#and sometimes some people would fade away until only their advice remains deep inside their brains

[firesofdainix]

HEAD CANON/RAMBLING TIME

whenever Wu and Garmadon are separated or far away from each other Wu develops a form of subconscious or common sense filter that speaks in Garmadon’s voice.

Like, when he is training Morro, and he is being too hard or too pushy with him, Garmadon in his mind would say, "Wu, take time to be gentle with your student. He is human, he isn’t like us. This is why no one wants you to be their teacher, Wu. You are too hard on them." Wu sometimes follows, his advice, or ridicule it, believing it was all in his head. There was also a time when Wu was honing Morro's power, when Garmadon was like, "Wu, you're filling him with too much dreams. It will cause both of your downfall."

He didn't listen, and months later, Morro leaves the monastery, after being proven he was not the Green Ninja. When Wu was all alone once again, the voice inside his head says, "I warn you, yet you couldn't listen. This is why you make so much enemies, Wu. This is why everyone hates you."

While during the later years (especially after he banished his own brother in the Underworld) he refuses to listen to that common sense filter in his head, after his brother sacrificed himself for the greater good, he could finally let the common sense filter that has his brother's voice speak to him again.

"I suppose some people like you enough to stay by your side."

Then Wu would say, "They don't hate me."

"I don't hate you."

And then Wu would feel at peace with himself, and start healthily coping without his brother by his side once more.

[omnitf]

Soulless

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

Credit for this image goes to @dissolving-time. Follow this link to see the original post.

If you like this and my other stories, please consider supporting me on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/omnitf

Thank you, and enjoy the story! :D

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

I used to be different than the man you see today. They say the industry changes you, and I suppose they’re right, whoever they are. I’ve been a model for ... I don’t even know how many years now. Like I said, things used to be different.

It was just one photo shoot. I didn’t expect to be such a hit. It was a million in a million in a million chance. Audition, smile to the cameras, wear the gear, sell the product, get paid in royalties. It was a straightforward business arrangement. Folks say they like to have models with a lot of heart and soul. Now that I think about it, that’s what the company said when they hired me.

My agent got the call, and then he called me. He barely kept himself from shouting as he told me the details. Daemonique was and still is one of the premier modeling brands out there. It costs a bundle and a half to even have them consider lending you their talent. Runways, photo ops, fashion articles, the works. If they looked at you, if they chose you, then you were in. You were set for life.

I was floored. Naturally, I said yes. I signed the contract and joined my fellow models in the spotlight, and my agent was offered a hefty sum for snatching me. He still lives very well, from what I understand. Daemonique poached him from his firm, something about being a, “devil of a recruiter.” We still talk sometimes, but usually it’s just when he offers me my new assignment. Sometimes, he brings new talent with him to meet me. People worship me, idolize me.

That used to impress me. Now I feel ... indifferent, I suppose. It’s ... difficult to describe. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the attention, more that ... I suppose I slide into whatever they want me to be. That’s my purpose as a model.

I remember when I was introduced to my hero in the modeling community, Nathan Bolaterro. My smile was radiant, my handshake firm and only slightly exaggerated. His smile was reserved, his bearing shifting to accommodate me.

“There are many models here,” he told me, “with many masks, many faces. It’s ... difficult to keep track of what brought you here sometimes, the ‘you’ that you put into your shoots. Make sure that you don’t lose track of it. That’s the best advice I can give you.” He looked almost sadly at a playbill with a beaming teenager wrapping either arm around another two other teens’ shoulders on stage. There were four of them, identically dressed in the traditional garb of the barber shop quartet from The Music Man. I could just barely see the resemblance between the middle left boy and the man that stood before me now.

One of the many agents that runs this place strode through the door then. “Nate, it’s time for your sports segment.”

The model swallowed heavily, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as a result. “Coming,” he said in a low-pitched tone. His gaze darted back toward that photo almost desperately. Then he turned his back and followed his handler out. I followed them into the hall, since it would be rude to remain in his dressing room.

“Do well on this one, and you’ll be a shoe-in for Soulless.” The agent grinned and thumped Nathan on the back. My breath caught at the mention of that great fashion line. Only the best of the best of the best in the agency could make it into that exalted circle.

I was confused when I saw, not a joyful smile, but a frown of unease cross over the model’s face.

The next time I saw him, he was getting out of a session for some sports magazine spread or some other campaign. His body was huge, his voice deep and dull. The familiar brand name Soulless stretched down one meaty thigh in big capital letters over the compression pants and widely across his left pectoral as he scratched the material of his compression shirt with his free hand. “You talking to me, bro?” He didn’t seem to recognize me. His eyes were glassy and unfocused. They seemed almost dead as he stared at me through the open visor of a football helmet. The angular shape of the opening gave his head an almost block-like appearance. The rich hair that had once been so carefully styled was little more than sculpted stubble now. His pupils vibrated, like they didn’t know whether to dilate or contract. Or ... maybe they were trying to, but couldn’t? “The name’s Jock....”

I still remember how freaked out I was after that encounter. My agent had to explain it to me, about Nathan’s “methods.” A lot of the models follow it, apparently. I guess ... I guess I do, too, now that I stop to think about it. There’s a sort of role that we’re asked to fill for each of our shoots. Whatever we model, the photographer wants us to fit certain ... characters, tropes, if you will. These tropes have names, and we don them as easily as we do makeup or an outfit for the cameras. Jock, Brat, Badboy, Greaser, Guido, Father, Hipster, Businessman, and so on.

It’s ... easy to forget your name when you’re in this community. You become almost numb to it. You have to, if you want to survive the media storms that follow you around. Let go of the power that name has over you, and you can usually ignore most of the reporters or rabid fans trying to get your attention. It’s a trick you learn fast in the business, once you make it big. And all Daemonique models make it big. Sometimes, when I have to sign a waiver or some other legal document, I pause and stare at the line, and I have to grope in the dark to try to find the name I cast away. Sometimes, it’s suggested that I just sign with an X, like a lot of the other models do, but I don’t want to yet. I still want to be able to keep that power of the name with me. If I stop using it there, it’ll be harder to ... to ... what? I’m not sure. Remember? Pull back? Be myself?

What even is “myself” anymore? I’m ... I’m not sure.

I’ve taken to carrying the photo that brought me to Daemonique’s attention with me. I find it ... grounding to stare at. Almost comforting, really. I talk to it sometimes, greet it with my name, almost like it’s another person. I guess ... in a way, it is. It’s sort of like a lifeline to me, a connection to the me that was before all the lights and the cameras and the flashes and masks I’ve had to don for the sake of the shoot, the product, the image that Daemonique wants me to fit.

I feel less and less like a person and more and more like some ... glorified prop, a life-sized doll that my handlers change, dress, shift, and adapt to their whims. And the scary part is, ... I’m okay with that. I ... almost relish slipping into those characters and roles now, because they fill that emptiness that I return to when I take them off. The face I see in the mirror of my dressing room is so ... alien to me now. It’s nothing like the face I see when I look at this photo. And that emptiness is reinforced whenever I get in line with the other models for our weekly assessments. There’s no real talking, just standing, waiting, moving in time as the camera shutter clicks, snaps, clacks. The model turns, the process repeats, until all the sides are captured. Then we move forward, and the next one follows. The young bloods toward the back of the line whisper and talk among themselves. I used to do that, too, to be that. Now, ... now it feels so ... unnecessary. I stand among my peers, where quiet is the norm and blank the ideal. A canvas waiting to be painted. A whiteboard waiting to be drawn up, then cleared.

...

A walking, talking mannequin.

Is that all I am now?

Is that all my purpose is?

Is this ... really what I want?

...

Does it really even matter anymore?

I feel so strange, so stripped, so ... empty, even as I stand on that line now, waiting for that photo set. I pull out my photo for comfort. That tiny spark is only so much against the yawning void that’s eaten away inside of me. A wry smile curves my lips, one of the first sincere ones I’ve had in who knows how long.

Did you know that some cultures believed that to capture yourself in a photo was to capture a piece of your soul? By that logic, every human who’s ever consumed media or pictures is a demon, or at least part demon. They consume those fragments, those pieces. And the models and actors and actresses let them. And they fill up with other things and ideas, just like I do when I’m in a shoot. They’re just as empty, just as desperate for fulfillment, a role, even a piece, a taste of the soul they used to be.

I barely even recognize the feel of the textured mat when I step in front of the camera. I stare into the lens, still holding the photo. The shutter clacks. The light flashes. My shadow is thrown up in sharp relief behind me on the backdrop. I blink. For a moment, I could almost swear that I see sharpened teeth bared in a hungry, anticipatory grin. Clack goes the shutter. Flash goes the light. Around I turn. I feel no sense of fear or worry at the sight of the horns. I feel ... nothing. I turn again and watch my shadow flash in front of me, then fade into the nothingness of the backdrop. Just a 2-D silhouette. No substance, no form, just here and gone in a flash of light and the click of a shutter.

I feel no anxiety at the sound of clopping hooves echoing in my ears as I turn again. I’m just going through the motions, following the formula. They want a blank slate. They want the empty. They want a foundation they can build and mold like clay in their hands. Malleable. Easy to shape and control. No complaints. No thoughts or discomforts. Just ... being. Just existing.

...

Empty.

I look down at my photo. There is no more thrill at it. No spark. No joy. No connection. Whatever power it held has been stripped by the camera. It is a person I do not know, a blank face in a crowd. I see no light in those eyes, no life, no ... soul, to use the company term. I see only a picture, a pointless picture.

Flash. Clatter. Flutter. Smack. The photo is no longer in my hand as I turn to face the camera again. The creature before me leers behind the camera as one final shutter goes off, one last flash. He licks his lips as his tail lashes behind him.

I turn and march as the other models before me on the line have done. Another paper is shoved at me. I do not bother with the name this time. An X will suffice.

My agent is there next to me suddenly. The soles of his shoes clunk with a rhythmic clopping, almost like hooves. He adjusts the waistband of his pants uncomfortably, then rubs at the nubs that I see growing from his forehead. He seems to be sweating for some reason. I’m not sure why as he breaths heavily. I can just see the hints of longer pointed canines protruding from his lips. He raises his phone and snaps a picture of me. I don’t blink.

“I think he’s ready, Sir.”

This time, I do blink. When I open my eyes, there is a bigger agent hovering over his shoulder. This one is like the photographer. The air smells of aftershave with a hint of sulfur as he leans down to peer into my eyes. I don’t care. I stare into an abyss like my own. This one has lights, but it it is different than mine was. It is not so much an absence of substance as a consumer of it. For the briefest of moments, I feel what could almost be considered a suction, a vacuous force seeking to draw something out of me, only there’s nothing to take. Nothing moves, nothing comes, because whatever that vacuum consumes is not there.

The grin that spreads across that face is savage and predatory. “Well done.” He lays a heavy clawed hand on my agent’s shoulder.

My agent shudders as his eyes flicker briefly and corrugated black horns slowly begin to emerge from the nubs. He licks his lips, and as he does so, flashes of his sharpening teeth appear in my gaze. He swallows and gulps, and as the pressure from what I can only assume is his supervisor increases, he hunches forward precariously on the balls of his feet as the beginnings of a tail bursts out behind him, having broken free of the confines of the seat of his pants.

“Th-thank you, Sir,” he repeats breathlessly as he stands up again. His cheeks are flushed from the sudden changes that have overtaken his body.

“Keep it up, and you’ll fit right in in no time.”

“Y-yes, Sir.” He smiles almost timidly, but there’s a hint of bite to it as his sharper teeth peek over the edges of his lips.

They motion for me to follow, and I do so without question.

“What will he, uh, it, become, Sir?”

The supervisor grins as we approach a large black door with red gilded lettering on its front in an angular archaic font that reads, SOULLESS. “Whatever we want it to be.”

The door opens, and I step forward, ready to take on whatever role my owners require. I am ready to be filled. I am blank.

“Welcome to Soulless, slate.”

My response is as numb and empty as I feel. “Thank you, Sir.”

I am nothing more than a dummy shuffled from caricature to caricature. That is my purpose and my role. When my work is complete, I am wiped clean, a blank slate again, to be molded and shaped as my handlers please. This is the fate of the soulless, and the soulless do not care.

I am Jock. I am Bear. I am Thug. I am Guido. I am Officer. I am Soldier. I am Father. I am Son. I am King. I am Peasant. I am Extra. I am everything and nothing. I am one of a legion of slates waiting to be wiped clean or filled according to our handlers’ whims.

We are legion.

We are the empty.

We are Soulless.

[harmonizingsunsets]

I can feel your heart beating under my skin

Day 4 of Kate x Anthony week, prompt: no ifs, ands, or buts.

Archive link here.

(Also inspired by the leaked photos of season 2)

The Bridgertons invited the three Sharma's out for the last horse race of the season for entertainment. However, Kate knew this was all a scheme so Anthony could spend more time with Edwina. She didn't doubt the Bridgertons enjoyed watching a horse race, as they seem like the competitive sort. But, she knew Anthony's true intentions behind the invitation.

When they arrive at the event, Anthony's waiting right in the front. He smiles from across the way, and it grows even more prominent as Kate intensifies her glare.

"He looks rather handsome today, don't you think?" Edwina whispers.

"The color doesn't suit him," Kate shakes her head. However, her eyes linger up and down his form. "But I don't blame the shade. I don't think anything suits him."

"You both are wearing blue. It's like fate!"

Kate thinks that if fate was involved, it's more so a cruel twist of it than any romantic notions Edwina has in her mind.

As they near Anthony, his eyes find hers. She tries conveying as much distaste for being in his company that she can, without looking too impolite. Within a few seconds, Mary nudges her arm, making Kate think she hadn't succeeded in being conspicuous of her hatred.

He and the other Bridgertons escort them inside, but Kate stops by the betting area. It leads her and Anthony to row about the horses.

Kate wants to place a bet on the horse Apollo. While she's never been to a race in person, she keeps up with records in the paper. The odds aren't in his favor, as it's his first season, but he's been improving steadily over the past few months. Kate has a feeling that today will be his day.

Anthony, however, was placing all his money on Archer, the favorite of the year. Kate forces herself to raise her head high as she places her bet, showing complete confidence in her choice despite Anthony's warnings.

Edwina and Mary didn't place any bets. To be fair, Kate hadn't planned to make a bet either. However, she seems to be doing many unexpected things whenever she's in the presence of Lord Bridgerton.

When they make it up the steps to their seats, Kate asserts herself between Edwina and him. Anthony gives her an annoyed look, knowing what she's doing. Kate smiles broadly in response, turning her face towards the track.

"You can still back out, you know," Anthony whispers beside her. "They usually don't let people retract their bets, but I think they could make an exception. You know, if I tell them you're soon to be part of my family."

"No exception needs to be made. I am not backing out," Kate states firmly. "Why would I, when I have the winning horse?"

"Your winning horse hasn't won a single race in his career."

"It's his first year. His career is just getting started," Kate defends, squirming slightly. "Today is the day he will succeed."

"It's just like you not to root for the most accomplished horse, the one with the most promising record. Your logic goes beyond sense."

"And your pride goes beyond reason," Kate snaps.

"Beyond reason? Status, money, and coming from a good family are not reasons?"

Kate frowns, knowing that they are good reasons. They are reasons that would make any other sister proud to approve of such a match for their sibling. But it wasn't fair that Edwina had to take on so much pressure to marry well. Edwina should marry someone she has affection towards, who isn't such a rake.

But while Kate knows Edwina didn't love Anthony, nor would ever love him, she knows Edwina could be content. Anthony could give her anything she desired. She would be a viscountess, and their marriage, while not founded in love, could perhaps be based on respect. Most people were not so lucky to have such a match.

Yet, Kate couldn't approve the union. Not just because he was a rake, or because Kate found him intolerable—but because of something else. Something she can't describe but can feel twisting painfully in her gut whenever she pictures Edwina and Anthony together.

"They are reasons that society values, and I cannot ignore having merit," Kate relents after a moment, her words careful but firm. "But, they are not the only factors that matter."

Anthony's anger fades a little, his eyes focusing intently on hers. "What factor am I missing?"

Kate opens her mouth to respond but finds her throat dry. Anthony's eyes pivot their focus on her eyes to her parted lips.

She feels something undefinable in her stomach again. But this time, it's not a painful sensation. It's something warm and is more of a fluttering feeling instead of a tug. The only thing similar to what she feels when thinking of Edwina and Anthony is the same deep ache. It starts in the pit of her stomach and flows throughout her body.

Kate's startled out of her thoughts as she hears a horse neighing in the distance, kicking at the doors that contain them.

"It's about to start," Kate says, standing up with the rest of the crowd.

Anthony blinks a few times as if he'd just looked right into the sunlight and nods.

They both turn to the track. The crowd is abuzz with excitement. Kate hears someone countdown, and the horses begin running.

Kate gets swept up in it, standing up and shouting encouragement as Apollo gallops farther forward each second. Anthony cheers loudly for his horse beside her, who has a lead over the rest.

Kate also hears what she thinks are curses from Lady Danbury behind them. She mutters something about ill-advice she'd gotten before the race.

As the horses round the corner, Apollo edges past Archer, his speed increasing. Kate, in her excitement, whistles loudly, not caring at the moment how unladylike she appears.

When the horses are a few feet within the finish line, Kate feels a flash of lightning strike her palm.

Anthony's hand is suddenly in hers, gripping it tightly in anticipation as he watches the race.

Kate's breath comes in and out more sharply, unable to steady the pace of it. Her senses, instead, are all at work in her hand. They memorize the grooves of his palm and the warmth of his touch.

At that moment, Kate thinks her hand has never served its entire purpose as a hand until Anthony held onto it.

Apollo was edging past Archer, but her eyes couldn't focus on the horse. She stares at his bare hand, resting on top of her glove. Kate finds herself curious how it would feel if she took her glove off and entwined her fingers with his.

If Anthony's hand on her glove summoned lighting, she can't imagine what kind of storm would appear if his skin brushed against hers.

As the crowd's cheers become louder, she forces her eyes towards the track and sees her horse cross the finish line. Anthony's hand falls from hers, his mouth wide in shock. Kate jumps up and down in delight.

"I won!"

"You didn't win. The horse did," Anthony says bitterly.

"The horse I bet on, the one you said I was a fool to choose because no one else bet on it." Kate folds her arms across her chest with a triumphant smirk. "Well, Lord Bridgerton, sometimes the best bets are on overlooked things."

Anthony's disappointed expression falters, his eyes studying her intently.

"Perhaps you're right," he murmurs.

Kate smirks. "Did you just say I'm right?"

"I said perhaps," he specifies with a roll of his eyes. "I should fetch some refreshments if you're feeling faint and missing entire words from other's sentences."

"I don't feel faint. Actually, I feel better than I have in a long time."

Edwina stands from where she had remained sitting the entire race. "I could do with a refreshment."

Anthony startles a bit, appearing as if he'd forgotten she was there.

"Ah, yes...of course. I shall return shortly."

"When you return, I shall be a richer woman," Kate says before he turns away, unable to resist continuing to jest about his loss. "I will pay you back for the refreshment since you are recently low on money."

"You are not a humble winner, Ms. Sharma."

"No, but I am a victorious one."

He shakes his head at her, but she can see a bit of amusement twitching at his lips as he turns away. Kate watches him leave for a moment. When she turns back around, she sees Edwina watching her with a coy smile.

"So, did you enjoy the race?" Kate asks.

"Not as much as I enjoyed watching you and Lord Bridgerton."

Kate gaps at her sister. "What are you referring to?"

"Oh, please! He forgot I was next to him. His only focus was on the horses, you, and your hand."

Kate shifts her feet awkwardly. "Perhaps he thought it was yours."

"Or perhaps, your hand was more enticing than mine."

Kate sighs. "Edwina, that's not—."

"Kate, it's alright," Edwina assures, not looking bothered in the slightest.

"No, it's not," Kate insists. "He's your suitor, a suitor who I do not approve of but is one nonetheless. He should pay attention to you and not the horses."

Edwina puts her hands on her hips. "Or perhaps, he's taking your advice and paying attention to a bet that's overlooked but extremely valuable."

Before Kate can respond, Anthony approaches their side, holding out glasses of water. "Here are the refreshments."

Edwina takes a glass, but Kate doesn't take hers, stepping around him. "I should head up to the box to claim my winnings."

"Would you like me to accompany you?"

Kate narrows her eyes. "I think I can make it a few yards without a gentlemen's protection."

"Excluding my brothers in attendance, most men here are not gentlemen," he argues.

"Yes, especially when putting you into account," Kate says, enjoying the way his face hardens at her insult. "But, I think I can manage."

She doesn't want to leave Edwina alone with him, but Mary is on her other side, and his brothers are close as well. She doesn't trust Anthony as far as she can throw him, but she doubts anything improper would occur in such a public place or the presence of family members.

After claiming her winnings, Kate begins to walk back to her seat but bumps into Mrs. Bridgerton.

"Congrats on your win, Ms. Sharma," Violet says before Kate can get out her apology.

"Thank you, Mrs. Bridgerton," she says. "Did you bet on one of the horses?"

"I bet on something before the race, but it wasn't on one of the horses."

Kate quirks her head. "Oh really?"

"It was a bet that Colin proposed, that Benedict bet against, and I bet for," she explains, a joyful sparkle in her eyes. "I am proud to say that my son Benedict lost."

"What was the bet? That Lady Danbury would jump and ride her horse to victory if it hadn't gone fast enough?"

"No, but that would have been quite the sight," Violet chuckles.

"Then what was it about?"

"Let's just say the horses we bet on are closer than the ones on the track."

Kate's face flushes, and Violet's smile widens.

"Have a good afternoon, Ms. Sharma. Wish your sister my best."

"I...yes, of course," she stutters.

Instead of rejoining the group, Kate waits for them near the entrance gate. But she's not alone for too long. She sees Anthony approaching her by himself. The others must be still chatting in their seats. Kate considers turning away, but she knows it would look like she's trying to escape from him.

"So, you gathered your winnings for the horse?" he asks, pointing at the pouch in her hand.

"I—uh, yes. It's from no other bet, I assure you."

"You're cowering out on gambling after you've had your first win?" Anthony steps towards her and shrugs. "Just as well, it was due to beginners' luck, anyway."

"It was not luck. I made the right bet," Kate corrects. "Why can't you admit that I bested you?"

"Where would be the fun in that?"

"This is fun?"

Anthony's eyes gleam wickedly. "Well, it is, isn't it?"

Kate's heart quickens, and she takes a step back.

"I should go to my sister, make sure you didn't sneak some potion into her drink to convince her that you're not intolerable," Kate says, changing the topic. "But if such a potion did exist, I doubt it would be strong enough."

As Kate begins to walk back, she uses the railing on the other side for balance. But as she reaches the edge, a nail snags on her glove, slashing right through it.

Kate curses under her breath, clutching her hand. Anthony quickly runs to her side, eyes wide and worried.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. I just tore my glove."

"And cut your hand," Anthony adds and holds out his palm to her. "Let me see, Ms. Sharma."

Kate whips her arm behind her back. "I am perfectly alright."

Anthony steps closer, a more serious look on his face than she's ever seen on him.

"Let me see."

It's not a question. There are no ifs, ands, or buts about Anthony's tone. Kate pulls her hand out from behind her back and hesitantly holds it out to him. Anthony takes it, gently slipping off her glove and inspecting the wound.

Kate forces herself not to shudder as his fingers dance across her skin. She knows he's trying to observe the cut, but his thumb lingers on each line of her hand, and he draws circles on her palm unnecessarily.

Anthony's heartbeat somehow passes through his touch, and she feels it beating underneath her skin.

"It's not too deep. Perhaps an ointment would make it heal within a week or two," Anthony says, his voice somewhat lower than before. He turns to look at the glove in his other hand, which has a large hole in it. "But I'm not sure your glove is as salvageable."

"I could sew it, but it would look rather obvious," Kate sighs sadly. "I better toss it."

She goes to reach for the glove, but Anthony pulls it out of her reach. "I'll take care of it."

"Discarding one glove won't make me change my mind about you and Edwina," Kate protests.

"I doubt it would," Anthony says, looking like he's fighting off a smile. "But just the same, I'll take care of it."

Kate wants to argue but sees that this is something even she can't move him on. She nods and continues her way back to their seats.

But, she unwisely spares a glance back at Anthony. He doesn't toss the glove. Instead, he pockets it.

Kate forces her eyes forward, trying not to get carried away in romantic notions that could never apply to her.

When she makes it back to the stands, she finds Edwina waiting for her.

"There you are, what took you so—wait, a different question," Edwina cuts herself off, looking down at Kate's bare hand. "Where is your glove?"

"Oh, I tore it against a nail."

"Where is the glove? Perhaps I can mend it."

Kate waves her off. "No, that's alright."

As Edwina studies her curiously, Kate thinks back to the feeling of Anthony's hand on hers and the weight of his stare.

Kate's previous notion had been correct. Anthony's bare hand in hers did bring forth a storm. It was a storm that was unpredictable and dangerous but alluring all the same.

"I have a feeling that glove is something I can never get back once given," Kate whispers, so quietly that Edwina doesn't hear a single word.

As they leave, Kate sees the clouds darkening and brewing with newfound energy. It tells her the storm isn't over.

Instead, it's just beginning.

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Dragon Three

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Felix (SKZ)

Warnings: mentions of violence, mentions of blood and gore, lots of sexy times with Felix, explicit smut, language, and alcohol use

Word Count: 7.8K

Genre: Game of Thrones AU; Fantasy AU

Summary: In order to stake her claim to the throne, Y/N must cross the narrow sea and destroy an enemy who has an endless barrage of assassins tracking her every movement. But at least she has her faithful advisor, Felix, by her side, and an intimidating army of Dragons who only serve their queen.

A/N: The title comes from a 3racha song which is totally cool and you should listen to it while reading this! 

Spring was a time of rebirth and renewal - an opportunity for second chances and new discoveries. But for me it was different. Because I was destined for something greater, and it was nothing short of intoxicating.

You see, I sought redemption - and there was only one thing left standing in my path.

My remaining obstacle was a wealthy land across the narrow sea - and the final battle meant that I would need to conquer a distant kingdom with an army of skilled warriors by my side. It also meant finding the very best people to serve me, and there weren’t many who planned to turn against a woman with three powerful and very loyal dragons who served at her behest.

But there was still time for distractions - consider it a stress reliever - and I sighed in pleasure, eyelids fluttering when I looked at the flash of silver between my legs - a pair of blue eyes pronounced with desire. “Felix,” I whispered, tracing my fingers across the swollen lines of his lips.

