join him.

Jace watches Raphael with narrowed eyes before shifting his attention over to Simon.

“How are you doing?” Jace asks, finally breaking the silence.

“Not... great,” Simon admits slowly. “Not terrible, though. I’m getting better at it. Coming to terms with things I fought a little…” Raphael huffs out a sarcastic sound at that. “Fine, with things I fought for a lot longer than I should’ve, I know, Raphael,” Simon adds, rolling his eyes.

“That’s… good, then,” Jace says, clearly not sure what to say next. Simon wonders if that’s because he has too much he wants to say at once, or if there’s nothing left to say between them, and watches Jace’s eyes dart over to Raphael again. “Can Simon and I talk alone for a minute?”

Instead of either of them answering Jace, Raphael turns to look at Simon, and Simon’s eyes widen immediately in a panicked, silent plea for Raphael to stay.

“I think it’s best if I’m here,” Raphael answers.

“Is not being able to speak for yourself a side-effect of becoming a vampire?” Jace mutters, and Simon isn’t sure if he’s actually asking or not.

“Raphael stays,” Simon says, then winces a bit at his own sharp tone. “I mean, I’d like him to stay. I’m not comfortable being alone with-”

“It’s just me, Si,” Jace points out. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Simon doesn’t admit that it isn’t Jace hurting him that he’s worried about, but shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

And he is. Simon is so unbelievably sorry, more sorry than he could ever convey even if he sat here and repeated it over and over until the end of time. He’s sorry he isn’t better at this, for both of them, sorry that he’s obviously letting Jace down right now.

“Fine, then we do this in front of Raphael,” Jace says. Simon braces himself, expecting the worst. “Why are you avoiding me?”

Not the worst, Simon notes with relief, but not great, either.

“I’m not avoiding you,” Simon says, but even as he says it he knows it’s a lie. “I’m avoiding everyone. Literally all of humanity, Jace.”

Jace shakes his head. “Is it because I made the call to bury you? It’s my fault you’re… like this, now.”

“I’m a vampire, Jace. You can say it. And it isn’t your fault. I got myself killed. I should be thanking you for giving me a chance to see the people I care about again. A chance to live… live-ish... again, technically speaking.” Simon sighs, knowing he’s not saying this right at all. At least some things about him haven’t changed, rambling tendencies included. “I’m just going to shut up now.”

“So you don’t hate me?” Jace asks hopefully.

“Of course not,” Simon says. Then adds quietly, “I hate myself.” It’s quiet enough that Jace can’t hear him, but Simon feels Raphael tense next to him. Right, vampire hearing.

Simon clears his throat quickly. “I just need more time to figure myself out first, before I can even start to think about where I’m going to fit back in with you and the others.”

“You fit where you always did. Where you still do. You belong with us,” Jace says without missing a beat. With me, Simon can read between the lines.

At this Raphael tenses again, and Simon hesitates. “I just need some more time,” Simon repeats. ��What if… I won’t turn you away anymore if you announce when you’re stopping by. Once I’m clear for public existence maybe we can meet with the others at Taki’s? We’ll figure it out.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Jace agrees.

“Is that alright?” Simon asks Raphael, turning to face him on the sofa. “If Jace stops by once in a while? If not, I can leave, I’d just rather not. Not yet.”

Simon doesn’t know how to articulate that he feels safe here, that he feels comfortable within these walls, with other vampires, with Raphael by his side in a way he wouldn’t if he tried to meet with Jace outside the Dumort.

“If he must,” Raphael allows grudgingly. Then, softer, “Whatever will help, Simon.”

The tension Simon felt previously eases at the temporary resolution. It’s a step forward, no matter how small, and Simon smiles properly for the first time since Jace arrived.

“Can we at least hug?” Jace asks, and the tension in Simon returns immediately.

“Next time?” Simon offers. “I’m sorry. You know I would if I could. Raz-” Simon starts, choking on Raziel’s name before remembering he can’t say it any longer. “I miss you so much, Jace.”

“I miss you too, Si. It’s alright, I get it. Whatever you need, time or space or anything, it’s yours,” Jace says, standing to leave. Simon can tell it’s taking everything in him to stay on the other side of the room and not try to hug him anyway.

“Thanks for taking care of him,” Jace adds to Raphael.

“Of course,” Raphael says. They walk Jace to the door and Simon watches him leave, standing in the doorway until Jace is just a dark, blurry dot under the fading streetlights.

“Are you okay?” Raphael asks Simon after a long silence.

Simon considers the question for a moment, seriously considers it, before answering.

“I’m not sure,” he admits. “But I have to try harder to be, for both of us.”

Raphael doesn’t reply, only turns and retreats back into the building.

---

Jace calls Simon a few times over the next two weeks, always asking before he shows up at the Dumort just like Simon requested and never once complaining about the hoops he has to jump through just to see him. He never makes a big deal when Simon says no if he’s having a bad day, and he’s nothing but understanding of whatever boundaries Simon needs right now to feel comfortable.

What he doesn’t seem to understand is how comfortable Simon is at the Dumort and around Raphael, despite barely knowing the vampires there before turning. Jace, who never seemed to have an issue with vampires before, is constantly on edge and even a bit cruel, especially to Raphael. Simon invites Jace around more often, hoping the exposure will get rid of whatever seems off, but it only makes things worse.

“We could be working with you on all of this,” Jace points out after watching Raphael work with Simon on incorporating his speed into the fighting style he was previously used to. Simon’s pretty sure Jace stood the entire half hour he was there with his arms crossed over his chest.

Simon shakes his head. “It wouldn’t be the same. This is different. It isn’t like adjusting to using a speed rune. I can’t put it into words that well, just… you wouldn’t understand unless you experienced it.”

Jace frowns. “I can’t understand any of it if you don’t let me, Simon,” Jace snaps.

Simon’s face drops.

“Shit. Sorry. That wasn’t… I didn’t mean that.” Jace tries to backtrack. “I just hate seeing how comfortable you are here.”

“...you hate that I’m doing well with the people I’m literally going to have to spend the rest of eternity with?” Simon asks, confused.

“Yes. No. It’s just… watching you with Raphael. That used to be us. We used to work together like that, and I miss it. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take it out on you, that wasn’t fair.”

It definitely wasn’t, but Simon doesn’t say that. Instead, he plasters a too-large smile on his face and shrugs it off. “It’s fine.”

Alright, so bringing Jace around the Dumort more often is definitely not the solution Simon thinks it is. Time for plan B: a slow return to the Shadowhunters.

Once Simon’s better with the whole blood thing he tries to fall back into his old life a bit. Jace even manages to get him cleared for patrol if he ever wants to join them at night, but it puts the other Shadowhunters on edge, even though Simon goes out of his way to patrol with his old bow and arrows, just like before. After an incident with Shadowhunter who’s too busy being anxious about Simon’s presence that he nearly misses the actual threat, Simon stops trying to help.

His friends are kind about it. It’s weird to be ordering the blood on tap from Taki’s instead of a milkshake, but it’s nice to see them again now that he has the random feeding urges mostly under control. It’s also nice to be sitting on the same side of the booth as Jace again, arm wrapped around him, laughing at some ridiculous story Alec is telling about Jace messing with a new recruit fresh out of the Academy. It almost feels normal.

Simon tries to take the good with the bad. He gets moments like Taki’s, he gets moonlit walks and lingering kisses on park benches… but he also gets sidelong glances every time he shows up at the Institute and nearly constant pressure from Jace to come back for good. He gets Jace showing up at the Dumort and picking fights with Raphael more and more often, accusing him of trying to keep Simon there instead of getting him to a point where he can leave for good.

“That isn’t it, Jace,” Simon defends Raphael one night. He’s been trying to walk such a delicate, thin tightrope between his old life and his new one for so long and he’s tired. He so, so tired. “I don’t belong there anymore. You know it, even if you don’t want to admit it. I can’t just be a vampire living in the Institute again like nothing’s changed.”

“What about being my boyfriend, living with me again like nothing’s changed?” Jace counters.

“I can’t do that either,” Simon says, feeling his heartbreak with every word. “Things have changed. So many things. I’ve changed! My literal genetic makeup, my entire species has changed. I can’t be who I was before.”

“You can’t, or you don’t want to be?” Jace snaps. Simon’s caught entirely off-guard by how defensive he is that he’s too stunned to answer. Jace shakes his head at the silence. “That’s what I thought.”

Simon watches Jace storm out of the Dumort that night with the phantom feeling of his heart in his throat, a lump he can’t swallow away no matter how hard he tries.

The breaking point comes a few days later when Simon goes to the Institute to try and bring back some sense of normalcy as an apology for their previous fight. That is, until he realizes he can’t activate any of the seraph blades because he can’t say the names of any of the Angels. He can’t use a witchlight. Even a weapon Jace activates and gives to him dies out the moment it’s in his grasp.

He should’ve seen this coming, but somehow it blindsides him.

“It’s fine, you can just use a normal weapon--”

“It isn’t fine, Jace,” Simon says, shaking his head. His voice is calm, quiet even. Resigned. “None of this is fine. I shouldn’t even be here.”

“Of course you should. This is your home, Si, I-”

“It isn’t. This isn’t my home, not anymore. The Clave would sooner lock me up than protect me now. You and Alec and Clary and Izzy are the only Shadowhunters who will even speak to me.”

“The others will come around. You’re still just as much a Shadowhunter as-”

“I’m not!” Simon says, and now his voice does rise because Jace isn’t listening. He isn’t getting it. “I’m not a Shadowhunter anymore, no matter how much you want me to be. And if you want a Shadowhunter who can be at your side 24/7 so badly then maybe you should find one.” Simon regrets the words the moment they leave his mouth. He tries to think of a better way to phrase all of his insecurities, to push the idea that they need to figure out a new way to move forward, not an old way to go back to, but before he can Jace replies.

“Maybe I should,” Jace agrees. “After all, you and Raphael have gotten pretty close, haven’t you? Looks like you’re already moving on just fine.”

“What?” Simon doesn’t know how Jace could even imagine he’d be doing anything behind his back like that.

“I’ve seen the way you two are - always together, always defending him, always so eager to go back to him. I’ve been losing you from day one, I just didn’t want to admit it,” Jace says, and now he’s the one who looks defeated.

“That’s ridiculous!” Simon says.

“Then tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you’d rather stay here with me than go back to the Dumort,” Jace challenges.

Simon could say it just to prove a point, but he’d be lying. He owes them both more than that right now. “I already told you I don’t feel comfortable living here again,” Simon starts to reason, but Jace cuts him off with a sharp huff of breath and a shake of his head.

“Then go.”

Simon goes. This time when he turns and walks away, even though it isn’t explicitly said, they both know it’s not just from the fight.

Simon walks away from Jace, from the Institute, from the world that’d been his entire life since the day he was born. The tears start to fall the moment he crosses through the main doors. This moment feels more final, more like a true death of who he once was than anything he’d experienced so far, and he’d literally died.

Without any other options Simon walks himself on shaky legs back to the Hotel Dumort… back to the only home - and after Jace tells the others about their breakup, the only family - he has left.

[worldcakecakecake]

Feliciano and the King of Hearts

Chosen by the gods as the Queen of Hearts from the moment of birth,  we follow Feliciano’s story as he grows into royal life, learns to rule,  go against age old customs, and his relationship with his husband to  be, the King of Hearts.

Chapter 1 I  Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5 I Chapter 6I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 IChapter 9I Chapter 10I Chapter 11I Chapter 12 I Chapter 13 I Chapter 14 I Chapter 15 I Chapter 16 I Chapter 17 I Chapter 18 I Chapter 19I Chapter 20 I Chapter 21 I Chapter 22 I Chapter 23 I Chapter 24 I Chapter 25 I Chapter 26 I Chapter 27 I Chapter 28I Chapter 29 I Chapter 30 I Chapter 31 I Chapter 32 I Chapter 33 I Chapter 34 I Chapter 35 I Chapter 36 I Chapter 37I chapter 38 I Chapter 39 I Chapter 40 I Chapter 41 I Chapter 42 I Chapter 43 I Chapter 44 I Chapter 45 I Chapter 46I Chapter 47 I Chapter 48 I Chapter 49 I Chapter 50 I Chapter 51 I Chapter 52 I Chapter 53 I Chapter 54 I Chapter 55 I Chapter 56 I Chapter 57 I Chapter 58 I Chapter 59 I Chapter 60I Chapter 61 I Chapter 62 I Chapter 63 I Chapter 64  I Chapter 65 I Chapter 66 I Chapter 67 I Chapter 68  I Chapter 69 I Chapter 70 I Chapter 71 I Chapter 72 I Chapter 73 I Chapter 74 I Chapter 75 I Chapter 76 I Chapter 77 I Chapter 78

                                                  Chapter 79

“Now!” Arthur shouted.

 Renata quickly ceased the glow in her hand, gone like the flicker of a candle.

 “Now somebody go get-” Louis was interrupted by a sudden blast, white and rampaging across the room. They quickly thought it an attack from Destro that had managed straight at their location, but they didn’t hurt…the light became one of warmth, of familiarity. They actually heard Augustino laughing. The light was gone swiftly, everyone began to stand from their fall, just in time to see Feliciano arise, taking a large deep breath, to then cough as he held to the stairs of the pool. The first one to come to his side was Kiku, one hand to help him stand on the dry stone of the room, the other comforting on his back. They all rushed to circle him, but Kiku held a hand to give Feliciano some decency of space, to breathe back in actual living oxygen into his physical body…alive again after a month.

 In all honesty…Feliciano looked horrible. He was hunched as he leaned to breathe again, wet, dripping water to the ground, his clothes haggard and his body was only slowly recovering back its color. He still leaned on Kiku, who still offered to give him support.

 This was not how they expected him to return. If he was like this…it only meant… “You…couldn’t get it…couldn’t you?” Roderich guessed, deflated, all joining in this accept of what was soon to be a world ending failure. They believed it more so when Feliciano hanged his head lower, refusing to look at them.

 They sighed, some began to tear and whimper, given up, kneeling to the floor ready to have everything destroyed before them. But whatever wallowing that wanted to continue, was broken with a sudden red glow, cracking and even drawing upon Feliciano’s fallen hand. Feliciano chuckled, beginning to stand, carefully moving Kiku to the side. All water on him left, dried, looking pristine even if he was bare footed and still wore a simple blouse and pants. His hair and skin shone brighter, with deeper colors and from him came this stronghold of magic, decorating the room in a sense that alighted them, shone them forward to be coated in this new air.

 “I got more than just the alignment,” he assured as he opened and showed them his eyes covered completely in magic, bright, powerful, but yet still they held the childish wonder of Feliciano, assuring them it was deeply him. “Much…much more.” He opened his hands to let his arms begin to get decorated in shines of gold and red, letting the room tremble and grow with a garden of magic, of sparks and lights that fascinated all to a stupor. He let it all stop with a simple sway of his hands lowering, his eyes closing to then alight again with his usual amber. Before all could word and celebrate, smiling and shinning deeply with hope, another crash came into the room from a messenger, tired, huffing and ready to fall to the ground.

 “Destro is in the midst of the city! He’s approaching the castle and we are not enough to hold him! You must come and help us!”

 “Perfect! We have Feliciano with us and he holds the alignment,” Yao announced, as all brandished their weapons and magic again. Only but Feliciano startled and questioned as his gaze was frantic.

 “We’ll help him however necessary. We will attack this instant and make sure Destro is dead by the-"

 “Wait! Wait! Wait!” Feliciano interrupted his father, standing before all as a blockade.

 “Feliciano, we have to act now!” Lovino shouted.

 “I know, I know! Just please…don’t kill him…”

 They all widened and stood perplexed, for not just the words but the feel in his tone.

 “What do you mean not kill him? He has helped destroy a large part of Clubs and is the culprit for having the entire southern Hearts kingdom obliterated. If he comes any closer he’ll have us all killed instead!” Aldrich shouted.

 Even if all the energy currently rested inside him, Feliciano hurt, holding back tears as he shook and tried to control them to stay inside. “Let me deal with this! You can help me all you want when we have to defeat Khaos…but leave Destro to me.” With the words he managed his calm and straightening, a stronghold that actually got the rest to fall and stand back, lessening the hold of their weapons and even the energy of their magic.

 Feliciano sighed, calm…then potence as he turned to the messenger still trying to calm his breaths. “Tell everyone to fall back…and to come straight to the castle. One brigade is commanded to keep a Titanium shine spell so Destro can attack until everyone is safely secured inside. Once done, I myself will place a protective shield to keep the castle safe. I assure you all no harm will come.”

 “And then you’re going to face Destro alone?” Lili was dreading.

 Another shook that caused pieces to fall in the room, a roar that made them all shutter.

 “Yes. I will.” Decreed strongly in his voice, one everyone knew they could not go against, having to nod and accept, if even shaking with worry. “I will only put up the shield once everyone is in…and you have to promise you will stay inside.” He turned with strength in his foots, one that made all bow to in reverence and accept. “Only then will I head out and face him.”

 “Your majesty…what are you doing now?” Elizabeta dared herself to ask.

 “I will watch and make sure that my commands are fulfilled…and I have to look for my harp.” And with a surprising calm he took to the halls to head to its storage.

  The call was done quickly. Feliciano saw from his heights as messengers spread and began to lead way back to the castle. Some rushed alone, others needed assistance because of their wounds, depending on the help of other soldiers to make way, but they made haste. Whoever was left in the city made approach to the castle, all behind a line of wizards that kept the Titanium Shine as the Queen had told. The spell was but a hallucination, a tall pillar of strong grey magic that feigned the energy of a living person, a perfect distraction for Destro, who attacked it as viciously as he had done everything, the ricochets deadly to the city, tearing and coating in smoke of destruction. Entire streets were there no longer, others blackened, Destro’s mere presence calling poison to reign even in the skies, tempting to rain with burn.

 This was the first time Feliciano’s eyes fell on Destro, the expanse of darkness, raging and swinging with its own arms and face, with runes of red and white, shaped with strengths that were actually wider than Khaos. He had yet to see Khaos in his alignment, but already Destro proved much more evil than the depictions he had seen long ago in the cave of artifacts.

 He gulped, he gripped harder the column of the harp he had now…trying to contain his fear…to see…

 The ground shook, awaking Feliciano from his thoughts, to realizing that the wizards and the last of the soldiers were entering the front gardens of the castle. It was his time to leave…to face…to begin and end this all. He actually…believed. He had confidence, one that made him stand prideful, with a deep breath that was only for the beginning of a melody.

 “I’ll journey and see beyond the lines of our kingdom,

Never a fear to be lost, never a fear to fall,

In pleasure, I will take the mysteries of what I could meet,

If you accept to be mine, my Queen.”

 He sung it underneath his breath, tranquil and peaceful despite this disarray.

 In the eternal reserve, there was indeed much more than just the alignment, more than just power and magic. There was information, knowledge and instructions about everything, even notes of power left behind. One of those messages was the ability to actually change the harp. No…he would not dare change the design, structure and color Augusta had placed, for it was sufficiently beautiful. All he needed was to change its size, something small he could carry in his palm, to easily begin his descend down the castle, like a singular entity that existed out of everything, merely trying to make a passing.

 “No heat, no cold, will stop me of my search,

No sun, no rain to go against my strength,

Just promise me your hand,

And love me in our eternity.”

 This music he tried to make his own sound, away from the shouts, the hurry of everyone trying to make their place in the castle for the shield.

 “My sun, my moon, my land, my love,

I know it’s a journey you will overcome,

But I don’t need you to go so far,

I want you here to kiss me.”

 He entered the place of action, of all running and creating a panic that Feliciano felt suspended in as he made his way across. He paid no mind to them, he left them to their disorder. No one really came into silence until they noticed him…easy, like he was just strolling through the castle trying to find a pleasant breeze.

 “Would you want all the gold I will find for you?

Would you like the songs I will bring from afar for you?

Would you accept me as your shield?

And would you want me always by your side?”

 He sang on, making that image more the one that all thought Feliciano was really going through. They all stood as they witnessed him, letting a rare peace fall on these halls.

 “What is he doing?” One soldier asked.

 “Isn’t he supposed to be facing Destro?”

 “They said he was going to do it alone!”

 “But he’s just singing!”

 The whispers continued.

 “I don’t want any of the riches you will bring,

I don’t care for any of the songs,

I only want you to hold,

I only want your arms around me.”

 The voices would always fall, beginning to just accept…and trust whatever it was that the Heartian Queen will do.