“My queen,” Felix murmured softly in return, looking up at me from his place between my thighs, mouth glistening with the smeared mess of my wet arousal.

“Aren’t you going to finish what you started?” I asked him, hardening my gaze because it was delightful to see the way he submitted to me.

“I’ll do anything you want,” Felix promised, and I could feel his tongue lapping at my wet folds, sinking into my tight cunt with practiced skill.

I hummed in agreement, relaxing my head back against my pillows. When I met Felix for the first time, back when I wasn’t nearly as influential, he was nothing but a little boy who lusted after something that he could never have. But he still agreed to serve me, and his loyalty was nothing short of profound. Perhaps that’s why I eventually succumbed to his advances - agreeing to share my bed with him.

“Can I fuck you?” Felix asked, pulling me out of my thoughts with a guttural groan.

I smirked at him, pretending to think about his request while I made of show of lowering my gaze to the obvious bulge of his erection. “Are those new pants?”

Felix was taken aback by my random comment, but he swallowed hard before responding: “Yeah.”

“They certainly make your cock look bigger,” I said, reaching down to trace the outline. “But you and I both know that your little cock isn’t good enough, so I’m hesitating because I don’t know if it can satisfy me.”

The degradation brought tears to Felix’s eyes, but I knew they weren’t out of grief but rather pleasure. “Please, Y/N,” he cried. “I can make you feel good.”

“You’re just desperate to fuck your cock into anything, aren’t you?” I asked with a snarl.

Felix nodded his head, holding onto my thighs with clenched fingers. Truthfully, Felix’s cock was actually rather good - it wasn’t very girthy, but it was long and always managed to rub against my g-spot perfectly. But he didn’t need to know that - especially when he loved to hear me talk down to him, and his eyes were beautiful and bright with tears filling the corners. “I want to be good for you.”

“You always try for me, Felix,” I placated him, holding up my hand to wipe away some of his tears. “I’m a fair ruler, aren’t I?”

Felix nodded again. “The Seven Kingdoms will be pleased to have you as their queen.”

I smiled at his words. “Well, I want you to show me your best effort, Felix. Can you do that for me? Take out your little cock and please me like you promised.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” Felix panted, and his fingers shook when he removed his belt, shoving down his pants and boxers before tossing them aside. 

I eyed his cock with interest, licking my lips while he wrapped a loose fist around the base, moving his hand up and down while choking around a moan. Meanwhile, I spread my legs wider for him, watching the way his eyes glued themselves to my empty cunt. “Go ahead, Felix,” I said. “Show me what your cock can do.”

“I will,” he promised, looking at me with so much affection that it was almost suffocating. But in the next moment, he was moving himself closer, inserting just the tip as he fought to contain his emotions.

“Why are you holding yourself back?” I asked him with a frown. “Show me how these hips move,” I added while squeezing at his thin waist.

Felix nodded with a quiet groan, throwing back his head to reveal an expanse of beautiful, tanned skin. It was an ethereal appearance, and I could spend the rest of my days studying the shape of him. He was an elegant man with delicate features and a lithe figure that betrayed the impressive strength and resolve of his character - his desire to please the ones he respected the most. 

“Y/N,” Felix said, brushing our lips together in a light kiss. His arms were shaking with the effort of holding himself up over me, releasing low grunts whenever he pressed himself inside. I melted at his ministrations - watching the sweat as it trickled down the sides of his temples, shimmering in contrast to his skin. Because this close, I could see every pore and defining feature - fighting to keep my eyes open to enjoy the delightful vision of his focused expression while his hips rolled in long, sensual patterns. Brushing my clit and filling my tight walls with his thick erection. Pulsating to the beat of his movements, and grazing my g-spot when he angled himself just right - using my thighs as leverage to keep us both as close as possible.

I hummed in delight when one of his hands came up to caress the side of my face - a light touch that contrasted to the quick motions of his deep thrusts. Penetrating my cunt with the same kind of desperation that Felix always seemed to reserve for these intimate moments together - like he wanted to prove a point to me. It wasn’t obvious, whatever it was, but the mystery of Felix was part of the reason why he appealed so much to me. 

“I’m close,” I warned him because I could tell that he was straining to hold back his own orgasm. He was a selfless lover, always ensuring that my pleasure was obtained before he could even consider the possibility of his own release.

In return, his fingers teased my clitoris, and there was a proud smirk on his face as if he was enjoying the quick manner in which he had broken me down. “Come for me,” he said, but it was less of a command and more of a courteous request, and I finally let go of all my accumulating stresses, arching my back against the sudden pressure in my lower back - a tight knot that was slowly becoming undone around me.

And in the afterglow of my orgasm, I listened to Felix’s pretty sounds until something warm started to leak out of the place where he pulled out - leaving behind a mess that we would both ignore. Instead, he collapsed next to me on his back, breathing heavy while he turned around to face me. “Was that good for you?”

I grinned at his neediness, but I nodded my head because I knew that he considered his performances inside the bedroom just as important as the advice he gave outside of our personal affairs. “Of course it was,” I said, pecking his lips. “You’re always so perfect for me, Felix.”

His accompanying smile was brighter than sunshine, and I closed my eyes to the sound of a distant roar outside of our fortress.

It was a triumphant sound because it meant that my dragons had returned.

The stars were beginning to fade at the steady emergence of the sun, and I was walking across the bridge outside of the fortress to approach the sleeping forms of my dragons. They had arrived sometime the previous evening - making their anticipated return after journeying far away at my direction. I always worried about them when they were gone, but they had an uncanny ability to return to me even after weeks passed with no sign of their massive bodies creating brilliant shadows among the blue of the sky.

“There you are,” I remarked, smiling when Chan - my oldest and largest dragon - perked up at the sound of my voice. His scales bristled around a heavy yawn, reflecting a liquid black under the sunlight. “Chan,” I said, watching as he turned his giant head in my direction. “I missed you.” He grunted in return, attracting the attention of Changbin and Jisung who both startled awake at the sound of their older brother’s interruption. 

In comparison to Chan, Changbin was the second oldest, and his blue coloring reminded me of the ocean. Then, there was Jisung who might be the smallest of his brothers, but his scales reflected a sharp silver color that made him appear constantly alert. Still, I laughed at their expressions, wondering how anyone could ever be cruel to these magnificent animals when they expressed themselves so completely with a subtle blinking of their eyes or a single noise to demonstrate their opinion. 

But I carefully navigated around their powerful forms, pausing when I noticed the evidence of their last mission. “I’m very proud of you,” I said, running a hand along Chan’s spine as the eldest dragon purred at my praise. “Let’s have a proper reunion,” I suggested, taking several steps back so that they could dismiss the remnants of their slumber.

Meanwhile, I noticed the approach of Felix from my peripheral, and he looked unbelievably beautiful under the lingering effects of the dawning morning. “My queen,” he greeted me, pausing as he studied the three Dragons stretching their wings. “They’ve returned.”

“Yes,” I agreed, holding out one hand to gently caress the side of Chan’s muzzle. He gurgled in response before affectionately returning my gesture. “I think they made their point.”

I pointed to the side where the skeletal remains of the assassin waited on the cold, unforgiving ground. It was the third one this month, and I had grown tired of living in fear of them. But I also understood that it was a good thing - it meant that the Queen across the sea was afraid of me.

“I’m surprised they brought back anything,” Felix remarked, and he was suddenly next to my side.

“Well, I’m sure they wanted to show me that they did a good job,” I said, grinning when Changbin started nipping at Jisung’s wings. “Play nice, boys.”

Changbin turned to me in an instant, releasing a whining sound as if to show me his displeasure. “They obey you remarkably well,” Felix said. “After all, at their core, we’re talking about wild animals.”

“Oh, but they have good hearts,” I said, smiling when Jisung sniffled at my outstretched hand and I allowed myself to give him several pats on the neck. “Did you have something to tell me?”

Felix sighed as if he was burdened by the information he wished to share with me. “Y/N, we don’t have enough ships to cross the narrow sea, and our armies are growing bored with waiting around the city.”

“Hmmm,” I acknowledged him. “What do you suggest?”

“We could attempt to approach the iron bank,” Felix said. “They could give us the gold to build our own ships.”

“I suppose,” I agreed. “That might take more time than I’m willing to give” 

“Well, we can always negotiate with the lords in the next city,” Felix suggested. “Perhaps we can offer them some of our overstocked resources. And I’m sure they’ll never say no to someone who rides on the backs of Dragons.”

“If that’s what you think will work,” I said, turning to look at him before placing a delicate kiss on his lips. “I trust your logic.”

Felix smiled, clearly pleased by my show of adoration. “Shall I find someone with a disposable navy?”

“Thank you, Felix,” I said, reaching into my pocket for a small treat, holding it out for Jisung who happily lapped it up with clear delight. “I think I’ll pay a visit to the iron bank tomorrow. We can try to convince them that investing their resources into our army will be of the utmost importance.”

“I’ll make the arrangements myself,” Felix said before offering me a polite nod of his head. “Will you spend more time with them?”

I grinned. “I have another mission for my Dragons, but I’ll join you inside before noon.”

Felix gave a noise of acknowledgment before I watched him disappear into our carefully guarded fortress.

Braavos was an intimidating city, and there were richly-clad men and women walking along the main roads touting their impressive assets and keeping themselves surrounded by the best that money could afford. I sneered at their ostentatious displays, choosing to travel with a few willing soldiers and Felix without all the ornament. The entire city was a complicated maze but the Iron Bank was, perhaps, the most impressive institution, and I studied the outline of the cathedral as it towered over our surroundings.

Felix managed to arrange a meeting with the most influential bankers, and I was rehearsing what I planned to say to those men in order to convince them that it was in their best interests to support my cause. The Iron Bank was notorious in its reputation, and the men who financed the institution didn’t just hand out loans to anyone unless it was certain they could be repayed. The expectation was pressuring, but perhaps this would be an objective opportunity for me to truly discern what everyone else thought about my cause and whether or not they believed in my success.

Yet, I was still unprepared for the apparent signs of hostility: “What is your business here?” 

I blinked once at the aggressive question, tilting my head at the sole guardian who stood at the doors to the Iron Bank. “My name is Y/N,” I said. “Perhaps this can answer your inquiry.”

The guardian waited for another moment before bowing low at the waist. “Wait here,” he instructed me before disappearing inside the building.

I scoffed and turned to the side to glance at Felix. “Are they always this hostile?”

“They’re unkind to outsiders,” Felix answered, and I pondered over his words even after the guardian returned to lead us into a massive room where three men sat before us on golden thrones.

My first impression was rather hackneyed because the men were all older, clearly aged and experienced, and they wore matching haughty expressions of contempt. In the past, I might’ve felt intimidated by such a reception, but I wasn’t a scared little girl anymore. “Y/N,” one of the men spoke up over the others. “Welcome to the Iron Bank.”

“It’s just as impressive as I’ve heard through rumors,” I remarked, allowing my eyes to peruse the surrounding decor - noting the domed ceiling and pristine floors. “I can feel its history.”

“Is that so?” he asked. “Well, we’re honored to meet with someone who has caused quite a stir in our free city.”

“My reputations precedes me,” I said. “I’m very grateful.”

“We’re also quite curious,” a second man said. “What can we do for you?”

“Of course,” I acknowledged. “As my advisor has likely revealed to you, I’m in need of funding for a fleet of ships to carry myself and my army across the narrow sea.”

“How unexpected,” the second man remarked. “The last time somebody challenged for the throne, they couldn’t even make it to the walls of King’s Landing before they were obliterated.”

I shivered at his casual tone. “I have something different.”

“Yes,” the second man agreed. “But differences aren’t necessarily equal to guaranteed success.”

“Regardless,” I countered, “I see this is as a mutual opportunity. When I conquer Westeros, I will repay my debt and more.”

“Such grand promises,” the second man said. “But why should we believe you?”

“I’ve already conquered most of Essos,” I said. “Men have cowered in my presence, and the ones who tried to cross me have paid the ultimate price.” I grinned while chancing another step closer to the bankers. “This is an advantage for the Iron Bank. You’ll already have access to the next ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Yes, but we still don’t see it as an investment that will benefit the bank,” the first man said. “I’d consider your proposal a dangerous liability.”

“Because you don’t believe in my cause,” I said. “How foolish.”

“The current regime has reigned for decades,” the man said. “There’s a reason for its continued success, and that perseverance overshadows a grassroots rebellion.”

I huffed at his assessment. “What fails to convince you? The army serving me with a thousand men? My reputation across Essos? The three Dragons who fight at my side?”

“Even if you are successful,” the first man interrupted. “There’s no guarantee that you’d pay back the debt you will accrue.”  

“My word is not enough?”

“Words can be deceiving,” he replied. “Actions are objective. They speak much louder.”

“Very well,” I said, resigning myself to failure. “But I will always remember your faithlessness.”

“Threats don’t intimidate us, Y/N,” the first man cautioned. “You’d be wise to remember this because you may need us again in the future.”

“We’ll see about that,” I said, and I turned my back on the Iron Bank because I would need to search for alternative means if I wanted to cross the narrow sea.

It was late when I finished my meetings with the people of Braavos, listening to their concerns and addressing grievances. It was tiring work, especially when I encountered situations where there wasn’t such a thing as an easy solution. I was exhausted, but there was nothing better to resolve my overflowing tension than arriving back in my room to find a naked Felix arranging a bath.

“Were you waiting for me?” I asked him, allowing my hand to skim across the skin stretching around his jutting hip bone before walking out onto the balcony outside.

It was bitterly cold, and I supported my chin against my upturned palm as my arm rested against the balcony - quietly observing my Dragons sleeping around the shelter of the forest. “You’re thinking hard,” Felix said, shameless as he walked out to stand next to me. 

“I knew there were other options,” I said. “But today was the first time someone has dared to reject me.”

“I see.” Felix nodded, allowing strands of his silver hair to ruffle in the breeze. “I wouldn’t take offense to a bunch of old assholes who have nothing better to do with their lives than play with people like we’re puppets.”

“But isn’t the point of becoming queen to control those strings?” I asked him. “Otherwise, how will I lead the Kingdoms?”

“By being yourself,” Felix said, drawing my attention by using a finger underneath my chin to direct my head. “I believe in you, Y/N. You’ll do great things for the Kingdoms. Nobody will ever doubt you again.”

“But it still stings,” I said, lowering my gaze to his flaccid cock. “I suppose you had other plans for tonight besides consoling your queen.”

“I wanted to please you,” Felix said. “As always.”

“Well,” I said, trailing my fingers sensually down the bare skin of his chest. “Show me what you had planned.”

“It’s nothing extravagant,” Felix said, taking my hand before leading me back inside. “Take off your clothes.”

“Are you giving out the orders tonight?” I asked, although I was already undoing the intricate lacing holding my gown together.

“If you’ll allow me,” Felix said, and I watched him lower his body into the steaming bath water, groaning in delight at the sensation.

 “I’m always grateful,” I told him, removing my gown while pretending like I wasn’t glad to feel his eyes on me the entire time. I joined him with a sigh of content, falling back into his embrace as we both silently enjoyed the water and one another’s company. 

“Can I wash you?” Felix asked, and I nodded before laving a kiss across his jutting collarbone.

In the meantime, Felix reached for the soap and started to slide the bar across my skin, rubbing it between his hands to create extra suds. “What shall we do about the ships?” I asked around a moan, feeling him squeeze my breasts. 

“Leave that to me,” Felix replied, rubbing his thumbs in sensual circles around my nipples. 

“You know that I trust you with my life,” I said, and I could feel his cock growing erect against my lower back. “Who can we approach?”

“I have someone in mind,” Felix murmured softly, and he was unceasing in the gentle kisses that he was leaving across my shoulders.

His name was Lord Park, and there were rumors that his wealth surpassed even that of the Iron Bank. 

“He’s our man,” Felix assured me as we stood outside of his lavish estate - waiting for someone to greet us at the front door.

“It seems like this gentleman has more money than he knows what to do with,” I remarked.

“He also has ships,” Felix said, trailing his fingers across the back of my hand. “If he agrees to help us, then we’ll be ready to sail before our deadline.”

“Good,” I said, smiling when I sought Felix from my peripheral vision. “You’ve done well.” 

Felix beamed at the compliment while the gates of the estate abruptly opened, and an older man with graying hair and a thick beard stepped out to greet us. “My distinguished guests,” he said. “Lord Park is expecting you in the great room.”

“The honor is ours,” I replied with a bow - nodding at the soldiers I had brought with me as we stepped onto the impressive grounds.

My first impression was quite unforgettable - admiring the enormous columns and the elegant statues lining the path leading to the main entrance of a notable mansion. The doors of which were wide open, revealing a foyer with broad walls and an overarching ceiling that stretched to the heavens above. ”The mansion was constructed in the early ages,” our guide explained. “My esteemed patron had the chandelier installed himself.”

“How interesting,” I remarked, exchanging a quick glance with Felix.

“You may enter at your own convenience,” the guide said, pausing outside of a set of double doors. “Lord Park only asks that you leave your men here with me.”

I hesitated at the request, but Felix squeezed my hand in reassurance, and I took a deep breath before reaching out for the door handle. The room that I had entered reminded me of an office: bookshelves lining the walls with ancient texts, and an enormous table occupying the center of the room. “Close the door behind you,” an unfamiliar man said, and he stood next to the large window overlooking the grounds.

“Of course,” I agreed, and I followed his orders before walking in the direction of the table. “The pleasure is mine, Lord Park.”

The older man chuckled, and he turned around to reveal himself to me - fairly young, but with signs of his aging in the light peppering of gray in his dark brown hair. His grayish-colored eyes were narrowed, and he looked me over like I was a piece of meant on display for him. “I’ve heard many things about you,” Lord Park said. “Have a seat.”

I nodded my head to show my thanks before pulling out one of the chairs - watching Lord Park choose a spot across from me. “Your estate is beautiful,” I told him, and he smiled as he reached for two glasses and a pitcher.

“This wine,” he said while pouring me a generous amount. “It was made from the freshest produce in my vineyards.”

I accepted the glass from him with a careful hand - bringing it to my lips to drink a tentative sip. “It’s very sweet,” I said.

“It reminds me of you,” Lord Park remarked as he drank from his own glass. “You see, the wine is deceiving. It’s taste is quite sweet, but it’s made from a very rare ingredient known for its hard interior.” He paused for a moment, meeting my gaze from across the table. “You appear that way to me as well, Y/N. Your overall impression is sweet and innocent - you must know this because you have such a delicate body. Yet, underneath that facade is someone who is capable of destroying her worst enemies.”

“Hmmm...” I trailed off with a sigh was I traced the top of my glass with one finger. “I quite like the sound of that, Lord Park.”

“You’re a very beautiful woman,” he continued, raising his glass to me before finishing the remainder of its contents. “I’ve been told that you have a pressing need for my resources.”

“Your ships in particular,” I agreed. “I’m willing to repay you, of course. If you agree to let me use those ships, then I’ll try to accommodate whatever you might need.”

“There’s not really much that I do need,” Lord Park said, and he waved his hand around as if indicating the general grandeur of his property.

“You could consider this as a potential partnership,” I said. “I have an army, and you have ships without crews.”

“Yes, but I expect something in return,” Lord Park said, and he was wearing a lascivious smile. “What do you think a single man like myself could need?”

I chose to ignore his implications. “I have Dragons, sir. That usually convinces most men.”

“Dragons that serve you,” Lord Park remarked. “What good will that do for me?”

“They follow my direction,” I agreed. “But I could command them to assist you in other ways. Perhaps if there’s someone you would wish to see...vanish?”

Lord Park chuckled. “I have no such enemies, Y/N. However, I do have a rather notable lack of a suitable heir. Perhaps you could help me with that.”

“I see,” I said, nodding my head while tasting the wine once again - faintly recognizing the bitter taste under all of the embellishment.

“Of course, marriage is my price for complete access to my ships,” Lord Park said. “I hope that is no problem for you.”

“No problem at all,” I said, even though my stomach churned uncomfortably at the mere idea.

“Then it’s settled,” Lord Park said. “I’ll have your hand, and you can use my ships for your command.”

I forced myself to smile, even though I couldn’t help but feel trapped by the prospect. Still, I had to admit that it made sense considering his circumstances, and I desperately needed his ships. It was a fair trade on the surface, but deep down inside, I couldn’t help but feel cheated.

Despite the fact that I had tried to withhold my bargain from Felix, I knew that he would eventually corner me and demand the results. Thus, it wasn’t very surprising to see him storm into my bedroom that evening - eyes reminding me of a dangerous storm over the ocean. I trembled from where I sat in front of my mirror, gliding a comb through my hair as I greeted him with brusque tone. 

“My queen,” Felix said, but the sentiment lacked his usual affection. “Don’t you think it’s unfair to keep me in the dark?”

“What are you referring to, Felix?” 

He scoffed at my obvious evasion. “Lord Park ordered his hand to make arrangements with me for his ships, but I’m no fool, Y/N. What did he ask for in return?”

I carefully lowered my comb, looking down at my hands folded in my lap as I mustered enough confidence to reveal the truth. “I may have to marry myself to that Lord,” I said, and I glanced up in time to notice the hurt flash across his expression. “Oh, Felix, don’t be like that. You probably knew this from the very start. It was your idea. You told me that we needed to negotiate for new ships.”

“My idea?” Felix repeated. “Y/N, at such a high price, I would’ve sought alternative sources.”

“But I can’t take that risk,” I said. “Someone else might want something even more onerous, and this is a worthy sacrifice for our cause.”

“But I hate it,” Felix said, and there was a raw emotion that exposed his very soul. 

“That’s a very dangerous thing for you to say,” I told him. “We both knew that those ships would cost us more than we might be willing to give.”

“Yes, but to bind yourself to him forever!” Felix decried, and I was so very upset to see his eyes gloss over. “Y/N, I’ve given you advice,” Felix whispered. “I helped negotiate for your armies! We raised your Dragons together!”

“Oh, Felix.” I sighed. “It disappoints me to hear you speak this way. I warned you at the very start of our affair that you should keep your feelings guarded.”

“Well, I couldn’t help it,” Felix snapped. “I love you, Y/N, and I won’t see you marry another man.”

“Then you won’t see me at all,” I rebuffed, steeling my gaze. 

I knew that the threat was harsh, and Felix was obviously taken aback. “You don’t mean that,” he said, but I also detected a slight hint of uncertainty.

“Perhaps you underestimate my resolve,” I said. “Those ships mean everything to me, and they’re certainly worth more than your cock.”

My heart twisted painfully at the lie, but I was convinced that marrying Lord Park was the only way to earn my crown. And I couldn’t have Felix standing in the way because of his affections for me - no matter how I might feel about him in return. This was the cold reality of a true ruler, and I would have to get used to making these sacrifices for the betterment of my people. 

“Do you really think of our arrangement as nothing more than a means to satisfy your own urges?” Felix questioned. “How can I believe that, after all this time, you only used me because I was able to fill your greedy little cunt?”

“I thought it was mutual,” I said. “Feelings are too complicated, Felix. Can’t you see how they’re breaking us down?”

“Because you’re allowing our relationship to amount to nothing more than fucking,” Felix countered. “I know that you don’t mean these things, Y/N. But I’m furious that you would lie to me for the sake of a potential marriage to Lord Park of all men. I’ll always stand by your side, even after everything you’ve said tonight, but you should be careful who you allow in such close intimacy.”

“I’ll consider your advice as always,” I said, and I returned my gaze back to the mirror just in time to see the reflection of Felix’s retreating figure.

The next evening, I wasn’t surprised to receive an invitation to dine with Lord Park at his estate. Apparently, he desired to understand his future wife and her aspirations, which brought me to my present situation: walking next to a stoically unmoved Felix as we greeted two servants at the entrance to the dining room. The man in question was already inside, and he walked around the table to greet me with a formal kiss to the top of my hand. “Our future queen,” he said with a sultry tone. “You look ravishing.”

“Thank you, kind sir,” I said, ignoring the way Felix glared at our touching hands.

“Please have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the place right next to the head of the table. “Felix, you can occupy the chair next to mine.”

“How gracious,” Felix muttered, but our host was generous enough to forgive Felix’s dismissive tone. 

“Let’s begin,” Lord Park announced, and we all situated ourselves around the table as several servants entered the room with delicious-smelling platters and dishes full of delectable offerings. “I’ve prepared the best,” Lord Park said. “Help yourselves.”

I smiled in his direction before perusing the vast selections. “It all looks amazing.”

“Thank you,” Lord Park said before briefly glancing in Felix’s direction. “Felix, my dearest boy, you are more than welcome to your share.”

I shot a glare in Felix’s direction because he refused to accept any of Lord Park’s hospitality. “I’m not hungry,” he grumbled.

“Not hungry!” Lord Park exclaimed. “I shall be offended if you sit there while the rest of us enjoy ourselves.”

“Felix,” I snapped - growing more and more irritated since he refused to look at me. “Don’t behave this way.”

“I’m not hungry!” Felix insisted with a far more aggressive tone.

“My word,” Lord Park said. “Will you let him get away with this?”

“It’s been a long week,” I tried to explain. “Felix has been stressed from making arrangements with our armies.”

“It’s still unacceptable behavior from someone in his position,” Lord Park remarked, and Felix’s hand tightened around his fork.

“He’ll improve,” I said, but I knew that Felix’s infamous fits of passionate rage could last for weeks at a time. “Please, Lord Park, tell us more about your daily affairs.”

“I would be glad to lead the conversation,” Lord Park said, and he started launching himself into a retelling of his dealings with a rather mischievous servant who had returned to work that day after nearly a week of constant absences. “Who does he think he is?” Lord Park scoffed. “Of course, I immediately sent him home without pay. We can’t have such actions go unpunished. It sets a bad example for the others.”

“Perhaps he has a good reason for staying away,” I said.

“Oh, he was going on about his wife,” Lord Park said with a roll of his eyes. “But it’s not of my concern. After all, I must keep this place in good condition for my future wife. I’ve been busy renovating a private shelter just for your dragons.”

“Oh, how fascinating,” I lied, dropping my hand on top of his and ignoring the way Felix flinched from the corner of my eye.

“Tell me about the beasts,” he requested. “Are they well-trained?”

“Of course,” I said. “They are quite obedient.”

“It’s just remarkable to me,” Lord Park continued. “They’re such a rare species. How did you find three perfectly good dragon eggs?”

I hesitated at his question, and my eyes met Felix’s for the first time that evening. Because my precious dragons had been a gift from Felix - back when I was still very young and afraid of the world. My aspirations seemed far too ambitious at the time, and I lamented to Felix that I had nothing to support my claim to the throne other than an unverifiable family tree. I told him that I wanted something to make me look powerful, and he had spent days following nothing more than a whispered rumor - until he found what he was looking for in the three dragon eggs hidden away in the mountains. When he brought them to me that night, we made love for the very first time - both young and inexperienced virgins - while the eggs sat next to the fireplace all night long.

But the next morning, the egg shells were in pieces, and three very tiny dragon hatch-lings greeted me with innocent eyes and adorable features.

“It’s a long story,” I told Lord Park before clearing my throat. “Please excuse me for a moment.”

“Take your time,” Lord Park said, but he was clearly at ease while drinking his second glass of wine.

I bowed my head in gratitude before rushing out of the dining room - entering the next chamber where a small window allowed me a discreet view of Lord Park. I could feel my stomach churn while looking at the horrible man - and I desperately wanted to blame the wine but I recognized the bitter sensation of guilt as it sunk against my chest. 

“Do you remember when I fucked you for the very first time?”

I turned around with a start at the unexpected sound of Felix’s voice - spotting him standing at the entrance to the room. “Felix,” I whispered, feeling my heart flutter against my sternum.

“You became my entire world, Y/N,” Felix said, approaching me with measured steps as I forced myself to meet his impenetrable gaze. “I feel like I’ve loved you for my whole life, and I know that I’m the only man who could ever make you truly happy.”

“Felix,” I repeated, but my confidence was in shambles, and there were tears falling in streaks because I was horrified by the idea of marrying Lord Park and losing Felix’s touch forever.

“Tell me again, Y/N,” Felix said, and he was so close that I could see the way his chest heaved with every deep breath. “If you can find the nerve to lie to me like the rat sitting in the next room, then please refuse my heart and end my misery.”

I sniffled because I was close to hysteria as I shook my head, reaching out to wrap my arms around Felix’s neck. “I love you,” I told him. “I don’t know what I would do without your presence by my side.”

“Then we’re the same,” Felix said, and I gasped when he unwound my arms and spun me around - shoving me up against the counter. “Do you think your war is worth that cruel bastard?” Felix asked, and his fingers kept a harsh grip in my hair as he forced my head back against his shoulder - whispers low and seductive in my ear. “Perhaps it might seem like it to you, but you’ll be miserable with him. And do you know why?”

“No,” I said in return. “I don’t know.”

I guess my response wasn’t enough. Because it was like my words had triggered something primal, and I was left at the mercy of Felix as he jerked my hips back away from the counter - only to bend me over as he quickly reached down to bundle the hem of my gown between one hand. And I shivered when nothing but cold air touched my most intimate place - shaking like a leaf when he tugged my panties down my legs. 

“What did those stupid assholes at the Iron Bank tell you?” Felix snarled, spreading my legs and resuming his place in the empty space - pressing the front of his erection against my heat. “Actions speak louder than words, isn’t that right?”

“Yes!” I cried because it was hard to keep myself together in the presence of this unfiltered Felix - listening to the sounds of his zipper as he tugged down his pants. His cock was warm and rigid when he used his free hand to guide the tip along my folds, moving himself up and down but never penetrating inside.

“What would those people think if they saw their queen begging for my cock?” Felix asked. “Would Lord Park think less of you if he knew that your adviser could take you whenever he pleased?”

I moaned at the rhetorical question - knowing that Lord Park was just on the other side of the glass. It fed my growing arousal, and my mouth opened around a scream when Felix started to push his cock into my sensitive pussy. “Oh!” I cried - a broken sound that only continued to increase in volume as Felix pushed down against my lower back and started pounding his cock between my tight walls.

“I’ll treat you like a slut,” Felix said. “If that’s what you really think of our relationship.”

��Nothing I said was true!” I whimpered. “I love you, Felix.”

“Yeah?” Felix purred, and it was a complete contradiction to his earlier tone. “Will you finally admit your feelings for me, Y/N? Only after I’m forced to make an example of this little cunt.”

“Please, Felix,” I said, sobbing against my forearms as both of his hands moved down to grab my waist - using it as leverage to force his cock as deep as possible. 

“Look at him while I’m fucking you,” Felix growled, holding even tighter to my waist as he fucked me like it might be the last time he would ever have the honor and privilege. “You think he could ever be this good for you?”

“Nobody can ever match you, Felix,” I told him earnestly while trying to support myself against the counter.

“This pussy belongs to me,” Felix said, snapping his hips as if trying to make a point. “It can only be satisfied by my cock.”

“You’re right,” I whined, looking up through the window where Lord Park remained seated at the table - calmly attending to his own business without any idea that the woman he was trying to seduce was getting fucked in the next room.

“You might marry that bastard,” Felix continued, anchoring my thigh around his waist to find an even better angle - hitting my g-spot with every upstroke. “But you won’t share his bed, do you understand? That privilege will remain with me!”

“Felix,” I whispered, closing my eyes when I felt my orgasm approaching - the familiar heat burning inside of me. Hotter than any dragon fire.

“My queen,” Felix said. “Say my name, Y/N. Let him hear how good my cock makes you feel.”

“Shit, Felix,” I moaned, even though I had no idea what I was actually begging him to do for me. But I knew that Felix would always do his best to give me whatever I wanted. 

“Come for me,” Felix grunted, pounding his hips into mine as he knocked my waist against the edge of the table. “I can tell that you’re close.”

But it was still the first time that I had ever come on command, and I screamed his name when I fell apart around his pulsating erection, feeling him continue to move inside of me until he was satisfied as well - cum dripping down my thighs. 

“Remember this moment,” Felix said. “Because I know you aren’t attracted to him, and I know that you aren’t serious about an engagement.”

“I’m not,” I said, leaning back into his weight as he brought us to the floor, allowing my dress to fall into place as he held me tightly in his arms. “Nobody could ever replace you, Felix.” 

“Because you’re mine,” Felix purred, and he was more pliant after being sated, sharing his deepest feelings as we resigned ourselves to the undeniable love that had followed us ever since our very first meeting on a warm, spring afternoon. 

It was such a beautiful recollection, and I found myself crying in Felix’s arms as he shushed me quietly. “I don’t want to marry him,” I said. “But what else can I do?”

“I know, my love,” Felix said, and he was so gentle as he carded his fingers through my hair - knotted from his rough touches earlier. “It pains me to see you like this, but I might have a way to prevent your suffering.”

“It’s never easy,” I said, and Felix smiled when he wiped away my tears. “I can’t turn down his ships.”

“Then marry him, Y/N,” he said, ignoring the way that I shivered. “I’ll handle the rest.”

I swallowed hard at his ominous promise. “What will you do to him?”

“It won’t involve your hand,” Felix said. “Leave it to me, my sweet queen. I’ll make sure that your heart never hurts this way again.”

I lifted my head to meet his familiar gaze, and I saw the determination right in front of me. It was reassuring, and I carefully nodded because I would always trust Felix with my life.

One Month Later

I would always recall the winter’s morning when I set sail across the narrow sea to meet my destiny in King’s Landing.

Our enormous fleet of ships proved to be an imposing force as we started sailing across the waters - leaving behind Essos with my armies attending to their duties. The departure of our forces marked an entire month since I had married Lord Park in a private ceremony in view of the officials and his close friends and family. He had whispered to me during our first dance together - talking about how he was going to put a child inside me. 

Yet, that very same night, he could only penetrate the tip of his disgusting cock before a familiar hand was slicing across his throat - using a knife made of Valyrian steel to end Lord Park’s life. I remembered that there had been so much blood - draining from the terrible man in rivulets of crimson until he collapsed next to me face-down into the mattress. He continued to convulse as he struggled while Felix knelt in his place - wiping the blood from his skin and looking down at me with a desperate hunger. 

The news of Lord Park’s death traveled quickly, and I played the part of a distraught housewife who described the masked assassin who had snuck into our room and killed my poor husband. There was nobody to doubt me, especially when I called my dragons to the official hearing, and their intimidating presence was enough to cement my lie. And since all of Lord Park’s estate belonged to me, I could still claim his ships and wealth - using everything to catalyze my impending journey across the narrow sea. 

I was the ruthless queen who had survived death itself, and my reputation was even more formidable than it was before. There was nothing left to stop me, and I breathed in the scent of the ocean as I leaned against the banister of the impressive warship. From next to me, Felix stood tall with his long, silver hair billowing in the breeze.

“We’ll be there before sunrise,” I said, closing my eyes as I envisioned my arrival.

“Its yours for the taking, my queen,” Felix replied, and I trembled when his fingers followed the path of my spine. 

“Yes,” I agreed. “It’s all mine!” 

Felix smirked at my audacious declaration, and I held my head high as the land grew closer in the distance. Meanwhile, my dragons soared high above my ships and the army that would fight for their new queen and secure my rightful place on the Iron Throne.

[goldenretriever-nicknelson]

Annus Mirabillis~Happy Birthday 2020

Series Masterlist

Summary: You and Peter Parker have been friends since the day you met. But when he opens his mouth and tells people you’re dating, even though you aren’t, you decide to go along with it. What’s the worst that could happen?

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: drunken behaviour, mutual pining (hehe), some angst, mentions of vomiting

Word count: 2k

A/N: I’m sorry this is so late but I started teacher training and it’s been crazy. I really liked writing this one though and being able to write again felt really good so I hope you all enjoy. Also this is being posted at 1am and I’m overtired so. I’m reblogging with my taglist tomorrow. If you’d like to be added to the taglist for this story just send me or @thinkoutsidethebex​ an ask!

“How about this one?” 

Ned groaned and rolled his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that day. Him and Peter had been in their dorm all morning with Peter rambling about a plan to get you back after the carnival. He was like a love-sick puppy and it wasn’t until Ned had reminded Peter about MJ’s party for you that he actually smiled. Ned laughed when Peter actually said the word “Eureka!” 

Since Peter had formed the plan in his mind to go to the party, he’d been trying on every piece of clothing he owned to see if it looked right. Even though Ned told him all of them looked fine, Peter didn’t believe him.

“Dude you look fine. Now can we go?” Ned sighed, already moving to get up and hoping it would encourage Peter to leave with him. “We have class in 30 minutes and I’m not being late again.” 

Peter nodded but Ned could tell he wasn’t really listening. He pouted his lips much like a sad puppy and mumbled, “Just fine?” 

Ned gave another sigh and started to push Peter towards the door. Sometimes it was all he could think of to do to get Peter to stop overthinking and 90% of the time it worked. 

“What do I buy her?” Peter tapped his pen on the desk, his work for class long abandoned and instead it had turned into a list of suitable gifts for Y/n. 

“Pete-” Ned felt his patience waning more and more by the second. 

“I just mean we’re not together anymore you know? Isn’t there some kind of rule or something? Then again I am trying to get her for real this time...” Peter rambled, his mind racing faster than his mouth. He didn’t even realize what he said until Ned questioned him.

“For real?” 

Peter blushed as he realised what he’d said. “Oh um I meant-” 

Ned gave him the sideways glance, suspicion written on his face as Peter turned redder by the second. Luckily he was saved by the class ending, but Ned still seemed confused. 

The next few weeks passed by quickly and Peter’s overthinking only got worse. When the night of the party arrived, he was a nervous wreck to say the least. He’d changed his outfit, second questioned the gift he’d brought for her, called May for advice and practised what he’d wanted to say in the mirror. All of which he’d done at least three times until finally MJ texted him. 

Get your butt over here. The party is starting.

Peter gave a small laugh and took a deep breath, glancing once more in the mirror before heading to the party. 

MJ had taken over the room for the party with banners and balloons everywhere. A snack table was laid out in the center and looked like a pack of wild dogs had already had their way with it. The air hung heavy with the smell of sweat and alcohol, which could only mean one thing. 

“PEETEY!” 

Before Peter had taken more than two steps into the room, a pair of arms had thrown themselves around him. He quickly realised it was you and chuckled softly to himself. 

“Hey, birthday girl.” You pulled back from the hug and smiled wide at him. It only took one exhale of your breath near his face for him to tell you were absolutely plastered. “Having fun?” 

“Yes!” You exclaimed, your eyes as wide as your smile. “I’m so glad you’re here.” 

You pulled on the sleeve of his jacket and hummed happily before reaching up to squish his cheeks with a thoughtful expression. You stayed like that for a moment before bursting into a giggling fit. Peter laughed with you and shook his head as your eyes glanced down to the flowers and present in his hand.

“Are those for me?” You pouted and gazed at him. Peter nodded and blushed, holding them out for you. “They’re so pretty!” You smiled wide and smelled the sweetness of the flowers before opening his gift. 

Peter bit his lip as you opened the box inside to reveal a stunning necklace that reflected in the glistening color of your eyes. It was silver and had a small heart charm engraved with your initial on it. Worry crept into his chest when you remained speechless and he started to chastise himself in his head. He knew it was too much. Why had he made such a stupid choice?

“Peter I-” 

He prepared himself for the worst before feeling your arms wrap around him once more. The hug felt tighter and carried more meaning with it then before. Peter smiled and relaxed into you, hugging you back. 

“Do you like it?” He asked for reassurance as you pulled back.

“I love it.” You nodded, suddenly feeling slightly more sober than before. Peter offered to put it on for you and you smiled, turning so he could. His fingers brushed against your neck as he fastened the chain, sending a feeling of electricity down your spine. Peter blushed as he felt it too before quickly clearing his throat and stepping back. 

“You look- I mean it looks beautiful.” Peter stammered, his cheeks bright red even in the dim light of the common room. You blushed at his compliment and giggled, already holding onto the heart shaped charm with a smile. 

For a moment, the entire room seemed to still. Despite the heavy crowd and blaring music, something shifted and it felt like the two of you were the only ones in the room. Peter felt a blush creep over his face as you exchanged giggly smiles, but before he could speak someone screamed “SHOTS!” The music suddenly blared in both of your ears again and you grabbed Peter’s hand, dragging him in the direction of the bar.

He decided to stick with lemonade which made you give him a little pout. You offered to pour it for him, taking the container in both hands and set your tongue between your teeth in concentration. Peter chuckled when you missed the first time, shaking his head and reaching out. 

“Here, let me,” he said with a smile. 

“No, I got this!” you protested, squaring your shoulders with determination.  Half the container ended up on the floor, but by the end Peter had at least a half full glass.

“I told you!” you shouted triumphantly. “I’m great at this. I should be a bartender.” He rolled his eyes and said nothing, taking a drink as you turned back to the bar.

Peter watched tentatively as you downed shot after shot and had even more drinks until he was sure you couldn’t see him properly. You spun and giggled and danced with your friends and Peter just watched you with a smile. He loved seeing you so carefree, even if it was only because you were drunk. You faded further and further into drunken oblivion, eventually tripping over your own feet and falling to the floor. 

“Oh my god! Y/n, are you okay?” Peter panicked, leaning down to your level on the floor and brushing the hair back from your face. You blinked up at him and stared for a moment before bursting into drunken giggles. He sighed softly and helped you up into the nearest armchair before going to grab a glass of water but he was stopped short by MJ. 

“Peter, I need your help.” 

He blinked in surprise, he had never heard MJ utter those words to him before. “O-okay, what’s up?” 

“This party is out of control,” she groaned. “Someone said the cops are on their way and I need to get people out. Can you take Y/N back to her room and keep her there? I don’t want to ruin her birthday.” MJ glanced over at where you were slumped down in the armchair, pouting. Peter nodded in agreement and looked around. He had been so preoccupied watching you he hadn’t noticed the party getting a little wild. Two people were wrestling around in the corner and a gaggle of girls were sobbing in another. 

“Yeah, of course,” he said finally. “Do you need any...you know...super help?” MJ rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Not every problem requires Spider-Man,” she said. “Just grab Y/N and get her out of here. Please?” Peter was surprised at the sincerity in MJ’s voice, so he just nodded. She nodded back and turned quickly, yelling at the men fighting on the floor.

Peter turned to look back at the armchair where he’d left you, but you were gone. He hurried over to the chair and looked around, wondering where you could have gone so fast. The crowd of people had started to move toward the door, making it that much harder to find you. For a second he thought about just jumping onto the ceiling to get a better view, but surely even drunk students wouldn’t ignore something like that. 

“Y/n?” he called, walking through the hall. He made his way into your room and that’s when he heard it; the unmistakable sound of dry heaving. He quickly walked into the bathroom and knelt by your side, one of his hands rested on your back rubbing gently and the other held your hair back as you hunched over the toilet. 

“It’s okay, I’m right here.” Peter reassured, scrunching his nose up a little from the smell and sound but he stayed by your side as he promised until you finally sat up. He wiped away the smudges of your makeup and smiled softly, helping you up and getting you to brush your teeth at least a little bit.

Peter managed to get you into something comfortable for sleeping and eventually into bed after many giggling fits. He shook his head fondly and giggled with you, making sure you were comfortable before he got up. Your giggling quickly stopped and turned into pouting.

“Where are you going?” 

He stammered and pointed towards the door. “Well, I was going to go home.” 

“Nooooooooo. Stay,” you whined, reaching out for him. Peter felt conflicted, he wanted nothing more than to run into your arms and cuddle you but he also knew that you were drunk. The last thing he wanted was to make you feel uncomfortable, or wake up in the morning with regret over something that happened. But something happened in him when you asked him to stay. That one word, mumbled barely loud enough for him to hear, was the thing that convinced him. It made him feel something he couldn’t describe and the way you’d said it as if it was just for him made a warmth spread in his chest. 

He smiled and nodded, resulting in a small clap from you. He grabbed a glass of water and some painkillers for you in the morning as well as putting the flowers he had given you on your nightstand before heading towards the couch. 

“No!” He stopped as you pouted again but he didn’t have time to ask why before you had pulled him into the space next to you. He’d protested with a heavy blush but you were already cuddling into his chest with a happy sigh. 

Peter wrapped his arms around you and enjoyed the moment, kissing your head sweetly without even thinking about it. There was something about you that instantly made him feel at ease like a piece of home that he never wanted to let go. 

He assumed you had fallen asleep until three little words broke the silence. 

“I miss you.” 

Peter could feel his heart thump and ache in his chest at the small admission, his mind conflicted between the warmth of being missed and the sadness that their relationship had come to this.

“I miss you too.” 

You looked up at him as he spoke, your expression unreadable but your eyes, still hazy from the alcohol, were almost glistening. “Really?”

Peter nodded with a blush, hoping you couldn’t see in the darkness of the room. “Really.” 

You cuddled him tighter and sniffled into his chest. Peter started to run his fingers through your hair to comfort you as he held you close and you smiled, eventually letting out a giggle and Peter knew you were okay. 

A few more moments of silence passed and just as he hoped you were finally getting some rest, you spoke up again. “Peter?” He hummed in response. “I love you. I don’t mean any of that fake bullshit, I really really love you.” 

Peter froze speechless and his jaw dropped apape as you turned back to face him. He didn’t get his hopes up because he had to remember you were drunk, it was probably just the alcohol talking. That’s all it was, he thought.

“Y/n-” 

You put your finger to his lips and shook your head slowly, shushing him. Peter kept quiet before realising you were trying to lean in, bringing your lips closer to his. He was so tempted. All he wanted was to pull you into him kiss you until both of your lungs ached for air. He wanted to tell you how much he loved you, and that he wanted to date you for real. This was the endgame. From the second he realized it at the carnival, this was what he had been working toward. But not like this. He wanted you to want him when you were you, not how you were now. The stench of alcohol on your breath gave him just enough self control to do what he had to.

“Y/n no.” Peter turned his head quickly and bit his lip. 

“No?”

He glanced back at you to see your pout and sighed deeply. “Y-you’re drunk. That’s not how I want this to go.” 

“You don’t want me?” 

“No! I mean I do. I just- I can’t kiss you when you’re drunk. It wouldn’t be right and I want you to be sober when-” He blushed and cut himself off, too shy to say the rest but you were drunk. You weren’t going to remember this in the morning. “I want it to be perfect and for you to remember when we have our first real kiss.”

You looked at him softly, only slight confusion written on your face before a loud hiccup escaped your lips causing you to start giggling again. Peter giggled too, not letting his sadness show that all of what had just happened would be lost by tomorrow morning. 

Peter smiled as he listened to your giggles and incoherent mumbles inbetween, his fingers still combing delicately through your hair. Eventually your giggles turned into snores as you snuggled into his chest and Peter sighed happily, thankful that you were finally getting rest. 

Peter felt another warm feeling fill his whole body as he watched you sleep, hoping that what you had said was true because that meant that you and him could be a real possibility and that maybe he didn’t need a plan. He just needed you.

He spent the rest of the night daydreaming about finally being able to call you his girlfriend and kiss you for real before he started to fall asleep with a happy smile.

“I love you too by the way.” He mumbled in a whisper before he finally let sleep overtake him, his arms wrapped around you as you slept on his chest. 

[sailorgreywolf-german]

Weine nicht um mich

Characters: Prussia, Freidrich the Great

Ships: PruFritz

Summary: Prussia reflects on important personal moments with his best king.

Words: 7.2K

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

Prussia took a familiar route to the all too familiar place, his feet carrying him there without any conscious thought. He knew how conspicuous he looked clad in his black dress uniform, walking in this small town with a white chrysanthemum in his hand. But, he couldn’t care less. Let people look at him questioningly; he did not care. He had performed the same ritual every year for more than a century and he was not about to give it up just because Hitler wanted to have some dinner with his commanders.

Prussia had made all the proper goodbyes, stating that there was a pressing matter that needed his attention before grabbing the key to one of the Mercedes and driving to Potsdam. He was not usually so reckless, but this was far more important than another night of nationalistic pomp.

He reached the old church with its soaring spire; it still looked like it had, like the albino, become unchanging. The years of its creation were long gone, but the gothic architecture harkened back to an older age. The wars had not yet touched it. In the years since it had been built, it had housed the remains of all the Hohenzollern monarchs. Now the dynasty was at an end, and Prussia had not been disappointed to see the last of them abdicate. He had been a belligerent fool, unfit to bear the family name. But, that didn’t stop Prussia from making this trip.

He stepped inside the heavy wooden doors and was immediately struck by a wave of remembrance. All these years later, it had not become easier to step into this crypt. He still felt his heart beating in his throat, choking him. It was still bitter and painful. He swallowed it in an attempt to force down the raw emotions. Now it was more painful than it had been in the comfortable years. Loneliness had been easier when he could lay his year’s conquests here like the fulfillment of a lover’s promise.

The space was lit by a single candle, but there were many scattered around the room. The tomb was still mostly in darkness. Prussia put aside the flower and picked up one of the candles. With careful diligence, he walked from candle to candle. As he reached each one, he let the flickering flame of the one he was holding until the flame caught. He walked around the crypt, making certain that no candle remained unlit. If not for the heaviness of the day, there would have been something awe inspiring about the rows of lit candle, lighting the confined space of the gothic cathedral. But, as it was, this felt like a devotional.

Once Prussia finished lighting all the candles, he returned to the original spot. He retrieved the carnation, a white flower adorned with the black and white ribbon of the old flag. Choosing his steps carefully, he approached the tomb. There was a grand engraving of the name of the man, but Prussia knew that the man buried here would have called the monument austere and gaudy. He had wanted to be buried in a simple tomb far away from his father with his hounds. His heir had insisted that he be buried with pomp and ceremony, and Prussia had been in no state to object. The albino placed the flower carefully next to the one from the year before, which had withered and dried. He would remove the desiccated flower when he left. But, first there were words to be said.

The albino kneeled in front of the tomb and said, “So it’s been another year, Fritz. You wouldn’t like what has happened this year. That man keeps saying you would, but he isn’t worth the dust on your boots. I know you well enough to know you would hate all of this.” He mentally kicked himself as he realized that he was still using the present tense to speak to a man who was long dead. It was still so tempting to treat him as though he was alive and could still offer sage advice.

The feelings began to accost Prussia, the deep nausea he felt every time Hitler used Fritz’s name. This whole thing made him sick. Germany seemed happy for the first time in years, and that was worth something. The dour expression he had worn since Versailles was finally fading, and that was enough for Prussia to swallow all his misgivings. But here, alone in a place sacred to him, he could say what he really felt.

He continued, telling the gravestone his worries like he would have to the man when he had been alive, “Sometimes, I look around and I think that this is the price for my ambition. I started all of this: I told Ludwig all my war stories. He always looked so impressed with me.” His voice trailed off and he struggled to regain the thread of what he had said. Germany’s new dictator seemed fond of dragging Prussia’s name into his tirades, and Prussia could see the fervent wish for that kind of glory in his brother’s eyes. His voice returned to him, and he said the words that had been struggling to be formed all night, “I wish you were here, Fritz. I need you now.” _____________________________________________________________________

The music of the flute was soft and soothing in the warm summer air, but Friedrich was having a hard time concentrating on it. His fingers were moving, the memory of a song played many times animated them. But, his eyes were on his kingdom, who had draped himself provocatively over one of the chaises. His limbs were spread in reckless abandon. Prussia was holding a glass of red wine in one hand, occasionally taking a drink from it.

The sight was a little victory for Friedrich. It had taken categorically banning beer from his court to get Gilbert to drink French wine instead of that common German swill. He knew that when the albino drank with the soldiers he still drank beer. But, for elegant evenings like this he had learned to enjoy wine. In these little ways, Prussia had become more used to society.

But that wasn’t what was so distracting. It was the look on his face. Friedrich would be lying to himself if he said he enjoyed anything more than this. Prussia was his favorite audience. These private concerts were more fulfilling because the albino always had the most sublime look on his face, like he never wanted to listen to anything else. His attention never wavered; he never looked away. He was the only one who ever gave Friedrich the impression he was savoring every note, that the music moved him to the core. There was nothing more gratifying for a musician than the feeling of being closely attended by the one he loved. It warmed him to have the albino’s eyes fixed on him.

And yet, Gilbert’s attention was distracting because Friedrich knew that if he put down the flute and closed the space between them, Prussia would embrace him. There was an empty place in the albino’s arms that was calling to him. However, he would not leave this movement unfinished. The temptation to rush through the movement was present. The evening was pleasant and warm, as only a summer in Potsdam could be and the idea of spending it in the other’s arms sounded like paradise.

Prussia took another drink and, as he pulled the glass away from his mouth, he ran his tongue over his lips. And yet, his attention never wavered and a supremely pleased smile returned to his face. The king’s fingers found their way to the last notes of the composition and the sound hung in the air as he let the song end. Dwindling music always seemed to leave a certain magic.