 It was his own silent parade down the rest of the halls, down every stair he needed to take, reaching ground, the main door of the castle now appearing before him. The commotion was the strongest here, filled, with people in shouted pain and tears, healers coming to act quick, screams and hurry to head in from the royals at the front.

 “Bring me your love, your kisses, your loyalty,

Your passion, your hope, your defeat,

Your promise, your weakness, your strength,

I will keep it all in my heart.”

 “The casters are almost here!” Kandake shouted, shock panic in her expression.

 “And where in the hell is Feliciano?” Vash shouted, just as he was met with a surprising silence, noticing how all gazed back to the very figure he questioned, making his way singularly down the hall.

 “Let the doors open wider…let the last of them come in,” Lili reminded, strong and pushing so all could fulfill despite this rare glow Feliciano shone in, distracting and even beautiful.

 “I’ll journey and see beyond the lines of our kingdom,

Never a fear to be lost, never a fear to fall,

In pleasure, I will take the mysteries of what I could meet,

If you accept to be mine, my King.”

 Nobody dared question the song…they just gave the necessary space for Feliciano to take, in that moment handing everything to him. He now had their lives and future, hanging in his hands and power.

 The last of the soldiers made entrance to the castle, the casters were now right before them, still holding to the spell, turning to the royals awaiting the next command.

 “Stop the enchantment. Head inside. I’ll deal with him.”

 They nodded, albeit fearful still as they turned their hands to release the hold. They rushed inside, leaving the pillar as it was, able to withstand a couple of more whiplashes from the remaining energy.

 There was still some time.

 While all shook at the image of Destro so near the castle, Feliciano stood stable, unaffected and with a calm some were envious the Queen could keep. The royals kept a guard around him, watching and waiting for any action. Only Pookie broke this as he took landing on Feliciano’s shoulder as usual, cuddling and comforting no matter the turmoil. It was almost like the monster before them wasn’t there at all.

 “If you are waiting for me to change my mind, I am not.”

 “To be honest, do whatever you want…just get rid of that thing,” Arthur admitted, his fear shown in the slight shake in his tone, as well as the fierceness he gave that made this a command.

 Vincenzo glared, but it eased as he placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, “we’ll be here, ready to serve you for anything. Defeat this menace…but stay safe.”

 Feliciano smiled, the enchanting one that spread and made them all shine on this eve of darkness. “As I’ve said before…stay in the castle. Leave everything to me.” And with that he took a step out of the threshold, beginning his way, the others not daring to close the door, for it was their watch to the spectacle they knew would mark them all forever. Many others took watch from any of the windows, frozen and expecting.

 In that chest of power, not only had Feliciano found information, but he found the forgotten lyrics to a song Augusta had long ago created, a hymn to the misery of losing her beloved.

 “My sun, my moon, my land, my love…” he had begun to sing again. It was louder this time, echoing to the point that all in the castle could hear it…they even wondered if it spread to the whole city, since Destro suddenly stopped, a widened expression in his eyes that was eerily human.

 “The sky has all fallen…” he continued, but he didn’t go on without a sudden deep breath, alighting in beautiful marks, ruby red. Once all that energy he needed was gathered, as he released his breath, large red lights began to grow from different corners of the city. He didn’t have to twirl his hand or utter some incantation…he walked on down the main courtyard, a simple thought in charge of letting these lights glow the streets they were located on, rushing forward until they reached the center of the castle. From the base it created at its edges, a net like structure began to grow, beginning a covering sphere of the castle, slow as Feliciano was still kept at its circulated area.

 “The kingdom weeps their king’s farewell…” he managed to sing on as he found himself ever reaching the official gates, only a matter of steps now.

 “And a queen breaks at her lover’s parting again…”

 To his surprise…Destro remained awfully still…as if he was enjoying from the song…perhaps trying to find its location…or trying to find his target.

 “But in your defend, all will join and fight for our future…”

 The shield continued its upward current, to the amazement of all who stayed inside the castle, distracted in its form enough that they didn’t see as Feliciano finally placed a foot outside of the perimeters. With his exit, the shield met at the top and finished. The castle was now well protected…nothing would be capable of destroying it…and even at the worst it will still stand. Feliciano could now keep his focus on only Destro.

 “…so the heavens will bless in your rest our perfect peace,” he finished the song, elongating an indeed rare silence in the city. To the surprise of those back in the castle, Destro didn’t lunge forward and Feliciano didn’t attack…they were easy in this stillness. They both continue to breathe out, nervous, like two strangers worried over their first meeting.

 Somehow…even for this, Feliciano had a song, new and his…with thoughts for Ludwig and a willingness to do anything…absolutely anything for him.

 “My sun, my moon, my land, my love…” he then began a slow reach, a walk forward, brave and with a shining happiness from his expression to his steps, eager, each new approach lighting the more, extinguishing more the fear.

 “My king who shines above all,” he smiled, such joy that already teared at his eyes.

 Destro continued this stillness, awed and wondered, frozen yet in his spot.

 “Darkened, lost and taken…” and Feliciano finally took that weakness to use, beginning a spell that lighted up the entire city, glowing in gold as he used it for an intense heat, one that surely burnt and brought Destro back to screeching and sending swings, destroying streets and buildings…and yet Feliciano stood in  their fault, smiling and unaware.

 “I know your heart is stronger.”

 Now the song was an add to this poison. Destro wanted rid of it, so he trampled forward meaning to fulfill his kill as intended.

 Raging, monstrous, Feliciano still looking so diminutive in his shadow, and yet the Queen continued to smile and only move forward, in a want to meet him.

 Many in the castle had to shield their eyes, some began to weep and others shook as if Destro’s was above them ready for taking. It could very well happen if he just swallowed Feliciano…which seemed would be very likely the case.

 “Your light is brighter…” And Feliciano dared halt, much to the anguish of the castle, slowly, painfully slow, raising a hand…not the one that had the harp. From there, he gathered light…warming and loving…comfortable and even…happy. Despite how diminutive it was, right in the middle of this darkening blaze, looking like it could easily drown between all…Destro stood just as Feliciano, both not daring any harm to the other.

 “You are ruler, you are king…” and they saw then that the song was dedication…dedication to Destro. The gaze their eyes shared was of childhood friends…turned to lovers…to then the King and Queen of Hearts. Destro let himself sit, the viciousness of his killing hands, turning gentle, forming fingers…familiar fingers that reached only for a simple touch. There was no fire, no magic, when Feliciano reached for its touch, he didn’t hurt, in fact, his smile was only larger, letting his hand caress the large hand of darkness like any regular skin. He embraced it, he even cradled it, letting himself lay on it, already feeling him entirely. He gazed up, with hint of tears from the peak of this happiness, to those large eyes that now more than ever reflected his beloved.

 “I know it’s you…Ludwig…” he couldn’t keep the last words in the tune of the song, for it was more important that he knew he was there, more important that they had this reunion, a reminder that at the worst…they would triumph.

 Destro…Ludwig…accepted this welcome, letting himself lean in blissful rest and comfort, careful as he lay right over the tiny figure of his husband. How he could, Feliciano raised his arms and embraced him, even as his face was formed this monstrous, loyal in giving him his ever devoting love, caressing and mending and how he wished he could kiss him. It was difficult, but…he tried, his lips reaching to any corner of a mouth he could reach, and with it, he began the full intent of his spell, one that went on its own course as he instead focus on feeling the powerful emotion of having his husband's lips again.

 “Is he…is he kissing that thing?” Vash couldn’t help but mention. The rest were too dumbfounded to response, only watching as the city began to glow more in the scene of this kiss.

 Despite how it was all gold, it seemed like color was brought back to the city, enveloping everything, slowly tearing apart every inch of darkness from this evil vessel. No more storms, no more poison, instead there was healing, coating everything in flowers, in new jewels to the buildings, in a brightening that made the damaged parts of the city new again. Destro turned smaller, smaller, every part of him slashed to nothing, disintegrating instead in shine and stars that made this grey day shinning with the colors of a beautiful morning. Piece by piece this vicious monster began to be chipped away until only this body remained…a human body. The golden light it was developed in was too much to really notice any features, but there was no hesitation in the way Feliciano desperately held to it, letting it rest on him, coming to kneel down until it could lay on his lap comfortably.

 Knowing it was safe, the shield on the castle fell, in a blink, and in that instant the castle doors slammed open with the insistence of the royals. Feliciano didn’t care for this commotion, he simply let his hands trail on the figure’s hair, their blond strands coming back, their silk and softness, the hardened head, the strong jaw, nose and cheeks. His skin turned its rightful pale, his body as perfectly as Feliciano always considered it, left with only tattered remains of surely the last armor he had fought with. The brightness began to dwindle, leaving a wondrous heat in the city that made them swear a melody continued to sing. With the last twinkling of gold gone, there was a sudden grasp of air, of steady breathing…along with a heartbeat.

 Ludwig remained in this rest, letting his body slowly get used to skin, to breathing in and out his control, testing with sudden grips and shakes that indeed…he was his own again. He baptized that aware with a fluttering of his eyes, that beautiful blue that the very sky seemed to have granted him. He saw a shining day, he felt the warmth of great summers and then he saw…his own angel, his sun, his love and queen and already he smiled. It caused a slight pang…but it didn’t matter…it was just the right reminder he was back…this was real…Feliciano was there.

 “Ludwig?” Feliciano still questioned it, still wondering if this was the plethora of all dreams and he was still stuck in one of the realms.

 Ludwig groaned and still found it hard to move for now…but it would pass, he would heal…and he will live. This time he could show a grin that reflected the light of this new sun on him, making it more real for Feliciano, who began to tighten the hold he kept on his body, whose eyes began to water, but even so his own grin wanted to keep expanding.

 “Feliciano…” he managed to speak, rusted and sore, “…do you…remember that spell I used to do as a kid after my power activation…the one I had to do-” “-two for each afternoon hour,” they repeated together in a perfect sync that made them chuckle.

 “And do you remember…how it was you that always convinced me to do it when I complained about it…and you always…tried to heal or calm whenever I got burnt afterwards…”

 “Yes…yes, yes I remember that dearly.” Tears fell, but even with this shake, Feliciano went on smiling.

 “I feel like…something just like that happened now…I couldn’t…control my power…I couldn’t…I couldn’t….” Ludwig found it hard to speak when he was shaking with the same tears that took him, the emotion piling. “-do anything…I left myself turn into a monster and destroy everything I hold dear, but you …you brought me back…you stopped this…you saved me…”

 “Oh, but Ludwig, despite all this darkness, you managed to see me between and let the spell heal…you let yourself be freed. It wasn’t me alone. Oh, how I missed you and how I love you, I love you dearly and I just…I just had to save you. These last few weeks…without you were awful. I was so lost…everything was darker and hopeless…I was so ready to give up and join you wherever you were but…there’s a world looking up to us, there are tons of other millions we have to save and…” he raised his arms to the jewels were their children lay. Ludwig managed slight reaches to be able to caress them, smiling, the joy letting him raise from his lay a slight more. “…we have our own kids to show the very world we live in.”  The jewels had gotten brighter, new red vines began to grow around Feliciano’s wrists and Ludwig was sure to touch every line, proving to his children that he was there…that he will be there. Their gazes met and they knew for sure all was real, their touch was theirs, their breath running and every fiber of magic in them was glowing now for their return. It exploded as they reached forward for their kiss, deepening and passionate, letting themselves in that fuel, letting whatever tears come down and fall for once in comfort and trust in the new flourished land below them. They settled between on one another in whimpers, in a hold all around them that was tight and placed, nothing, nothing…not even the approach of all, shouting, crying and celebrating was enough to depart them.

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There’s so much that went wrong while writing this. To me, this chapter should have meant more, but in the end…I don’t know…it doesn’t feel like I wanted it to. I tried what I could of fixing it but after noticing I haven’t gotten any comments or words for this story in months…yes including the last amount of chapters…I should just…no care about this as most people do. So many times the last few weeks I’ve thought about stopping…but, NEWS, there’s only about three chapters left to finish the story, and after five years with this…I think I should give it the chance to at least let it be done. I told myself many times, I created this adventure for myself and anyone else who reads is just welcomed to come along on the ride. I really don’t like coming here all guilt trippy like this, but just…been through a lot the last few weeks, thinking a lot about usage of time…and sometimes I wondered why continue with a story that I only care about, wasting time? But then, exactly, I care about it, I adore it, I don’t need the lack of interest of strangers. It is great, I love it, and it is taking swell time. For those who have stuck and the very few who are the pushes that keep me going with this hideous mammoth. Thank you, and thus, I bring you a chapter in what I could of messy holiday shenanigans.

 As I said, savor it…only three more to go.

 Also, was this part really like the one in Moana? Yes, I know. I had this idea long before the movie came out, but sadly I was slower. The movie did give me the idea to add a song though~

[signs-of-the-moon]

Moon Rise: Chapter 50

"Look, they've come back!" Lightpaw exclaimed as Whitestar and the rest of her patrol made their way into Grassclan's camp. At the young apprentice's call, the rest of the clan had begun to gather around, eager to hear news of what came from the meeting with Treeclan.

"Well? What did Blazestar have to say for himself?" Chicorynose asked, tail wagging with anxiety.

"We are to settle this war the day after tomorrow," Whitestar responded, body tense. Swiftcloud flanked one of her sides and could feel the leader's dread through her fur. It was almost overwhelming. If her clanmates were not pressed so closely around them, Swiftcloud would have withdrawn to calm herself.

"Which means we only have a short time to prepare," Chicorynose murmured, eyes darkening.

Whitestar nodded, looking at each of her warriors as she spoke. "For the rest of the day, up until sundown tomorrow, I want every able bodied cat to train. We must ensure our skills are sharp so that we may claim our victory."

And so that we don't lose any more warriors, Swiftcloud added in her mind, figuring the same thought might be running through Whitestar's. She gave the leader a glance, able to tell her prediction to be true by the turmoil on the other molly's siamese face.

"I'll send everyone out, then." Chicorynose turned, already prepared to order partners and apprentices to team up and get to work.

Swiftcloud and the others on her patrol had been dismissed from training for the evening. They'd be on a long journey, and Whitestar knew all too well the dread it had caused them all. Swiftcloud was grateful for the break, although she didn't allow her time to be wasted. She wanted her skills as sharp as the rest of the clan's, especially after being unconscious for three days.

Across the camp, Swiftcloud spotted one of her mates laying beside the fresh-kill pile. Shadowfang looked to be at peace, having a rest after being out at The Dip battle training with Quailbelly and Thornpaw. Swiftcloud almost felt bad to disturb him. But a mischievous idea crossed through her mind. One that she knew she couldn't pass up.

"Hey, Shadowfang?" she meowed, drawing her mate's attention as she padded over to him.

Shadowfang glanced up at Swiftcloud, gnawing on the leftovers from his dinner. He gave his lips a satisfied smack, then sat up straight to acknowledge the white and black patched she-cat. "Yeah?"

Swiftcloud smiled innocently, wiggling her nubby tail. Before Shadowfang could comment on her odd behavior, she threw herself onto him, mouthing at his ear and tugging on it playfully. She pushed with all of her strength, trying to flatten the him to the ground. Shadowfang squirmed beneath her, swinging his head side to side in an attempt to throw her off his back.

"Hey, quit it!" Shadowfang hissed, laughter in his voice. He rolled over a little, batting at Swiftcloud's whiskers. Swiftcloud growled at him playfully, leading to her being squashed by the larger cat's flank. Swiftcloud squealed, wiggling from beneath the black tom. She jumped up momentarily, allowing Shadowfang to spring to his paws. He turned, pouncing onto his mate so her could nibble on her shoulder, giving her ear a cuff. "Take that!"

"Foolish Shadowclan cat, I'll make crowfood of you!" Swiftcloud yowled dramatically.

"Foolish, am I?" Shadowfang played along. "That is where you're wrong. You'll never defeat me, Swiftstar. For I, Shadowstar, am the most powerful clan leader in the world!"

"We'll see about that!" Swiftcloud retorted, rolling onto her back. She kicked up at Shadowfang's underbelly, with claws sheathed, trying hard to throw him off of her. Shadowfang continued to nibble on her shoulder and neck, earning thrill filled squeals from the patched molly. With one more effort filled kick, Swiftcloud managed to move Shadowfang from on top of her. She scrambled to get paws, darting away from the tom with a taunt. Shadowfang growled playfully, crouching to the floor. Her pelted after his mate a heartbeat later, gaining on her with ease. He pounced once more, tussling with her on the grassy floor. Squeaks and trills of laughter floated in the air between them as they rolled, their witty banter growing more and more dramatic. It felt good to play around with Shadowfang again like this. It reminded Swiftcloud of one of the reasons why she'd fallen in love with him. She enjoyed his playful spirit. Shadowfang never failed to make feel young and free. And though Swiftcloud was already both of these things, she knew that she'd truly felt this way whenever Shadowfang was around. To her, Shadowfang was joy; he was an adventure waiting to happen and a life full of experience. To Swiftcloud, Shadowfang was home.

"What in the name of the earth and stars are you two up to?" A voice called out to the playful mates, gaining both of their attention. Swiftcloud glanced at the cat who had spoken them, a bright smile blooming on her muzzle.

"Play fighting!" She chriped. "Care to join us, Misty?" She invited.

Mistyleaf shook her head, rolling her eyes playfully. "Silly furballs," she mewed as he booped Swiftcloud's nose, cuffing Shadowfang over the ear when he sat up. "How about we share tongues instead? Then you can tell Shadowfang and I all about your visit to Treeclan," Mistyleaf proposed.

Swiftcloud perked up the idea, agreeing without a second thought. The mates padded over to the edge of the clearing, entangling themselves with one another while they talked and groomed. During their chat, Swiftcloud's thoughts would wander. She realized while Shadowfang represented a life of freedom and fun, Mistyleaf stood for comfort. The silver molly was safety, trustworthiness, and softness. She was the calmness in the calamity. The voice of reason. To Swiftcloud, Mistyleaf was sanctuary. And together, both her and Shadowfang were the pure definition of love. Swiftcloud knew she could never adore any other cats more.

The moon soon climbed to its peak in the sky, summoning hard working warriors home, and putting them to sleep. Swiftcloud, Shadowfang and Mistyleaf rose from their resting place padding into the warriors' den. They settled back down together in their shared nest, passing on wishes of good rest and sweet dreams before closing their eyes until morning light.

When dawn graced the clearing the following day, Chicorynose and Tigerfang were all too eager to rouse everyone in the clan from their collective slumber.

"Up, up, up! Let's get out there and work our tails off. We only have a short time left before the great battle!" Chicorynose caterwauled, earning a collection of groans. "I've already taken the liberty of gathering the apprentices in the clearing. Go and grab your 'Paws and partners, let's head out."

"I'll see you two later," Shadowfang said to the mollies in his nest. He stood up, giving his shoulder a few licks. "I'm gonna take Thornpaw and Lightpaw out to the Mountainclan border today, with Frostfeather and Pansypaw. Actually-- Swiftcloud, do you wanna come along with your apprentice?"

"No thanks, I already have plans to bring Tulippaw and Tabitha to The Dip today," Swiftcloud replied, standing with a stretch. Shadowfang shrugged, muttering out a "fair enough" before he padding out of the den.

Swiftcloud bid him an extra farewell, turning to groom Mistyleaf.

Mistyleaf purred gratefully, nudging Swiftcloud with her muzzle. "You should go too. And I've got to help Goldensong prepare herbs."

Swiftcloud whined slightly but ultimately agreed. She gave Mistyleaf one last lick on the cheek before heading out of the warriors' den, ready to get the day started. A chilly wind ruffled her short fur as she emerged into the open. Her pawpads tingled from the cold ground beneath them, making her take careful steps as she made her way over to her apprentices.

Tulippaw trilled as Swiftcloud approached, rushing forward to tuck her head under her mentor's chin.

"I missed you!" She practically yowled, a wetness pooling at the edges of her eyes as she pulled away to look at Swiftcloud. Swiftcloud purred, licking the younger molly between the ears. She was well aware that Tulippaw had caught wind of the lie Snowfrost told. That Swiftcloud might not last the next quarter moon. Tulippaw had already lost one mentor. Though they were not close, Ambereye's death had still effected her. Starclan only knew how broken Tulippaw would become if anything ever happened to Swiftcloud. Luckily, Swiftcloud had no plans on dying any time soon. She was healthy again, and strong. She was determined to prove that to the brown and white she-cat. To give her the reassurance she needed.

"Alright, 'Paws, let's head out," Chicorynose meowed as she padded over to the apprentices. She turned, noticing the other she-cat besides the group. "Oh Swiftcloud! Are you tagging along?"

"I was actually planning on taking the apprentices myself today," she mewed in response. It has been a while since she had gotten to train Tulippaw. And she hadn't gotten the chance to assess Tabitha's skills just yet.

"Oh really? Where were you planning to go?"

"The Dip," Swiftcloud explained her idea for the day. She was willing to go into greater detail, if it meant she could convince Chicorynose to let her have the apprentices.

"What a coincidence! That's where I had planned to take them. How about we all go together then?" Chicorynose proposed. Swiftcloud thought about it for a heartbeat, agreeing to the plan rather quickly. It had been some moons since she'd been out training with her own mentor. And though she had graduated from her apprentice training, she still appreciated any lessons Chicorynose would still give. Tulippaw and Tabitha seemed excited by the plan, racing over to the bramble tunnel ahead of the warriors. Swiftcloud and Chicorynose chased after them, rushing to keep up as they made their way across the meadow. The wind grew more bitter as they hurried along, making Swiftcloud pray for the fresh warmth of Newleaf to grace the Land's Star sooner rather than later.

Eventually, the Dip came into their line of sight. It welcomed the Grassclan cats to its sandy center as they made their way down it's steep slopes. The walls of The Dip provided some shelter from the wind as the four mollies settled within the heart of it. Swiftcloud was grateful for the protection and knew she'd feel warmer just as soon as they would begin training.

"You're in charge today, Swiftcloud. Let's see what kind of training regimen you've got set up for these two hyperactive apprentices," Chicorynose commented.

Swiftcloud nodded, looking at each young cat in turn. She thought for a moment about the best course of action before speaking; "Tulippaw, you and Chicorynose will spar first. Afterwards, I'll be assessing Tabitha's skills. Then the two of you will practice some advanced techniques together, while Chicorynose and I train."

"Awesome!!" Tulippaw perked up at the chance to show off her skills. Tabitha and Swiftcloud shuffled off to the sidelines, keeping away from all the action that was about to unfold. Swiftcloud watched Chicorynose pad across the ditch, turning tail to face her opponent. Tulippaw stepped close to the center, eyes narrowed to focus on the other cat in front of her.

"Alright, Tulip, give me everything you've got." The deputy challenged.

Instantly Tulippaw dropped into a crouch, flexing her claws in excitement. Chicorynose mirrored her stance, stalking the apprentice around the base of The Dip, ready to pounce or defend at any given moment. Tulippaw watched her aunt carefully, eyeing her legs specifically. Chicorynose took notice and dropped down to protect herself, probably thinking she'd already bested the warrior in training.

Be careful of your line of sight; never give away your target with your glance, Swiftcloud was prepared to say, waiting for the apprentice to try and sweep her faux enemy's feet from under her.

But the attack never came. Instead, Tulippaw leaped without warning, springing onto Chicorynose's back. She scraped her paws against the older molly's flanks with sheathed claws, yowling out a battle cry. She'd managed to throw Chicorynose off her guard.

Well done.

Chicorynose fought to get Tulippaw off her back, gaining the upper paw for half a heartbeat when Tulippaw willing let her go. But as the brown and white molly's front paws touched the ground, she turned, kicking her back legs out. This pushed Chicorynose forward, knocking off her balance. She struggled to keep herself from toppling, widening her stance to catch herself. Tulippaw turned once more to smirk.

"Not bad," Chicorynose praised. Without another word she surged forward, swiping at Tulippaw's face. She changed paws every few heartbeats in an attempt to distract the apprentice. Tulippaw did her best to dodge the blows, getting hit once or twice. Though she managed to maneuver or block most of them. But Swiftcloud knew Chicorynose didn't really care whether Tulippaw took damage from her attack. What she was really after was backing her opponent into a corner. It was a technique Swiftcloud knew well, having been subjected to it often during her own apprentice training.

Tulippaw took a pace away each time Chicorynose swiped. Eventually, she ended up with her rear pinned again The Dip's wall. Chicorynose took this oppurtunity to pounce, slamming her body into Tulippaw's. Tulippaw hit the wall with a thud, sliding against it as she collapsed on the floor. She wasn't injured-Chicorynose would never have hit Tulippaw that hard-but the impact was enough to throw her off her paws. The deputy then set herself upon the younger she-cat, effectively pinning her. After struggling to get out of her aunt's grip, Tulippaw finally went limp in defeat.

"Great try," Swiftcloud purred as Chicorynose let Tulippaw sit up. She padded over to her apprentice, nubby tail held high. "Yknow you almost had her for a heartbeat. But you weren't paying much attention to your surroundings. A Grassclan warrior must always be aware of what's going on around them, from the ground to the sky. Many predators and cats will try to take advantage of you by attacking from unexpected directions. Or by tricking you into a spot you can't escape from. You have to always be guarded, and clever. Other than that, your blows hit hard, which is good, and your fighting stance is almost flawless. I'm very proud of your progress. You're going to be great tomorrow."

Tulippaw beamed, her glee as bright as the Greenleaf sun. She stood to shake some dust from her pelt, then gave a little bounce.

"Do you think I'll make a good warrior someday?" She asked hopefully.

"'Good?' No." Swiftcloud smirked. "I bet you're going to be one of the greatest warriors Grassclan's ever known. With enough training you'll end up being the best Fighter. If that's the job you choose to have. And you're already a very good hunter!"

Tulippaw giggled, giving her mentor a lick on the shoulder respectfully.

Swiftcloud turned. "Alright, Tabitha, it's your turn now. Let's see what Chicorynose has taught you recently."

"Really?" Tabitha seemed unsure. "But I thought I didn't have to fight in the battle tomorrow?"

"Of course you don't. But it's always good to test your skills. Even without your claws, you need to know how to defend yourself. If not for anyone else's sake, then for the kits and queens."

"For the kits and queens... Alright, I'll give it a try." Tabitha padded to the middle of The Dip, trading places with Tulippaw. She didn't seem nervous, despite previous hesitation. But she certainly seemed uncomfortable. Tulippaw wrapped her tail around Tabitha's briefly, giving it a reassuring shake before she moved to settle at the edge of The Dip besides Chicorynose.

Chicorynose lifted a forepaw to wrap around the apprentice's neck, pulling her close to her fluffy chest. With her free paw, she rubbed her niece's head playfully, earning yowls of protest as the young cat struggled to get away.

Swiftcloud chuckled seeing the two of them play, directing her attention back onto Tabitha soon after. She decided she would be taking it easy on the pregnant apprentice. But not enough to where she would be unable to learn. And certainly not to a point where Tulippaw may assume the queen was being coddled.

"Ready?" Swiftcloud checked as she watched the plump queen drop into a fighting stance.

Tabitha nodded curtly. "Whenever you are."

Swiftcloud dashed off from her spot immediately as the challenge began, running around Tabitha, trying to use her weight against her. Her growing belly made her slow, which granted Swiftcloud a bit of an advantage. Tabitha swung around to keep up, kicking out a back leg in order to defend herself. She managed to land a hit, shoving Swiftcloud away by a mouse-length. Then she turned like a snake, baring her fangs as if to warn her enemy of her sharp bite.

Swiftcloud rushed ahead without hesitation, throwing a front paw blow at the plump brown and white tabby. Tabitha caught Swiftcloud's paw in her mouth, biting down on it and pulling her second mentor closer to herself. Swiftcloud let out an astonished shriek, finding herself crushed beneath Tabitha's weight as she was pulled closer to her body. Swiftcloud swung wildly beneath the apprentice, hitting her with her paws in a mock scratch. Tabitha's heft pressed her opponent harder against the earth, her teeth fastening themselves into Swiftcloud's scruff. When the warrior had tired herself out, the training queen pulled her out from under herself, throwing the patched molly across The Dip with little effort. Swiftcloud narrowly avoided hitting the opposite wall, skidding to a half just a whisker-length in front of it. She smirked over at Tabitha, panting to catch her breath.

"You're a fast learner," she remarked, recalling how little time the apprentice queen had been part of the clan.

Tabitha lifted her head proudly. "With two of the clan's best warriors as my mentors, it's easy for me to learn."

"I think that's enough sparring for you two today," Chicorynose meowed, stepping forward. "Why don't you go practice some moves with Tulippaw now, Tabitha? I think my old apprentice may need a refresher course in the meantime."

Swiftcloud perked at the deputy's comment, an excited smile blooming on her muzzle. She did feel a little embarrassed, being beaten by a cat who'd only been training for a moon. She was more than happy to take on another lesson by her beloved mother figure. "Yeah!"

Tabitha and Chicorynose traded off, ready to face their new opponents without apprehension. Swiftcloud immediately dropped into a stance, bracing herself for whatever the deputy may throw at her.

The four mollies trained until the sun began to dip towards the horizon. Their bodies ached from a successful day of working by the time they climbed from the confines of the Dip. Swiftcloud was confident that the group was prepared for what tomorrow's battle may bring. But for the time being, all she would let herself focus on was getting home and resting. Worrying about the war's end could wait for her until sunrise.

[helenofsimblr]

A little long, but I hope you like!

Stella: I had only been on Sulani a day, maybe two? And that’s when I met your father. Maisie had managed to uh... seduce... the bartender and she was busy, so I headed off to smoke a joint. And then, he came.

He was so shy at first, but despite his shy demeanour, he spoke to me with a voice that commanded attention. He was very different to all those other island boys.

Francine: In a good way?

Stella: Definitely. He made some pick up line that sounded like something my grandfather would have said. But, it worked! Your father...

Francine: What was his name? 

Stella: Marva. So your dad, he and I were talking, I can’t remember details, I was a little drunk and too high for specifics. But he was so charming, so... He was like Guy you know, so knowledgeable and clever. And he was, manly with it, a proper man. I think, he was so different to Nigel, my actual boyfriend that I... you know, I did a bad thing to Nigel. Nigel couldn’t make it, because of some business commitment his family had. So I went with Maisie instead. I did very wrong to Nigel anyway... 

Your father and I started to hang out a lot, and we got rather... familiar... with each other. I found him captivating Francine, and while I was with him it was easy to lose the focus that had dominated the last few years of my life.

Francine: It sounds like he made you happy.

Stella: He did, yes. I loved it when we met. It was exciting, and wrong, and scary. And like something from a cheesy romance novel and I was living and writing it as the main character.

It was so easy to forget about Nigel, about my career, about the future and just lose myself in the moment. Sometimes, I sit and I replay that holiday in my head and I think how much different my life could have been...

Francine: You mean, Nigel was like your Arthur?

Stella: I guess. I can see it in your face, I know you have feelings for Guy Robinson, or you think you do. I thought I loved your father too. In a matter of days I thought I did. I was so close... so close Francine to throwing it all in. University, Nigel, the Law practice. I would have threw it all under the bus and been a good little housewife cooking fish on the stove that he caught with his powerful biceps...

Francine: Why didn’t you?

Stella: What? 

Francine: Why didn’t you chuck it all in? Did it work out so much better this way?

Stella: It... I think so. It had to be this way. You know I couldn’t trust any man.

Francine *sighing*: I know... What about me? I guess this vacation...?

Stella: I’m getting to that.

So Marva and I were together so much I practically forgot poor Maisie. My time was drawing to an end on this vacation, and your father... he asked me to stay here, said he... Said I could join his family... But, I had to refuse. I just couldn’t see myself on some island skinning and boning fish for the rest of my days. I’m sorry my choice cost you a father. I truly am, and I hope hearing this you understand, or if not understand, can show me mercy for it.

Francine: Don’t be silly mom, you did what you thought was right I suppose. I mean, could I have done any different? Could anybody have made that call with so much promise in front of them?

Stella: I don’t know honey... 

Then the day came I had to go back. I think... I think I broke your father’s heart. I regret so much, I have so much conflict in me over those weeks. Did I do it right? Was I a bitch? Was he using me? Was I using him? Combination of stuff? But I said goodbye at the beach we first met, and... yeah, that was that.

Anyway, a few weeks after the vacation, thinking I got away with it all. I learned that I was pregnant. Nigel was over the moon, but I knew, there was no way on Watchers Green Planet that Nigel was the father. Marva was. I had two choices Francine, I could lie through my teeth, pretend Nigel was your father. Or... confess. I went with option B.

Francine: Ouch...

Stella: Yeah, suddenly I had no boyfriend, marriage was off the table, a massive uphill struggle to finish University, as the Oakmonts pulled their funding for me to finish. Nigel and his family offered me everything, and I spat in all their faces... And even though somehow... I got my law degree it took till you were in school before I could get an actual job. Life was hard Francine, and it was hard, because I made it so. But, out of all that shit, there was one and only one good thing. You. Without you, I don’t think I would have had the strength to persist and keep going. You got me out of bed in the morning, literally sometimes!

[arianaofimladris]

A place called home

An escaped prisoner faces the mistrust of his kin and seeks a place that would accept him.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20375554/chapters/64439761

Part III

 "You should be more careful with that stranger."

Alcarino turned and saw a guard still watching the door suspiciously, his hand on the sword grip. Oelon was one of the Sindar who had decided to join Maedhros. Never had Alcarino seen him so wary and displeased, though their acquaintance was rather brief.

"Mistoron?" Alcarino feigned mild surprise, even as he already suspected where this was going to lead. "I don't think he would have the strength to actually do something, least of all intentionally. He's famished and worn out."

"He may be a spy." Oelon puffed and folded his arms on his chest. "You know of his lot. It would be regretful to see you harmed. We all value your skill."

"Yet you don't seem to trust my abilities," Alcarino observed coldly. "Lord Maedhros hasn't deemed any company necessary, nor does he see Mistoron as a danger."

"The lord's judgement in that matter is biased and you know it."

"Is it?" the voice behind Oelon was so cool it could freeze the air. "Why didn't you come to me to voice your concerns instead of bothering Alcarino?"

The Sinda turned on his heel and faced Maedhros, for it was he who had approached them so quietly. "I only mean...” Whatever he intended to add, the words seemed to stuck in his throat.

"Speak no more." Maedhros's eyes blazed brightly. "I have heard about these concerns. And I know Mistoron has already experienced the hospitality you speak of." He spat out the last words with disgust. "I will not have anyone call Himring uninviting. Everyone who wishes to dwell here is welcome to do so and to be a part of this fortress. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, my lord," Oelon bowed his head, but mistrust did not leave his features. Alcarino hoped he would wise enough not to voice his unfounded doubts again.

***

But the matter returned and sooner than Alcarino anticipated. The evening had not yet come when Oelon reported that Mistoron was missing from his room. He dared not vocalize his doubts in front of Maedhros again, but he had no such trouble talking to the healer.

"I told you! It wasn't wise or safe to let him move freely around the fortress and now he's gone somewhere!"

Alcarino sighed inwardly. He believed when Oelon claimed that their new companion was not in the room he had been offered. He also doubted Maedhros would act rashly towards a former prisoner of Morgoth, more likely towards Oelon, yet he wished to be present nonetheless, so he followed the guard to the great hall, where Maedhros was likely to be found among his people at this time of day.

As they entered, Alcarino looked around. There were fewer elves than he expected, and the lord was absent as well, so perhaps there was some additional training or meeting he wasn't aware of. Yet there was no need to disturb Maedhros, whatever he was doing.

"Do you really regard Mistoron as a threat?" Alcarino asked Oelon and pointed to the right.

There, curled on one of the benches standing alongside the wall opposite to the windows facing the inner yard, slept their missing guest. Whatever had chased him from his room, clearly had not got him here, as he seemed to be at peace. He was wearing the fresh clothes he had been given, but as he slept, he kept what little he possessed pressed against his chest.

“I wouldn’t disturb the lord if I were you,” said Alcarino. “And let Mistoron stay wherever he pleases, since he is not our prisoner.”

***

Alcarino settled for making sure their guest was well fed and his wounds and sores tended to, but otherwise kept his distance and watched him from afar. Mistoron rarely hid within the walls of the room he was given. Most often he could be found in the hall. He mentioned briefly that the bustle of normal life around him made him feel safe and most of the Noldor didn’t mind him joining them if he wished. Alcarino asked no questions and did not return to the matter of resetting his hand.

On the third day it was Mistoron who sought him out. He came to have his wounds checked, then hovered as the healer cleaned his tools.

"My hands yearn to pick the tools and for once make something of my choosing," he blurted finally and stopped as abruptly as he began, looking at Alcarino with sudden fear what his outburst would bring.

But the healer nodded in acknowledgement. "For that you will have to wait till you are healed.”

Bracing himself, Mistoron looked up. “Do it. If it is as you say, please fix my hand.”

“Thank you,” Alcarino offered him a gentle smile. “Is there anything you would like to know beforehand?”

Mistoron opened his mouth, but the words seemed to have left him. “You... You said you would put me to sleep?” He asked finally. “That I will not...”

“You will not be awake. You will sleep for several hours afterwards,” explained Alcarino and motioned Mistoron to sit back again. “Your hand will probably bother you for the next few days, until the swelling goes down, but I have means to help. You will not be left alone in this.”

Sinking in the offered chair, Mistoron heard little of what the healer said later as he explained the details of the surgery. There. He did it. He would let this strange Noldo touch... hurt him. The idea paralysed him, though he tried to convince himself that the healer was right. He could probably still refuse and run away, but he had no one else to go and talk to. Nobody here was close to him, though the few he had made acquaintance with seemed to care about his wellbeing. And the only person who knew what he had experienced...

“If you ask him, he will come to assist me and stay,” the healer offered him a kind smile. “Lord Maedhros. If you want. He will understand.”

"No, no," Mistoron shook his head fervently. He wished not to bother the lord. "If only..." he stopped, a wave of shame forcing the words back down his throat.

"I cannot offer you what I don't know you need," Alcarino reminded him gently.

"I... CanIhavemorefoodfirst?" Eyes shut, he didn't dare as much as draw a breath, feeling his bluntness was too much.

But the healer was nothing but kind, though he shook his head in denial. "For what I am about to give you, it's best to have an empty stomach, lest you feel ill. But if you wish so, there will be food for you waiting when you wake.”

"I-I'm sorry.”

"There is no need. Please wait here for me.”

***

It went better than Mistoron expected. Just like the healer had promised, he remembered nothing from the surgery and woke in his own bed as the sun was already setting. Alcarino had given him medicines and left more food than necessary, but Mistoron didn’t feel like eating. He laid and rested, so a sudden knocking startled him.

"Enter," he called, wondering who wished to see him, since the healer had promised to come again in the morning.

The door opened.

"My lord-" Mistoron sat at once, ready to rise, but Maedhros motioned him to stay seated.

"I just wanted to see how you fare," he said, his flamed eyes examining the new member of his household. He had a scroll tucked under his right arm, which made Mistoron wonder whether he had come straight from some meeting.

"Oh, please," Mistoron awkwardly pointed at the only chair in the room and, despite earlier dismissal, he sat straight in bed.

The lord must have realised how imposing he was standing there, towering over Mistoron, for he sat casually, as if it was common of him to step into his people's quarters for a chat. "How do you feel?"

Mistoron blinked in surprise. "Umm... Confused," he admitted. He wasn't unwell and the freshly re‑broken hand didn't bother him, but his mind seemed foggy and some thoughts seemed to escape him before he managed to grasp them. He felt weak and Alcarino had warned him to be careful, since the procedure of re‑setting his hand had been taxing to his malnourished body, but otherwise he was doing far better than he had expected.

Maedhros glanced at the concoctions left by the healer and nodded in understanding. "Oh yes, these things tend to do that with your mind. It will pass. Meanwhile, if you feel up to it, I would like you to have a look at this." Maedhros unrolled the paper, which turned out to be a plan of a chamber. Mistoron moved closer to have a better view. "You said you were a carpenter and I have a commission for you. We need a set of chairs and matching shelves for my council room."

"Oh." What the lord spoke of was a representative place then, one where he probably met the King's emissaries and other important guests.

Seeing that he had Mistoron's attention now, Maedhros continued, his own interest visible. "I rarely have the pleasure of designing anything these days, but at least I sketched the room for you with vague ideas where I would like to have the new furniture placed. It desperately needs refreshing. I know you are not up to work yet, but I am curious to see your ideas."