He carefully placed the flute aside and watched as Prussia’s smile widened. He knew what was coming next, and there was an impish undertone to his smile that invited it. Friedrich took the invitation, stepping confidently towards his kingdom. The albino made to sit up, but apparently decided against it. The king settled himself firmly next to his country, who immediately extended his arm around the other. There was barely enough room on the piece of furniture for the pair of them, but it was easy to find space. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to be reclining into Prussia’s embraced.

Friedrich spoke, though he knew he didn’t need to, “What did you think?” He knew he didn’t need to ask; he had gotten all the feedback he needed from Gilbert’s uncharacteristic silence and his rapturous smile. He asked only to hear the praise. Like an obedient soldier, Prussia responded to him, “It was beautiful. You have such talented hands.”

Without any resistance from the man, Prussia took his hand in his own and brought it to his lips. As the albino left soft kisses on his fingers, Friedrich reflected on how their relationship had changed. Prussia had never been good at romancing; nothing in his upbringing had prepared him for the subtleties of sweet nothings. Like the soldier he had always been, he wore his desires openly and expressed them without restraint. When he wanted to indulge his cruder desires, he made no secret of it. But, as they spent time together, Prussia had learned a subtler way. His tongue had soften and learned to speak surprisingly good French, even the sweet flirtations of a foreign tongue. Now, the compliment had rolled off his tongue with little pretense.

It was easy to find the words to respond, private words, “Your hands are just as talented. And I am fond of what you do with them.” Prussia scoffed, entwining his hand carelessly with the other’s as he spoke, “Don’t lie to me. Mine are soldier’s hands. They’re rough.”

Friedrich could feel the callouses of the albino’s hand pressed against his own palm. Gilbert was right; his hands bore the marks of the years of swordsmanship. But, that was the charm of them. They were a map of Gilbert’s life before he became a kingdom, every hour honing his own skills. They spoke of the frustrated young knight, and the ascendant power finally coming into his own.

He replied, “Why should that make them untalented? I’ve never seen anyone handle a sword like you.” An arrogant smirk lighted across the albino’s face. It was exactly what he expected. Prussia loved praise, more than he would admit. The modesty of a monastic knight still lingered, even though it was counter to his nature. Years of being a vassal had apparently taught him to hold his tongue. It was as though he thought that by voicing his own greatness, he would make it untrue. But, the deep pride he took in his skills was obvious. Obvious in the way he would best his enemies without pretense, obvious in the way he would pour over maps of his new territorial acquisitions like a giddy child. Friedrich had managed to coax it out and find the braggart craving to be released.

He leaned in and kissed the albino’s lips lightly, saying as he pulled away, “You are a knight and I wouldn’t want you any other way.” Prussia’s hand tightened on his king’s affectionately. He seemed to contemplate his words before he said, “You’re right. And you’re a philosopher, a musician, and a brilliant general.” As he listed each achievement, Friedrich could hear the pride building in the man’s voice. But, he only took pride in the latter two. Beyond that, he saw an equivocation in the words. By listing the other’s achievements, Prussia meant to lessen his own.

His king would not allow this old habit. He immediately said, “I’m afraid you give me too much credit. I leave philosophy to more talented minds. You write better Latin than I do.” At this the albino let out a scoff, “That’s only because I had to transcribe manuscripts.” The dodges were becoming tedious and Friedrich did not have the stomach for it tonight. He wanted this to be uncomplicated affection while they were alone together. He said, using the voice he usually reserved for drilling the regiments, “Mon cher, I do not want to hear about your imagined inadequacies. I know full well that you do not believe any of it.”

A mischievous smile returned to the albino’s face, and he let out a short laugh, “You found me out, Fritz.” Satisfied that he had won some honesty, Friedrich reached over his country and grabbed the glass of wine. As he put it to his lips, Prussia objected, “That was my wine.” He leaned closer, but it was only the pretense of indignation. They had shared far more than this. A retort rolled off his tongue carelessly, “As your king, I am claiming it.” Then, not yet taking a drink, he ran one finger up the albino’s leg, “It’s not all I’ve claimed of yours.”

It was brazen, but there was no reason to refrain. They were alone and secure. Prussia took the invitation, putting one hand on the side of his king’s face. He said, breathily, “I love when you’re forceful.” Without allowing the other time to respond, the albino joined their lips. He still kissed like a man of war, with passion and messy, reckless abandon. It was like he considered this another conquest. But, it was that undisguised passion, completely honest, that caused heat to spread across the mortal’s skin. He could taste wine on his country’s lips and feel the hand on his face holding him gently.

But, there was something more beneath that, something naive but wholeheartedly determined, something quintessential to the man. Friedrich knew that he had been Prussia’s first, but he suspected that Austria had pined for that honor. In that respect, he had always had the advantage in skill and experience. But, Prussia was earnest and unending in his love, and he kissed with a voracity that no other lover had ever matched.

If force was what Gilbert was craving, then he could certainly have it. His king returned his kiss with equal firmness, gaining ground against his country’s force. He could feel the shift in the albino’s demeanor as he started to succumb. Prussia pulled back, taking a deep breath as he did so. The proud, witty remark that he undoubtedly had died as he was forced to take another breath. He said, “How do you do that?”

The question was genuinely confusing, seeing as what he had been doing seemed rather straightforward. But, he took it as a flirtation, or an attempt at one. Friedrich spoke as he put his hand in Prussia’s hair, “How do I do what, amour?” The albino smiled and his king could see the playful shadow beneath the smile. Then Prussia said, “When you kiss me, I feel like I’m melting. I would do anything for you.”

His voice was thick with desire, but it was the words that made a blush take to the king’s cheeks. He knew Prussia well enough to know that these confessions did not come easily. The man was not one to readily express his emotions. The vulnerability lasted for only a moment before the kingdom added, “But you are my king, so I should do what you want.” It was a witty evasion but nothing more.

Friedrich stroked back a few pieces of the albino’s hair before he countered, “On the contrary, I am your servant. I will do whatever I can to make you happy.” He had said it before, but it carried an entirely different rhetorical weight here with no one else listening. It was not a broad statement on the ideal of serving the needs of the people, it was a lover’s promise. The other didn’t respond at once. He seemed to be contemplating what he thought of the promise. There was something endearing about the way that Gilbert bit his lower lip whenever he was thinking. But, this was more than banter.

Though he had learned to appear like cold steel to his army and commanders, Friedrich couldn’t help but feel deeply for his country and want his happiness. It had been painful to watch Prussia lose land during the Seven Years War, even worse when there had been Russian troops in Berlin and he had seen the spasms of pain when the albino slept. Each loss had felt like the thrust of a knife, if only for the pain he knew it caused Prussia. And yet, he had never said anything, because he did not want his lover, his country to doubt him. Not even a word of his concern had left his lips. Even when the urge to apologize for everything had occurred to him, he had ignored it. Gilbert believed in him and, selfishly, he had wanted that to remain. He had never told Prussia, even once the war was over, that he had told his ministers to place the preservation of his kingdom and his successor over that of his own life. It had been more important to save Prussia and give him a stable line of succession. Gilbert did not know that the deepest joy he had ever felt had not been in the arms of von Katte or in conversation with Voltaire; it had been when the albino embraced him after the signing of the treaty of Hubertusburg, because he knew that Prussia would be safe.

He spoke again, “Anything you want, you need only name it.” Prussia smirked, “Bullshit.” Friedrich responded immediately, “I secured Silesia for you, did I not? I thought you wanted to humiliate Austria and gain territory.”

The boast did not feel entirely sincere in light of what his gamble on Silesia had almost cost him. But, the smile that spread across the albino’s face erased every doubt. Prussia let out a short laugh, and with their proximity, the king could feel it in his own chest. He replied, “It was amazing to see the look on Roderick’s face when he realized you’d beaten him.” Without thinking about the words, Friedrich said, “He’s jealous.” Prussia scoffed as he always did at the notion, “Of what? He’s an empire and I won one little province.”

Sometimes Friedrich couldn’t help but wonder if this was willful ignorance because it seemed painfully obvious to him. The covetous way Austria looked at Prussia was enough to convince anyone. He sighed as he explained again, “He’s jealous of this.” To make his point more effectively he took his hand from the albino’s face and ran it up his thigh. The other shifted so that they were even closer. His response was not the usual denial, “I don’t care what he thinks.”

The brazen answer was tantalizing. It proved that the Austrian influence was truly gone. The king finally took a drink of the wine he had forgotten he was holding. Then he returned to the earlier subject, “If you could have anything, what would it be? What is your greatest ambition?” He suspected he knew already. Gilbert longed to finally be recognized as a great power. Deep crimson eyes met his own and some of the levity left the other’s face, “Are you serious, Fritz?”

The return to the somber tone was unexpected. There was a shadow of a much younger boy in Prussia’s face for a moment, and Friedrich had the sudden strong urge to comfort him. He moved his hand back to the albino’s face and ran his thumb across the skin. The words came easily, “Yes, mon cher, I want to know.” Prussia took a deep breath before saying, “I want all the German states under my control.”

The mortal drew in a shocked breath. He had not expected such far reaching aspirations had resided in his lover’s breast. The reaction did not escape the country’s notice. Responding to the inevitable question, he continued, “They should have been my inheritance. I was my father’s eldest son, but he made my youngest brother the Holy Roman Empire.” He drew in another deep breath before saying, “If I could have anything, I would have it all.”

Friedrich found himself unable to respond immediately. The information was all so novel. Aside from a few moments of sympathy in his youth, he had never heard Prussia speak of his father or the reason for his hatred of him. He knew little about the distant figure of the Holy Roman empire. This was the first time Prussia had said explicitly that he was even related to Holy Rome. It took a moment to understand that Gilbert had said something he guarded deeply. This ambition must have been festering since his days as a knight, never daring to be voiced to anyone.

Taking the silence for the end of the conversation, Prussia composed himself and said, “I’ve ruined the mood.” He then disentangled his limbs from his king and stood up. Having recovered from the shock of the answer, Friedrich said, employing his voice for command again, “Don’t walk away from me, Gilbert.” The albino stopped in his tracks, conditioned to obey. But, he didn’t turn to look at the other.

He could have ordered the man back to his side, but that would be a return to formality. Instead, Friedrich got up and walked over to his country. When he reached him, Friedrich said, “Look at me.” The albino turned his eyes with defiant fire towards his king, but the mortal could recognize the feeling beneath it.

It was that look that he addressed when he said, “Never be ashamed to tell me what you think.” Prussia snapped back, “I am not ashamed.”

Gilbert lied badly; he always had. It had been something of a miracle that he had so effectively hid their involvement from Friedrich’s father. Years of living under a monastic code of conduct had prepared him poorly for duplicity. This had to be a protestation of pride, nothing more. Friedrich took a step closer and replied decisively, “Yes you are. I don’t see why though.”

The albino let out a sigh, admitting his defeat, before saying, “It’s a nice night. We had good wine and exceptional music. You don’t want to hear about how I want my brother’s title.” His evasiveness made his king wonder when, if ever, Prussia had last voiced these sentiments and what reception he had gotten. He would not pry, since he knew he would get little from the other in the moment.

He took one more small step towards his lover and said, “Do you want to hear what I wish for?” Prussia didn’t step away from him. The albino responded with a forced laugh, “Better company?” Friedrich’s hand easily found its familiar place on the albino’s waist. He countered, “If I could have anything, I would have eternity.”

Prussia’s eyes widened as the meaning registered. His king continued, “I would want to be here with you to see you accomplish all your ambitions.” The smile that appeared on Prussia’s face was completely genuine. Everything he wanted to say was clear when he said tenderly, “Fritz.”

His king did not let him equivocate or explain; he pressed his lips against the other’s. If Prussia was really mad, he would have pulled away. But he leaned in and let himself soften under his king’s touch. Friedrich could feel that he had won. When he finally pulled away, the albino was silent. His smile was self-satisfied and bordered on a sneer; it was intensely erotic. The mortal spoke again, “But, for tonight I will be satisfied to take you to bed and claim you.” Prussia’s smile became a smirk as he leaned in again and said, “Whatever you will, mein König.” _______________________________________________________________________

The physician let out a low sigh before he spoke and Friedrich could already guess what he was going to say. The pain in his joints was intense enough already, but he had felt his health declining more rapidly for a few months. Consulting the physician had been a formality to confirm what he already felt. The man said, “My king, you are dying. I do not think you will live out the month.”

The news was no harsher than he expected. He had already appointed a successor with the full knowledge that he had had a long, rich reign. Friedrich nodded to the physician, “Very well.” He gestured that the man should leave the room, and he bowed and left. The news that he would die was not alarming. There were so many times he could have been cut down on the battlefield with his work unfinished.

He pulled his jacket back on, having removed it to be examined, and took his cane in hand. How ironic it was, he mused, that a cane had been an object of terror in his youth, but was now a necessity. He took a firm hold on the wood and used it to get again to his feet. It was deeply frustrating to be trapped in this breaking body, knowing what he used to be able to do. The young could not imagine the difficulties that came with something as vital as walking. But, it was necessary to make it to the desk on the other side of the room. Now he could feel the pain of the gout in every movement. It was only stubbornness that had stopped him from becoming completely immobile.

He reached the desk and lowered himself into the hard wooden chair with a groan. There was a will in one of the locked drawers of this desk that required his attention. It had resided there since very early in his reign, and had been altered very rarely. Removing the key from his pocket with an unsteady hand, Friedrich found the drawer and prepared himself to confront what lay inside. There had been plans in place in case of his death since the Seven Years War, but revisiting them now with such absolute certainty gave them finality. He laid out the papers in front of himself and began to read through them. The instructions were sufficiently clear; the throne would pass to his nephew since he had never wanted any issue. There should be no foreseeable dispute of the succession. For his own burial he commanded that there be no pomp, only a quiet grave at his summer palace. The last thing he wanted was to spend his eternal rest beside his father.

As he read the words again, an image filled his mind, alarmingly strong. He saw his country, dressed in mourning clothes, bent over his coffin crying. It caused a sharp pain in his chest. The idea was clear, but puzzling. Why should he be crying? In all the years he had been king, he had never seen Prussia truly cry. His country was the kind of man who could have wounds stitched with no more than a stony grimace. Prussia had certainly shed no tears for his father.

But, regardless, in the dizzying image of his own death, he saw Prussia weeping. Worse, he saw no one being able to console his country, no one knowing the man beneath the warrior well enough to do so. What was that German word? Einsamkeit. The french was more familiar, Solitude.

The idea was so throughly unsettling that he laid aside the document. There were no arrangements he could make that would keep his precious lover, who had become more like a husband than a casual lover, from pain. It would be absurd to add a clause to his will dealing directly with Gilbert, since his existence was a secret outside of the court.

The sound of familiar footsteps outside his door was not as welcome as it would usually be. What could he say to his country to soften the blow? Prussia did not wait for permission to enter his king’s chambers; he never did anymore. He looked as young and intoxicatingly virile as he did in Friedrich’s earliest memories. If anything, he looked stronger than he ever had; these years had been good to him. The contrast between them as the years widened had never seemed to bother Prussia, even when Friedrich had felt painfully aware of it. Prussia looked young enough to be his son. Austria did not age either, nor did he seem to physically weaken. When they had met in during the War of Bavarian Succession, it had been hard to meet Austria’s gaze knowing how old he looked next to Prussia. It had been clear from Austria’s self-satisfied smile that he was glad to see how imminent the king’s death was. Austria could see that an annoyance in his path would soon disappear.

As Friedrich reflected on his immortal rival, Prussia walked across the room. The albino needed no invitation; he chose one of the many chairs and sat. He looked at his king, apparently not yet understanding what the document on the table was. Before the albino could bring up a another topic of conversation, Friedrich said, “Have you ever considered taking another lover?”

He heard the pretense in his own voice. Asking about his lover’s infidelity sounded like inquiring whether the weather was favorable. Prussia’s eyes widened as the words registered. He said, sounding throughly incredulous, “Of course not. Why would I?” He scoffed as though he thought the question was a joke. But, it was not. If he had said yes, then that would have given the mortal some comfort. Perhaps if he knew that someone would take Prussia away from his coffin and dry his tears, then he would be at peace with the concept. At least then Prussia would be spared the loneliness he would otherwise have to face.

But, the words died in his throat as he attempted to form them. It was too hard to tell Prussia that he was dying, knowing that the man loved him and would be alone without him. Friedrich knew what it was like to watch someone you loved die. So instead he said, “I am old and I doubt that I still satisfy you. Perhaps you should find someone younger.”

The thought of Prussia bedding someone else made him feel a deep rage accompanied with a slight queasiness. The thought of someone else’s hands on the intimate parts of the albino’s body made him feel ill. But, if it spared him from misery then it would be worth it. The albino’s face fell as he comprehended how sincere the conversation was, and his expression was replaced with one of disdain. But, he shook his head, and the sight could scarcely be more frustrating.

The albino replied with the air of one whose pride had been deeply wounded, “Do you really think that’s all I want? I could certainly find someone to fuck, but would he treat me like you do? Would he discuss philosophy, poetry, or music with me like you do? I don’t think so. I love you for more than your body.”

In the years they had been together, Prussia had certainly become more eloquent. He had enough of an intellect to be a force on his own. But in the moment, Friedrich wished that his country could be simple and superficial. He took a deep breath before saying something else that he thought would never pass his lips, “As your king, I am ordering you to find another lover.” If he could not remedy the anxiety with gentile urging, he was not against coercing the man for his own good. But, he could have guessed Prussia’s reaction before the man snapped back, “No! Why would you ever ask that of me?” Frustrated with his country’s stubborn nature, Friedrich slammed his hand down on the desk. Before he could consider or reorder his words, he said, “I will not allow you to be alone without me!”

His meaning was clear enough and the other’s face went completely blank. He spoke with a mounting disbelief, “But you aren’t-” He stumbled for a moment, and then he caught sight of the papers. Enraged, the albino stood and stormed over. Before he could be stopped, he grabbed the top page and took several steps out of his king’s reach.

The red eyes flitted over the page. Friedrich steeled himself for his country’s inevitable rage. But, Prussia just shook his head slowly, saying under his breath, “Nein.” Before Prussia could fully articulate his thoughts, Friedrich said, “You knew this would happen, Gilbert.” The other’s eyes snapped from the pages back to his face. The tremble in his lower lip negated any idea that he was angry, “Is this why you’ve been having physicians hanging around? So they can make you worry about this?”

He waved the page of the will with a wordless outrage. His king could hear the meaning just beneath the words, and it was making his heart ache. He said, choosing his words carefully, “It is more than just worry. My health is failing.” He spoke the statement with absolute certainty, and it fell flat in the deadened air. Prussia pulled in a deep breath and shook his head again, “It’s not that bad. It has never been before.”

He didn’t sound fully convinced, and his hands were clenched together in front of himself. Friedrich could see the knuckles on Prussia’s right hand turning even paler as it attempted to restrain his sword hand. It was hard to tell what he intended to do with it. Perhaps he wanted to rip it to shreds, like destroying the words would change the reality. But, Prussia knew better than to believe in such childishness.

The king took a breath before saying, “I am not immortal like you, as you have always known. I am dying, and it is certain.” He saw the albino shook his head, but took a moment to collect his thoughts. He finally said, not daring to meet Friedrich’s gaze, “I knew it. I told myself it wasn’t that bad. I told myself that if loved you enough this wouldn’t happen.”

His discipline allowed him to restrain himself, but it was a familiar facade. Friedrich responded, trying to be gentle, “If it worked that way, my father would not have lived so long.” A smile appeared on the albino’s pale lips for a moment. Even wit could not blunt this blow. When Prussia spoke again, there was a tremble in his voice, “I always thought thought there would be one more year. I’m-” His voice caught in her throat, and for one of the first times, tears welled at the corner of his eyes. The sight sent a cold jolt down’s his kings spine. It was beginning already, and he felt his country’s pain as concretely as if it was his own. Prussia collected himself enough to finish his thought, “I’m not ready to be without you. I thought I would be stronger when the time came.”

Though it was uncomfortable, Friedrich got to his feet, using the cane to support himself, and walked around the desk to where his country was standing. Ignoring the pain that it caused him, he let go of the cane and pulled Prussia into his arms. The other immediately pulled him closer. Friedrich put his hand on the back of the albino’s head and cradled it against his shoulder. He spoke, attempting to be comforting, “It’s not a battle, mon cher, you do not need to be strong.”

He felt the other’s shoulder’s heave as he let out a sob. His hands were knotted in the back of his king’s coat. Friedrich felt a sharp pain with every beat of his heart. This was exactly what he feared. The man he had never seen shed a tear was crying against his shoulder.

He said, “You’re not going to be without me.” Prussia looked at him, and there was a look of disbelief that was understandable. But, Friedrich had finally lighted upon the right solution. What Gilbert needed was not a poor imitation of their relationship. He would find no comfort in that. He needed to be reassured that he had no reason to mourn, that he would lose nothing.

Prussia’s next question was predictable, “What do you mean? You’ll die and I’ll still be here.” To answer it, his king pulled away far enough to press his hand flat against the other’s chest. He asked, “What do you feel here?” The albino spoke slowly, clearly confused by the question, “Right now? Pain.” It was kurt, but it was expected. Friedrich responded, “I feel it too. Your pain hurts me too. But, that feeling tells you I am there in your heart.” He met Prussia’s ruby eyes again and he could tell that the man was drinking in every word. His eyes had not completely dried, but it was still clear that he was distressed. He continued, “I will always be there. That will not change with time.”

The albino put his hand over the other’s where it was on his chest. He said, “What about the times when I need you?” The answer was easy, and Friedrich spoke it, “Listen to your heart. I will be there with you. It’s my heart as much as yours.”

Prussia’s tears were gone, but his arms were still holding his lover with such force that he could not pull away. Friedrich did not mind, it was easier than holding his own body up. Prussia spoke again, hesitating uncharacteristically, “I will miss you all the same.” They were inevitable words, and there was nothing Friedrich could say to counter it. Instead he said, “I expect you will. But, you are fully capable on your own.”

He reached up and stroked back a piece of Prussia’s wayward hair. The albino leaned in and pressed his lips gently against his king’s. This was not the forceful kiss of youth. It was softer and sweeter, and as he put his hand on the albino’s cheeks, he could feel the moisture.

But the change in position proved too taxing for the elderly King’s body, and he was forced to say, “Gilbert, I should sit.” It was a command and the albino simply nodded and released his hold. Only once Friedrich had settled himself in his favorite chair, did Prussia sit on the floor next to him, resting his head on his lap. Friedrich’s hand found his country’s hair and he stroked it comfortingly.

A difficult thought seemed to struggle on the albino’s lips. He finally said, “These years with you have been the best of my life.” It was a deeply personal confession, the type that were difficult for the albino. Friedrich owed it nothing less than an honest response, “I have loved you since I was a young boy, and everything I have done, I have done for you.”

He had never dared be this forthcoming with his country before. But, now that there time was sparse, there could be no secrets. So, in favor of complete confession, he continued, speaking the words that he had never said, “Thank you for coming to me when I was at Küstern and telling me you loved me. I do not know if I would have been able to endure without you. You came even though my father forbid it. I knew then that I could love no one else.”

The memory was distant and cold. The imprisonment after his attempt to escape his father’s tyranny had seemed like the frigid end of the world. His former lover and friend was dead, slain right in front of him, and the future held no prospect but his father’s cane. Prussia had cut through it like a ray of sun through deep fog. He had ordered the guards away, wrapped the young prince in his own traveling coat and spoken the words that Friedrich had never forgotten, “You will survive and prosper because you are destined to be my king and because I love you.” Those words had galvanized him and given him the will to find common ground with his father.

Now, Prussia was looking at him adoringly as he continued, “Whatever you may think of Voltaire, you have been the one and only love of my life.” Prussia was blushing, which was very obvious against his unique skin tone. The albino drew in a deep breath before replying, “I never thought I would love anyone. You are the love of my life.” He echoed the sentiment, though the time frame was vastly differently. Prussia leaned his head welcomingly against the other’s hand, but he continued to speak, “I’ve never wanted anything in my life but you.”

Friedrich felt a smile turn up the corner of his mouth. He countered, “I’m not the only thing. If I remember correctly, you want to control all the German states.” Prussia scoffed, “Fritz, that was just banter. I know it’s impossible.” Continuing to run his hand through the other’s hair, Friedrich replied, “In this moment it is. But in a century or two, it could all be yours. You’re more than just a soldier. You have the skill and the mind for it, mon cher. I know you well enough to know that you do not say what you don’t mean.”

There was an obvious glint of ambition in the albino’s eyes, but he did not voice it. Instead he let his king speak again, “Promise me you’ll pursue your ambitions, even if I am not there with you.” Prussia swallowed whatever he was about to say about the improbability of controlling everything. He could tell that this was not the moment for modesty. He said, “I promise, Fritz. I will.”

With his free hand, the king reached down and took his country’s hand. Prussia’s grip was firm. Neither of them spoke; what had been said was enough. Wordlessly, the albino brought the hand to his lips and kissed the fingers. He then spoke again, “I am going to stay with you tonight, and every night until the end.” He sounded like a knight pledging to keep a vigil and it was comforting. His presence was more familiar than any, and it would be no intrusion for him to remain. So, Friedrich said, “I would like that.” ___________________________________________________________

In the night, the king woke. He looked at his country, who was asleep in his lap. His hand was still resting firmly on the other’s.

He looked incredibly serene asleep. The room was dark, but Prussia stood out as pale and pure as moonlight. It was easy to contemplate him now that Friedrich knew he had found an uneasy peace. Likely, he would mourn. But he would keep his promise and continue.

He felt a heartbeat that felt out of time, followed by another that seemed uneasy. It was not unnerving though. This was the most peace he could feel. He looked at Prussia one more time, memorizing every line and feature. If one sight was to be his last, then he wanted it to be this. As he looked at his country, he slowly closed his eyes and let himself slip away.

[razorblade180]

Rosebud part 14

Some days go by fast. Other days go by incredibly slow. For Ruby, it was the ladder. Deep in the woods of Anima she sat on the porch of Ren and Nora’s orphanage with kids around the age of ten circled around her in amazement as she told them stories of her adventures. Each one more amazing than the last until the Sun was setting on the crisp winter day. Funny, she’d never particularly loved the cold but lately it was so inviting. Most likely because she was in comfy sweatpants and being pregnant made her body feel like she was a furnace. The phrase bun in the oven never felt more real. Soon it would be over though. In fact, it would be considered a day over cooked right now.

Ruby:Ok, story time is officially over.

Children:Awwww!

Little girl:But I wanna hear more about the food fight!

Little boy:Yeah! Also how do you ride a locker. I wanna try!

Ruby:Hehehe, now, now, I gotta save stories for later. Plus I bet Ren is almost done with dinner. Don’t wanna miss that now do we?