"Of course, my lord," Mistoron uttered, overwhelmed by the amount of trust he was being given. The Lord did not even consider that Mistoron's work might not be to his taste. He seemed genuinely interested in possible new ideas and designs and Mistoron remembered what he had heard of Feanor his father and of the Noldor, as well as their love for crafts. The few times he had seen Maedhros so far, he had first and foremost been the Lord of Himring. Now it seemed their meeting was private and the lord allowed himself to enjoy the idea of designing and planning, even if he himself would not participate in the process of crafting.

"I believe you have met Istime," Maedhros continued. "She agreed to work with you, but also to show you our ways around here. She will join you when you are ready. Just don't overdo yourself. Alcarino is a good friend, but he is a better healer and can be stern for your best interest. It is wise to heed his advice." Maedhros left the sketches on the desk and stood up. "You are welcome to join us whenever you wish, if you feel up to it," he reminded Mistoron again.

“Thank you, my lord.”

[eleanor-writes-stuff]

keep calm and let HR handle it [IV/VI]

Rey managed to go a full year without ever directly interacting with her new CEO, but now it seems like he’s dropping by her office every single week.

(Because what else is a love-struck fool to do when he falls for his head of HR other than find reasons to visit her department?)

OR: five times Ben gets summoned down to HR, and one time Rey gets called into the CEO’s office, based on this prompt from @optimisticsprinkles​: “Rey as the director of HR at [office] and Kylo/Ben starts finding reasons to be sent down to HR”.

On the second anniversary of Han’s death, Rey is contacted by multiple concerned parties regarding the well-being of one Ben Solo, CEO. Hurt/comfort (of the touchy and cuddly kind) ensues.

Chapter 3 Also available on AO3. And hey, maybe check out my Twitter and Ko-fi?

To: ben_solo@organafoundation.com From: rey_niima@organafoundation.com Subject: Meeting?

Hey Ben,

Would you mind dropping by for a quick meeting today? I’m free all day, so just come by whenever you can.

Warm regards, Rey Niima, Head of Human Resources, The Organa Foundation.

 To: rey_niima@organafoundation.com From: ben_solo@organafoundation.com Subject: Re: Meeting?

Hi Rey,

I’m always happy to visit, but I feel like I should ask… what did I do this time?

Best regards, Ben Solo, Chief Executive Officer, The Organa Foundation.

 To: ben_solo@organafoundation.com From: rey_niima@organafoundation.com Subject: Re: Meeting?

Nothing bad, I promise. Just thought you might want to talk.

(And before you ask: no, Mitaka wasn’t the one to tattle on you. Don’t scare him!)

Warm regards, Rey Niima, Head of Human Resources, The Organa Foundation.

 To: rey_niima@organafoundation.com From: ben_solo@organafoundation.com Subject: Re: Meeting?

I’ll be there in half an hour.

Best regards, Ben Solo, Chief Executive Officer, The Organa Foundation.

 “So if Mitaka wasn’t the one to tattle,” Ben says as he walks into her office, forgoing his usual knock, “who was?”

Rey is still consumed by indecision and doubt as he walks to her, but one look at him and she’s sure she made the right choice to call him into her office. The smile he’s giving her doesn’t reach his eyes, and the way he seems to almost collapse into the chair she’s begun to think of as his fills her with concern.

I don’t know, he just seems off, Finn had said with a frown at lunch.

At least you’ve actually seen him, Jessika had replied. He’s been so quiet I was beginning to wonder if he even came in today.

She’s almost ashamed that it had taken Poe’s reminder for her and the others to put all the pieces together. Go easy on him, it’s a tough day.

Tough might be the understatement of the century, given that today is the second anniversary of Han’s death.

Rey takes a moment to brace herself for the conversation ahead before she offers him a small smile. “Let’s just say it was a number of concerned parties.”

“I figured you take your job seriously, but I didn’t realize you’ve gone to the extent of setting up a network of spies to check on everyone’s wellbeing,” Ben teases, but there’s no hiding the hollowness in his voice, the dull look in his eyes, the quivering curve of his lips as if they’re shaking from the strain of maintaining his smile.

“Not everyone,” Rey tells him, and leaves it at that for him to make of it what he will. She’s not quite sure what to make of it herself, the fact that everyone had seen fit to bring their concerns about Ben to her and unanimously decide that she’s the only one qualified to reach out to him on this day.

Whatever the hidden message is, he seems to get it.

Slowly, inevitably, Ben collapses under the strain of his act. It’s a heartbreaking, intimate thing to witness: how his mask gives way to barely-concealed pain, how his shoulders slump in defeat, how he leans forward as if to reach out for her.

“You know what today is, don’t you?” he murmurs, resting his loosely knitted-together hands on her table.

Rey moves closer and reaches across the desk to curl one hand above his. “I do.”

He closes his eyes, draws a shaky breath, and slowly exhales before meeting her eye. “Do you know what happened? The real story, not the one they told everyone else,” he clarifies, and at this point Rey really shouldn’t be surprised anymore.

The official version of events, the one that claims legendary F1 driver Han Solo had somehow lost control of his car on a rainy night and fatally crashed into a tree, should never have held up to scrutiny. But everyone had been too busy mourning his loss and adjusting to his absence to linger on the cruel twist of fate that had taken him then, and no one has been in the mood to poke at barely-healed wounds since.

“No,” she says quietly; unnecessarily if the look on Ben’s face is anything to go by. He nods before she’s even really formed the word, just one tiny, tired dip of his head.

“Barely anyone has,” he whispers. “And only once from me, just enough for my mom to know that… to know that it’s my fault, that I’m the reason–” He falters then, pulls his hands away from hers and brings them up to hide his face instead as his shoulders start to shake and a single, strangled cry rings out in the stillness of her office.

Her first instinct is to rush out of her chair and to his side, to take him into her arms and hold him close, but Rey hesitates. Even after all these weeks of getting to know each other and growing closer, even after a few happy hours spent curled up together while she shared painful details of her past, this is somehow still uncharted territory for them. Ben is open and honest with her, always has been since that very first day, but she’s never seen him vulnerable and hurting like this.

Rey wonders if anyone has in recent years, if Ben has anyone else in the world to hold him and comfort him. And that thought alone is enough to make her brush away her hesitance and go to him, offering him wordless comfort as she wraps her arms around his shoulders and lets him hide his tears in her embrace. She thinks she can feel every single drop of his anguish, scalding hot as they soak through her shirt while she cards one hand through his hair.

“I didn’t know,” Ben finally mumbles against her stomach. It takes him a little while longer to find the strength to pull away from her, and when he does her heart breaks for him all over again. He looks so young like this, with the sad eyes of a lost child drowning in his own grief. “I didn’t know he’d been drinking that night–”

Neither had she until this exact moment, but Rey keeps quiet.

“I didn’t even stop to think, about him or Mom or anyone else, I was just so focused on myself like always, I called him up because I’d finally seen the truth and I was so lost and scared and I needed him and a part of me just knew that he’d help me come home even after everything, that he’d do anything and everything for me…” Ben chokes on a sob, takes a moment to breathe while Rey tries to help him with little sounds of comfort and reassurance and support.

“Dad… Dad hated drunk drivers, always had,” he says, voice thin and shaky but there nonetheless. “He thought they were the most selfish, awful people on the road, for putting other people at risk like that. And no matter what everyone else said, no matter how they’d try to goad or trick or flatter him into driving, surely the great Han Solo can’t be defeated by just a couple beers– no matter what, he never, ever drove under the influence… until that night. Until me and my selfish call and the fucking mess I’d made and dragged him into–”

He’s shaking again, but not from sorrow this time. Rey crouches down, cradles his face in her hands and keeps his eyes on hers. “Hey. Hey. Shh, just breathe. Don’t do this to yourself, Han wouldn’t have wanted–”

Ben shakes his head, but gently enough not to dislodge her grip. “You don’t understand, Rey. If it weren’t for me, he would never have gotten on the road that night. If it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t be dead. But I called him and he didn’t even stop to ask questions, didn’t even hesitate, just promised me that everything was going to be okay, that he’d be there right away–”

She doesn’t need Ben to finish the story, not that he seems capable of it right now. They know how the story ends; everyone knows the ending even if they don’t know the rest of it.

Han never made it.

“I waited on the curb outside my office for an hour,” he says – quieter now, darker now. “One whole hour, and I never once thought to worry about him, I was so fucking trapped in my own mind. I spent an hour cursing my father out for failing me once again, and all the while he was dying because of me.”

The pain in Ben’s voice is palpable, but the hatred… the hatred is unbearable.

“Ben.” She tightens her grip on him, looks him straight in the eye even as her vision swims with tears. “Ben, listen to me: Han… god, I hate saying this, but Han didn’t have much time left and we all knew it. We did,” she insists when he begins to shake his head. “You know better than anyone else the kind of shit he got up to when he was younger, the kind of shit he kept doing even after he’d grown far too old for it. The man had two heart attacks in two years, Ben, Christ, it was a miracle he even lived through the first one, let alone the second.”

When she’d told Han as much the day she went to visit him in the hospital despite his protests, he’d laughed weakly and told her that his whole damn life was a miracle, that he’d been living on borrowed time since the day he was born and one of these days, kid, one of these days…

“There was nothing any of us – not you, not me, not Leia, not even the best doctors in the world – none of us could have done anything,” Rey says, as much for Ben’s benefit as her own. And for the very first time, she believes it, accepts it, makes her peace with it. It’s the only way she can encourage Ben to do the same. “But you know what you did do?”

“Other than speed up his death?” Ben mutters darkly, almost petulantly as he tries his best to avoid her eyes. Rey gives him a little pinch on his cheek for that, and nearly laughs at the stupefied look he gives her for it.

“We’ll have none of that, or I’ll go for the other cheek,” she warns him, lips twitching with amusement despite herself. “And no, that’s not it. Ben,” Rey softens, slides her hands into his hair and finally gives into the smile tugging at her lips. “Ben, you gave him the one thing he wanted more than anything in the world: you gave him his son back.”

“But I–”

Rey shakes her head, pulls him back from the edge before he can drown again. “I spent a lot of time with your parents – you already know why.” He’d unlocked that level of Tragic Backstory just two weeks ago, after Finn and Poe bought everyone several rounds of drinks to celebrate their decision to finally move in together after working through their ridiculous fight from last month. “And all they wanted, the both of them, was for you to come home. You came home that night, Ben. The second you made that call and reached out to him, you came home.”

She waits for the tears to come, his and hers both, but Ben just stares at her instead, lips parted with no words to speak, eyes gleaming with something other than tears.

God, the way he’s looking up at her right now…

Rey finally gives into the urge to pull him close, to rest her forehead against his and just smile. “Ben, if he could see you today… I promise you, he’d be so proud, and happy, and he wouldn’t regret a single thing, Ben. Not if this is what it all led to.”

It’s not easy, resisting the urge to open her eyes and see if she’s getting through to him, but Rey chooses to trust in the truth, to believe in Ben. She stays still instead, patiently waiting for him to let her know what he needs. It doesn’t take long for him to lower his head and tuck himself under her chin, for him to curl into her waiting arms and just… stay there, for what feels like a lifetime.

But this time, his tears don’t hurt.

They heal.

. . .

Oops, looks like we hit an unexpectedly rough path of angst there. Sorry about that, but I can promise it's all smooth sailing ahead! Only two chapters left, so not much of a surprise really. 

Until next time: thank you all for reading, thank you so much for your encouragement and support, and please do like/reblog/comment if you liked this chapter despite the angst!

[justatiredghost]

It wasn’t strange, seeing Ben just standing there in front of him. Klaus could always see Ben after all, but that’s not what this was. Ben was flesh and blood now, looking down at himself like he’d never seen his body before, which he supposed was partly true, it had been over a decade since his death. They were manipulating the timeline to stop the apocalypse, so why not tweak it a bit more to save a few lives? Best Timeline, and all that. So of course their brother had been at the top of the list.

And Klaus was overjoyed that they’d managed to prevent Ben’s death, of course he was. He’d always wanted this for his brother. But a quiet dark part of him that he hated more than anything whispered that he was sad too, because now he was truly alone.

His smile felt too brittle as he watched his siblings cheer and hug Ben, back from the dead, and he of course joined in, promising himself that he’d never let anyone know. This wasn’t about him, this was about Ben and he deserved happiness more than anyone.

“How do you feel?” Vanya asked.

“Too much,” Ben said with a shaky laugh, still looking at himself in wonder, gripping his arm tightly as if he might fly apart.

“All right, all right,” Klaus said, clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention. He regretted it when Ben flinched. He knew what it was like, the sensory hell that could overwhelm you, drown you. He continued at a more normal volume. “Let’s give him some space, yeah?”

Who would have thought Klaus out of all of them would be the voice of reason? It was honestly a little odd, having them actually react with something other than contempt to an order of his, but this was life and death and he was the only other one who had any experience with it.

“Are you hungry?” Mom asked, because that was how she showed her love. Klaus wondered what she was feeling, to be honest. Was it dulled as she struggled against the programming to be herself, or did it hurt just as much as it did for the rest of them, feeling so much?

“Yeah, actually,” Ben said with a sudden wide smile. “Fuck, it’s been ten years. I think I’m starving.”

“Great, I’ll make your favorite. Waffles with bacon?”

“Thanks Mom,” Ben said, shooting a grin in Klaus’ direction, like they were sharing a secret and Klaus treasured it, doing his best to mirror it. How long until they wouldn’t have this shared language and history anymore? He tried to ignore that thought and instead focused on all the times he’d eaten waffles for Ben. Eaten anything really.

Dinner was a loud affair, everyone wanting to talk to Ben, clamoring to be heard over each other. Ben seemed to be taking it in stride though, he always had been so patient. He was the only one who had been able to put up with Klaus, after all. Or maybe he was just so glad to be able to talk to them for a change.

After his death, for the longest time none of them believed he was really there, although Klaus supposed that was his fault. If anyone else had had ghostly abilities, everyone would have believed it and Ben probably would have been much better off, he could have been talking to them all this time instead of only recently on the few occasions he had managed to manifest him.

Klaus was sitting on the counter, legs swinging back and forth, for once staying mostly silent. He’d already hogged more than enough of Ben’s time and as selfish as he was, he didn’t want to be for this. But then he noticed the way Ben winced when their arguing siblings started to gain in volume, and figured he should intervene.

Klaus knew he could never really be there for Ben the way Ben had been there for him. He’d saved Klaus’ life more times than he could count, just his presence a comfort when Klaus felt like everyone had abandoned him. But he had to at least try to return the kindness. He hopped off the counter and headed over to lean against the table beside him.

“You hanging in there?” Klaus asked, dropping a hand on Ben’s shoulder.

Ben flinched at the sudden contact, but tried to cover it immediately. No luck, though, Klaus could read him like a book after all this time and he released him, giving him his space, making a note not to do that again.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Ben said quickly. “I think I’m just getting tired. I should probably head to bed.”

“Righto,” Klaus said with a mock solute.

There was half-hearted grumbling but they let him go. Klaus followed shortly after, waiting for a moment when he could slip away unnoticed. He didn’t have to wait long. He poked his head into Ben’s room only to find it empty. He tried the bathroom door. It was unlocked.

After being literally tied together for ten years, even longer if you counted how inseparable they were as children, they both had no real concept of boundaries or privacy so he didn’t really spare a second thought, he just pushed the door open and walked inside. He found Ben just standing there, staring at his own reflection, looking so tired and grim.

“You are a handsome devil, aren’t you?” Klaus joked because he didn’t like his expression.

“It’s actually super weird seeing myself, you know?” Ben said, mustering up a smile.

“So what do you want to do? Shall I draw you a bath?” Klaus asked, gesturing dramatically.

“No thanks, I never really liked baths as much as you,” Ben said with a weak smile, arm absently wrapping around his stomach as if to keep his insides from spilling out onto the floor and Klaus supposed that was partly true when you had a monster living inside you. Ben quickly lowered his arm when he realized what he was doing.

“I’ll try not to be offended on behalf of baths everywhere,” Klaus said, trying to lighten the mood. “Ah fuck, I just realized, you’re gonna have to remember to brush your teeth now. That sucks.”

“Toothpaste tastes worse than I remember,” Ben joked.

“Come on, bro, give him some space,” Diego said, bumping his shoulder into Klaus as he walked past. It wasn’t done out of spite, there wasn’t even enough strength behind it to do more than jostle. He always had been bad at feelings, Klaus wondered if it was his attempt at friendly touch.

“Right, right, sorry,” Klaus said, hands raised in surrender. “I’ll let you get to it then. Do you need anything?”

“Nah, go sleep,” Ben said, shooting him a grateful smile.

But Klaus couldn’t sleep. There were the screaming of ghosts, sure, but also there was the crushing loneliness. He knew Ben deserved to have some alone time, he’d been stuck with Klaus for what must have felt like an eternity. Sure, he could disappear to who knows where when he wanted to get away from him which honestly wasn’t as often as Klaus would have if he’d been stuck with himself, but that was beside the point.

Ben had his own life now. He needed sleep, he needed to live and it wasn’t fair to selfishly demand all of his time just because Klas was feeling a little lonely. Would Ben even want to spend time with him now? Klaus had already driven all of their living siblings away, none of them could stand him as he constantly self destructed but Ben hadn’t had a choice, he had to stick around or be alone forever. Now that he was free, surely he’d make the only reasonable decision and put as much space between the two of them as he could.

Klaus wanted to be different, though. He didn’t want to make his siblings miserable anymore. More than anything he wanted to be there for Ben, he didn’t want to be selfish or for his family to think he needed everything to be about himself. He didn’t want to lose Ben after everything they’d been through. Not that Ben owed him the chance to prove that.

Consumed by his thoughts, Klaus sat with his head hanging over the edge of the bed, hands fiddling restlessly with anything within reach, full of a terrible energy. Being sober was fucking awful. That was a phrase that crosses his mind almost constantly. He told himself it was worth it.

Sure, Ben didn’t need him to use his powers anymore, but he still needed to see Dave. And, well, he didn’t want to disappoint his siblings again. He didn’t want to give Ben one more reason to leave him behind either.

Eyes tightly closed, he flinched as a ghost screamed his name. And then he flinched again at a light tapping at his door. For a terrible moment, he thought maybe he’d accidentally given a desperate ghost physical form and that it was coming for him, but then his door cracked open and Ben stuck his head inside.

“Can I— come in?” He asked hesitantly.

“What’s the matter? Missing my stunning presence already?” Klaus joked even though he didn’t believe it. Anything to lighten the mood and make his brother feel better about all of this.

“Yeah, it’s weird not hearing your annoying voice all the time. It’s like background noise at this point, it’s just not the same without it.” Ben said, because it was easier than saying he didn’t want to be alone, or so Klaus imagined. Maybe it was the monsters in his stomach, or the newly being alive thing that made Ben seek him out. Either way, it didn’t really matter. If Ben needed something, that was all he needed to know.

“Come in, come in, welcome to my abode,” Klaus said, throwing his arms wide. “We aren’t as small as we used to be but I’m sure we’ll both still fit.”

Ben rolled his eyes at his showmanship but did as instructed. The bed was a tight fit, but they didn’t mind. They used to share a bed all the time growing up, both of them struggling with nightmares almost constantly. Eventually even Dad had given up trying to catch them whenever one of them snuck into the other’s room. It was easier for him to just pretend it wasn’t happening. Klaus took his hand and squeezed it, trying for an encouraging smile.

“This is stupid,” Ben grumbled, rubbing his forehead with an embarrassed smile.

“Nah, happens to the best of us. You know how I sleep, though. Not my fault if I shove you off.”

“Brave of you to assume you could,” Ben shot back and for a moment it felt like normal and Klaus could almost, almost believe that nothing had really changed between them.

“Is it Them?” Klaus asked more seriously and they both knew immediately what he was talking about.

They’d had this conversation many times before he died. Klaus had to deal with ghosts screaming at him while Ben had to worry about his own body playing host to monsters even he was afraid of. That was partly why they got along so well. They both hated their abilities. The only difference was Ben couldn’t run away from them like Klaus could when he turned to drugs. If he could, maybe he never would have died.

“Yeah,” Ben said, looking away. “I’d forgotten what it was like. Obviously They were still there after I died, but I couldn’t feel Them like I can when I’m alive. It’s not just that though.” He paused for a long moment before continuing, voice quiet, still not looking at him. “I-- I don’t know if I like being alive.”