Children:Okay….

They all slumped down with puppy eyes. Ruby wasn’t naive. She’s seen this tactic; she might as well be the inventor of it. Yet it was working on her!

Ruby:Tell you what, wanna hear the song I sing to my baby? It’s practically one of the few I can actually sing well.

Children:Yaaaaay!!!

Ruby:*clears throat* Dream of anything. I'll make it all come true. Everything you need is all I'll have for you. I'm forever, Always by your si-

The front door opened and Yang came walking out with baby Kovu in her arms. The little guy has gotten pretty big in just about a year. He was wearing a black onesie and enjoying being swayed.

Yang:Ren says dinner is ready for you little ankle biters. You have five minutes to get to the table if you want dessert.

Terror spread on the children’s faces before they ran inside.

Yang:Wash your hands!

Ruby:Look at that. You have one kid and now you know how to master them all.

Yang:I think you’re forgetting who helped raise you. If anything, you’re my first child Ruby. It’s actually very comforting seeing it like that.

Ruby:It’s also emotional and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make me cry. I’ll need all the energy I can muster when this little procrastinator decides to be born.

Yang:Like mother like daughter.

Ruby:Ah! I don’t remember giving you this bedside manner when you were blown up like a balloon. Kovu, your mom is being mean to your aunt.

Kovu does nothing but giggle and wiggles his ears.

Ruby:Fine, take her side.

Yang:He knows better than to upset his food supply. Soon you’ll be on straight solids mister and I can be free.

Kovu looks at Yang for a moment in silence. She’s a bit stunned that he might’ve understood that. Then Kovu starts tugging on her tank top and Yang’s eyes squint at him while Ruby chuckles.

Yang:I don’t think he likes that idea.

Ruby:He’s a simple boy. Boobs are his life.

Yang:Don’t lewd my son or I’ll make fun of….whatever gender your kid is. Why can’t you be a normal person and know ahead of time.

Ruby:I like the surprise. Nora knows but that’s because her and the nurse here have done basically everything. I’m surprised she hasn’t told Jaune.

Yang:He still on patrol with the others? He should really be right by your side.

Ruby:I wish he was but we agreed keeping these woods safe is top priority. Can’t afford to get careless; not this time.

Ruby rubbed her stomach slowly as she remembered a time very similar to this. Hard to believe it’s been three years. Even so, the ache still felt somewhat fresh. Yang reached out and rubbed her shoulder. A comforting smile eased Ruby’s worries and she returned the smile genuinely.

Yang:Now is the time to look forward. Wouldn’t want your anxiety to harm the baby. Aren’t you the one usually preaching about hope?

Ruby:Yeah, the curse of being a good leader strikes again. All my advice coming right back at ya.

Yang:Gotta bring it up all the good ones so you’ll remember it for your little one.

Ruby:My little one had to come out first! I’m tired of being pregnant Yang.

Yang:Yeah I went through something a little similar. Due date was coming soon and this little guy stopped being as active. I started eating ice so the cold stirred him up. Ghira even tried spooking me into labor. Oh! Let’s try that. Kovu, scare your cousin.

Ruby:You’re so ridiculous sometimes.

Yang crouches down to Ruby’s belly and holds Kovu to it. His tiny hand reaches out and starts tapping it.

The two sisters laugh at his attempt.

Ruby:Sorry Kovu. Good atte-

Yang:Ruby?

Ruby:Yang...go get the nurse and Nora.

Yang:*eyes widened* Really!?

xxxx

Out in the woods, Jaune makes his rounds around his designated area like the others. The only thing distracting him from the cold was the thought of his wife. This was all for her safety and peace of mind and for that reason alone, he’d put up with anything.

Jaune reached for his scroll and brought it up. He checked on his friends' aura levels. Still high; little to no fighting has happened then. That’s all he could ask for.

Jaune:Everyone okay?

Blake:Yep

Weiss:Naturally.

Qrow:All clear.

Raven:Not so much as a beowulf on my side.

Tai:Really? I’ve killed like five.

Raven:Stop worrying about everything and they might stop seeking you out.

Tai:Mmmm nope. I need the exercise anyways.

Jaune:You need any help?

Tai:I’m just fine. Don’t worry about me for one second.

Qrow:Says the worry wart. Besides, I think you have something coming your way kid. Can you see the sky?

Jaune jumps on a branch to see above the treeline. What he saw was plumes of black smoke and the sight of birds fleeing the scene. ”Someone’s killing grimm? In my area?” He said, confused. ”Who could be out here besides-”

His heart sank to his stomach and he gripped his tight. Without a moment of hesitation, Jaune darted towards the scene. “I’m checking it out now. Everyone be ready for the worst.”

“Roger!” They all said with conviction in their voice.

It didn’t take Jaune long to get where he was headed. Each step he took brought growls and the familiar sound of metal striking bone armor. ‘It’s not them, it can’t be them. We took every precaution.’ He kept telling himself as he slowed down and crouched into the shrubs. ‘Relax Jaune, don’t get impatient. Observe and go from there.’

He took a deep breath and parted the plants in front of him. There was a forest clearing. Dozens of Ursa laid fading away while a massive one stood on its hind legs and roared. Below him was a figure in a cloak. Jaune could only see his back but it was easy to see how worn out the person was.

The cloak was all covered in dirt and their shoulders rose and fell with an intensity that could only mean deep breathing. Still it looked like they remained calm. Their stance low and poised as their hands ready their cane to the side. Wait, Jaune recognized that cane.

The Ursa slammed its weight to the ground and a shockwave blew cloak back along with the person. Jaune popped up from his hiding spot. “Ozpin?” The figure turned around. Yep, it was him.

“Hello Mr. Arc. How-“ another roar interrupted the headmaster and the Ursa charged. Ozpin was caught off guard.

“Look out!” Jaune screamed as he cloaked himself in aura and rushed over there almost as fast as Ruby. He slammed his shield right into the Ursa’s head; making it stumble back. He kept up the momentum by spinning forward and chopping the head off in one swipe.

Ozpin:Nice form. Oh how far you’ve come.

Jaune:Oz, what are you doing out here?

Ozpin:I thought that was obvious. Killing grimm like the rest of you. She’s almost due, right?

Jaune:H...How did you know we were here in the first place? This was supposed to be tight lipped.

Ozpin:It is. The only one who was supposed to know I was here was Mrs. Rose herself but as you can see, things got a bit messy.

Ozpin took a knee and held his head down with his cane supporting him. If it wasn’t for the eye and white hair, He’d looked exactly like how Oscar did after training.

Jaune:How long have you been out here?

Ozpin:Not too long. About a month.

Jaune:A month!?

Ozpin:Yeah. That Ursa Major was number 257 by the way. All the office work is making me rusty.

Jaune:You know if the other’s saw you here then they might have some choice words with you right? I appreciate you being there for Ruby but your agreement-

Ozpin:I’m well aware. It’s why I’ve been trying to remain inconspicuous. This isn’t me trying to build good karma and I have no intention on asking anybody for anything. If anything this should be my way of thanking you all for your years of service and making sure you can continue living life the way you want. It’s the least I can offer. Besides some advice.

Jaune:I think I’m a little old to be your student.

Ozpin:Hardly. Humanity might as well be kids compared to my age. You’re never too old to learn regardless; you’ve all taught me many things for example. I’m grateful for that.

Jaune:....Fine, lay it on me professor.

He sat down in front of his old professor to humor him. Oz couldn’t help but smirk as he stood up like he was about to give a lecture.

Ozpin:This part of Anima is known for slow moving grimm that are spaced well enough apart that the success rate of a traveler running away is pretty high in comparison to other places. I imagine that is one of the reasons why the orphanage was built here.

Jaune:That’s right.

Ozpin:Not a bad idea. When I arrived, I killed thirty grimm at most in my first week. Next week they were more agitated and mobile. Makes sense; Mrs. Rose was here and so were you. Childbirth is an anxiety filled event that happens by nature. However, the grimm kept showing up by the dozens and I got very busy as you can see. Which means...

Jaune:More people showed up? I knew that. Practically everyone is here by now.

Ozpin:Yes but you have to think a bit bigger than that. More people showing up isn’t the problem. It’s everyone who showed up is on edge and attracting the grimm; you all are causing the dangers that you’re trying to prevent. No doubt you could handle them together but if it wasn’t for me then at least half of you would be needlessly exhausted. That would be a real problem if a grimm of frightening destruction showed up, or a rogue maiden out for blood.

Jaune felt his heart stop for a moment. Oz was right. He’d been so caught in his head that instead of being proactive like he thought he was being, he was actually just reacting to his own fears. The only reason the plan was working was because everyone was more than skillful to handle most problems.

Oz walked over to Jaune and got him on his feet. He put away his cane and rested his hand on Jaune’s shoulder.

Ozpin:Strength and diligence are very important but not the most important right now. You all have that in spades. I bet there’s a million things on everyone’s minds right now. All valid fears no doubt. Give them a chance to get it all off their chest. A leader protects the mind along with the body. Just you do as a husband, and just like you’ll do as a father. *smiles*

Jaune:You think that highly of me huh?

Ozpin:Well you are the one who has done the most growing. Then again, that’s only natural seeing how you were….let’s say a late bloomer.

Jaune:That was almost a complete compliment.

Ozpin:Hehe, my fault. You know, I never had a son but looking at former students like you and Ren really makes me feel like…

Oz’s words trailed off and he stopped speaking. Instead he stood right in front of Jaune and examined him thoroughly. Hair, clothes, frame. He’d really grown from his first day. Jaune looked a little embarrassed and confused as Ozpin nodded and smiled with what seemed to be pride. Then, he walked off. Jaune said thank you and got only a wave goodbye. Class was dismissed.

Jaune almost wanted to call out to him but stopped; his scroll ringing nonstop like an alarm. Everyone was messaging him. Yang most of all. ‘How have I not noticed this?’ He thought answering Yang’s call.

Jaune:Hey what’s-

….

Jaune:RIGHT NOW!?

xxxx

Yang:Yes right now! I know we had this system in place but I think you should be-

Ruby:AAAAAAAHHHH!

Yang:I think you should be here for the birth!!!

Jaune:I’m on my way! We all are.

Yang:What about-

Jaune:I’d Cinder wants to show up then that’s her death wish. We’ll handle her together.

He hung up before Yang could even respond. The girl sighed to calm herself before looking over at her sister. Ruby was sweating bullets on a hospital bed they have gotten earlier. The nurse was going back and forth with clean attire for the baby and making sure Ruby’s vitals were okay. She’d been healthy all through the pregnancy but better safe than sorry. Natural births could get tricky sometimes.

Nora had the honor of actually being the person delivering the baby. She’d done it more than anyone around and it was showing. Her face displayed laser focus on the task at hand and she was dressed in proper hospital attire except for her hair which was pulled back into a bun. Truly she was the rock Ruby needed right now.

Nora:You’re doing great Ruby! Keep it up!

Ruby:Agh, you...you’d think this would be easier the second time. Hehehe….

Yang:*grabs her hand* Jaune’s on his way. All of them are by the sound of it.

Ruby:That’s good...wouldn’t mind some more happy faces in here.

Nora:Then let's make them really happy by making them to the party. How about they see you with a beautiful baby in your arms? Ready?

Ruby:*tightens grip* To get back to a life of combat skirts? You bet.

Nora:*smiles* One...Two...THREE!

xxxx

‘Almost there. I can’t believe this is actually happening.’ Jaune thought as he sprinted through the forest. Jumping over tree roots and gaining speed along the way. The man didn’t miss a step.

The sounds of his boots going across the floor began to get drowned out by other footsteps. With each passing moment a friend came into his peripheral that joined him in the journey back to Ruby. Weiss was the first, followed by Blake, and then Tai.

Blake:You nervous?

Jaune:Hell yeah, but it’ll all work out. I have you guys. I don’t know how far I would’ve made it otherwise.

Weiss:Think nothing of it. This has always been a group effort.

Jaune:Not Just with this. I mean everything. School, adventures, regular life problems, you’ve helped so much in so many ways. I couldn’t ask for better friends and family.

Tai:That goes both ways you know? We’re thankful for you just as much as you are for us.

Weiss:We love you, you dunce. I can’t imagine anything we wouldn’t do for you or Ruby honestly.

Blake:And we know it’s mutual. Now and forever, we’ll watch each other’s backs.

Jaune:Thanks guys. *smiles*

Tai:Hey, where’s Qrow and Raven?

On que a bird flies right past them and gains some distance. “That’s totally cheating” Weiss pouts as she can feel the heels of her shoes getting a bit worn. The bird flies around a tree and transforms back into Raven. “Need some help you slow pokes?” She grabs her sword and opens a portal. The group smiles and happily jumps through it. They come out the other side in front of the orphanage with Qrow leaning against the door waiting.

Qrow:Good thing I looked so you all could just leap. What if I was inside the house when Raven made that portal?

Tai:Sounds about on brand really. The kids would’ve had a good laugh.

Jaune:Never mind all that. Is Ru-

“Waaaaahhh!”

A cry from inside was heard loud and strong. Jaune’s eyes widened. It could’ve any kid. From the small kids to Kovu, but somehow, he knew it wasn’t. The cry, it belonged to someone new.

Jaune said nothing and walked towards the door. Everyone fell in line behind him with cheerful smiles on their face. They gave him space. It was his moment more than theirs after all. Ren stood with a child in his arms when he noticed them coming in. He gave his best friend and leader a smile then pointed upstairs. Jaune nodded then went right towards them; the crying getting louder as he got closer until it reached its peak with him right outside a wooden door. His heart felt like it was about to fly out of his chest. Jaune grabbed the door knob but felt too anxious to turn it. A fire in his chest that didn’t frighten him, but made this moment surreal. Then, a voice cut through it all.

“Don’t worry, I got you. Nothing will ever harm you…”

Without anymore thinking, he walked in. From that moment on, the winter night felt incredibly warm. There she was. His closest friend. His wife. Holding their newborn child in her arms with such grace and gentleness that it took his breath away. Despite what Ruby would probably think, Jaune doesn’t think he’s ever seen her look this angelic. She hasn’t even noticed him yet. Her attention focused on soothing the baby with the same song she used all pregnancy; the same song for Dustin.

“I’m close by, I’ll stay here. Through all things I will be nea- Hmm?” Ruby finally felt the presence of multiple eyes and looked up. It was a pleasant surprise to see so many loved ones staring in awe from the door while. Then there was Jaune. Speechless in front of her bed with tears in his eyes. Ruby had already been crying for several minutes and smiled back at him. Though she hadn’t realized just how happy he was; why they were all thrilled. It wasn’t just the baby. It was Ruby herself. Jaune was looking at deep pools of silver that shined like the moon’s reflection on a still lake. For the first time in a long time, Ruby finally looked like herself again.

Jaune:H...Hey…

Ruby:Hey there stranger. Looks like you were right this time around. Come say hello to your daughter Carmine.

Jaune’s smile grew even bigger. He’d forgotten all about that silly wager from long ago. Slowly he walked to Ruby’s side and she held the little one up so he could see the new addition to their lives. What he saw was beautiful. Carmine had come out with already a full head of blonde hair that grew darker and red at the tips. Her cheeks were all rosy; he’d assume from crying but he hoped that maybe she had a natural blush.

Regardless, what really captured him was when she opened her eyes. Purity couldn’t describe them. They were eyes that stole his heart in an instant. Maybe it was because he was already so emotional. Or maybe, it was because it was because they were just as captivating as Ruby’s. An intense silver that showed him anything possible.

Jaune:Hey Carmine Arc Rose. Welcome, to the best family ever.

Part 13

[secretstories]

Temporal Anomaly

This story is NOT canonical, but it was fun and I wanted to write it. Using a time travel trope for this one. Hope you enjoy :)

“Approaching temporal anomaly.”

“Admiral, maybe it's best if we get someone more… scientific to do this?”

Amidral Vir slowly engaged the jetpack in spurts costing through the blackness of space seriously glad he didn’t get vertigo as stars plunged into infinity on all sides leaving him floating in a vacuum of nothingness.

He knew people who had been driven mad by this experience, they used to call it cosmic hysteria before someone actually put a real name to it. He engaged his com, “That would be a good idea if any of you nerds knew how to use a jetpack. Just tell me what I’m looking for.

There was a pause over the end of the line for a moment before a voice came over the line slightly nasal making him think of pocket protectors and those little rubber things you put on the end of your finger to help turn pages, “Ok Admiral, when you get the the anomaly, I want you to hold up the device and press these buttons in sequence.”

He rolled his eyes. Ah yes someone more scientific to press a few buttons.

He floated a bit more forward stopping just short of something very…. Strange. From where he was it looked like he was staring into a fractured pane of glass where the individual pieces only remained together because there was no force acting on them. He could see the light on the front of his space suit being reflected back at him, and behind that his own silhouette.

“Are you guys sure this things is an anomaly…. Looks like someone just chucked out their broken mirror.”

“That’s what our scans are saying, Admiral.”

“Alright so I just” He paused, and sighed, “Which buttons was I supposed to press again.”

There was chuckling from the other end of the line as he walked through the instructions. He did as ordered only half listening to the chatter of the nerds on the other end of the line. Instead he got a closer look at the…. Whatever it was. The lite from his suit was too bright and scattered off the glass so much he couldn’t see his reflection, but, rather continued to blind himself.

“Some kind of warp tunnel?”

“No, warp tunnels are more volatile and tend to draw things into them. This would have already pulled the Admiral in if-”

He tried to tune them out and tilted his head this way and that

He shouldn't have let his mind wander. As krill had once said his rain was  like a small child, and if left unsupervised it was prone to doing things it shouldn’t. He reached up a hand fingers parallel to the glass.

He slowly moved his hand forward his brain imagining the cool, slick surface of glass beneath his fingertips.

He felt as his glove impacted something.

“ADMIRAL N-”

And he was sucked violently forward, so violently it felt as if his body was going to rattle apart. He was spun this way and that pulled apart in all directions and then snapped back together like a rubber band. His feet flew over his head, he worked desperately to fight against the the blackness at the edge of his vision as he plunged downard into what must have been an infinite well of gravity, and then with a jolt, it stopped.

His head spun and his body hurt.

His hands and arms floated out to either side of his fingers trialing in the air beside him. His feet were kicked up before him and his head spun circles, far worse than they had during flight training.

And then he was 

Gone.

Fading away with the stars overhead, and a bright light passing over his body.

***

“The suit is certainly huma, though I can’t say I have seen this model in a while.”

“And it has a jetpack! Hell yeah! Our mystery visitor has class.”

“Now, the real question remains. Who could it be? We are the only ship in this sector.

“Don’t tell me we are going to open it up and see a gooey corpse…. Eww.”

“No, the suit is broadcasting vitals. WHoever is inside is just fine.

Adam struggled to open his eyes but when he did he was blinded and the world spun around him. He tried to lift his hands against the light, but his suit felt like led weight was boring down on him.

“He’s waking up” Someone announced 

He groaned.

“Get the helmet off him or… her I suppose.”

There was a sharp hiss and the world around him was flooded with light. He grimaced and turned his head to the side.

There was a gasp from around the room.

“Well glaze my ass and call me a doughnut.”

“This is it, I have OFFICIALLY seen everything.”

“Holy shit!”

He grimaced past the light and managed to hold up a hand before his eyes. He blinked a few more times.

Someone stepped in blocking the light assailing his eyes, and finally he was able to drop his hand, and nearly leaped back in his skin. A man stood over him grinning from ear to ear, tall, broad shouldered snow white hair and…. An eyepatch.

“Well you are once handsome devil if I do say so myself.”

He sat up scrambling back a little.

The man grabbed his arms, “Whoa there champ, hold on before you crawl out of that suit.”

“Who the fuck are you!” 

“Come on, son, ever looked in a mirror.”

His mouth opened and then closed and then opened again.  He turned his head wincing at the light nearly crawling off the bed when his eyes fell on another shape. Small, brown grey, with large prismatic orange eyes.

“Fascinating.” Krill said. There was a loud snap as he pulled on a latex glove, “I guess probing is in order

He leaped to his feet pointing, “Hell no you little gremlin, keep away from me.”

“Wow, I remember you having a much better sense of humor.”

“Oh you boys stop harassing him, look he’s scared.” He turned his head towards the new voice falling upon wide bespectacled eyes, and long dark hair pulled back from her face in a tight bun. The lines around her eyes had deepened and her skin wasn’t so tight but, he would know that face anywhere.

“Katie.” He said in confusion.

She smiled at him, “That’s right, now get down from there, we promise we won't hurt you.” She glowered at Krill, “And we CERTAINLY won’t PROBE him either.”

Krill huffed, “killjoy.”

Slowly Adam crawled down from where he stood on the bed stealing glances at the white haired man off to his right, who was grinning at him. As soon as he was down the other guy moved forward taking him by the shoulder and turning him this way and that, “Wow its like looking in a mirror, only, you know some twenty years younger.”

The other man tilted his head back, “Forgot how handsome I am.”

Adam pulled his face away, “W-what is going on.”

The other man grinned, “ well why don't’ you tell us your side of the story, and we will try to fill in the holes.”

He rubbed the back of his head, “Well I was…. I was investigating a temporal anomaly and I.”

“You touched it, you touched it didn't you.” The older man interrupted.

He felt himself go red, “I…. no..”

“He he, looks so cute when I lie.”

“How do you know he’s lying.”

“How can’t you know. Look, his ears are all red.”

Adam reached up to cover his ears, “who are you.”

The older man rolled his eyes, “man I am dumb sometimes.” he held up his hands, there is only one explanation for this my young friend. He reached up wiggling his fingers through the air, “Time travel”

“Time travel?

He nodded, “Time travel. You see you are me and I am you just, you know older…. How old are you right now?”

“Twenty uh…. Twenty six?”

“Don’t look at me. I am Forty six and fabulous.”

Adam frowned, “But your hair.”

The older Adam frowned at him, “I go grey early, can you blame me. Look, I think you have some white hairs yourself. But you won’t find a man my age with a body like mine this side of Andromeda.”

“Sure you do.”

“Haven’t heard Sunny complain.”

Adam opened his mouth closed it and then, felt his face flush red again, “You….” He trailed off cutting the question short.

“Oh look at him, he's going red.”

Older Adam waved a hand, “Well that isn’t hard to do. Watch this.” he turned to look adam in the eye, “Sex.”

He felt his face flush even worse, and he turned away.

“Adam!” Katie scolded, “Stop tormenting him.”

Older Adam grinned, “But it’s so fun, I can finally understand why my brothers did.”

“I still think we should study him, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity.” Krill was sayin. He didn’t sound like he had aged a day.

“Don’t you think that would be a little much, Krill. This is a lot to take in.”

Older Adam through an arm around his shoulders, turning his head to look at him, “Yeah we don’t want to do ‘science’ he wants to look at the ship.”

He took  a deep breath, “I… I….”

“That would be a yes, don't worry he’s just getting his brain to boot up. Takes a minute when he’s nervous. Now get out of that smelly suit and let's take the grand tour.”

What other choice did he have, and he was given the privacy to pull off his suit and undersuit, at least that is until someone threw open the curtain and barged in. he nearly squealed and fell over, grabbing something to hold in front of him.

Older Adam just laughed, “nothing I haven’t seen, son…. Ha ha, son, thats funny.”

He did not lower the pillow he was holding in front of his private business, “Do you have any sense of personal boundaries.”

“Nope, those fled with age.” he doessed him a bundle and Adam ended up dropping the pillow on reflex just to catch the clothing sailing towards him.” His older self nodded in approval, and Adam felt himself go bright red again, “Those should fit, i mean we are the same size, haven't started shrinking yet.”

Adam awkwardly pulled on the proffered clothes finding it strange when he identified his own smell.

With one waved hand he was led from behind the curtain, and out to where the others were waiting. They stared at him, and he looked down at his feet.

“Come on, I’m excited for you to see this. Plus I have some serious advice for you.” older Adam grabbed him by the arm and walked him into the hall.

He looked around in awe almost immediately as a large spindly creature trudged past down the hall.

“What was that?”

“Just some new friends we have made in the last twenty or so years.” They walked up the hall and took the stairs down. The ship was darker than it used to be, much more lived in, but it was familiar.

“Here this way to the rec room.” 

They turned a corner and the floor opened up into a familiar space, though it had more TV’s and even a vintage arcade game now. He nodded in approval, “Hey everyone, c’mere.”

The entire room looked up, and he sudden felt himself the center of more than a dozen eyes.

“Holy shit, is that?”

“yeah , yeah it is.”

Another man moved out of the crowd, and Adam felt his eyes widen, “Ramirez!” he looked up at the other man shaking hismelf, “You aged…. Really well, holy shit.” Ramirez grin, straight white smile lighting up his face, “That’s a compliment coming from you.

Adam snorted, “In your wildest dreams Ramirez.”

“ I’ve had wilder.”

He held out a hand, “Uncanny.” Adam took and looking down saw something glittering on his hand, “You’re married!” 

Ramirez laughed and held up his hand, the wedding band glittering bright on his finger, “yep going on about ten years now.”

“Who? Tell me.”

Ramirez shook his head, “No, I don’t think I will.”

Other faces popped at him from out of the crowd, “Mav/” He asked wide eyed. The woman moved forward grinning wickedly. He hair was short on the sides and long on the top braided back into a viking-esque haircut, “Oh look it’s baby Adam’ how cute.”

Old Adam patted him on the back, “doesn’t it just remind you of the old days.”

“When you were still a raging idiot…. Oh wait, I was thinking of right ow.”

It was at the same time that the two of them frowned and responded with near identical “Hey.”s 

The entire room laughed at that.

Ramirez looked at older Adam very seriously, “You know what I would do if I were you.”

Older Adam sighed, “Do I want to hear this?”

“If i was you.” Ramirez continued, “I would kiss myself/”

Adam blanched and old Adam roared with laughter, “Kiss yourself, Ramirez isn't that like…. Incest somehow.”

“Selfcest and I don’t think it counts, but seriously, thinking about it. You could know exactly how good you are at kissing and be able to work out any bugs.”

Adam backed away as older Adam looked at him contemplatively.. Adam backed into a wall, and older Adam just laughed slapping him on the back, “Oh stop looking so worried, I wouldn’t do that to you unless you wanted a go, but you aren't as fun as Ramirez.”

“But I am you.”

“I know, I remember what I was like.”

“What you ‘were’ like?”

He shrugged, “Yeah you loosen up as you get older, don’t worry kid. You can thank Sunny for that.”

He put a hand on his shoulder and led him out into the hallway.

“Sunny! Is she here?”