“What, too much responsibility now?” Klaus joked, desperate to make his brother smile. “You’d think there’d be less now you don’t have to deal with my sorry ass.”

He never had been very good at saying the right thing. Making people laugh though? He could usually handle that. It broke his heart that Ben was struggling but he wouldn’t be in this alone at least. Ben chuckled a little at the comment, but he could still see the pain in his eyes.

“There’s just so much, all the time,” Ben said. “I forgot how loud everything was, how much there was to feel. It hurts sometimes. And I don’t just mean the Horror.”

“I know,” Klaus said, feeling a pang in his chest.

He really did know. He’d spent most of his life, starting at age 13 for christ’s sake, trying to numb it all. Not just the ghosts but everything else they’d been put through, the trauma and the abuse. A part of him couldn’t help but feel special that Ben would trust him enough to confide this in him. Then again, he was probably the only other one fucked up enough to really get it, this sort of despair, deep down in your core that goes beyond sadness.

“Don’t tell the others,” Ben said. “I don’t want to worry them. I don’t want to die again or anything, I just, I don’t know. It’s a lot.”

“I get it,” Klaus said. “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

“Thanks,” Ben said, offering up a weak smile. There was unfortunately little Klaus could do to actually help, but then he didn’t think Ben was expecting that. Hopefully this would be enough for now, knowing he wasn’t alone. Still, the atmosphere was getting a bit heavy so Ben changed the subject. “What about you? How’s being sober going?”

“Oh, fantastic,” Klaus said. “So great. Never better.”

“And, as usual, you are a terrible liar,” Ben said.

“Shut up, I’m a great liar,” Klaus said, taking his pillow and hitting Ben with it.

“Oh you did not just do that,” Ben said, grinning as he grabbed his own pillow, and just like that the tension was gone. “Finally I can kick your ass.”

It was nice to have Ben here and alive again.

-

Klaus was not doing okay. He rarely was, but today he was particularly bad. He sat in the corner of his room, hands over his ears as if that could help block out the ghosts. He couldn’t. He might have been rocking back and forth but he wasn’t sure. There was only the screaming. Every time a ghost reached out to him, he flinched, afraid that maybe this time they’d be able to grab him and then there would be no escape.

He could ask any of his siblings for help. Not that he knew how they could help, Klaus was still learning how to cope and had been having very little success. Then again, even if he did ask, would they even believe him? They rarely did, brushing it off as him just trying to be the center of attention. Annoying Klaus, always too loud and too much.

And sure, sometimes that was true, most of the time growing up especially. They all already had too much to deal with, he’d rather joke around than actually talk about the shit they went through. But even then, more often than not, he was trying to drown out the ghosts, to be heard above them. Being dismissed and ignored just made him feel worse.

Ben would believe him. He always knew what to do, what to say. Especially since he’d gone sober, Ben was probably the only reason he’d made it this far. But he didn’t want to go to him now. Ben had his own life, his own concerns. What time was it even? He could be asleep. Klaus couldn’t constantly harass him with this. He’d driven all of his siblings away, he couldn’t risk doing the same to Ben.

Klaus had spent the last few days slowly withdrawing from his siblings as he felt himself growing worse. He could deal with this himself, he just had to wait it out. And this way he wouldn’t risk losing any of them again. Maybe some music would help drown them out. Music always helped.

The door burst open and Klaus toppled over in his surprise. He tried to look casual, reclining on some pillows hoping he didn’t look too tense. It was Ben and Klaus mustered up a smile for him. That was a habit they should both probably work on breaking, otherwise it could become a problem. It would be harder to keep his problems to himself if Ben could just barge in at any moment.

“Hey,” Ben said, dropping to sit on a pillow beside him. “Diego and Five are planning to do some sparring, which sounds like a recipe for disaster. You should come down and watch with me, I’m making popcorn.”

“Hey, yeah, that does sound amazing. Why don’t you go ahead and I’ll follow in a sec,” Klaus said.

Ben started getting up but paused. “Hey, what’s up?” he asked.

“What? Nothing, nothing at all. Just lounging, ya know?” Klaus demonstrated by leaning back and raising an arm dramatically.

“You can’t lie to me, Klaus,” Ben said, leveling him with a look.

“It’s nothing, I’m just tired. You know, people get tired.”

“Look,” Ben said. “I know it’s easier for you to hide now that I’m not haunting you, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna let you wallow here all alone.” He leaned back, getting comfortable like he was planning on sticking around.

“Oh, come on, Ben,” Klaus said, throwing a pillow at him, trying to ignore the ghost screaming directly into his ear, hoping his voice wasn’t too loud. “I’m fine, just go back outside. I’ll meet you there to watch Diego and Five get way too into it and destroy the courtyard in a bit.”

“Look, we need to talk,” Ben said with a heavy sigh and Klaus couldn’t help but flinch in anticipation. “You’re shit at asking for help. And I know why, I get it, I really do, but I know your tells. I’m not letting you push me away too. Even if you don’t want to talk, the least I can do is keep you company.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Klaus said with a heavy sigh.

“I know, but I want to. You’re my brother.”

“That never stopped any of the others,” Klaus said. He didn’t sound bitter. And he wasn’t, really, just sad. And tired.

“That’s not fair,” Ben said.

“Isn’t it though? No, you’re right, I’m sorry,” Klaus said, backtracking immediately and feeling guilty he’d even let himself think that. “I’m not being fair at all. I didn’t make it easy for any of them. I wouldn’t let any of you help me. And there wasn’t really anything anyone could have done anyway. But you still tried. Saved my life countless times. I’ve got a lot of catching up to do in the helping department.”

“Okay, there’s apparently a couple different conversations we need to have,” Ben said seriously. “Yeah, you really didn’t make it easy, but that still doesn’t excuse how they treat you sometimes, and I know it’s frustrating. But also, this isn’t a competition, you don’t have to make anything up to me. Besides, you’ve done just as much for me all these years.”

“What are you talking about? I made your afterlife hell.”

“Even high out of your mind you always made my comfort a priority, even in stupid ways like making sure I had a chair. Besides, why do you think I stuck around? I mean, sure, it hurt watching you kill yourself over and over, and sometimes you’d drove me crazy, still do, but I wanted to be here. With my family. You guys didn’t abandon me and there is no way I was going to abandon you all.”

“You should. We’re not worth this. Especially not me.”

“Shut up,” Ben said, elbowing him gently. “You are. Especially to me.”

“This family is fucked up,” Klaus groaned. He dropped a hand on Ben’s shoulder briefly. “Guess we’re stuck with each other.”

“Yup,” Ben said, stretching out and resting his legs across Klaus’ lap.

They eventually did go watch the sparring match. A couple injuries on the part of those dueling and a destroyed courtyard later, Klaus was feeling much better. Ben still wanted to be there with him, even when things were bad even though he didn’t have to be anymore. Somehow just that knowledge seemed to help when the ghosts refused to leave. They both had a long way to go getting used to their new lives but at least they didn’t have to do it alone.

[devilrising]

Fallen Draco, Pt. 2

This follows a prompt written by @mymindsmadness

Summary: AU where Draco is a fallen angel, and the way he gets his wings back is by guiding Harry in defeating Voldemort, but it all goes wrong when Draco starts falling in love with Harry.

Word Count (Pt. 2): 2893

Word Count (Total): 5911

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentions of abuse/torture (non-graphic)

***

29th March, 1998

A sharp, urgent knock draws me from my sleep. Fearing that Father has found out about my letter to Potter, I prepare for the worst. I pick up the small knife I’ve stolen, aiming it at the door. I don’t bother with my wand. I won’t be able to cast anything. I haven’t been able to for days. The door is quietly opened, hesitantly being pushed towards me. Father must be here without Voldemort’s knowledge, and not want to make any noise. But why? I start to question things now. My father wouldn’t do that. He is too loyal to him to go against him like this, to see me. And he’d slam it open, no care for the chance of it damaging the wall. But if it’s not Father, who would it be?

I run through the various options in my mind, all the while edging silently behind the bookshelf. It wouldn’t be Voldemort, he would’ve burst in with an Unforgivable for sure. It could always be Mother, but she’s been too tired with worry (about both me and our situation) recently to do much of anything. I start sorting through everyone in the Manor. All the Death Eaters, the servants which are more like slaves, the elves, anyone else who might be able to get into the Manor. But I can’t think of anyone who wouldn’t either slam the door, or kill me instantly.

“Malfoy…?” A whisper sounds from the door, and I halt behind the bookcase. It comes again. “Are you in here?” The voice sounds slightly familiar, but I can’t place my finger on where from. A creak from the center of my room jerks me back to reality almost as soon as I’d left. I press firmly against the wall, my knife aimed for the gap where someone could see me. I shallow my breathing, making myself near silent and out of view. “I’m serious Malfoy. If you’re here, come out.” The voice is getting frustrated.

“Come on Malfoy! You have to be here!” The voice rings absolutely familiar now. The tone of irritation mixed with worry, mixed with impatience, can only belong to one person. I drop my knife, letting it ring out loudly in the room. A quick intake of breath nearby startles me, and I freeze again. But then the bookshelf is being pulled away from the wall, and I can once again see my room.

“It is you!” I exclaim. Potter looks relieved, and drags me away from the bookcase.

Barely having the strength to stand, I lean heavily on the black haired boy who saved me. I knew he would. Potter brings a hand up to my back to stable me, fingers ghosting over my shoulder blades. I wince in pain and he looks extremely concerned before realisation crosses his features.

“Wings…?” I nod solemnly, grief and pain etched clearly on my face. I’m not bothered hiding my emotions right now, being so tired and in so much pain.

Potter drops his hand from my back, instead wrapping it around my waist and pulling me in. We are now hip-to-hip as we walk over to my bed. He releases his grip and I fall to the mattress.

“Malfoy. We need to get out of here.” It’s a warning, his voice firm and commanding.

“In, a, minute,” I breathe. He nods at my request, and starts to shuffle around my room. He opens every drawer, cupboard, and bag. He looks through all my books, toiletries, and other belongings.

“Checking for bugs,” he supplies. I don’t quite know what that means, but I go with it.

Potter draws his wand from his disgustingly muddy jeans, and casts a charm to pack some of my things into a bag he brought. I don’t know how he fits all of it in, there must be an Undetectable Extension Charm or something of the like on it. He floats more clothes into the handbag and passes it to me. I raise an eyebrow at the feminine bag, but he just shrugs.

“Hermione.”

That appears to be the only answer I get, and quite frankly, I don’t have the energy to ask for more.

“Where’s Narcissa?”

“Mother?”

“Yeah. You mentioned that you wanted her out with you.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course.”

“Well…?”

“Oh! The master bedroom, much like me, I'm guessing.”

“Great,” Potter sighs. He casts some more fancy spells, and I watch, intrigued, as a net of blue settles over the room. It looks like a setting charm mixed with a pressure charm. The combination would make sure nothing within this room moves from its normal position, and pressure would be constantly applied to various surfaces of my room to prevent Father noticing my absence. It’s rather clever of Potter.

“Which way is Narcissa?” His voice cuts through the cloud of thought.

“Out the door, straight down the corridor, three doors on the left,” I say, not even thinking about it. After all, I’ve spent weeks thinking about this moment. Simultaneously hoping for it, and dreading it. Potter carefully opens the door, and I watch as he creeps out of my bedroom. I wonder how this happened. How the ‘Saviour’ came to save me. Again. I wonder which time was worse? Fire, or Father?

“You coming, or too weak?” His voice is gentle, and I want to scowl.

“Not weak! Malfoys aren’t weak!”

“Malfoy. You are dying.” I want to disagree, but realise he’s probably right. Not that I’d ever tell him that. “Stay here. I’ve decided for you.” He nods his head at me before slipping through the door, and pacing silently down the hallway.

The few minutes of waiting for him to return with Mother are the worst in my life. It’s sheer torture, lying on my bed, excruciating pain shooting through my body. I try to centralise the pain, but there isn’t a center anymore. What used to only be between my collarbones, has expanded out over my entire back, like my bones are slowly deteriorating within my body. I realise just how weak - for lack of a better word - I really am. The knife closed tightly in my hand would do shit against an intruder. My wand lies uselessly next to me on the bed, not that I’m even able to cast anything. I sigh, hair flopping over my forehead.

By the time Potter opens my door again, I am terrified that something’s gone wrong. Maybe Mother is dead? Maybe Potter was found? Killed? Maybe Father and Voldemort are on their way to my room right this second? Needless to say, I am relieved when I catch sight of the messy black hair. From where I’m lying on the bed, I can’t really see much. I force myself to sit up, the pain agonising. I clutch my back, trying to dull it a bit. This only results in making it worse. Quickly jerking my hand away, I groan.

Footsteps echo through my charmed and protected bedroom, and Potter is back by my bed. He looks extremely worried when he catches sight of me. I can’t look that bad, surely. Maybe he’s worried because of my injuries? But why would he care? I push my nagging thoughts away and make to get off the bed. I hiss through gritted teeth, but stand up on my own two feet anyway. I wish I hadn’t. Pain spreads, shooting from my back, up to my neck and down my legs. I immediately collapse and land heavily on the mattress behind me.

Potter rushes forward, arms out and emerald eyes worried. He puts his hands all over me, trying to find my arms and chest. When he succeeds, he hauls me back up into a sitting position, and cradles my head. I scowl at being treated like a baby. At least, in my mind I do. In actuality, I move further into his body, warmth and comfort the only thing on my mind. Because Potter doesn’t hurt. His touch feels normal. No pain rushing down my back. No intense burning between my shoulder blades. It feels nice. And I’m terrified of it.

“Malfoy. We need to get you out of here and into St Mungos,” Potter says, tone urgent.

My only response is a nod. He lifts me up into his arms and carries me like a child. I want to scream my protest. But I’m too tired. He turns around and strides towards the door. And for the first time in weeks, I see Mother. Her pale skin has turned sallow and sickly. Her hair is greasy and greying. Her once lively eyes are downcast, sad, and scared.

“Mother,” I manage to croak out.

“Draco, dear,” she whispers. It’s a marvel we were able to utter that much. Potter tightens his grip on me, before casting the Feather-Light Charm. My weight evidently drops a bit, as he pulls me closer and bumps me up higher on his body. My head is now in line with his shoulder, and I rest it on him. Only for a second though, I promise myself. I lied. I’m not bothered to lift it once it’s down. Eventually, as we are traversing through the many corridors, the world starts to slip away into blackness.

***

30th March, 1998

I blink slowly, yellow lights blurry above me. I watch as they slowly come into focus, sharpening into circular light bulbs. They aren’t yellow either, but blinding white. A constant beep comes into focus too, and I turn my head to see what it is. I sigh. St Mungos. I’m not surprised. Potter did say he would take me here, but I rather thought he’d wait until I was conscious. The beep, as it turns out, is from my wand sitting on the table next to my hospital bed. It must be charmed to alert my MediWitch when I’m awake. I groan and cover my face with my hands. After a minute, I decide that that won’t help me at all, and pull them away.

I glance around the room, trying to piece things together. I see the curtain first. The heavy, white curtain in a semicircle around my bed. Within the sectioned off room, I see a couple of uncomfortable-looking chairs, a table, and a few magazines. The bed I’m in is quite comfortable, surprisingly. The blankets are lovely and warm, and the mattress is soft. The same can’t be said for the pillow. The outside of the bed however, is a hard, cold plastic that’s more suitable to a muggle invention. I think it’s called a ‘fridge’. Stupid muggles, come up with the weirdest names.

“Mr Malfoy. I see you’re awake.”

I want to sneer, ‘evidently’ at the MediWitch, but restrain myself. Barely. “Yes.”

“Good. I’m Audrey Lyons, and I’m your MediWitch,” she quips. Her skin is dark, her black hair braided away from her face. Her eyes are a shocking blue, and I find myself lost in them for a second. Then I redeem myself, and nod at her introduction.

“How are you feeling? Any pain?”

That’s when I realise. I’m not actually in any pain. No sparks flying down my spine. No searing between my shoulder blades. Nothing. I shake my head slowly at the MediWitch, surprise etched on my face.

“That’s marvellous, Mr Malfoy,” she beams. “I would like to do a check-over though.” I nod my permission, and she traces my outline with her wand. She looks thoughtful for a second, before smiling again. “Your stats look perfectly normal.”

I lower my eyebrows, scrunching them up. How is that possible?

“Oh, don’t worry! That’s your human stats, not your angel ones.”

“You know about that!”

“Of course I do, Mr Malfoy,” Lyons reasons. “I’m your MediWitch. I saw them when I was checking you for physical harm, and my charms picked up pretty quickly.”

“Oh. Of course.” I feel so stupid, yet puzzled. How come I’m still here if they know the truth?

“Oh! Mr Potter. Hello, what are you doing here?” The MediWitch says, confused and slightly annoyed.

“I’m checking on Malfoy.”

“I do believe that’s my job.”

I laugh silently.

“Well, yes. But, I wanted to see, how he was.” Potter sounds a little flustered.

“I see. Well, you have three minutes.” With that, the MediWitch steps through the curtain and closes us in.

“Potter,” I nod at him.

“Malfoy,” he returns the gesture. “How are you?”

“As good as I can be in St fucking Mungos.”

“I thought you wanted to come here?” He sounds puzzled.

“My father and Voldemort could find me!”

“Oh. That’s not a problem, actually,” he says while rubbing the back of his neck.

“What do you mean ‘not a problem.’ Honestly Potter!”

“I mean,” he mocks, “that I put you in a special, secret ward. It’s illegal for anyone to even mention you.”

“Wait- what?”

“Yeah. I paid for you to be put in a special ward, where you can’t be traced.”

“Wow.” I’m dumbfounded. Why would he do that for me?

Potter takes a step closer to me. His round glasses reflect the light beautifully, and it makes me realise just how young he is. How young we both are. He stands next to me now, covered in dirt and blood. Where has he been?

“How is your back?” He asks, trying to find solace in the small talk. The small talk I would rather die than engage in.

“I can’t feel it. How drugged am I?”

“Very.”

“Sounds about right.”

There is an awkward pause, both of us suddenly realising how little we have to talk about. Opposite sides of the war, or at least, used to be. Enemies since we were eleven. Fights, problems, bullying, betrayal. Is there a single negative adjective you couldn’t use to describe our relationship.

“I’ve been thinking.”

“You have the capability?” At least my wit has returned. Or is it sarcasm? I can’t tell the difference anymore.

“Haha, very funny Malfoy,” he rolls his eyes. “It’s about your wings.”

“Continue.” I pause, before adding, “Or, you know, don’t.” I can’t seem too keen.

“Well, angels that have lost them are called ‘fallen angels’.”

“Bravo Potter.” I had heard of that somewhere. I don’t know where, though…

“And it is sometimes possible for them to get their wings back.”

“What…?” It comes out as a breath. A whisper. A murmur. A question I didn’t think I’d ever be asking.

“Yes. It is rare though. Mind you, so are male angels.”

“Yes.” A shiver runs through me at the way he is speaking. Hopeful. Optimistic, even. “How?”

“That depends on each person.”

“How, for me?”

“That’s where my thinking got a bit muddled.” I smirk at Potter. “I do have an idea, but I’m not sure you’d like it.”

“Tell me anyway,” I rush, too fast to keep up my pretence of nonchalance. Oh well.

“Help me defeat him, Malfoy. Help me defeat Voldemort.”

***

I don’t know what he expects me to do. ‘Help me defeat Voldemort.’ Honestly. I would love for him to be killed, gone. But I can’t have a part in that. My family. My reputation. My mother, especially. I briefly wonder where she is, before deciding that Potter would’ve told me if something had gone wrong. He would’ve at least mentioned it. When did I become so sure?

It’s only been a couple of hours, but it feels like I’ve been here for days. I found out after the MediWitch came back to shoo Potter away, that I hadn’t even been out a day. I was filled with relief but also despair. A day could either mean that Father hadn’t discovered my absence, or that he had sent a whole army out to look for me. I shudder at the short memory, and force my thoughts to turn elsewhere.

It’s rather ridiculous, my current situation. I’m seventeen, a fallen angel, dying in the middle of a war on the wrong side. And I’ve just been rescued by another seventeen year old boy, who is destined to save the world. But that’s not where the stark contrasts end. My pale skin, silver eyes, and platinum hair are opposites to Potter’s tan skin, black hair, and green eyes. Evil, wicked, cruel. Honest, saviour, brave. Stupid, stupid. At least that’s the same. I’m stupid for sticking with my father for so long. Potter is stupid by being so ‘brave’ and ‘heroic’. And we are both probably going to die before the end of the world.

I sigh and roll over on the hospital bed. I want to be back home. But not the Manor. I can’t consider that evil place as my home any more. Not when it’s overrun with dark wizards and people wishing for my death. But I don’t have anywhere else either. Home has always been the Manor before now. The only other place I’ve ever kind-of-liked would be Hogwarts, and I don’t think I have to explain why that’s a horrible idea. With nowhere and no one to turn to, I’m stuck.

The rustle of the curtain behind me drags me from my thoughts, and I watch as Potter creeps in. He is holding something I can’t quite make out, and a mischievous smile flickers onto his features.

“Malfoy. Here.” He passes me the bundle once he reaches my side. I raise an eyebrow but open it anyway. A set of long, ordinary, black robes fall out and land in my lap.

“What on earth do I need these for, Potter?”

“I’m breaking you out of here.”

***

A/N: Thank you for all the love and support on this story so far! If you liked/reblogged the last part, I have tagged you below. If you would like to be tagged in the next one (or removed) please tell me! 🥰

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[helenaklein]

take me to your river

The steady trickle of the river creates a gentle melody that accompanies your afternoon. There’s a lightness to the air today, as if the world itself is breathing easier than it has in far too long. Your world certainly is.

Helena’s back rests against a tree on the water’s edge, and her fingers weave loose braids through your hair as your head lie in her lap. You’ve been dozing in and out of consciousness for at least an hour, basking in the simple luxury of your wife’s company. More than once, you wake to the sound of rustling leaves and the sight of slow movement in the branches above you, growing spontaneously to provide continual shade from the sun’s glow. Mirth lights up her entire face each time you catch her; her disbelief and her confidence providing a uniquely endearing combination you can’t get enough of.

You and Helena have yet to leave for any sort of honeymoon, but moments like these provide such a stark contrast to your life together thus far that you can’t imagine time even more rejuvenating.

You crack your eyes open just slightly when her hands still. Helena stares out towards the water, looking thoughtful but lacking the telltale crease on her brow she gets when something’s troubling her.

“What’s on your mind?”

There’s no surprised reaction to your question, only a small smile at the unspoken familiarity you’ve cultivated together.

“Much.”

“Well,” you sit up to reposition yourself further in her lap, her arms immediately wrapping around your waist to pull you closer, “I think we’ve got time.”

Helena hums appreciatively and presses a lingering kiss against your cheek. The warmth of her lips against your skin persists even as she begins to speak.

“Do you remember our first riverside venture?”

You recall the day fondly. 

Those were such fraught times. So much was uncertain. Helena herself was different then, the cloud of hurt and regret that surrounded her so palpable it could have easily created insurmountable distance between you. But it didn’t.

Instead, moments like that trip to the river were a window into a gentler life, a glimpse at the woman she could become.

Your chest tightens at the memory of all you’ve gone through to get here. You wrap your arms around Helena’s neck and hold tight to what you fought for.

“When I pushed you into the water? How could I forget?”

Helena’s laughter comes unrestrained now. You think it might be your favorite change.

“I returned your dirty trick in kind.”

“It ended pretty well for both of us, I think.”

She reaches for your hand and brushes her lips lightly against your wedding ring, “I agree.”

You steal a kiss in the silence that follows. Because you can’t help it. Because she made you blush. Because Helena is your wife and because you’ve found the kind of love most people can only fantasize about.

“I asked you something that day.”

The words tumble from your mouth ungracefully, summoned from the same place of uncertainty they were conjured all that time ago, “‘What am I to do with peace?’”

Her eyes seek something distant out across the water as she nods. “It was difficult to picture myself in the life that comes after war. Growth and repair felt so foreign, so distant to what I knew of my soul. Even now, I find myself asking the same question: what am I to do with peace? There are so many possibilities before us. I struggle to envision what choice is best.” 

“It doesn’t have to be the best choice, you know. Maybe peace is more complex than that.”

The notion seems to strike her deeply, and she looks back out towards something you can’t reach.

“Is this about Chicago?”

Despite her previous insistence on the decision to move after the wedding, the commitment had yet to be followed through in any meaningful way. The two of you went as far as escorting Sophie home before stepping right back through the portal because Helena had told Altea she’d help transport her to potential locations for the future school of magic, and didn’t want to go back on her word. So many things have come up and postponed the move that you’ve begun to consider that Helena may be doing it deliberately.

You haven’t asked about it until now, figuring her reasons justifiable and her faith in you strong enough to share them when she’s ready. In truth, you don’t mind the delay, grateful for the opportunity to mull over the logistics on how the hell to make any of it work. The more you think about it, the more anxious you get. 

You have to go back to work, first of all. Which means job hunting and the whole host of inferiority issues that’s inevitably going to dredge up. You’ll need to find something that will let you work from home, as you aren’t keen on the idea of leaving Helena alone all day in a world she doesn’t know, and something for her to do in general that won’t ask for any identification. And, perhaps most complicated of all, you need to figure out a way to divert the attention that sharing a face with a dead, beloved celebrity will draw to her without asking Helena to disguise herself again.

It’s been a head-ache inducing process, to say the least, and you’ve barely had time to consider some of the pressing emotional concerns you have about any of it.

Helena seemed so sure when she talked about this move before that you haven’t really had the heart to bring up how complicated it’s going to be. You would do absolutely anything to secure her comfort and happiness, even hop dimensions and steal an identity for her. But still, the situation is more stressful than you’ve let on.

“Your world is a wondrous place. Its creativity and progress excites me. In many ways, it is the perfect answer to what I have craved for the majority of my life. Escape. Freedom. A new beginning. A chance to start my life fresh.” Helena smiles as she speaks, her blue eyes locked onto an imagined future. “If you had asked me two seasons ago where I wanted to spend my life, I am sure a place like Chicago would have been my choice, without question or second thought.”

“And now?”

“Now… it is as if I turn to what it represents to me on reflex, or out of habit,” Her gaze drops down and shame darkens her features before she shakes herself from it and meets your eyes directly, “but it has been quite some time since I have let the instinct to preserve myself rule my actions.”

“You said you feared people never letting go of your past.”

Helena repositions you slightly to better face you. You straddle her lap and catch both of her hands in yours.

“Yesterday, I met a farmer living in countryside surrounding Reiner’s castle who had been struggling to attain crop yields comparable to what he managed before the Witch Queen’s army occupied his land. What little actually took root molded by harvest time. I found him reduced to tears, clutching his ruined crop in his fists and kneeling in the dirt. He feared destitution for his family and starvation for his child, a little girl named Maya who just lost her first tooth. He thought himself a failure, and assumed that he was doing something wrong. But the land itself was cursed. I could sense the poison embedded within the soil the moment my palm touched the ground,” her words come more quickly as the story progresses, betraying her agitation at what this stranger endured. “She sabotaged his entire livelihood for no reason other than that she could, that it brought her pleasure to know he and all those that depended on him would suffer.”

You squeeze Helena’s hands in an offer of strength when you feel them start to tremble in your own, “breathe, Helena.”

She takes the suggestion immediately, clenching her eyes shut and giving herself a minute to get her breath under control. When her trembling ceases, Helena opens her eyes and continues, voice noticeably steadier.

“I offered my assistance to him. He was distrustful of magic after having seen the destruction it wrought so close to his home, and skeptical that anything could mend the damage after he had tried so hard to fix it. But he had nothing left to lose, and said as much before allowing me to help. I lanced her poison from the farmer’s field with ease. The look of wonder on his face as the crops still clutched in his hands were restored to perfect health, and that I could so effortlessly erase the evidence of her wickedness… it made my heart soar.” 

The memory puts a note of awe into her voice, her smile lights up her entire face, and you could swear the shade you rest under brightens with the grace of her happiness. You know how much it means to Helena that she’s learned how to help others with her magic. She’s formed a better relationship with herself as a result of it, with the knowledge that she is so much more than her capacity for destruction. 

Her smile fades before she begins speaking again, “there are other stories like that farmer’s. People whose lives have yet to return to sustainable conditions, let alone something resembling normalcy. Many whose homes were consumed by flames and whose possessions were seized by her soldiers, who are still in search of family members unaccounted for, whose minds and bodies are gravely wounded and continue to live without respite. The Witch Queen is dead, but her touch upon this world lingers.”

The statement would make you worry about her if not for the hard-set determination that settles across Helena’s features.

“I do fear what my reputation in this land will be. But should the burden of that fear fall upon the shoulders of those whose resentment is just? Should I extend no offer of help to people in need on the chance that they may dislike me? Is it not the worst of crimes to have great power to make change, and choose instead to do nothing?”

Helena’s voice carries the same sort of impassioned delivery she used to rouse the army to stand with her as she brought back the sun. You can’t help but burn with pride and an immediate desire to do something, armed with the knowledge that her cause is inspired and righteous.

“I have more magic at my fingertips than has ever been thought possible in our recorded history.” She pulls one of her hands from yours, holding it outwards and summoning an amorphous ball of energy to demonstrate. 

Particles of magic dance around one another, a glowing light show contained at the palm of her hand. What she holds then disperses outwards, and when Helena gestures around you, you’re caught breathless at the sight. The flow of the river has ceased altogether, fallen leaves and stones previously strewn across the forest floor levitate seamlessly in the air for as far as you can see. She holds it only for a moment, before dismissing the spell with a slight wave, and shows no sign of strain at the exhibit, if she feels any at all.

“Some of this magic was hers, once. She wielded it mercilessly against the people of this world, used it to impose her will over my body and mind until I thought of nothing but her and how to make the pain stop. I see no greater act of reclamation than my use of that same power to ease some of the destruction she wrought.”

“Are you saying you want to stay here, Helena?”

“As a child this world wounded me in ways unspeakable, and for too much of my adult life I wounded it just the same. But… perhaps there remains a way to amend some of the damage inflicted on both sides.”

“I just want to be sure you’re not trying to make a martyr of yourself in endless pursuit of everyone’s approval.”

Helena releases a hum of recognition at that, and turns her eyes towards the river once more. The sounds of the forest fill the lull in conversation between you. You’re grateful that she takes the time to consider your words, and are happy to grant her however long she needs to take stock of her feelings on the matter.

A chill settles in the air as the sun begins to fall. You tuck your face into the crevice between her neck and shoulder, seeking her warmth as much as you are protecting her with your own. Her arms come around you, pulling you close enough to feel her heartbeat against your chest.

You can hear her smile when she speaks next. 

“There is still so much beauty here. I notice more of it every day. In our view of the sunrise over the village from our balcony. In evening meals spent among our friends, getting our fill of laughter and hot food in equal measure. In the songs the village people sing together while working towards a common goal. In the jovial eyes of children who will grow up without fear. In… in the way Ishara and Asta embrace me as their own. In the dreams and aspirations of all around us certain that there is a future to plan for, and in the knowledge that this is the world that brought our hearts together. This world. She tried to crush it underfoot but kindness and hope yet lives. I see it and I can feel it take hold in my soul, and I know with certainty that this world and I are the same.”

Helena is beaming when you pull away to look her in the eye, and you can’t help but match her smile.

“I wish to stay, my love, if you are amenable to the idea. No thoughts on the matter mean more to me than yours.”

Pride and relief overtake you. The way Helena has grown since you met her still brings tears to your eyes. It may not be a fresh start, or a new beginning, but it feels no less important, no less significant, and no less a marker of positive change. 

“I wasn’t exactly looking forward to getting back to the daily office grind, to be honest. I’d be happy to stay, Helena.”

“Truly?”

“You’re here, aren’t you? And so are our friends. That’s all I need, in the end.” The people you’ve met in this world have filled your days with meaning in a way nothing else in Chicago ever has. Sophie is the only thing from your world you’ve ever been sad to let go of, though you know her place in your life will persist regardless of the dimensions between you. “Maybe it doesn’t make sense, with everything bad that’s happened. But it’s like you said, there’s a lot of good here too. I don’t think there is anywhere, in any world, without both. And we can help make more good. We can be happy here, I’m sure of it.”

Helena’s lips meet yours in a kiss that tastes of excitement and invigorated purpose. 

Your life together was never going to be easy, or simple. To ask for either of a woman like Helena is to deny who she is fundamentally, and ignore the long path she’s walked to become the person she is now. In place of what’s easy, you have what’s brave. It may be scary, and ugly at times, but it’s enough to know that neither of you will ever stop trying for your happiness together, the betterment of all that surrounds you, and the sort of self-improvement that can only be found by embracing challenges head-on.

“If my past catches up to me someday, I welcome it, so long as I have this moment, and the hope of another in the peace we will build together.”

The words ring in your ears. You love their sound, saying them back to yourself over and over as the truth of them resonates deep within your chest.

The peace we will build together.

That’s where you find the answer to Helena’s question. 

Nothing is to be done with peace, because peace itself is what must be done. 

Peace is what you build, not where you arrive at. It is not the hard-earned destination at the end of a long journey. It is not something you can chase, or hope to someday simply find, as neatly wrapped a resolution as that would be. It is the work you put in, the way you try, a purpose you dedicate yourself towards in ensuring tomorrow is better than yesterday.

As you walk back home hand in hand with Helena along the river, you know you aren’t taking your first steps towards a picturesque happy ending.

But together you will make tomorrow better than yesterday.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

My brave soldier muse; Eugene Sledge x reader

*Author’s note*

Wow okay so this is something COMPLETELY different than what I usually write. But after reading and actually watching The Pacific a couple months back with my dad, I’ve decided to take a crack at writing for our baby boy Joey Mazzello’s character; Eugene Sledge. Now before I get started I want to start off by saying I do NOT MEAN TO ROMANTICIZE PTSD or other mental illnesses. I know that gets people riled up and I hope I don’t offend anyone with this piece of fanfiction.

I also DO NOT own the pic that I’ve included in the fic, I’m just using it as a visual purpose for the story instead of having you guys try and look it up by watching the opening credits of The Pacific on youtube.  

__________________________________________________

*1942*

The world was at war.  The Nazi’s were planning on world domination but my people of America didn’t want to get involved because we had just started getting back up on our feet due to the Great Depression that lasted over 10 years.  But it wasn’t until Pearl Harbor when the Japs bombed it without warning, or even reason.

From then on, every able bodied young man or previous vets from the first world war wanted to sign up and serve.  Including my best friend Sidney Phillips and best friend turned boyfriend Eugene Sledge. The three of us have been best friends since the school yard, when a bunch of bullies were picking on me because I was drawing instead of playing during recess.

From then on, the three of us have been thick as thieves, always sticking together till the very end.  It was shortly after our junior year of high school that Eugene and I started dating, in fact you may think he finally worked up the courage to ask me out well you’d be wrong.

I mean he tried, he really did but in the end I ended up asking him out.  So he took me out to dinner and after—I kissed him, I knew we were made for each other.  Of course Sidney had a field day and would constantly tease us any chance he got, especially towards Gene.

Sidney had already been deployed and been on the field on the Marines for a few months now, and Eugene tried to enlist but due to his heart murmur, he wasn’t qualified to go.

I was in my art studio currently working on a new painting that I had in mind.  I had my canvas out and was doing the picture in charcoal when I heard the door open and slam shut.  I stepped aside and saw Gene storming in and he placed himself right there on my cushioned couch where I would have my models usually sit.

“Still there?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He muttered.  I sighed solemnly and set my charcoal pencil down and grabbed some wipes and cleaned my hands up a bit before sitting down next to Gene.  If I’m being truthful, I’m glad the murmur is still there.

I know it sounds selfish of me but I’ve already lost my big brother James Barnes to the war with the Japs, my mama could barely stand and was depressed for weeks till one day she just died of a broken heart.  Of course my daddy barely escaped the first World war with only a missing arm but it was during the Depression that finally killed him, without money coming in he couldn’t pay to afford a doctor to come and help him with his arm which had soon gotten infected and he passed away due to the infections of his missing arm and no antibiotics to keep him healthy.

Eugene and Sidney are all I have of family now, and I’m already fearing of losing another brother, I can’t lose the love of my life to this war.

“Do you wanna head for the lake?” I asked him.  He turned to look at me and I took his hand and soon I led him out the backway and the two of us headed just down the hill from my house where the lake stood.

Our family home was like a little place of heaven.  Wild flowers as far as the eye can see, all varying in different breeds and colors, a small little lake that circled just at the bottom of the hill, and when the sun would hit it, it made the lake shimmer and shine like a beautiful diamond ring.

Sometimes I would come here to sketch and get away from everything of the real world, my own little patch of heaven.  Eugene would come here too when he needed to de-stress or get away from it all from the insecurities of his mind.  And lately because of his failure to enlist and seeing himself as a failure, he needed this more than I did.

We both lay down on our usual spot and I lay my head right across his lap.  His hands gently stroked and played with my hair as the two of us stared up at each other.

“I know you feel happy about me not being able to enlist.” He stated bluntly.  I sighed heavily and said to him.

“Gene…..”

“Don’t lie to me. I can see it in your eyes. I know you to damn well (y/n).” I sadly looked at him and said.

“But it’s not what you’re thinking. You know how devastating it was for me to lose my brother. And then I had to take care of my mama and in the end she died of a broken heart from losing a child, not even caring that she left her youngest one behind. And with Sidney now away fighting the Japs I fear that he too will die. Gene I—I can’t lose anyone else in my life, I just can’t I…..” tears started falling down the corner of my eyes.

“Hey, hey I’m sorry, I’m sorry sweet girl, come here.” He pulled me up and embraced me. My head resting against his shoulder as I softly wept. “I’m sorry doll, I’m so sorry. But you do realize that Sidney is about as stubborn as wild hog, he ain’t gonna let no Jap get the best of him, he’s too stubborn for his own good. Always has been.” That at least got me to choke out a laugh. “There’s my happy girl, with that million dollar smile that I love so much.” He said as he separated from me and wiped away my tears with his thumbs.

He softly kissed the corner of my mouth and I said to him.

“I’m sorry Genie I just….I just don’t know what I would do without you in my life. You’re my soulmate, the one I want to spend my life with till we’re both old and grey, sitting on the porch swing back at the house. My muse.” His thumb kept stroking my cheek and wiping away any tears that fell down my face.

“And I’m honored to be your muse. If I could draw half as good as you, you’d most definitely would be my muse as well. But know this my sweet girl, when I do pass and this murmur goes away; know that I will always be there for you. I’m making you a solemn promise right now that I will fight my way back home to you. Because I’m not just wanting to join because of my country, I want to enlist because I want to protect you. If the Japs managed to bomb Hawaii what’s to stop them from coming here in Alabama? I couldn’t live with myself if I came here to see this place burned to the ground and you lying dead burning. And I couldn’t do anything to stop it.”

“Oh Eugene….” I said as I captured his lips softly with mine.  I wrapped my arms around his neck, my hands gently combing through his auburn hair while feeling his arms bringing me tighter and closer to him as our kiss deepened.  When air became a burden, we separated but kept our foreheads together and our noses brushing against one another every second.

“I love you (y/n), more than a frog loves the bayou, more than a gator needs water to live, and more than birds need to fly. You are my dove, and I want you to always be safe.”

“And I you Eugene Sledge.” We kissed each other again and just remained together in each other’s arms kissing back and forth between each other listening to the birds chirping and the crickets playing their symphonic orchestra.

Weeks passed and I was down by the lake doing a sketch of Eugene in Marine uniform when I could hear footsteps behind me coming down towards me.  I knew instantly who it was and I had a feeling that I knew what he had to say.

“It’s gone.” He stated.  My heart shattered and I shut my eyes trying to hold in the tears. “I’m planning on leaving for boot camp tomorrow morning, will you come with me to the station to see me off?” I turned towards him and said trying to be happy for him after our talk weeks back.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Plus it’d seem unfair if I went to see my best friend off and not my own boyfriend.” He softly smiled and chuckled lightly before coming and sitting down beside me.

“Promise me you’ll look after Deacon for me?”

“Of course, he’s practically our son after all.” I said.  I leaned against his shoulder and sighed softly trying to keep my tears at bay.  “Can you promise me something Eugene?”

“Anything.” I turned towards him and picked up my picture that I had been working on and folded it up before holding it out to him,

“Take this picture and be sure to bring it back to me. If you do, I promise to make more of them. But if you don’t, then I give up painting forever.”