Older Adam beame, ‘I know that look. Lets see your 26 right, so you two are dating/”

He nodded a bit nervously.

“Yeah shes here, we’ll go see her next. She will want to see you for sure.”

Together they stepped down the hall and Adam nearly keeped ovr as a sudden shape appeared before them white and billowing in the hallway.

“And then there were two.” Conn Said, his dark eyes glittering rather maliciously.i the darkness.

“Convict.” Old Adam said.

He turned his dark eyes to look at Adam, “Same dumb different age.”

“Charming Conn.”

“You didn’t change much.” Adam muttered  as the two of them pushed past Conn down the hall.

“Don’t let him fool you. He has gotten better as time  has gone on. A real asset to this ship. Saved me from an assassin a few times.”

“Assassins!” 

Old Adam shrugged, “Yeah Assassins, “People don’t like what I…. what you and I represent.”

“What do we represent?”

“The union between humanity and alien life of course, or the GA in general. We are the face of the galaxy my friend.”

Adam frowned, “When does that happen.”

“It already has you are just a bit dense, but soon enough you will see. Right now you are a household name for humans, and it only takes a few more years for your name to become intergalactic.”

He felt himself go a little weak as white- hair Adam smiled at him, “yeah, the Stress will turn you white early, but it's a good life, and so far I don’t regret anything I have done….. Tough there is one thing….”

He paused, and Adam leaned forward  little to hear him feeling that this was important.

However, they were silenced rather quickly by a sudden massive shape scuttling towards them from across  the ceiling, and then dropping onto the floor. Henearly leaped out of his kin.

But then the thing came into view, a massive adaptid, with blond fur on its face, “POS garbage system gonna need fixing.” The voice was strange, echoing unnaturally like it was coming from a static radio.

The adapted stopped and sniffed the air, its eyes fixing in on him with a hungry expression, one that turned to confused a moment later, its bright green eyes widening with confusion, “Father.”

“Glados!”

She turned her head to look at white hair Adam, “What is this, some kind of joke.”

He shook his head, “No glados. I younger me has come to visit from the past.” She sniffed at him.

“Holy shit.” he muttered, “Wh-what are yo undoing here.”

“What does it look like I’m doing! She snapped, trying to fix this POS ship is what I am trying to do, but the coil drivers are going bad and Narobi’s people forgot to order morem, so now I have to finagle the things back together. Do you know how hard it is to fit down those dark cramped hallways, and then every now and again some asshole runs into me and screams, practically defines me every time.” She snarled, showing great white glittering K-9 teeth.

Older Adam patted her on the shoulder, “Deep breaths Glados, everything will work out, I promise.

With a deep sigh, Glados did as told, taking two great heaving breaths before calming down.

“Better?”

She nodded her huge head, eyes softening a bit, “Anyway. I have to go fix this. It was interesting to see you again, father.” and then she turned around and scuttled into the darkness. As she departed Adam was surprised to find a shape clinging to her belly …. An adapted male.”

“She…. shes…. uh  married? Dating?”

“Yes, though she's been looking for a third.” He chuckled, “She’s been trying to convince Conn, believe it or not.”

Adam snorted and nearly fell over, “What!”

“Imagine a bunch of baby adaptids who could survive in the vacuum of space. It would be one of the greatest evolutions their species has ever seen.”

He rubbed his head almost dizzy, “And is he considering it?”

Old Adam shrugged, “I don’t know. I think if we told him no directly to his face he might actually consider it, but I want to see if Glados can convince him first. I’d rather he agree on his own than out of spite.”

Adam held his head behind his back and shook his head, “This is all, this is insane.”

Old Adam snorted, “Not so much kid. This is your life.”

They were lead down through the next few hallways in near silence, “So what were you going to tell me earlier?”

Old Adam tilted his head, “What was…. Oh yeah! I remember now” he turned to look at him with a very serious expression stopping in the hallway and then laying a hand on his shoulder, “The one thing I regret.”

He waited on tenterhooks.

“Go on.”

“I regret not advancing my  relationship with Sunny sooner. You love her, kid. You love her so much you don’t know what to do with yourself, but for some reason you are so worried and embarrassed about it that you can’t do it. I gey your nervous and awkward, but she doesnt care, and no one else that matters will care.”

He felt his face flush and his hands go warm, “I…. I don’t know about that I, I’m not.”

‘Not ready? Well lets be honest, you will never be ready,and the longer you wait to feel ready is the longer that beautiful warrior is going to go thinking that maybe….. Just maybe you are going to turn away and pick someone else. The longer you wait is the longer she is going to wonder if she is good enough, the longer she is going to think you are going to leave her for some human.”

He stood on the floor stunned, “She thinks that? But she’s never…”

“Never said anything. Of course she’s never said anything. She doesn’t want to drive you away, and she loves you enough that she wants you to be happy even if that means her being miserable” he grabbed Adam by the shoulders and nearly shook his brain out of his head, “You found her, I promise you found her ok, no need to look anymore, no need to worry. She isn’t going to leave you, no matter what you do, and possibly despite everything you do.”

His heart was hammering in his chest as the other man lead him up the hallway hand gripping around his wrist.

“So….so you two…. I’m … I mean you and Sunny are.”

Older Adam turned to look at him over his shoulder, “I challenged her to trial by unarmed combat seven years ago, and every day I regret that I hadn’t done it sooner.”

Adam sputtered, “Trial by unarmed combat but that!.”

Old Adam frowned at him, “I know what it is. I am leader of a drev clan too.”

hIs head was spinning, his heart was hammering and he felt ready to fall over as they turned the next corner and down into a little workshop that he recognized well. It was more cluttered than it had been before,and the walls were practically plastered with schematics and blueprints, but the smell of metal and adhesive were strong.

Old Adam left young Adam at the back of the room and walked forward to where a lone figure was sitting on a bench busy tinkering with  a few pieces of equipment.

“Hey, hot stuff.” He said, leaning in to kiss her cheek, making Adam’s face flare red as he looked away.

The head lifted, bright light running over blue carapace, “Mmmmm hey snow white.”

“Never gonna let me live that down, huh.”

“Nope.”

“There is someone here I want you to see.’ He said, and the way he reached out, touching her arm tenderly made his entire body erupt into tiny fizzing bubbles. He swallowed hard and looked up at the ceiling.

Sunny looked over her shoulder and her eyes widened, freezing in place as she stared at him. He raised an awkward hand to wave, “Er…. hi.”

“No way…. Is this serious.”

Old Adam grinned, “yeah.”

Sunny shook her head in awe before the expression adjusted into a frown, “Great, now I have two children to take care of.” She looked pointedly at old Adam who just grinned.

She turned and looked Adam back over one more time, “I forgot how hot you used to be.’

His grin fell and he glowered at her, “Used to be!”

She grinned at him and shrugged, “What your old, and decrepit now.”

“I’m not even fifty!” 

She stood and walked over looking down at him. Was it just him, or did she seem a little taller?

She brushed a hand through his hair, “You are adorable. What would you say to a fight.”

Old adam frowned again, “Hold on, why do you want to fight him”

She looked over her shoulder, “I don’t know he's younger…. More…. spry .”

“Spry!”

She grinned, “And probably a little more flexible too.”

“Now hold on, I don’t recall you complaining before.”

“Hard to complain when you are trying your best, but you know things get old…. Not so much stamina anymore.” She grinned again 

Adam wanted to sink through the floor, and felt that he might if he got any warmer. As if he might sink through the floor and melt into a puddle.

“I’ll give you stamina, woman.” 

Adam resisted the urge to cover his ears.

Sunny turned her head back to him looking almost hungry, “You always had a nice body.”

“You keep talking about this in the past tense, and I don’t appreciate it.” Old adam lifted his shirt and patted his abs, “See all six still there.”

Sunny raised an eyebrow, “Bet he's a little more….” She tilted her head to the side, “Firm.”

Older Adam looked scandalized by the comment and Adam himself just wanted to die, “Can we NOT talk about that please.”

Sunny sighed, “Still haven't gotten over that have you. She patted his shoulder. Took me FOREVER to convince you and lord was it difficult, but I swear if you just do it, than you won’t have a problem anymore.I swear it vanished overnight.”

“Please stop.”

She sighed, “Alright fine, but you better give younger me a chance sooner before this idiot did, I swear he regrets it with every fiber of his being.”

“I get it! I Get it! I am hearing what you are saying and now we can go ahead and stop right now.” 

The two of them just laughed at his expense, and Sunny put an Arm around him, gently brushing a stray hair from his cheek, “I’m sorry, I know that makes you uncomfortable, we’ll stop.” He relaxed a little and a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.

Older Adam smiled a little, “Sorry, kid, guess I was having a little too much fun at my own expense.” He winked, though with the eyepatch it looked just like a blink.

Did he really do that that often?

“So…. aside form the other stuff, is there anything I should know? Any advice.”

Older Adam frowned and tapped his fingers, “IF you ever meet a cute little alien that looks like an eyeball with fuzzy hair, don’t touch it whatever you do.” he Shivered and grimaced.

“Um, turns out I am very very allergic to honey so any sort of scent or flavoring that involves it is not going to go well for me.” Sunny added, “So keep me away from it.”

He nodded.

“Also do not attempt any sort of inverted backspin with your jetpack. I was in traction for a month.”

Adam frowned, guess that sort of ruined his weekend plans .

Old Adam rubbed his chin, “Ad face it kid, you're going to get old, but that doesn't mean you should act old. I tried it once and it was miserable.” He prodded Adam in the chest, “Expect your left knee to give you shit  and the fucking heartburn is killer, but keep up your workout routine for your own happiness.”

Sunny paused and then went very quiet, “IF I insist on seeing my mother…. Let me go, but don’t let me do it again. NEVER let me go back again.”

WOrried he nodded again unsure of what to do.

There was another pause, “Also, my brother Kanan, give him some poetry books next christmas.”

Adam snorted in surprise, but from the look on her face he went quiet, “Yeah, I think I can remember all that.”

Older Adam put a hand on his shoulder, “looks like they found the temporal anomaly, and it’s time to send you home kid.”

Older Adam accompanied him into the docking ebay wearing a space suit. It was very strange to hear himself give orders, but partially exhilarating at the same time. He…. he didn’t hate how he sounded when he was giving orders. A group of others came t osee him off and he got to see other members of the crew.

Nairobi, with a colorful scarf tied up on her head, Jackie standing Next to Simon, who looked just as stiff as ever, but managed a smile at him. There was Katie and Krill, who wandered forward and leaned up. He leaned down to listen to his friend expecting another sarcastic comment, but instead, “Relax Admiral, relax and maybe you won’t go grey so early.”

Adam smiled a little and stepped back glancing over at his older counterpart, “All told…. It looks kind of good on me.”

Krill shrugged, “Stress doesn’t, now get back to your people before they freak out.”

“You mean before YOU freak out?”

“Oh I am already freaking out I assure you. That is a fact of life.”

Adam smiled and stepped back as Sunny walked over. She put her hands on his shoulders and then leaned down gently resting her forehead against his before pulling away, “Be safe and try not to do anything overtly stupid, which i KNOW is a tall order.”

He grinned and pulled on his helmet. “No promises.”

She then turned her attention to older Adam, turning her head so he could kiss her on the cheek, reaching down to squeeze his hand, “Same goes for you, you hear me.”

He grinned, “Here you are to ruin all my fun.” She took the helmet from his hands gently placing it on for him with a tight snap before checking the seal and when smacking him about the head.

“Hey!”

“Yep, it works.” She announced laughing as she backed away, and the two of them turned.

They stood in the airock as it was depressurized, and their feet lifted off the ground as the door opened. Together they engaged their jetpacks and slowly coasted forward.

The universe unfurled around them.

It hit him now just as fresh as it had the first time, and he turned his head to look at the older Adam, who was already looking at him, and he was under the impression that his older self still felt the same way, which made him feel right.

At least that was something he’d never lose.

The temporal anomaly appeared before them as they reversed thrusters and came to a slow stop.

Older Adam turned to him, grabbing him by the front of the space suit as they looked, “You gotta promise to do one more thing for me kid, just one more.”

“Yeah, what”

“Waffles…. You, you tell her she’s a good girl, tell her she’s a good girl from me.” The man’s voice was partially choked up, “Can you do that?”

Adam nodded, “I’ll tell her.”

“Good,” And then he was shoved back into the temporal rift and vanished.

[for-ests]

To Make You Come Home- Colin Ritman x Reader

Part 1

Word count: 3,802

Sorry for the long wait and the spacing. I didn’t plan on part 2 being this long :’)) I hope you enjoy!!

________________________

He didn’t care. He never did.

That’s all you could think about as you sprinted down the road. It was so late in the night that not a single soul was out. All you could hear was the sound of your sneakers scuffing against the pavement.

If he really cared about me he would be here right now. If he loved me, he would have put forth the effort I have.

The streetlights were a haze in your vision as you ran until the weight of your bag felt like a hundred pounds.

Why does Colin make himself so hard to love?

Just the thought of cutting him completely out of your life was enough to cause your tears to overflow. Your sniffles turned into sobs within seconds, overtaking your senses so quickly that you had to stop running.

Colin… Colin, why? Why do you have to make me feel like this?

You wanted to scream as loud as you could. There was so much anger building up inside of you and you didn't know how to let out. You just needed to get away. You needed to breathe. Yet being alone felt odd. Wanting a break from Colin was something you had never craved before.

Why do I let him treat me like this?

Why did love have to be so complicated? You wanted to be alone yet you could barely stand the idea of not laying in bed next to him. If only he had decided to go to sleep with you that night. If only he had listened to your advice. If only he didn’t rely on drugs for release. If only.

You came to a stop at the realization. This entire time you had been trying to change him. For the better, yes indeed. But he wasn’t ready for change. He wasn’t ready to grow up and cherish the love you were willing to give him.

And if he wasn’t ready, 3 years was already too long to wait. You always had time, but it was never going to go to waste.

"I'll be okay." You promised to yourself, lip quivering with each prayer that you uttered. No matter what was going to happen, you would get through it. With or without Colin by your side. The relationship was in his hands now. One more tear slipped from your eye when you realized you had done all you could.

Your heart seemed to shatter at that realization. All you could do was sit and wait for him to make up his mind. It felt like you had broken up, but you couldn’t help and hold on tightly to that last string of hope.

You had wanted to feel something real; you wanted something more. You wanted someone to depend on you, to crave and cherish you. But you always seemed to let the wrong man do so. Someone who didn't even deserve an ounce of the love you had to give.

You thought that man could have been Colin. There were so many great qualities about him, yet his deep rooted issues always stood in the way. You noticed his problems when you were friends, yet had to deal with them as a couple.

In your eyes, the man you wanted to be with was never supposed to be perfect. You just needed to see him strive to change. The fights you always had with him were easily preventable yet it never changed. He could fix his problems if he wanted to. He could get some sleep. He could stop drinking in excess. He could stop lying. He could treat you better.

And now you had finally had enough. You would not let Colin bring you down with him, as selfish as that sounded. But you had already been trying for 3 years. If the sign that he wouldn’t run after you wasn’t enough, you didn’t know what was. You could not fix him.

And that was the biggest, most important lesson you learned from this.

Some people aren't meant to be fixed.

Tears started to well in the corners of your eyes. Sometimes the truth really was harder to face. It hurt to know your efforts to form an unbreakable bond with him crumbled right in front of you. But you couldn’t go on like this any longer. You could not watch Colin destroy himself. The promises he whispered in your ear had become devoid of all meaning. They were almost as empty as you.

Despite his faults, you loved him. You loved him more than anything- yet you had to be strong for yourself. Everything you thought was contradicting.

Though you tried desperately to deny it, you could not continue on like this. "I need to move on.” Your brain tried to reason with your heart.

Yet uttering those words did not change a thing. You were still confused, still hurt beyond explanation. You were so angry and tired, in dire need of someone who was willing to calm you down. The last thing you could do was walk back into the apartment you and Colin shared. You were so frustrated that you would rather sleep outside.

And with that, you reached your childhood best friend Stefan’s door with a heavy heart.

Coming around the street corner so early in the morning was strange. There wasn’t another sound to be heard. The silence was eerie, as if it was trying to remind you that you were alone.

Somewhat ashamed, you walked up the concrete steps to Stefan’s front door. You were surprised you had even made it there, with how dazed and confused you had become. Your mind was racing a hundred miles a minute. Would he even take you in? Was he even home?

Your finger hovered over the doorbell. You paused, half of you wishing Colin had followed you. You absolutely hated bothering people like this. Stefan probably wouldn’t mind, but your worry stemmed from your own anxiety of becoming a burden.

Ding.

You waited anxiously. It was not too late to turn back.

Yet before you could think about another alternative, Stefan appeared behind the glass. A surprised look was on his face.

“Y/N?” He rubbed his eyes, voice muffled behind the door until he unlocked it and ushered you inside.

“I'm sorry Stefan...” You half smiled, swaying the duffel bag around your torso. “Is there anyway I can crash on your couch for tonight?” You tried to ask without showing any indications of how heartbroken you were.

But he could see right through you, aside from the fact that you had shown up at 3am.

“Colin let you walk away huh?”

“I think we are done this time...” You bit your lip to hold back the tears. “I can’t watch him spiral like this. He won’t take my advice. And as far as I’m concerned, I have been enabling him to take the drugs. He can’t function without them anymore. We don’t talk.. Haven't done anything special in two weeks...” You looked up to meet Stefan’s eyes, and was surprised to find them filled with sadness and compassion.

“You don’t need to say anything more, Y/N.” Stefan took your bag from you and gestured for you to follow him to his bedroom. His hair was disheveled from what was once a deep sleep. For the most part he was awake, giving you his full attention.

“The couch is fine.” You smiled weakly, not wanting to ruin his entire night. Stefan was far too kind.

“You already know what I'm going to say.” He rolled his eyes, moving aside papers and books to set your bag on his desk chair. You hadn’t been over for a couple weeks and a lot had changed since then. Stefan was also working on a similar project, and he was still sane. At least you thought… At least Stefan talked to you about his problems. That topic had remained constant in your friendship.

“Thanks,” You laughed through your nose. “for real.”

“Colin may be a coworker and friend, but I’ve known you since we were children.” He crossed his arms and looked around. “I’m sorry for the mess though… Is there anything else I can get you before I go back asleep?”

“No,” You smiled genuinely. You wondered if Stefan could see the obvious indications of crying that littered your face. If he did, he remained quiet. He had known you long enough to wait until you were ready. The pain was still fresh. “Not till the morning.” You finished.

“I'll be here when you wake. We can talk then.”

He closed the door. You listened to his bare feet creak against the hardwood until you were sure he was out of hearing range. You felt like crying, but part of you was too angry to produce any tears. You tried to avoid the resentment creeping into your mind. Relationships were never a waste of time until the end, when you realize everything you had put into it was unappreciated. Years of your life gone. If you somehow couldn’t work it through with Colin, your happiness would become a painful memory. All the traits you had learned about him would eventually fade. Everything you had been through would never be spoken about again.

You weren’t ready for that.

Sighing to avoid more tears, you took off your shoes and set them quietly under Stefan’s bed. You knew a couple hours of sleep would relieve some of the stress.

Stefan’s home was a great place to take your mind off Colin. He was a part of your life that was filled with continuous joy. He even had a few pictures of you from your earlier years taped on his wall. Glancing at them caused a smile to spread across your face. The two of you were so young then, and now you were reaching adulthood.

Stefan’s room was so plain back then. Now, the walls were decorated with projects, diagrams and posters. Piles of books and software littered every possible open surface in the cramped room.

Looking at them put you at peace. And eventually, you wrapped yourself in a blanket and drifted into a relaxed, stress free slumber.

___

The morning came sooner than you wanted. The room was still pitch black because of the blinds, which made it ten times harder to wake up fully. Groaning, you stretched and climbed out of bed. The clock read 10:30am.

You emerged from the bedroom and found Stefan up in the kitchen. He smiled at you, gesturing to the eggs and toast he was preparing.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You chuckled.

The lanky boy shrugged nonchalantly. “I know, but you would do the same for me.”

You pulled out a chair at the breakfast bar and laid your head in your hands, rubbing your eyes from discomfort. Your mind was still racing, trying to piece together some sort of plan on how you were going to figure your life out. You couldn’t just bail on Colin, You shared an apartment. You shared everything...What were you going to do? You would have to find your own place closer to the university. You could possibly find one of your girlfriends to live with for a couple week. Yet your pride wouldn't have it. You hated relying on other people so heavily like that. Colin had been the only person to see that side of you for quite some time.

“Y/N?” Stefan’s voice finally hit you like a slap in the face. You hadn’t noticed he had been calling your name.

“What? Sorry.” You mumbled.

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” A sigh escaped your lips. You wished more than anything for something else to fill your mind. “I’d rather talk about you. How’s the game going?”

“Don’t give me that.” He laughed while shaking his head. “You need to go back to Colin’s and figure your shit out.”

You were silent. You knew Stefan was right but you craved recognition from Colin. You wanted him to come to you. You were sick of being the one who initiated to sort through your problems. You wanted Colin to be a man and ask you to stay. Immature and irrational, yes, but still. You could not help the way you felt. Why were you the one obligated to figure things out?

You lowered your gaze, ashamed. “It’s always me.”

It took Stefan a moment to process what you meant. When it hit him, he raised his eyebrows. “You want him to come to you?”

You slowly nodded, your answer as faint as it could be. “I’m sorry Stefan. I’m being an idiot. I’m just so… angry.”

Stefan pulled out the chair next to you and took a seat. “You don’t need to be sorry about anything.”

You felt tears prickling at your eyelids. You loathed being this vulnerable.

“Why don’t I drive you back over there so you can pick up your things. You can try to talk to him.” Stefan lowered his head into your view until you were forced to look at him. “See what he has to say. But after that, I can always take you back.”

You sniffled. “I-I can do that.”

Not another moment passed before you gathered your composure. You reached over and grabbed the telephone from off the wall and dialed your phone number. Your hands were on the verge of shaking from how terrified you had become. What the hell were you going to say? The phone rang three times before Colin’s raspy voice echoed on the other side.

“Hello?”

“Are you at the flat?” You asked, keeping your voice as steady as possible.

“Yeah.” He replied softly, recognizing your voice in an instant.

“I'll be over soon.” You clutched the phone so hard your fingers turned white. You heard him taking a breath but were too nervous to hear what he had to say. You slammed the phone against the receiver before you heard another word.

___

Arriving at your apartment should not have been this difficult. You swallowed hard as you unbuckled your seat belt. Maybe it was too soon to come back, but you were an impatient person. You would have to come back regardless.

“I’ll be here.” Stefan gave you an encouraging smile.

You reciprocated his actions, even as your heart began to beat so fast you could barely hear what he said. You closed the car door with a click and clutched the keys in your hand. Here went nothing.

Entering the lobby and riding the elevator seemed like a fever dream. This building had been your home for over a year, yet you felt like an alien in it. No matter how long you had been with Colin, it was his. This was his home first. And depending on what happens when you enter the room, it will be his home last.

Even staring at the front door, decorated with pictures and signs you had placed there, wasn’t enough to make you feel welcome. You were most likely scaring yourself, but it was you form of preparation. You couldn't face another disappointment. You did not want to expect a smile on his face and be greeted with a frown.

Shaking your head to disperse the thoughts, you took a deep breath and knocked. At the sound, you heard shuffling from inside. As if he had been intentionally waiting beside it, Colin pulled the door open.

Your mouth parted in surprise.

The bags under his eyes had worsened. It seemed like he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep.

“Y/N-” He started, too choked up to say anything coherent. You had the feeling he wanted to reach out for you by the way he stumbled. You watched that thought leave his eyes at the sight of you standing as still as a statue.

“Where’s your mind at?” You shifted awkwardly on your feet. Normally, you would be all too willing to fall back into his arms. But if that were to happen, the cycle would go on repeating itself. That's not the life you wanted for yourself, and it was certainly not the life you wanted for Colin. If you couldn’t be the one by his side, hopefully someone else could.

“What do you mean where’s my mind at?” He blinked in confusion, one hand gripping the door and the other gripping the wooden frame. You watched his muscles tense.

You met his eyes. “Did you think I was going to come back and pretend everything was okay?”

“I hoped.”

“Because you're ashamed?” The accusation left your lips out of anger and frustration. “And you’re not big enough of a man to admit it?”

“I have nothing to be ashamed about.” He swallowed, now unable to meet your eyes.

“You're addicted, Colin.” You bit your lip. “I can’t be with someone like this.”

“I’m not-”

“-You are. And I’ve let it slide for too long. You can’t function sober.”

Colin was silent. He knew he had a problem. The hurt in your tone was evident enough. He had neglected you long enough.

“All you had to do was ask for help. Before any of this spiraled. I was there for you.”

You saw panic flash across his face even though he was trying to hide it. “Was?”

“I can’t.” You gestured frantically between the two of you. There was barely a gap, but it felt like miles. “I can’t keep going on like this.”

“Like what?” He whispered.

“Being ignored. Watching you fall apart. You pushing me away. You never wanting to do anything. You smoke every night, and you push your work off until you have to cram it all into one night. And then you can't even do it! You need to take a tab. I’m sick of it. Your sleep schedule is so fucked up I can't remember the last time you held me in that bed.”

He knew he had no justifiable excuse. He had fucked up.

“I love you, Y/N.” His shoulders relaxed. “I don’t understand why that isn’t enough.”

“How am I supposed to know you love me when you never show it?” You raised your voice, surprised at the weakness of his rational. “I should be able to feel your love.”

Your words were a challenge. After the years you had spent together, Colin was able to decipher your language.

You were growing distraught. Was he even listening to you? You wanted to kiss him so badly, to run your fingers along his face in a caressing touch. You wanted to move on like nothing ever happened but your heart couldn’t go through it again. There needed to be a change. And he had to make his decision now.

“You’re right.” He breathed, tension pulling harder and harder at the both of you. “I feel like you despise me. I don’t know how to make it right.”

His confession took you by surprise. Colin was never not confident, he never shied away from taking control of every situation. When he walked into the room, all eyes were always on him. You knew he was under an immense amount of stress and pressure because of it. But now it had taken a toll on your relationship.

“I’m not used to this… not knowing what to do.”

“You should be able to take comfort in the fact that I'm here for you. I should know things about you that no one else does.” You met his eyes again. “I thought you would have learned this of being together for 3 years.”

“Take comfort in the fact that no one has heard me say that before.” He opened the door wider, as an invitation. “You’re the only woman I need.”

Still upset, that comment made the corners of your lips curve slightly.