“What? (Y/n) you can’t give up painting because of me, it’s been your dream—”

“And my dream wouldn’t be complete without you in it.” I interrupted him.  We stared into each other’s eyes as I said, “You are the reason I keep getting inspired Genie, and I want to one day share my fame of being an artist with you by my side and introduce you to everyone as the man whose inspired my paintings. My muse. Most girls would give a ring that symbolizes their heart but I’m giving you something far more precious to me. A work of art that I’ve been working on since the but crack of dawn this morning. But don’t you dare look at it till you get on that train.”

“Why can’t I have a peek of it now?” he asked.

“Because I may not have the strength to let you go if you see it. And I know how fighting in this war means to you. My brave soldier boy.” I stroked his cheek and he leaned against my palm and kissed it.

“You have my word. I will not look at it until I get on the train. I promise to always keep it close to my heart.  And when I come back, I shall return it to you.”

“That’s my brave boy.” I said as I leaned forward and kissed him.  His arms wrapping around my waist pulling me closer to him.

The next morning right before sunrise, I stood at the train station standing in front of Eugene who was officially dressed in full Marine uniform.

“You got everything you need?” I asked him.

“Yeah.”

“You have my picture on you?”

“Right where I said I’d always keep it.” He said as he patted the left side of his chest.

“Good, now you remember your promise to me?”

“I remember my dove.” I smiled and nodded but could feel my throat tightening up. “Oh (y/n),” I sniffled and felt him hug me and I tried my best not to cry on his uniform and he whispered, “Please don’t cry, I don’t want the last thing I see before I leave to be my best girl weeping her eyes out.”

“I’m sorry Gene I—I promised myself I wouldn’t cry. I’ve even been practicing but I guess it was for nothing.” I choked out.

“Aww doll, shhh, shhh. It’ll be okay. I promise I’ll be back before you can even have the chance to miss me.”

“Not possible.” He softly laughed and looked down at me and cupped my face in his hands.  I placed my hands on top of his and guided his left hand towards my lips and kissed each of his finger tips and he said.

“Let me see that smile one last time.” I looked right up at him and did my best to smile for him.  “Aww there it is. Keep that smile on that beautiful face for a while longer, long enough for me to forever remember it.” He said as he wiped away any stray tears.

The train whistle blew and the conductor was calling for last minute boarding’s.

“I have to go.” He whispered to me.  “I love you so much (y/n) (l/n)”

“And I love you Eugene Sledge. Please stay safe out there, and never forget about me.”

“Doll it’s impossible for me to ever forget about you. Keep painting while I’m away, can you promise me that?”

“I’ll try.”

“That’s my best girl.”

“Promise to write to me?”

“Whenever I can my dove.” We kissed each other one final time and Eugene picked up his bags and boarded the train.  I shakily exhaled as I wiped away the tears from my eyes as I soon saw Eugene open his window and wave to me.  I waved back smiling and blew him a kiss just as the train was starting to depart.

The last I ever saw of Eugene was him waving goodbye to me, telling me that he loved me till the end of our days.

*Eugene’s POV*

As the train left the station and I could no longer see (y/n), I sat back down on my seat and closed the window up.  After a few seconds I then reached into my breast pocket of my uniform and took out the folded piece of paper that would have her drawing that she had made me take.

Like I swore to her, I never did look at it overnight while I was packing my bags. Otherwise I knew she’d have my head if she found out.  I unfolded the paper slowly until it was finally unfolded and there on the page was a picture of me.

It was a charcoal drawing of me in full combat gear, the helmet I was sure to wear once I would go out onto the battlefield, probably using either her brother’s or even her father’s helmet as a reference picture.  The picture looked like it could be a future shot of what I may look like in my times at war.

My girl was always clever when it came to her art.  She always made it realistic, never once giving someone an inappropriate emotion based on the scenario at hand.  It was then I finally took notice of a note at the bottom corner of the page. It read as followed;

My brave soldier,

Please come back to me my Muse, my soldier, my love.

-Yours forever

(Y/n) (l/n)

Her name signed in her beautiful penmanship whenever she would sign her drawings and sketches.

I sighed and quietly said her name as I folded the picture up and kissed it before placing it back in my breast pocket and pressed it over my heart.

I promise my love, I’ll fight my way back to you. Remember me. I will come back for you my darling artist.

*My POV. July 21st, 1943*

It had been over a year since Eugene left and life hadn’t been as easy as you would think it would be.  I tried to get on with my life working and trying to sell my paintings but with rejection letters coming in left and right, and the workload at the restaurant piling up, I sure wish Gene was still here.

The only upside is when I would visit his parents and make sure our baby boy Deacon was still a happy, healthy dog.  Today I had asked to take Deacon for the weekend just to give Dr. and Mrs. Sledge a bit of a break, and since knowing me ever since I was a little girl, they gladly accepted for me taking Deacon, Mrs. Sledge knowing that I needed something of Eugene’s to keep calm by.

As we arrived back at my house after going for our walk in the park, I checked the mail same as every other day.  More bills and mortgage payments on the house, but then I came across a letter that was addressed to me and right in the corner it read.

EUGENE SLEDGE.

“Oh Deacy, daddy’s wrote back to us. You wanna hear what he wrote? Huh? You wanna hear what he wrote?” Deacy barked happily and I giggled and led him inside as I said, “Come on let’s go inside and read it.” He barked and raced on inside the house and I followed behind him.

Deacon hoped up onto the couch and I sat down beside him and took my letter opener and slide it through the envelope.  Deacon came up onto my lap sniffing the paper so I had to push him back and say.

“Hold on boy let me get it out first of all,” finally I managed to get the letter out and I had seen that it had been written about 4 weeks ago according to the date in the corner.  It read as followed;

My dearest, (y/n)

Your words and letters are about the only thing that help bring me comfort in this God forsaken island.  It’s always either hot or raining like it does back home during the wet seasons.

I’m so glad that Deacon is doing fine and I can’t thank you enough for taking care of our boy. Please give him my love and tell him that I miss him. But every night when I can, I pull out the picture you gave me before I left and it feels like you’re right there beside me. And it’s shocking how now I’m beginning to look more and more like the picture.

War is brutal and it really changes people. And I’m really glad that you aren’t here to see it, I couldn’t bear it if m best girl changed forever.

In fact funny story, one day when I was looking at the picture, my war partner Snafu (real asshole by the way) he saw me looking at the picture thought I was looking at some porn mag or somethin, so he snatched it away from me and soon he and the other guys in my unit were hassling me. They didn’t believe that my girlfriend the artist ‘captured my ugly mug correctly’ according to them. Telling me that she must either be ‘blind or I had to bribe you to draw me like that’.

I miss you my dove, I miss you so much. Every night I dream about you and our quiet little paradise right in your backyard.  Please if you can in the next let that you send, will you include a picture of yourself. Not a photograph but a hand drawn sketch of yourself. I want to see you in art form, draw yourself as beautiful as you make your drawings. (Not to say that you aren’t beautiful in real life because you are, it’s just I’ve never once seen you sketch yourself, and I would like to have a portrait of the beautiful artist that I found myself lucky to call my girl).

I look forward to hearing your response my darling. I love you forever more and I’m always thinking of you.

Yours forever,

Eugene

I laughed and cried as I read his letter.  I wiped away the tears and Deacy softly whimpered as he raised his nose up to my cheek and licked my tears away.  I laughed sadly as I stroked Deacon’s head and I told him.

“Thanks Deacy, and I know. I miss your daddy too.” I then went over to my desk and took out a sheet of paper and a pen and I began writing my response to him.

My darling Eugene,

Even though this letter arrived four weeks after you wrote this, I am still glad to have received another one at all.  It still gives me hope that you are still alive and kicking Jap ass out there.  I’m so sorry the weather’s unbearable to you but we’ve survived worse, right?

And I always give your love to our baby boy, he really does miss his daddy so much.  Sometimes when I bring him over to my place, he just lays there by the door with his head between his paws just waiting for his daddy to come home.

I on the other hand could be better.  I’ve been trying to sell my paintings but each time I’ve gotten rejection letter after rejection letter, I really wish you were here right now. You’ve always known what to say to help boost my confidence up and make me keep striving until one day I get that acceptance letter.

And them boys just be joshin you. My brother’s unit was the same way when he first joined but they eventually became not only brothers in arms but brothers for life.  Every now and then the ones who have been honorably discharged come and check up on me just to see how I’ve been holding up.  You’re handsome and you always will be handsome.

I’ll try to include a sketch of myself but you know I how feel about it.  I never thought I was sketch worthy but for you, I’ll try to come up with something. Maybe then it’ll get your Marine buddies of yours to quite picking on the fact you’re lying about a girl.

I love you Eugene, you’re the light of my life. Keep that promise you made me and come home to me safe and in one piece.  Your parents, Deacy and I love and miss you so much.

Your beautiful dove,

(Y/n)

I sighed solemnly and that’s when I noticed my mother’s old camera sitting a few feet away from the entrance to the studio.  The wheels and gears began turning in my head as I sat up and grabbed it and tried to see if I could get it to work since it hadn’t been used ever since James died 2 years ago.

When I finally managed to get a good test picture out, I placed the camera a few feet away from the studio couch and angled it to the exact spot I wanted it in. I set the timer and quickly went over to the couch.

“Deacon come here boy.” I whistled and he soon hopped up and set half of his body up on my lap while his lower body came around behind me.  I looked up at the camera stroking Deacon’s head so that it would make him stay while the camera soon flashed and took the picture.  As I stood up, Deacon hopped off and I went to grab the picture and let it get developed properly.

Once the picture was ready, I took out a sheet of plane paper and a basic pencil and studied the picture and did my best to copy the exact picture into drawing format.

Of course due to my insecurities of drawing myself, my trash bin was filled all the way to the top of failed sketches.  Also my job kept me pretty busy so I had to hold off on the sketch for what felt like forever.

Until finally about a month later, I managed to get semi-correct with my portion shown in the picture.  Deacon of course looked good as per usual, he’s always been my favorite thing to sketch besides Gene.  Whether he was running, chasing the ducks by the river, swimming or lying right under the sun, Deacon was worthy of sketching.

I hoped that Gene didn’t think I was bailing out on him for this late response so I added a quick note to the picture apologizing for taking so damn long. I also went ahead and placed the photo in with the letter and drawing just so he’d understand why it took me so long.

I didn’t hear anything back from Gene until the following year.

1944 was a cruel year.  Not only for the war and the lives we were losing but I was depressed because one day Deacon could barely walk anymore.  I went to pick him up for the weekend but he barely even noticed I was there.  I had asked Mrs. Sledge what was wrong and she too didn’t know.  She told me Deacon wouldn’t eat, drink, and he barely got up from his little dog bed.

So we took him to the vets office and it turned out that he had a tumor in his stomach and that there was nothing that they could do about it.  So we had no choice but to put Deacon to sleep.

To show him that he wouldn’t be alone, I stayed with him as the vet gave him the injection and my last words to him as I stroked his head gently.

“You’ve been a good boy Deacon. And even though daddy couldn’t be here to say goodbye, just know that he loved you soo much. You’re a good boy Deacy, mama loves you so much and she always will.”

From that day I barely picked up another pencil, hell I barely even went into my studio anymore because of that.  Not only that but without Deacon, I began to have nightmares of one day answering the door and like a repeat of what happened with James, the office of the Marines telling me that Eugene had be KIA.

The only upside was when Sidney came back and made a surprise visit.  I almost couldn’t believe it, at first I thought I was dreaming but I soon realized that it wasn’t a dream at all.  Sidney Phillips had returned home to me, my best friend since childhood had survived the war and returned home.

He told me how he and Eugene actually reunited with each other on the island of Pavuvu several months back.  He told me all about the islands he went to, and of course Sidney Phillips can’t go one conversation without bringing up all the exotic women he got to meet whether in Australia, the nurses on base camp, even British girls.

“I swear Phillips you can never go one day without bringing a beautiful girl into a conversation.”

“Ahh c’mon (y/n) you know that no matter how many girls I meet, you’re always gonna be my number 1.”

“Yeah right.” I teased.

“I swear as a Marine you will always be my number 1 best girl, even once I find me a lady of my own you will still be my number 1. You’ve always been like a little sister to me (n/n) and nothing’s ever gonna change that.” I smiled softly at him and he opened his arms and I fell into his embrace and hugged him back. “And Eugene was faithful to you, wouldn’t even look at another woman.”

I slapped him in the back of the head making him cry out in mock agony and I told him.

“You always have to get a rile out of me don’t yah?”

“Well you two are just so adorable that it’s practically my sworn duty to tease you both to no end. I’ve been wanting you both to get together since our start of junior high. Oh speaking of which, I have something for you,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope.  “Eugene wanted me to give this to you once my licenses expired. He also told me to tell you that he’s sorry that this letter couldn’t be delivered sooner and he explains it more in mushy gooey lovey-dovey detail that you both talk about in your letters.”

“I swear Sid if you read this letter I’m gonna beat your ass from Mobile straight to New Orleans.”

“I promise I didn’t read a single thing, I just know that’s how you both talk. Goof Lord I still remember all the love letters Gene used to make me pass to you in class back in high school. What a nightmare.” I shoved him playfully and opened up the letter and I immediately recognized Eugene’s penmanship.

My darling girl,

It pains my heart to hear from your last letter of what you’ve been going through.  And those stuck-up, high horsed business men don’t know true talent when they see it. Your work is a gift from God, I would give up every bone in my body if I could draw half as good as you.

It hurts to not be there to hold you in my arms, to tell you that everything will be okay, to kiss away your tears of heartbreak.  But never doubt your skills, I still believe that one day someone’s gonna come and beg to you on their hands and knees for just a simple sketch of your work.

I’m sorry to have to tell you this but this will unfortunately be my last letter for a while.  They’re sending my squad out to Okinawa and we can’t risk letters getting intercepted, I asked Sid here to give this to you personally so that it would immediately get to you and that you wouldn’t have to wait for months on end for this one.

If only I could control it, I would say screw it I’ve got a girl worried sick about me, let me write to her I would but unfortunately I can’t. But, I keep your self-portrait right next to mine over my heart.  And of course once Snafu and the other guys saw both the photograph and the drawing of you and Deacon, they did what all Marine men do from not seeing a woman for months even years on end.

But don’t worry I set them straight and told them that if they made one single crude comment about you, then my boot would be shoved straight up their asses.  And I thought your drawing was beautiful, it’s just how I remember you my beautiful tulip.

I will always love you and you are always on my mind.  I hope you realize that and that I dream of you every night, holding you once again in my arms. Because I still have a promise to keep, and you know that once I make a promise, it never gets broken.

All the best love my best girl. Stay strong my best girl.

All the love,

Eugene

P.S. keep and eye out for Sid, ever since joining the Marines he’s gotten an even bigger head than usual, make sure he stays out of trouble back home.

“So be honest, did he mention me at all?” I heard Sid asked.  Suddenly I fell to my knees and felt my throat choke up. ��(Y/n)? What is it what’s going on?” Tears formed in my eyes and I openly wept.

“I can’t…..I can’t do this anymore!”

“Hey, hey, hey c’mere sweetheart, c’mere” I felt Sidney wrap his arms around me and I wept into his chest.  The only thing to come out of his mouth were words of comfort as he held me tighter and rocked me from side to side.

“I miss him Sid, I—I miss him so goddamn much!”

“So do I baby girl, so do I.” he whispered as his hand rested on top of my head and I continued to cry and sniffle into his chest.

“What if this is the last letter I ever get from him? What if he—I…..I know I’ll lose him. Just like I dream every night. I’m gonna lose him just like everyone else in my life.” I sobbed out.

“Hey now, you look at me (y/n) (l/n).” He separated from me and gripped my shoulder tightly.  I winced at the strong grip he was giving me and at seeing my face wince that at least got him to loosen up his grip as he said, “I’m sorry, but what kind of bullshit was that that I just heard out of your mouth? Eugene was too damn stubborn to give up when he had that heart murmur as he tried to enlist. He’s too damn stubborn to let his unit get him down when they would tease him about your gooey relationship, and he’s too stubborn to love anyone else but you. You strive him to be better. He will come back to you (y/n). Even if I have to perform some freaky voodoo magic just to bring him back from the dead to do so.”

“Do—do you really think so?”

“I know so sweetie bell. Gene loves you too much to let you be alone. After all that you’ve been through, he won’t kick the bucket just yet. Not unless you’re there by his side and you both are old and gray with 12 mini yous named after me by his bedside.”

“12?” I choked out laughing as I stared up at him.

“Not enough, okay how about 24 then.”

“God Sid Gene was sure right about one thing, your big head has gotten even worse.”

“I deny that. I should have him take that back, so when he does return you give him this from me to him.” He then wrapped an arm around me and proceeded to give me a hard yet playful noogie.

“Gah Sid stop it!!” I laughed out as I tried to free myself from his grip but he kept a tight hold of me.

*Aug. 15th, 1945 3rd Person POV*

It finally happened.  The Japanese surrendered to the Allied powers and it was on this day that WW2 had finally come to an end.  After America had suffered 4 long, agonizing years since the bombing of Pearl Harbor the military men from each branch were free to go home and return to their families that they had to leave behind.

Eugene Sledge rode on the train bound from East coast to west coast taking all the military men and woman back to their hometowns.  As he buttered up his biscuit one of his friends, Romus Burgin asked him.

“What about you Sledgehammer, got any plans back at Mobile?”

“No job, no plans, but the first thing I’m gonna do is see my girl again.”

“Ahh right, the artist. Think she could paint me like one of those French boys?” teased Snafu as he leaned up against the wall.

“Please your ugly mug would break her canvas before she could even start.” Teased Eugene which made the three of them laugh.

“Think she’s gonna come greet you back in Mobile?”

“That is if she hasn’t gotten her big break yet.” Answered Eugene as he popped a piece of his biscuit into his mouth.

The next day, Eugene finally arrived back in his hometown of Mobile, Alabama.  He had woken up to see that Snafu and the rest of his unit had left, leaving him the only one in his booth.  He gathered his sack and exit the train and walked along till finally he saw his best friend, Sidney Phillips parked along the station standing in front of his car.

Eugene smiled as he walked up to his best friend and tossed him his sack as he said.

“You wanna take this for me or what?” Sidney laughed as he caught the sack and patted his best friend’s shoulder and said.

“Good to see you Eugene.” Gene walked over to the passenger side of the car while Sidney tossed his friend’s sack into the backseat and got into the driver’s seat and soon pulled out of the station and headed on down the road.

As they drove, Eugene asked.

“You talked to (y/n) lately?”

“Check in whenever I can. But you know her, sometimes she’s as stubborn as an ox. Which makes her perfect for you because you’re pretty much the same way.” Eugene sarcastically laughed at Sidney who snickered and then Eugene said.

“What was she doing last you checked on her?” Sidney sighed heavily and said.

“To be honest Gene, I don’t know. I mean this last year has been pretty rough on her but I won’t say any more than that. That’s something for you and her to discuss in your own time. I made a vow to not spill any beans of her secrets.” Eugene nodded in understandment, meanwhile feeling his heart clench at the fact that his girl was suffering, from what he had no idea but he knew he was gonna try to make everything right again.

Finally after driving for about an hour and a half, they reached their destination; (Y/n)’s house.  Sidney had parked a few yards away from the front door as a way of surprising (y/n) much like he did when he had returned from war.

“Go and get your girl Eugene.”

“Keep it running for us will yah?” Eugene said.  Sidney nodded then Eugene opened the passenger side door and got out of Sidney’s car.

*Eugene’s POV*

I now stood on grounds that I haven’t stepped foot on for what felt like a lifetime ago. I walked up the gravel road until I reached her front yard.  Thankfully I didn’t have to go in because right there sleeping on the front porch swing was my beautiful girl.

As quietly as I could, I walked up the three front steps of her porch and stood over her.  She certainly has changed since the last time I saw her; her hair now appeared to be shoulder length as she would usually keep her hair up in a messy bun whenever she would sleep, she certainly has grown as her face now looked more mature than that child-like face I’ve always came to love so much.

But she was still as beautiful as the day I left for the Marines.

She had one hand tucked underneath her head while the other was placed on top of one of her many sketchbooks.  I slowly reached out and stroked away a strand of her hair and caressed her soft cheek. The first time touching something this soft in what felt like eternity.

She practically looked like Snow White sleeping in her glass coffin, and with the sun bouncing off her giving her that halo look, it was like looking at an angel.