He was vulnerable for what seemed like the first time. That was a step in the right direction, a promising one. Now he knew you were serious. You wouldn’t tolerate his childish behavior any longer. You wanted something more with him, and he was going to have to work for it.

Even though Colin was sure you still wanted to scream at him, you held yourself with so much composure. It made his heart race. You looked beautiful just as you were, even when your eyes were red and your nose stuffy. He only wished he hadn’t caused it.

“I love you.” Colin repeated with glossy eyes.

And with that, you fell against him with a sob. His warmth enveloped you and you gripped onto him tight. The man you loved more than anything ushered you inside, hugging you just as tight in return.

“I can’t lose you, Y/N.” He whispered into your hair. “I’ll do what needs to be done.”

“I believe you.” You tilted your head up, staring deeply into his eyes. “My love for you is still strong. I love you, Colin. No matter what happens that will never change.”

You shared a long kiss, one that was filled with passion and desperation. The butterflies you had felt so many times before erupted back into a fury. He gripped your waist, begging for more.

You pulled back, hands caressing his jawline. “Later.”

“I need you, babe.”

You chuckled softly, burying your face into his chest. Colin knew what names to call you when he wanted something. Every time he did, he was able to see that familiar blush light up your cheeks.

“Let me go tell poor Stefan that everything is okay.”

“Is that where you stayed?”

“Where else would I have gone?”

He smiled. “You’re right. Let me come with you. I need to thank him.”

“Why?”

“Because I knew you didn’t have the courage to come back by yourself. He had some say in your decision, yeah?” His question was cheeky, followed by a nudge.

You rolled your eyes. “I would have come back eventually.”

“I know. I was just about to go find you when you called.” His joke turned into something more serious. “I was worried sick about you.”

“Did you sleep at all?”

“No.”

“Well I promise not to do that again. If you promise me that you’ll work at your habits. I’m only saying this because I care about you Colin.”

He took your small hands and kissed them softly. “I promise.”

[walteinsamkeit]

The Last Days of Summer

Summary: The Summer is slowly drawing to a close, and the first nightly chill of Fall has almost unnoticeably come creeping in. Hosea and Dutch cannot help but find themselves a little nostalgic this time of year, wistful at the last few days of another long, hot Summer spent together. On a sleepless night, while the rest of the Van der Linde gang rests easy, they manage to find some quiet time together around the dying campfire, where under the starry night sky they fondly recall the past, and the way it all began. Word count: 2625 Characters: Dutch van der Linde & Hosea Matthews, implied Arthur and John, Bessie Matthews (mentioned past relationship) Rating: All ages/general audiences Warnings: Mentioned character death, themes of grief and mourning

To my darling Gisella If it’s forever, then I hope it is forever with you

“Hosea. You’re still up.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” the man replied, glancing back over his shoulder. He sat huddled in his coat, barely illuminated by the glow of the dying campfire, casting mellow shadows onto his face.

Dutch watched him for a moment before slowly wandering closer through the darkness, the grass under his boots rustling in the quiet of the night.

The rest of the camp was fast asleep, and it seemed as though they were the only ones left awake at this hour; countless fireflies floating in the still air their only witnesses. He perched down on the log beside his partner, picking up a nearby stick to poke at the cinders with. They released a last burst of smoke and embers into the night as he stirred the ashes, rising up into the sky like ghosts, and then went quiet.

“What is keeping you awake?” Hosea asked after a while of simply sitting alongside each other, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s been a long day. You should try to get some rest…”

“I’ve had a lot on my mind lately,” Dutch sighed out, tossing his stick aside after a moment’s pause. He loosely crossed his arms before leaning his elbows to his knees, staring blankly ahead.

“Well then. A penny for your thoughts, Dutch.” Hosea slowly straightened up, shifting closer as he lifted up his coat and draped it around the other man’s shoulders. His tense muscles seemed to relax a little at the warmth that engulfed him, and he breathed out a sigh of relief at the sense of familiar comfort, eyes sliding shut.

“It’s nothing... Nothing that I can’t handle by myself. I just need some time to sort it all out… Some time to think.”

“Is it a matter that you would like my advice on?”

“I would much rather be distracted from it, if only for a minute...”

The older man nodded, and his hand found the other’s shoulder with a reassuring squeeze that prompted Dutch to tip his head sideways, resting it lightly against his.

For a long while they kept quiet then, simply staring at what remained of the fire at their feet as they sat in silence and wordlessly basked in each other’s presence; a gentle warmth that distantly reminded him of late, balmy summer evenings long ago.

“What were you doing?” Dutch then finally asked, breaking the peaceful silence between them.

“Looking at the stars. It seems they are especially bright tonight. I must have gotten lucky. The weather isn’t usually this clear around these parts this time of year.” Hosea looked up at the night sky, and Dutch’s eyes followed suit, gazing off into the endless starry void that stretched out above their heads together.

“They’re shining just for us,” Dutch mused, absentmindedly curling his fingers into the fur lining Hosea’s coat. “Just like…”

“Just like old times. Yes.” Hosea finished his sentence. His voice was tender; laced with a bittersweet nostalgia that managed to touch at something deep inside of Dutch, stirring awake an old feeling. A distant memory.

Time had passed them by so swiftly, young and wide-eyed; like an endless hazy summer’s day in the middle of July. The days had seamlessly flowed into one another under a golden sun, leaving them blissfully dazed at the falling of the evening, like in a dream. Together they slept on the floor of abandoned places, and together they awoke in the gentle morning light, entangled in each other’s arms. The world was theirs and they went wherever the wind would take them, fearlessly chasing their dreams and committing their crimes along the way. Everyone knew their names, but they only had eyes for each other. They lived like gods in a savage paradise - America, the New World, an unspoiled Utopia without rules or laws to bind them - a place where industrialization and technology did not have a grip yet. A place where they were kings, and their kingdom was all that their eyes could see.

But things changed. They grew older. Soon it was no longer just the two of them. By the time they realized what was happening, it was already too late - the years had slipped through their fingers; passed them by unnoticed, never to return again. Now, all they had were each other and their memories.

“Look,” his partner spoke under his breath, barely masking his nearly childlike excitement as he pointed up towards the sky, guiding the other’s gaze. “Hercules, over there. And Sagittarius, on the Southern horizon.”

“They’re the only thing that hasn’t changed over the years,” Dutch observed. “We still look up at the same sky and we see the same stars as we did yesterday... The summer still seems far too short, and the winter lasts far too long. The world’s still spinning... And, you and I - we’re still here.”

Hosea let out a chuckle before a soft cough shook his shoulders and their gazes met swiftly in the darkness, both faces graced with a smile in the mellow shadows of the fire’s glow.

“We’re getting old, Hosea…” Dutch then sighed out, almost weary, but with his voice carrying a warm tone of fondness. “Old, and bony.”

“I surely hope we are.” Hosea cleared his throat, ever the calm and rational one of the two, even when joking. They shared a chuckle, keeping quiet for a moment until Dutch spoke up once again.

“But you know what…” he started, thoughtfully staring at the fading glow before their feet. “No matter what happens, they can’t take our memories from us. They can’t take away all we’ve seen together. All we’ve done. The places we’ve been... All the good times we had. Wherever it is life may take us from here on… We’ll always have our memories. We’ll always have a part of each other. Just look, at all we’ve won. We done did good...”

“And we raised two fine boys into fine men… That took its fair share of effort, but what else could one wish for in life.”

“Nothing that I could think of, Hosea. Nothing I could think of.”

He uttered a satisfied hum, and for a while they sat in silent agreement until, suddenly, Hosea let out a hoarse chuckle, drawing Dutch’s attention.

“And how often, in all those years, I swore you would drive me mad...”

“Oh, I know all too well.” An amused smile came to Dutch’s lips, watching the other as they reminisced.

“You always managed to see good where there was none. You and your starry-eyed idealism. I’ve always thought you would get us killed one day…”

“Not yet, Hosea. Not quite yet.”

“You are an insufferable man, Dutch van der Linde.” He mumbled as he turned to face him, only inches away from each other now as he spoke under his breath. “But God knows... God knows I wouldn’t be able to leave you if I wanted to. The two of us… We were meant to be together until the bitter end.”

“I promised you we was,” he said, not hesitating a moment as he watched him. “All those years ago. When I first said I loved you.”

“That you did...” He paused, thoughtful, his gaze lowering to where their hands rested so close to each other atop their thighs, and he raised his, and gently wove their fingers together.

“And I did not leave you, against my better judgement. It seems like I’m stuck with you now, for better or for worse.”

“Oh, cruel, cruel fate,” Dutch quipped, the words only a warm rumble of his voice as he slowly leaned in, and brushed their lips together in the dark.

Hosea’s eyes fluttered shut, and for a short moment it was only the two of them as they had been twenty years ago, and when they parted, they rested their foreheads together, falling still as though in quiet longing for more.

A long moment of mindful silence passed before Dutch finally stirred again, raising the other man’s hand and gently brushing his lips over the back of it in adoration. Hosea’s clear blue eyes watched him, pensive, like shards of fallen April sky.

“I would be a liar if I said I didn’t miss you during those years we were apart...” He then spoke quietly, with a certain regret in his voice. His face fell, sorrowful. No matter how hard he tried not to let it get to him, even now, it wasn’t hard to tell by the grief in his eyes he was talking about his time with Bessie. He had loved her so dearly and had lost her way too soon.

Dutch knew. He had known then, too, but it had still felt like a slap in the face to watch him walk off into a future that did not include him any longer. A future he could not be a part of. It had however also taught him an important life lesson: people could not be possessed.

Hosea owed him nothing, even after all the years they had been together, all they had gone through; not his love or his presence. Not his friendship, not his support. He wasn’t his, and sometimes -Dutch had come to realize, heartbroken- loving someone means letting them go.

“And I missed you.” He watched him with his dark eyes, slowly brushing his thumb over the other’s knuckles. “But you know what they say... Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

“Yes. They say so. It must be true.”

“What you had with Bessie…” Dutch started under his breath, a regretful tone to his voice - almost hesitant. “It was all I ever wanted for you. A stable life somewhere pleasant and calm; a family of your own, far out of harm’s way... I wanted you to be safe, even if that meant not having you near. More than I wanted you, I wanted you to be happy.”

“Part of making someone happy is accepting that you do not get to decide what the source of that happiness is, Dutch. In dearth and in excess, no matter the trouble you landed us in. It was always you. Always.” He leaned in closer, managing to capture his doubtful gaze.

“I chose for this life, Dutch. I chose you. And I would choose you a million times over. Again and again… I would always choose you.”

His fingers had taken over now, gently caressing his hands with his thumbs as he spoke. For a moment longer Dutch maintained eye contact with him before finally lowering his gaze away, vulnerable.

“I know that,” he then said, his voice breaking into a whisper near the end of his sentence. “I know that Hosea...”

“I love you, Dutch van der Linde.”

“I love you, too.”

After a brief moment of silence Hosea leaned in to return the kiss now, reassuring and tender. The fleeting touch was short-lived and soon to be replaced by the weight of his head resting against his once more as, finally, their arms found their way around each other in an embrace. Slowly, Dutch’s heavy head came to rest upon his shoulder and he closed his eyes.

For minutes they sat in silence together, not speaking a word as the glow of the fire slowly faded into the night, leaving them nothing but ashes and coal. They could barely make out the shapes of each other in the dark any longer - all soft and mellow silhouettes and shadows, but their hands still knew the way by heart and they had never needed much more than the gentle light of the moon to love each other by.

“I’ve just one request for you, Dutch.” Hosea said eventually, the whisper barely any louder than the hum of the cicadas in the woodland.

“What is it, Hosea?” He pulled back to look into his eyes, a hand cupping his cheek tenderly. “You know I’d do anything for you, don’t you?”

“If anything were to happen to me,” he said, never breaking eye contact, “remember me exactly as I was, will you? Remember me, remember us as we were back then, when we were young... Will you do that for me, Dutch?”

He kept silent for a moment, pensively, then answered.

“Of course I will.”

Once more he took his hands in his, both of them, and gave a reassuring squeeze.

“I remember exactly what you looked like, with your golden hair. Hell, were you handsome. I spent… A lot of my time watching you as you slept. Just, watching you. You’ve given me so much to remember you by... How could I ever forget?”

Hosea smiled, a faint curve to his lips. He gave a slight shake of his head as he turned his gaze away in amusement, breathing out. “Oh, you ole sweet talker… You always know just what to say, don’t you? That silver tongue of yours...”

“What can I say…” Dutch smirked, his shoulders rounding up into a shrug as he stroked a strand of the other’s hair behind his ear. “It comes natural to me. You always managed to captivate me so effortlessly. I was infatuated with you from the first moment I saw you. It’s a simple truth.”

The older man hummed softly, conversational, and cast another glance up at the stars above.

“You are many things to me, Dutch van der Linde, but you’re not a liar. I know you better than that.”

“After so many years, I’d say you’re ought to, my dear.”

The couple finally fell silent, sitting alongside each other in the quiet dark of the meadowland while around them, all slept peacefully. There wasn’t much left to be said between them, and yet they found themselves dreading the passing of the night; the approaching dawn that was only mere hours away; knowing that once the sun would come up to chase the night away, life would find a way keep them apart and busy, and moments like these came so rarely nowadays. So they sat, neither of them wanting to be the first one to get up and say goodnight; neither one wanting to break their embrace in favor of a couple hours of rest.

“Hosea,” Dutch then finally said, and he slowly pulled away, meeting his gaze under the moonlight. “Will you come with me for a spell?”

“Of course I will,” he said, seemingly a little taken aback by the unexpected request, but when Dutch rose to his feet, slipping out from under his coat, he followed suit, trailing behind the other man all the way back towards his tent. The older of the two then watched as he walked towards the gramophone, fumbling through the shadows without a sound, and fetched a record from a crate.

A soft smile came to grace his features when music came to fill the air, volume turned down as far as it would go, and Dutch came out and turned to face him, wordlessly offering him his hand.

“May I have this dance, mister Matthews?” he inquired with tilted head, his face framed by soft black curls.

“You certainly may.” Taking the outstretched hand in his he faithfully assumed his position, his hands easily sliding over his body following along well-known dips and curves until they settled in their place, where they fit as though predestined.

“My, who would have thought it. The old Van der Linde charm. You still have it in you.”

“Just like old times,” Dutch murmured; a sweet rumble in his chest as they pressed together, their foreheads meeting as they began to sway along to the music.

“Just like old times,” his partner confirmed, letting his eyes slide shut; their bodies close in the darkness as the night grew thin.

[mahkaria]

Of novelists and stray dogs - CHAPTER 4

Inferno 

In a dark alleyway, not too far away from the shopping district, a crowd had started to form. Most of them were men in their twenties. Dark tattoos covered their arms and their neck, as if they took pleasure in looking like stereotypical villains. They didn’t say anything.

Finally, a woman taller than the other arrived. A deep, unpleasant smirk almost cut her face in two and as she moved forward, her subordinates parted to let her pass.

No respect could be seen on their face. Only fear and regret. This woman : Katou Misao, but she was more often called The Puppeteer ; the leader of The Black Warriors .

“Boss, one of our men managed to find the list.”

“Well? Don’t make me wait and give it to me.”  She ordered.

A small book was given to her. On it, the list of all the businesses under Port Mafia’s protection.

“Perfect.” She purred. “Hana, I believe you can take care of it?” She asked to one her lieutenants.

“Of course, boss.”

“Then get to it.”

The teenager took it. Who would have thought she would use her ability this way?

His whole body hurt. He could feel his muscles contract and relax at regular intervals as they pressured his bones.

Atsushi groaned.

The mornings after a transformation were never a pleasant experience. Never.

Good thing he had finally sent his most recent short story. He didn’t want to move even a finger away from his futon..

His phone rang.

A new groan from Atsushi.

He stood up as slowly as he could his whole body cursing him for this decision. He picked up.

“Hello, Atsushi-kun. How are you?”

“Good morning, Tanaka-san. I’m fine and you?”

“I wanted to talk about your new work.” He explained.

“It’s not good enough, is it ?”

“Of course it is. I told you not to worry about it. Just, my superior read it and wanted me to pass a message.”

It’s never good when a sentence starts like that.

“He finds your style extremely dynamic and thinks it would be better for you if you were to - how do I put it? - write about different themes.”

“What? But -”

“It would sell better and be more attractive to new readers, don’t you think?”

Atsushi didn’t know what to answer.

It was thanks to the said editor in chief he had been able to find this apartment. A friend of his had agreed to lend him the place as long as he kept working for them. He was a nice forty-nine years old who had greatly encouraged Atsushi. He owed him more than he could ever pay back.

If that’s what he wants I can’t go against him but -

“I’m sorry I -”

“Atsushi-kun, you do want to keep having a job, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then, you should do what I say. Stories about mythology and historical events are fine but they get boring with time. You won’t keep earning a lot if you only focus on this.”

“Yes but-”

“I’m your editor, don’t you trust me?” Tanaka asked.

“Of course I do !”

“Then do as I say. Write about more modern subjects. I know you’re a kid and can’t totally understand it but I’m only here to advise you. Listen to me or you could really regret it.”

“I see, thank you very much.”

“Glad we understand each other. I’ll wait for you next story then. I’m sure you’ll do great, it won’t be too hard for you to change, right?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Cool, have a nice day.”

“Good bye.” Atsushi stuttered.

A soft bip and the young boy was alone with his thoughts. All hopes of a peaceful morning had vanished with one conversation.

What does writing about more modern subject even mean? He wondered.

Until now, Kunikida, his grandmother and Sensei had always praised his writings. Did they only do it by mere politeness? No, they weren’t this kind of people. Kunikida was as blunt as an uppercut; a trait he shared with his caretaker.

Sensei firmly valued honesty and had never hesitated at criticizing Atsushi when it was needed. He wouldn’t lie.

He trusted them more than anyone but at the same time…

Maybe he should go to a bookshop see which were the best sellers?

He fell on his futon once again.

I’ll do it later.

As his eyes were about to close once again, another ringing disturbed him. From his door this time.

He didn’t expect anyone. It would either be publicity or one of his neighbours. They could wait. Atsushi threw his pillow over his head. Only a hurricane would prevent him from resting.

After a moment, no sound came.

One minute

Two minutes

Three minutes

They had probably left.

“At - su - shi - kun ~” A giggling voice whispered next to his ear.

A deep shriek shook the whole building.

“Wow, so energetic when you just woke up? I’m envious !”

“Da- Dazai-san?”

“Yo! Atsushi-kun ! How are you in this fine day?”

The said boy looked left and right. Then left and right once more. No, there was no mistake on his part. It was indeed still his apartment. So it only meant one thing.

“Dazai-san, please stop picking my lock !” He screamed.

“But you weren’t answering.”

“I could have been absent.” Atsushi protested.

“You only go out in the afternoon. In the morning, you just work.”

“How do you know that?”

“That’s a secret!”

I haven’t seen him in three days and I already can’t deal with him anymore.  Atsushi sighed.

“Ca- Can I help you?”

“Odasaku and I are going to explore the city.”

“Have fun, then.”

“Want to come with us?”

“My apologies but I really can’t come with you right now.”

“Do you have something to do?”

“No, but -”

“Then, there is no problem. Come on!”

A hand sneaked inside his warm bed covers.  Its temperature could compare to an iceberg’s. Not something pleasant to come upon when you wanted to relax.

Before he could screech in outrage, he felt it pull him away from the comfort of his futon. Atsushi clawed at his futon in the hope to stay protected but in vain. For such a thin person, Dazai had more strength than it first appeared. Stubbornness too since no matter how hard Atsushi’s other foot kicked him, he refused to let go.

“Good fighting spirit but I won’t lose !” Dazai proclaimed.

And with one final push Atsushi’s face met the hard floor.

“Now, get ready, Atsushi-kun, for we are going on a great adventure !”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“No, you don’t.”

Dazai’s smile had widened so much he could have passed for the Cheshire Cat. He patted Atsushi’s hair softly and with one more smile he went out of the room but added before :

“Get dressed, Atsushi-kun. Stimulating your mind from time to time is a good thing.”

Once fully clothed, he found Oda outside. The older man sent him a sorry smile as Dazai complained about how long he had taken to get ready.

“I’m sorry if it sounds rude but shouldn’t you be at work?” Atsushi wondered.

“He is working.” Dazai said while pointing at the cast around his arm. “Odasaku is my bodyguard for the day.”

Once again, he felt shivers run through his body. Few jobs necessitated to have this kind of protection.

Without wanting to, he had fallen into quite a troublesome situation.

“Now, gentlemen, let’s go.” Dazai cheerfully said.

“Are you sure it is safe to bring him here?” Odasaku whispered as they walked toward the shopping district.

“It will be fine, nothing should happen.”

His friend nodded as the worry in his eyes faded.

You shouldn’t trust me this much, Odasaku. I’ll end up disappointing you.

A hand caught his arm. His head rose up and met an intense stare from his friend.

“I know you’re planning something.” He said. “But I also know you’re not actively trying to hurt Nakajima. Don’t worry, Dazai.”

“I’m the epitome of calmness, Odasaku.”

Nakajima Atsushi was a strange kid, Dazai quickly realized (again).

As they travelled through the city, he would often stop and write in his notebook as he stared with wonder at whatever was in front of him. When he had looked over his shoulder, he had seen nothing but gibberish which didn’t make any sense.

It didn’t seem to faze Odasaku. When Atsushi had done it for the first time he had merely watched and hadn’t said anything as if it was perfectly normal.

Was it some weird habit of writers he couldn’t understand?

Another strange habit was how he had tried to escape when Odasaku had proposed to buy him a drink. Why would someone react so violently because of a bottle of green tea?

This, associated to what he had discovered at the orphanage told him enough about the kid than he needed. Only one last information and he would have enough datas.

As they entered a bookshop he saw Atsushi stiffen.

“Is there anything wrong, Nakajima?”

“No, not at all. Do you mind if I take a look around?”

“Of course not, we have time.”

Odasaku followed him. Protectiveness or curiosity about his favorite author? Good question.

Dazai looked at his best friend as he talked with the kid about literature. It had been a while since he had looked so happy.

Romance. Thriller. Pseudo Psychology.

Nothing which went well with his style or which really interested him. Great.

Atsushi forced himself to read the summary of the best seller of the week, a book titled : A mysterious Girl . He had read a few books of this particular writer. They always followed the same pattern which after a while destroyed the novelist’s style. Solid writing was important but remained superficial if the plot didn’t follow.

I’ll never be able to write something like that.

He liked thriller, even loved it sometimes but he didn’t want to write them. Romance by itself was often boring (apart from a few exceptions) and psychology, well…

At twelve years old, how was he supposed to give life advice? He didn’t know enough to really help this way.

“I didn’t know you liked this kind of story.” Oda commented behind him.

“They are not my cup of tea.” He admitted. “But it’s never too late to broaden your horizon, right?”

The uncertain look he got perfectly mirrored his own thoughts.

He didn’t like those books or even worse, he was indifferent toward them. Yet, Tanaka wanted him to write something like those?

“You don’t seem well.” Oda said.

“I feel-”

As he was about to keep talking, a smell interrupted him. It reminded him of a dying fire, when the last sparks of red faded away in the dark. A mix of smoke and burnt wood.

He turned around. Where did it come from?

A few meters away, a young woman was busy reading a poetry collection. Tears came down her face as she closed it and put it away.

For a moment, their eyes met. She -

“Nakajima?”

“Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts.”

“That’s okay. Are you going to buy it?”

“Y- Yes, I am.”

They came out after this. Oda had bought a book from Robert Louis Stevenson. Atsushi wasn’t drooling over it. Not at all.

“I’ll lend it to you once I am done.” The older said.

“Thank you.”

Outside, an unexpected awaited them. Dazai kept jumping from right to left as a red haired young man kept trying to kick him.

“Will you remain still, you damn bastard?”

“Chuuya is getting slower. Must be old age.” Dazai singsonged as he avoided a nasty strike which would have robbed him from his front teeth.

“I’m going to show you “old age”, you fucking jerk.”

Passerbys watched them with a mix of amusement and displeasure as the two young men kept wreaking havoc in the street.

“Is Dazai-san okay?”

“Don’t worry, they’re always like that.”

It didn’t really make him feel better.

The newcomer jumped forward and barely missed Dazai. HIs fist met a wall. When he took it away : a hole as big as a football.

“He didn’t forget to hold back this time.” Oda commented.

That’s holding back?

“I said stop moving !”

“Oda-san, why is he so angry?”

“I don’t know. Probably because of something Dazai said.”

“You’re my dog ! You shouldn’t be trying to hit me every time.” The young executive whined.

“I’d rather die.” Another wall fell victim to his fury.

Some people had started to film the whole fight. Did they not see it wasn’t a joke?

Dazai burst into laughter.

Okay, he understood why no one was taking the situation seriously.

“They’re attracting a lot of attention.” Oda noticed.

“Is it bad?”

“It’s not something Dazai would do without a plan.” He conceded.

Instinctively, his body moved toward Atsushi so the boy would be closer. If something was to happen, he would need protection.

After a moment, the two teenagers calmed down and came toward them. A deep flush of exasperation could still be seen on Chuuya’s face.

“Nakahara.” He saluted.

“Oda. Still dealing with the mackerel’s bullshit?”.

“Well, someone has to.” He said lightly.

No teasing could have sounded fonder. It was another proof of how much Dazai and Oda shared a strong bond. As Dazai’s fake hurt exploded, Chuuya and Oda exchanged a silent conversation. Atsushi would have been unable to interpret it.

That’s when the new boy noticed him. Scrutinizing azure eyes fixed him. If seeing him fight was terrifying, it was nothing in comparaison of having his whole attention.

“Who are you?”

“Na-Nakajima Atsushi. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Nakahara Chuuya. You took another charity case?” He grumbled to his partner.

You would have had to be deaf in order not to hear Dazai’s laughters.  

“Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“Soon, you’ll regret your words and I’m waiting for this moment.”

“You make even less sense than usual. Congrats, I guess.”

However, discomfort and suspicion had appeared. Dazai often liked to provoc him without any reason. Seeing Chuuya worry about nothing had some kind of interest he could quite fathom. But, it seemed different right now.

Suddenly, his conversation with Prof Specs came back to his mind.

"for such a young kid to be a writer"

“Please, tell me I’m wrong.”

“You know I’ll never lie to you, Chuu-ya ~”

“I hate you so fucking damn much.”

The two last days, the two of them had had to deal with a rival gang. It would have been easy had they not put their hands on high level weapons. A dozen of their subordinates had been killed. Dazai got a broken arm and Chuuya a very strong need to hit the wall with his head.