I smiled down at her then I slowly leaned forward and I almost hated to do this but I had to, I hadn’t kissed my girl in forever and if I didn’t do it now, then I’d really go crazy.  I gently pressed my lips to hers and god it really did feel like I was home now.  Her soft, plump yet slightly chapped lips from all the times she’s licked her lips or bit then whenever she was fully concentrating on a piece she’d be working on, felt like heaven on mine.

After the first soft kiss, I kissed her again and this time I felt her sleepily kiss me back.  I smiled into the kiss before I backed away from her, her long eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings as she started to stir and wake up.

*My POV*

I was having the first perfect dream in months.  Eugene had come back alive and unharmed and the two of us were down in our little heaven at the lake and that’s when he leaned forward and kissed me.

But the strangest thing happened.  Unlike this kiss, it felt almost too real.  Like I was actually being kissed physically.  As Eugene separated from me, he told me as he faded into darkness.

“Wake up Snow White, wake up.” Soon my dream disappeared into darkness.  I softly moaned and stirred awake and that’s when I saw someone in Marine uniform kneeling right beside me.  At first I thought it was some sick pervert taking advantage of a sleeping girl on her front porch, but the face soon cleared up and kneeling before me was Eugene Sledge.

My Eugene.

“I guess the saying is true, if you kiss a princess with true love’s kiss, she’ll wake up.”

“Eugene” I muttered softly.  I hesitantly reached up to cup his face, fearing that this was still a dream.  My heart hammering away like a sledgehammer. He softly smiled at me before taking my hand and placing it over his heart.  Even through the uniform, I could still feel his heartbeat.  I choked out.  “I’ve only dreamed of this about a million times and every time I end up waking up and crying hysterically because you always end up gone in the end. I can’t handle it again if this is a dream. Please, please to God in heaven let this be real.”

“It is my beautiful dove, I’ve come back to you. You don’t need to cry hysterically for me anymore.” He said as he cupped my face with both of his hands, his thumbs stroking the top of my cheeks.  His touch sent shivers up my spine as his eyes bored into mine.  I lowered my head and wept out.

“Oh yes I do!” Eugene then pressed his lips against mine and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders as we both kissed each other.

His chapped lips clamped onto mine with the most gentlest yet urgent pressure as I felt his strong arms now wrap around my back bringing me down to his lap cradling me while still keeping his lips on mine.  I felt his arms go under my knees as he picked me up bridal style and spun me around softly.

Even though our lips separated from each other, our noses didn’t as they kept grazing against each other and we both stared into each other’s eyes.  His brown eyes staring deeply into my (e/c) eyes. Both of us filled with tears of joy.

He set me down on my feet but kept a strong grip around my back as we both smiled at each other lovingly.  I placed my hand on his cheek and he nuzzled into my palm kissing it while the back of his hand brushed against my cheek, his thumb wiping away any tears that came streaming down like a river.

“Every day for 4 years…..I—I hoped and dreamed that you’d come back to me, but this past year I began to fear that you weren’t I….I tried so hard but I just couldn’t……”

“Shhh, shh, shshsh hey. I’m here now, I’m right here. This is real (y/n), I kept my promise to you. I came back for you. And I’m never leaving your side again.” He said as he brought me closer to him and embraced me tightly.  I hugged him back with just as much strength as I could as I wept into his shoulder.

“Hold me.” I wept out.

“Ohh forever and always.” He said.

“Tighter!” I cried out and soon I felt Eugene’s arms wrap around me tighter bringing me closer to him.  He kissed my temple, the crown of my forehead, the top of my head, anywhere he could reach assuring me that he was here.

“Although I broke my promise about the picture, I lost it in the last recon mission I went on before the Japs surrendered.”

“I don’t give a damn about the picture,” I looked up at him and cupped his face in my hand, “All I care about is you. You’ve come back to me in one piece, just like you promised.”

“And I never break my promises to my best girl.” He said with that loving smile on his face as he leaned against my palm and kissed it once more.  He then brought me in for another kiss and held me in his arms once more.

The day went on and I went with Gene to go see his parents, his ma was about as emotional as I was to see her baby boy back home alive, and his pa had never been more proud of his son in all his years.

That night we all had a welcome home feast at the Sledge manor, Eugene, his parents, myself, his brother Ed and his wife Martha.  Everyone was full of smiles and laughs as Edward told us war stories and even gifted Mary with the German Nazi flag that he himself took down during one of his missions.

I noticed Eugene hiding in the corner so I walked up towards him and took his hand in mine as I told him.

“You got no war stories to tell?”

“What’s there to tell? I fought and killed Japs in the worst possible way, seen things no human being should ever see, and there should be men that deserve to be home with their families, not still on those islands rotting away like trash.” I stroked the back of his hand comfortingly and I said.

“I’m not saying tell the stories of what you’ve done. Tell me more about them boys in your unit. The way you talked about them in some of your letters to me, they seemed like you all have become true brothers. Much like James’ unit did. C’mon Gene at least tell me what they were like.” I dragged him out of the darkness and the two of us sat together on the couch and he told me everything about every man he had ever known while serving out there.

He told me about the friend’s he’s made, what he learned from them and told me of how they’d always poke fun at each other but to them it was all out of love, the Marine way anyways.

When it was time for bed, Mrs. Sledge offered me a guest bedroom to sleep in that was right next door to Gene’s bedroom as well as some night dresses for me to wear.  But I woke up hearing the sounds of Eugene screaming and crying.  I raced out of my room to see Mrs. Sledge looking from the master bedroom worried while Dr. Sledge sat on a chair looking solemn with sorrow and regret.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s dealing with the past trauma of what the war has done to him. He may not have any physical scars but the mental ones will remain forever.” I went over to Eugene’s door but before I could open it, his father told me, “I would force him awake. It will make him lash out at you, and I know Eugene would be even more devastated if he found out he had hurt you.”

“I love him Dr. Sledge, please at least let me try to get a hold of him.”  He turned to his wife who looked at him with sad eyes before he sighed solemnly to me and he said.

“Very well (y/n), but don’t touch him or move him at all. That’s usually what causes Veterans like Eugene to lash out.” I thanked him and went inside Eugene’s room.

Even from the darkness and the light of the moon, I could see Eugene thrashing around, sweat glistened on his face and tears staining his cheeks.  His knuckles burning white from the grip he had on his sheets as he kept crying and screaming in his sleep.

I slowly walked up to Eugene and grabbed a chair from his desk and sat beside him. I tried to remember the lullaby my old nanny Harriet used to sing to me and my brother as well as my father when he was going through this.  I thought and thought about how the words went since she sang it in her native language of Swahili until finally it came to me.

Imba wimbo

Wa upepo

Wakati unajiwa na

Imba wimbo wa upepo

Wakati ndoto tamu

Lala mpaka usiku uisheni

Upepo wa usiku

Wimbo wanko na

Wimbo wangu inaendelea milele

As I sang the song, Eugene began to calm down within the first few lyrics of the song until he settled down completely and his eyes soon opened up and looked up at me.  I smiled down at him and stroked the hair out of his face and I said to him.

“It’s okay Genie, you’re not there anymore. You’re in Mobile once again, far from that god awful place. You’re with your family, Sidney, and me. You’re back home with your dove.”

“My dove?”

“That’s right Eugene, your beautiful dove is here.” I said as I took his hand and placed it over my heart.  He looked up at me before breaking down into sobs.

“I’m sorry…..I’m so sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for Eugene Sledge, you hear me boy? Not a damn thing to apologize for.” I said as I embraced him, laying his head over my heart as I continued to sob.  I rubbed his back and stroked my fingers through his hair as I kissed the top of his head and hummed the song once more, hopefully to put him to sleep.

Once I felt him relax and I looked down to see that he had in fact fallen asleep once more, I stayed with Eugene the entire night and never once left his side.

Days passed by and now it was the time for the ball.  Every military man was decked out in uniform in honor of celebrating the victory against the Axis powers.  I of course had to arrive late because of an interview I had for a new job.

Ever since getting let go from the restaurant, I was jobless and frantically searching for a new job since I practically gave up drawing after Deacon died.  Music was playing from the orchestra, the manor was crowded with people both inside and out all dressed to the full T in either tuxes, dresses or Military uniforms.

I walked around hoping to see either Sid or Gene in this crowd when I heard a voice call my name.

“(Y/n)!” I turned around and saw Mary.

“Mary.” She raced up to me and we both hugged each other and kissed each other’s cheeks.

“How did the interview go?”

“Horrible. The guy was a creep I think I should give up the job search.”

“Well you know my brother owns a law firm, I could help get you a job there as his new secretary.”

“No, no Mary I can’t ask that of you.”

“(Y/n) at least consider it. I mean I did ask you last minute to be my Maid of Honor after my first one had to step down because of the sudden premature birth of her baby.”

“I’ll think about it, but you know how I feel about working behind desks.”

“I know honey, you lookin for Eugene?” I nodded and she said, “Well Sidney went out back to find him since he had snuck out. Been gone for god knows how long, come with me and we can bring those two Marines of ours back in here and dance the night away.” She took my arm and guided me towards the backyard.

We soon found the boys outside at the bottom of the stairs that led to the garden. Mary smirked and strutted towards the boys and cried out.

“Sidney Phillips!”

“Yeah!” he cried out as he turned around.

“Will you get back in here and dance with the woman who loves you?”

“I’m coming boss lady!” Sid proclaimed as he stood up.  He then turned to Gene and said to him, “why don’t you come on in? And we can find the woman you love and dance with her.”

“She’s already present and accounted for Phillips.” I said as I now stood by Mary. Gene laughed but declined the invite and soon Sidney and Mary went back on inside arm to arm while I walked down and stood by Eugene.

“Have I told you, you look beautiful in (f/c)?” He said to me.  I looked down at the (f/c) dress that I had chosen for tonight’s ball….well more like Mary dragged me out to the mall and bought it for me.

It was a floor length velvet dress and I had on the same color velvet gloves that went up to my elbows.  Mary had helped me earlier that morning for my interview by curling my hair into gentle waves and helped me with my makeup and I just kept that with the dress I would eventually wear for the ball tonight.

“Mary picked out the dress, I had nothing to do with it. I almost didn’t even wanna come till she told me you were coming. Just without the uniform on.”

“I don’t feel the need to see why I should. I did what I did because I had to. I did what I was ordered to do, I don’t see why I need to brag about all the horrors I’ve done wearing the uniform that I did those things in.”

“And I don’t blame you, besides uniform or not I know what the love of my life did to serve his country. And I’m always gonna be proud of him for it, no matter what.” He smiled softly at me and took my hand in his and placed a kiss on the back of my hand.

“How did the interview go today?”

“Horrible, the guy kept looking at my breasts than anything else. He barely listened to a word I said at all, so I just walked right out of there in the middle of the interview. Spent hours in the shower trying to get the interview off of my, that’s why I’m so late.”

“And it’s a good thing you did. Now do you mind telling me where his address is so that I can beat his ass in for eyein my girl.” I laughed softly and said to him.

“If I knew I would tell you, how did registering for Alabama Poly-Tech go?” I could tell from the expression on his face that it didn’t go too well.  “So I guess we’re both in the same boat of terrible days then, huh?”

“They asked whether I did any accounting or journalism while in the Corp.” I scoffed and shook my head.

“I’m sorry Gene.” I wrapped my hands around his arm and leaned up against his shoulder, hoping that would give him some comfort.

“Do you think you can paint me something once we get to your place?” I sighed heavily and looked up at him and said.

“I don’t know Gene……”

“Please? I’ve missed seeing my girl work in her prime element. The way you’d move your pencil when sketching out the bases, the way you’d stroke your brush against the canvas.”

“I haven’t really done anything artistic since Deacon died, and the nightmares of you ending up dead only kept giving me negative influences when it came to my art. After I did one drawing of you dead on the battlefield I immediately burned that picture in the fireplace and swore I wouldn’t paint or draw again until this war was over. Even now I think I’ve lost all inspiration and creativity to even pick up a pencil to even sketch a flower.” I looked down at my feet shamefully as tears formed in my eyes.

I felt Eugene’s fingers softly cup my chin as he raised it up and I was now staring into his hazelnut brown eyes.

“Then let me be your inspiration. You always called me your muse didn’t you? And now that I’m back, I can stand by you and help you figure out what to paint or draw. We’re not thinking of trying to impress others, we’re doing it for the hell of it. To get back the artistic girl I fell in love with the day I first met her in art class back in the 2nd grade.” I smiled at him and said to him.

“I love you Eugene Sledge.”

“And I love you, (y/n) (l/n).” He leaned his forehead against mine and we stayed in that position for awhile until Eugene secretly took my hands and wrapped my left one around his shoulder and I felt his right hand go to my waist as he softly swayed.

“I thought Eugene Sledge didn’t dance?” I teased him.

“You missed the second part; Eugene Sledge don’t dance unless he wants to. And when it comes to his most favorite artist who is also the light of his life, he’ll gladly dance until the end of time.” I smiled and leaned my head on his shoulder and felt him kiss my temple while the two of us kept swaying from side to side.

We soon ditched the party and now we were back at my place.  For the first time in over a year, I stood before my art studio. A dark aurora surrounded it like a dark storm cloud over the horizon.

“It’s okay doll, we’ll go in together.” Eugene said as he took my hand in his and gave it a tight squeeze.  He did not once force me inside the studio or drag me into it, he waited right there behind me and allowed me to lead him inside.  We stood there for lord knows how long until finally I got the courage to step inside the studio.

We sat down at the couch and Eugene handed me a sketch book and pencil.  He then brought me close, having me sit on his lap with his arms wrapped around my waist as his head leaned against mine.  I opened the sketchbook up and I asked him.

“What would you like?”

“Whatever you feel like drawing. I know I’ll love it either way.” He kissed my temple gingerly and moved his head onto my shoulder. “Take your time darlin, there’s no hurry.” I shakily inhaled through my nose and exhaled through my mouth and pressed the pencil point onto the paper and just paused there.

I thought and thought about what I wanted to draw.  I started doing random scribbles at either the top or corners of the page until finally like the flick of a switch, something came to me.

I began drawing out the basic shape of what I wanted.  I tried to work out the highlights and shadowing of the drawing. There were multiple mistakes so I had to go through and erase them to the point I almost had no more eraser. That was until Gene handed me one of my 2 inch erasers.

After what felt like forever and multiple mistakes and smudges later, I came to the verdict of a semi-decent picture.

It was of Eugene lying on his back, holding a tiny flower towards the sun.

“It’s silly but it was the first thing that came to my mind…..”

“It’s beautiful, just like you.” I looked up at him and whispered to him gratefully.

“Thank you.” He turned to look at me and simply kissed my temple and leaned his head against mine as he whispered in my ear.

“Draw another one, this time of you my darling dove.” I turned the page and decided to draw a picture of me sitting by the lake, my feet in the water with ripples forming.

The rest of the night was spent me drawing and painting of pictures of either me, Eugene or the two of us together.  Until finally we fell asleep right there on the couch cuddled up together holding onto each other.

A few days later, I was currently with Eugene out along his front yard.  The two of us sitting underneath the grand tree that grew in their front yard. A small blanket spread out underneath us, my head was resting over Eugene’s chest, his heartbeat echoing through my ear softly beating out my name.  While his arms were wrapped around me, his left hand stroking my head while his right kept a protective yet gentle grip along my waist.

“Honestly Eugene, you look like a gangster with those glasses on.” His mother’s voice spoke up as she came towards us with two glasses of iced tea.  It’s true Gene was wearing circular brownish sunglasses over his eyes but I told her.

“I think it makes him look handsome, really brings out his hair a bit more.”

“Thank you darling showing some appreciation.” I giggled as his mother softly shook her head at us and handed us our tea glasses which I thanked her for.

“Your brother’s coming for supper this evening. Evidently he’s been named some kind of supervisor at the bank.” She said to us as she now stood in front of us.

“Better get our money out of that bank.” Eugene bluntly said.  I playfully hit his chest and muttered.

“Behave yourself.” Now not that I don’t appreciate Mrs. Sledge, I mean she’s been good to me all these years, especially for the last 10 when my family was going through death, depression and financial troubles.  She became a second mother to me especially after my mama died, but I knew there had to be a reason why she was still out here talking to us.

And my suspicions were proven correct once she said.

“I’m sure Edward could arrange a starting position for you. As well as an assistant desk job for you (y/n) at the bank.”

“We’re never gonna work at any bank mother.” Eugene said.

“Well….you need to make a plan for the future. The both of you.”

“Our plan is to do nothing for a while, we both talked about it the other night and agreed together that this is what we want to do.”

It’s true. One night while cuddling in bed together, Eugene and I started talking about where we should both go from here. I still wasn’t up-to-par of my drawings that I would normally send in to various companies or museums, and plus no one was hiring so I was practically jobless. While Eugene failed to meet any requirements college requires all because the Marine Corp thought that education was worthless when the real thing you need to know is how to survive.

But of course civilized people don’t know that, nor do they see that to be a good check off your college career, so Gene and I made an agreement to just not do anything for a while.

Just remain together and catch up on the 4 years lost with each other.

“How long is a while Eugene?”

“Leave them alone Mary Frank.” Eugene’s father spoke up.  His mother soon walked away from us and whispered to her husband. Patronizing us calling Eugene a boy and me a girl but his father told her.

“Mary Frank you have no idea. What men like him have been through. And (y/n) had to suffer not only the death of her brother and mother, but her father suffered much worse. In a way she’s experiencing what our son has been through just in her own way. Now go on let them be.” With that Mrs. Sledge walked back into the house while Dr. Sledge stayed out for a moment longer before heading back inside.

Eugene kissed my forehead once more before reaching up for his tea glass and taking a sip of it.  He turned to me and held it to me.  I raised my head and he placed his glass at my lips and I took a sip of his tea before he set it back down and I lay my head back over his heart while his fingers stroked through my hair.

Later that day, Eugene and I made a hike to a field that was about a half mile away from his place.  All around you could see tall grass and beautiful wild flowers that varied from pink to yellow specifically in that order, some logs and boulders, rising hills and sometimes birds would come down and sit upon the logs before taking off flying again.

Eugene held up a small yellow flower between his fingers raising it up in front of the sun and that’s when I found myself chuckling.

“What’s so funny?”

“You ever hear the expression ‘life intimates art?’”

“I think you might’ve mentioned it once or twice.”

“Well you remember the first picture I drew in over a year, the night we left the ball?” He then began to piece it together and I laughed softly as he smiled and turned towards me and brushed the flower against my nose making me smile at him and he smiled back.

“Now there’s that smile I’ve been dying to see the second I got home. My happy girl is finally back.”

“All because of you Genie. Had you—then I don’t know where I’d be.”

“Let’s not think about that right now,” he picked up my left hand and very gingerly with his thumb, caressed my left ring finger as he said, “Let’s focus on the now. No more ‘what ifs’ whatever comes our way, we face them together, no matter what.”

“Together forever—”

“Forever more.” I looked down and the next thing I saw, he had tied the yellow flower around my ring finger.  I looked back up at Eugene and his eyes held such strength in them after witnessing such horror for as long as he did, but there was also a gentleness to his brown eyes, a warm, affectionate gaze as he stared back at me.

I leaned forward and kissed him and he kissed me back cupping my face gently in his hands.  Soon the two of us spent the rest of the day until sunset walking through the fields hand in hand, my flower engagement ring still wrapped around my wedding finger until the day in one year time, it would be replaced with a real wedding ring.

In the years to come, Eugene would receive his Ph.D. in Biology then spend a career teaching at the University of Montevallo, Alabama, while in 1954 had gotten a call from the Washington D.C. art’s institution and they signed a deal with me for their Marine art exhibit that allowed either former Marines or spouses of Marines to write or paint what war has been like for them.

I’ve sold over hundreds of my drawings and paintings to the exhibit and I also teach at the same University as Eugene as the Art’s professor for realism and 3D drawing.

Managing to convince him decades later after finding his notes from the war, I told Eugene to get it published as a book and in 1981 his memoir With the Old Breed at Peleliu and Okinawa was published. Together Eugene and I had 2 sons and three grandchildren before he passed away in 2001.

Two months later after his death, I died surrounded by our sons and grandchildren and in heaven I was greeted by Eugene and we spent the rest of eternity together in heaven along every other comrade in arms that Eugene had come to know, and I was reunited with my brother and my parents.