He had collapsed and had been woken up by an annoying buzz from his phone. The text received was the following :

Hello, little hatrack ! How is the weather down there?

Have you faded out of existence yet? If you haven’t, go to this address [position] as soon as possible !!! You’ll see something interesting. No I’m not talking about poor quality hats. Get your mind out of the gutter. Something really interesting !!!

If you have indeed faded out of existence well… see you in hell! I’ll be allowed to annoy you for the rest of eternity. Can’t wait (ᗒᗨᗕ)(＾▽＾)(◕⍸ ◕✿)

In his exhaustion, Chuuya had written a very eloquent answer :

Fuck you. Seriously how can you be so fucking annoying?

Dazai, always the same, had replied :

(∩^o^)⊃━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

Killing him would be too nice of a punishment. Chuuya had a ten pages long list of things he would do to him before achieving him.

Despite his foul mood, he had exited his room and went to the place indicated. They were partners but didn’t communicate more than needed. If Dazai had written to him, it was important.

Right now, as he stared at a too thin and scared kid, he wondered if he hadn’t done it just for this to happen. If he hadn’t woken up so early he would have never been so rough and Dazai knew it. The jerk.

Words refused to get out of his mouth.

“Chuuya looks like a fish.” Dazai snickered.

“I don’t want to hear that from you.”

Oda and Atsushi were still watching them. The older had a small almost invisible amused light in his eyes. Of course he would find the situation funny, he wasn’t friend with the bastard for nothing.

“Listen…” God, those scared purple eyes. Hello, guilt, nice to see you again. “Hum…”

“Wow, you’re terrible at it.” Dazai commented as Oda nodded.

“You, shut the trash hole you call a mouth !” Chuuya tsked.

“Rude. What is Atsushi-kun going to think?”

At this moment, Chuuya realized two things :

Firstly, he’d never be able to have a real conversation with the author if Dazai was still here.

Secondly, he had always been more focused on action rather than thoughts. He wouldn’t change today. Brawn instead of brain.

He put Atsushi on his shoulder and ran.

Mad cackles shook Dazai’s whole body. Oda waited for his friend to calm down and then asked:

“You knew this would happen?”

“Well, of course ! Chibi’s actions aren’t exactly hard to anticipate. When in a strenuous situation he’ll either attack or run away. Since Atsushi-kun was here he couldn’t allow himself to traumatize him even more since he respects him.”

“You wanted Nakahara to meet him.”

“Maybe.”

“It’s nice of you.”

“Why?”

“Well, thanks to you he met someone he admires.”

“Do I look like such a kind person?” He wondered aloud.

“You do, why?”

Warmth invaded his face but he managed to hide it.

Seriously Odasaku, don’t say this kind of thing…

“Because what just happened is only a part of my plan.”

Chuuya ran until they reached the central place. In its middle, a fountain stood surrounded by multi coloured flowers. It would have calming had he not been on someone he barely knew’s shoulder.

Why is it my life?

He was put down carefully which allowed him to have a better view of his kidnapper (?). His azure eyes didn’t look at him, his embarrassment obvious.

“Sorry for that.”

“T-That’s alright.”

“Stop looking as if I’m going to murder you. I just wanted to talk.” He ordered before sighing. “God, this stupid mackerel is right I’m terrible at this.” Then : “Don’t tell him I said that.”

“I won’t.”

A moment of silence. This whole situation couldn’t have been more awkward. Chuuya had never lived worse and he had once gotten his hair dyed by Dazai. Having almost rainbow hair for two months had been a nightmare. No enemy took you seriously when you looked like a cartoon character.

“So, you’re Tsukishiro Ren?” He asked after a moment of hesitation.

Now, that wasn’t a question he expected.

“Yes.”

“Didn’t think you would be a kid.”

“I know it is disappointing.”

“That’s not what I said. It’s just surprising, I guess. The subjects of your books made me think you were older.”

Atsushi thought about the scars adorning his back and his ribs. Decorations which wouldn’t leave him until his death.

“Experience and age aren’t as related as people like to think.”

“I won’t argue with you on that one. Can I buy you something to drink? It’ll be an apology for dragging you here.”

“There is no need to.”

“ ‘Should have known you’d say this. You look like the kind of person who won’t accept anything because they think they’ll be a burden. That’s stupid. Follow me.”

Nakahara Chuuya, Atsushi understood quickly, was like fire. He could both warm and burn but what he did he always did it with a passion no one could relate to.

As he talked to the young writer about his stories, about small details even he had started to forget, he felt joy blossoming inside of him.

Maybe I’m worth being read.

After a moment, the feared awaited question came :

“What are you currently working on?”

“Nothing for the moment. I’m still looking for ideas.”

“No inspiration?”

“My editor wants me to change what I write about.” Atsushi confessed.

“But why? Doesn’t it sell well? I checked how many of your short stories collection you sold. It’s good enough, right ?”

“For me it is, but he doesn’t seem satisfied.”

Chuuya stared at him for a moment. He bore the same bewildered expression that Atsushi had carried sooner. But more than this, pain could be read on his face. He didn’t want this to happen.

Considering his line of work, I didn’t expect him to be as affected as he is by this.

Yet, Atsushi couldn’t deny a part of him liked this turn of event. Sensei, Kunikida and his grandmother  then Oda and Chuuya.

Having people who cared was nice.

“It’ll be fine. I’ll manage somehow.”

“No way, I’m not letting you deal with it by yourselves. Don’t worry, I’ll-”

Before Chuuya could finish, a deep unpleasant smell came to his attention. Something was burning.

“Nakahara-san, we should-”

He didn’t manage to finish his warning.

The world burst into flames.

Red and oranges tongues were eating away at one of the closest building. From what remained of the front windows he could see it used to be an antiquity shop. Now, it only served as combustible for a fire which had no intention to stop.

“So interesting things are finally starting to happen.” Someone commented.

“Did you follow us?” Chuuya snarled.

“As if it was complicated. You can hardly be called discrete, chibi.” Dazai mocked.

“Is that what you wanted to see?” Oda asked as he pointed to the fire who was starting to spread to other shops.

“The boss wanted me to investigate. Some of our “associates” have found themselves in troublesome position. Most of them live around this street.”

“They should still be around. Let’s find them.”

“Is the hatrack giving orders now? How bold for someone who isn’t an executive.”

“Want me to punch you again?”

“O please, you didn’t even manage to-”

“They are going to get away if you keep fighting.” Oda commented.

“Shit, you’re right. Atsushi, you should stay here. Or maybe go- Wait, what are you doing?”

In front of them, a little girl stood. She looked lost and kept walking backward and forward.

“Are you alright?” Atsushi asked her softly. Her face was covered in tears.

“Daddy is still inside.”

Insi- O no !

It had been a few minutes since everything had started. Soon, the building would collapse, his foundations too damaged to maintain it. If he wanted to do something it had to be now.

I can’t do it. It’s impossible.

Someone like you can’t do anything.

The tiger growled.

“Mister?”

“Yes?”

“Is he gonna be okay?” She had to be around three or four years old. Maybe a little bit older.

Someone like you can’t do anything , the headmaster’s voice repeated. We’ll only know that if I try , he retorted.

Atsushi knew he didn’t have the confidence to do it but…

Many people had believed in him and in his capacities. He knew he would survive this. The tiger and he didn’t get along but the beast was still protective of him no matter what.

He could do it.

“Yes, he is.” Atsushi said to the child.

“Nakaji-”

Atsushi ran.

It felt like being inside the strange mix between a volcano and a nightmare. Everything was searing and suffocating. Around him he could see the remnants of objects which could have been beautiful before but which just looked downright terrifying at the moment. Stuffed animals and porcelain dolls didn’t look better when fire was devouring them.

Walking had never been this hard. Each step was painful. Most of the time, he didn’t even know where to put his feet in order not to get burnt.

Another problem was to find the man. Fortunately, his eyes had never betrayed him. When he opened them once again, white had turned into yellow and his human pupils became cat-like.

He is in the back shop.

His skin burnt and his lungs hated him. Smoke filled them and no matter how much he healed, it hurt. Tears fell down his face and with each of them it felt like a part of his life was leaving him.

Opening the door turned out to be a trial. When he finally managed it, his skin had taken a dark red colour. He brushed it away. He had endured worse.

“I have nothing against you, sir, but I have orders.” A soft voice whispered as he entered the back shop.

How could she be so calm at an instant like this?

Big brown eyes stared at him when she finally noticed him. It was the girl from the bookshop.

“What are you doing here?” She panicked.

He didn’t have the strength to answer back. He bent down and caught the man in front of him. Consciousness had almost left him.

“And he’s just a kid ! I can’t kill a kid ! I’m in trouble, so much trouble.” She was so lost in her own thoughts, she didn’t budge when he left.

He had better things to do than listen to a pyromaniac.

Carrying him would be an almost herculean task but he could manage. Slowly, he brought him to the exit.

No air in his lungs, no real path to follow which wasn’t covered by burning ruins and a heat so violent it was as if he was being cooked.

Each part of his body had been strengthened by his ability. Thanks to it, he was able to reach his goal. Relief flooded in his body. That was until he heard it.

The building will not hold for much longer.

He only had a few meters left. Only a few meters and he could see the sunlight again. Real warmth instead of this inferno. Atsushi tried to move quicker.

It wasn’t enough.

He perceived with extreme clarity the moment when the place gave up. Cracks turned into snaps and that was it.

Stones were raining on them. Had he been alone, he might have a chance to avoid it but right now?

Would his healing even work if he was crushed like an ant? It was something he was probably about to find out.

Closer and closer. Nothing could stop them. He could already feel his bones break under the stones’ weight.

Closer and closer. He still remembered the little girl’s words.

Closer and closer. Maybe it would end quickly and not be painful..

“After all, she only asked me to destroy this place. It’s not my fault if you don’t die.”

A tornado of flames went over their head and projected the debris away from them. He turned back.

The young woman was watching them. Her brown hair flew behind like an imitation of the fire she had caused.

“Leave, now or I won’t be able to protect you this time.”

“T-Thank you.” He whispered. Talking was close to impossible.

“It’s my fault if this is happening. Don’t thank me, please, and leave.”

He tried to answer but his throat refused and he decided to nod toward her instead.

The smile she gave him was one of the saddest he had ever seen.

When he finally exited and joined a cooler, less painful world, someone was waiting for them. Oda’s hair was going in all sort of different directions and a strong agitation had invaded his eyes. He went as far away as possible from the former shop, delicately put the man down and once he had checked the man was still breathing, he walked toward Oda.

“Are you alright?” Atsushi inquired.

The man opened his mouth as if he didn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You- you…”

“Maybe you should sit. You’re really pale, Oda-sa-”

A pair of arms engulfed him and stuck to a muscled chest. It didn’t feel uncomfortable. Quite the contrary but Atsushi couldn’t understand why he was doing it.

“Is something wrong?”

“You’re probably the stupidest, bravest kid I have ever met. Don’t you ever do that again.” Oda ordered.

“I can’t apologize for what I did.”

“I knew you were going to say that.” Oda chuckled.

The same strong hands were holding him as if he was an anchor. As if he didn’t want him to disappear. Fingers ran through his hair. They were shorter now, the fire had latched onto them and if the tiger hadn’t helped he probably would have faced far worse consequences.

“We need to bring you to an hospital.”

“It’s not necessary. I’m fine.”

For sole answer, Oda moved away, took Atsushi’s arm and brought it in front of his eyes. His skin had taken an almost crayfish shade. Most of his hairs had darkened and he could see a rather nasty burnt on his leg now that he paid a real attention. His lungs were also tightening painfully in his chest which didn’t predict anything good.

“Adrenaline?” He wondered.

“It’s going to start hurting soon. Someone called an ambulance. It should take too long to arrive so stay as still as you can.” Oda acquiesced.

As Atsushi was about to protest - he was fine , in a few minutes most of his wounds would have disappeared - Chuuya and Dazai joined them.

“She ran away, the bitch.” Chuuya complained.

“That’s because you were too slow, chibi.” Dazai explained. “At least now we know what she looks like.”

“Say that again, you damn bas-”

“You’re still alive, Atsushi-kun, I thought for a moment we’d have to find you a nice green spot to bury you. That’s surprising.”

“Shut up, mackerel. You alright here?”

“I’m fine.”

“That’s quite the stunt you pulled here.”

“I had the ability to help.” Atsushi said, his voice oddly resolved. “So I did.”

A moment of silence and then his interlocutor’s face contorted with distaste.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Chuuya kept cursing. “You managed to find the only person more suicidal than the mackerel.”

“I am offended.” Dazai smiled as his hand started messing with Atsushi’s hair. “He behaved like the perfect suicidal maniac without any of my influence.”

Coughs climbed up and Atsushi’s whole body started protesting as he felt his whole blood boil.

It hurt. Why have I stopped healing?

The tiger was no longer present in his head. He had disappeared like flowers during winter. Only fear and panic remained. The taste of copper invaded his mouth and his mind blurred. Without the strength of the beast, he couldn’t manage to stand any longer.

“Nakajima, are you al-”

His legs gave out as his mind disconnected from reality. Falling into the dark didn’t take more than a second.

[stuffandnosense]

Back To You - Chpt 8

Chpt 1 | Chpt 2 | Chpt 3 | Chpt 4 | Chpt 5 | Chpt 6 | Chpt 7

Description: Post A/L breakup after season 7, Pidge and Lance are JUST starting to, maybe, figure something out. But then a mission gone wrong leaves Pidge unable to feel emotions, unable to act on the feelings they were barely sure they had, and the condition may or may not be permanent.

***

Lance knew not to expect an emotional response, but it still makes him uneasy when Pidge only stares at their clasped hands.  

“You mean that...in a romantic sense,” she says. It isn’t a question; she knows he does.

“If you want it to mean that. And-and I know that if it—” Lance cuts off and swallows hard. “If it doesn’t work, I know you won’t be able to feel the way I do, but we can still—I don’t know—we can still make something work. If you want that.”

She peers up at him curiously. There’s still something in her eyes that seems practically wary of him now. “Why would you?”

“Because I...I don’t just love who you were, Pidge. Or who you could be. I love YOU.”

Pidge looks him in the eyes, and he feels as if she can see right through him. “You’ve made that choice,” she says.

So he wasn’t the only one listening to her father. “...yeah. I guess so.”

She nods in thought, looking away for a long moment before she answers. “If the Arellans are able to remove the block preventing my emotions, I’m relatively certain the person I will be will be happy to accept your offer of a romantic relationship.”

Lance chuckles. “I guess that’s one way to say yes.”

His smile fades when Pidge tugs her hand free of his.

“However, if I remain as I am my answer can’t be the same.”

“What? But...why? I-I know you won’t want the same things and that’s...that’s okay. It doesn’t have to be like it would be if you go back to how you were. I want to be whatever you need, I—”

“I won’t need you. Not the way I am now.”

For a moment it’s hard to take a breath. Lance blinks, and his vision blurs with dampness. “You didn’t have to put it that way.”

He tries to remember not to be angry with her—that she doesn’t mean it to be cruel—but that’s hard to do when his chest suddenly aches and he feels like he must have slipped on a proverbial banana peel.

“While there could be mutual benefits to the sort of exclusive relationship you’re offering, even in my current state, they would not outweigh the negative effects maintaining such a relationship with someone with my condition would be likely to have on someone with your personality.”

“Your...my...wait, this is about ME?” Pidge raises that eyebrow at him, but this time the heat rising in Lance’s cheeks has nothing to do with fondness. “What are you saying!”

“I don’t mean to insult; I merely mean that you’re a sensitive individual. You require affectionate relationships, which I can’t provide in my current condition.”

“You...but you do. Sometimes. You...you still don’t mind touch, at least, and...things like in the lab...with the blanket…”

“I can imitate behaviors, or do things I remember doing before. That isn’t the same as having the emotions most people would associate with them.”

Lance winces. “I know that…”

She studies him for a moment. “You may. I don’t believe you’ve completely deceived yourself.”

He snorts, pained. “Thanks.”

“Even though that may be the case, I don’t believe you’ve considered that even though you mean well, tying yourself to me as I am now in any way would ultimately make you unhappy.”

“You can’t know that! Can’t I make my own decisions?”

She nods once. “You can. However, so can I.”

Lance tries to close his eyes to keep the courtyard from spinning, but that only makes it worse. A small hand braces his shoulder.

“You will still be a welcome companion,” she tells him. “In any platonic, non-exclusive sense.”

She’s trying to protect him. No matter what she says or how, he knows that’s what she’s doing. But he’s never going to be able to out-logic her enough to get her to admit it.

Maybe he should have expected this.

“Yeah…” he sighs. His throat is tight. “I know.”

Pidge surprises him when she moves in without any prompting to hug him. I can imitate behaviors, she said. Lance clings back anyway, because he needs the contact.

That can’t be all it is. It can’t.

“I know the old you is in there somewhere, Pidge. I see it sometimes,” he murmurs into her hair. “Whether you think that’s what it is or not.”

She lets him hold onto her for a little while longer before she gently pulls back. She doesn’t try to contradict him again.

“But anyway I uhm...if you want me to, I’ll be here either way, Pidge,” Lance says quietly. “Even if all you want is a friend.”

“For your sake, and the others as well, I do hope the Arellans’ attempt is successful.”

Lance manages to quirk one side of his mouth up at that. “I know you can’t really mean the hope part, but thanks for saying it that way.”

“I apologize if I was excessively blunt a few moments ago.”

“I know it’s not personal...”

“Precisely.”

They both fall silent, until Pidge suggests that perhaps they should return inside.

“You can go; I’m gonna stay out here for a while.”

She nods, seeming to understand that he needs to be left alone. He looks for somewhere to sit when her footsteps fade behind him on the stone walkway, but there isn’t one immediately in sight. His fingers dig into the hard arm plates near his elbows.

He doesn’t want to start crying just standing here, in the middle of the path. That would be...dumb.

And it’s...it has to work. Please…

Lance isn’t sure how long he’s been standing there in the shade when new footsteps approach behind him. Heavier. Familiar.

“Lance?” Hunk asks. A hand at his back. “What happened? I saw Pidge come back in earlier…”

He shakes his head, maybe too quickly because Hunk still gives him that ‘not buying it’ look.

It isn’t that he doesn’t want Hunk to know; it’s that Lance doesn’t have the emotional energy to tell him.

After a moment Hunk seems to get it. The hand at Lance’s back presses in, urging him to start moving and turn around.

“Okay...come on, buddy, you want to go back inside?”

Lance only nods, letting Hunk maneuver him back into the capitol building. Shiro is with Sam in one of the lounge areas around the edge of the large space, Keith not far off speaking with one of the Arellans. What’s left of the food that was brought a varga or so ago sits untouched on a table in the center of the room.

He doesn’t see Pidge anywhere.

“Where IS Pidge?” he asks, when he’s able to clear his throat.

Hunk shrugs. “It’s going to be another couple of vargas, and one of the Arellans offered to show her and Coran the shield generator plant. It’s just right behind this main building, apparently.”

“Why didn’t you go? Sounds like something you’d be interested in.”

“Oh it is! I just...wouldn’t be able to really enjoy it right now. I can see it later, you know, if…”

“Yeah.”

Hunk shifts uncomfortably. “Yeah. That and...I guess she figured this waiting around might be easier on the rest of us if she...wasn’t here. I guess.”

Lance lets out a breath, but he isn’t surprised. “She didn’t have to do that.”

“No, but, I mean, she wasn’t exactly wrong.”

“Maybe.”

Still, he can’t help but wonder if she ran off because of him.

“Allura’s back, though,” Hunk says, just as he sees her.

She’s on the other side of the room, alone as if she wanted to be. Only now does Lance realize that Keith seems distracted, throwing concerned glances her way. Maybe he isn’t sure if he should go to her, or maybe he can’t get away from the Arellan he’s talking to. That never would have stopped old Keith, but the fact that he can be more diplomatic now if he really wants to be isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Lance catches Keith’s eyes and motions that he’ll go; Keith seems to relax at that, thankful.

“Thanks, Hunk, I’m gonna…”

“Yeah. You go on.”

Allura has squirreled herself away in the corner of a soft L-shaped sofa-like thing. It’s bigger than most human furniture, as tall as the Arellans are, and it almost seems to swallow her. Lance has to push himself back after he sits down to get to her. At least he doesn’t sink too much in the cushions.

“Allura? How’d it go? Are you okay?”

She only glances at him briefly, looking away again as if there is something she doesn’t want to tell him. “Giving them the knowledge I had went well, but they cannot be certain what the outcome will be when they make the attempt.”

“Oh...” He pauses. “Allura, what is it?”

She rests her chin on her knees; the vulnerable, protective posture isn’t one he’s used to seeing from Allura.  

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to alarm you, it’s that…” She sighs. “I learned much myself, joining with their minds. For one, I know now that in my lack of skill I likely hurt you more than was necessary. When you were lending me your mind before.”

“It’s not your fault; you did the best you could.”

“Still. I am sorry.”

He shifts closer, letting his arm brush against her side to let her decide if she wants any more contact than that. “Don’t be, okay?”

Allura lets some of her weight shift into him. “The more I learn—particularly about alchemy and my abilities, among other things—the more I realize I do not know.”

“Well...if you ever need any advice dealing with that particular feeling, I’ve probably got you covered.”

She rests her forehead against his shoulder for a moment and laughs once. It isn’t an unpleasant sound. “Thank you, Lance.”

After a few more moments she sits up, letting her legs straighten out on the deep Arellan sofa. When they drape off the edge, they don’t touch the floor.

Then she grows until they do.

Lance looks—now up—at her with a snort. “Showoff.”

But he’s smiling, and a moment ago he didn’t think he would be able to do that again until…

Anyway. It’s something.

***

The round Arellan council chamber is smaller and more compact than Lance expected. Intimate, with just enough room around the edges for the small group of invited offworlders. Then again, for people who can literally see into each others’ minds, maybe it isn’t so strange.

The circle of tables and seats is open in the center. Elwan stands beside a seat there in the middle, beckoning for Pidge. She had only just returned from the shield generator plant with her Arellan escort when a messenger came to bring all of them to the council chamber.

“Please, young one, if you can sit here, we will do everything we can.”

Strangely enough, she seems to hesitate. Her father squeezes her shoulder, and she glances back at the rest of them before she goes. When her eyes meet his, Lance takes a breath, and he isn’t really sure why.

If this were before, he would be able to read more in her gaze. Now...he isn’t sure. But he tries to smile to encourage her anyway. Even if theoretically she doesn’t need it.

Also, maybe, to calm his own nerves. His hands are clenched already at his sides.

Allura nudges his shoulder as Pidge takes her seat in the center of the circle of Arellans, and Hunk is close at his other side, Keith beyond him. He exchanges an anxious glance with Sam, who is flanked by Shiro and Coran. All seven of them are clumped tightly, even if they didn’t really plan it.

The Arellan council stands when Pidge is settled. They don’t join hands or anything like that—they don’t seem to need to—but Elwan does place her hands on Pidge’s head as they all close their eyes and appear to concentrate.

Lance closes his own eyes.

Please…

***

Three Days Ago

“When did that happen?”

Pidge glances up from her perch atop Green’s metal paw, her brow pinched in confusion for a moment before she seems to realize Lance is looking up at the lion above her.

“Ah. Shortly after Allura’s attempt to reverse the effects of the toxin. The temporarily lifting of the block allowed me to re-establish a tentative connection to Green. She has still not allowed me inside, but she began to drop her shield for me.”

“That’s great! Why didn’t you say anything?”

She shrugs once. “It didn’t seem productive to inform anyone until we had made more progress and I could be sure it was relevant.”

Lance pulls himself up to sit beside her on the massive paw. “So has there? Been any progress, I mean.”

Pidge looks up thoughtfully. “Not as such, but I still believe it’s possible. I know she understands, now, that I’m the same person. It’s only that it’s more difficult to maintain a bond without the emotions usually associated; it isn’t that she doesn’t WANT to communicate with me.”

“I guess that’s good. So what are you doing in here?”

Pidge make a motion with the tablet in her hands. “Taking the opportunity to catch up on technical manuals. We were away from Earth for quite a while.”

Lance laughs. “Why am I not surprised? I mean why are you doing it in here?”

“My theory is that if I spend more time near Green, it might make it easier to continue to regrow our bond—in the event that we are forced to attempt to do it this way, if my emotions can’t be restored.”

He pushes through the usual pang in his chest at that suggestion. “We...they will.”

“Green seems hopeful of that as well. I can’t sense much at the moment, but that is clear. It is as if she is...waiting for me.”

Lance swallows. I know the feeling.

***

Now

Lance opens his eyes when Hunk grabs his arms and squeezes. But it isn’t the good kind of squeeze. It’s the latching-on-because-he-needs-something-to-hold-on-to kind.

Elwan has let go of Pidge, and the council members are opening their own eyes.

His breath catches. “Why did they stop?” he whispers.

Hunk stammers beside him. “I-I don’t know…”

For a moment Elwan is looking only at Pidge. As if they’re having a silent conversation. Pidge is nodding as she gets to her feet.

“Katie?” Sam asks.

But when she looks at them...nothing has changed.

“What happened?” Shiro asks. None of the rest of them seem to be able to get anything out.

Why is Elwan looking at them like that? No no no no…

“I am so very sorry,” the Arellan says quietly. “It seems our ancestors succeeded in their goals. The block is too strong to be safely removed.”

“Safely?” Sam echoes. His voice is tight.

“Combined, we could remove it, but the amount of telepathic energy required to remove the  block completely would prove fatal, even to one of us.”

Lance is shaking his head. The “That’s...a thing? What does that mean? Why can’t—why!”  

The rest of him is shaking, too. Hunk is really clinging to him now, practically wrapped around him, but at least it’s keeping both of them on their feet.

Elwan slowly releases a breath. “An overload of telepathic energy is a very real danger to any being—just as too much quintessence can be dangerous. That is why our shield facility is heavily shielded itself with dampening technology. Unfortunately, there are records of several incidents while the technology was being developed.”

“People died,” Shiro infers.

“Yes. According to the reports their minds...shut down, leading to the shutdown of their bodies as well. Within vargas. And we can only assume that for a non-telepathic species the time until death after exposure that severe would be even less.”

Allura is leaning into Lance’s other shoulder, and he can’t blame her for wanting the contact. “Is there nothing else?” she asks.

“I am sorry,” Elwan says again. “We were concerned when we saw in your mind how much of your alchemic power it took just to negate the effects temporarily—how dangerous even that was for both of you. I wish those concerns had not turned out to be as founded as it seems they were.”

Lance sobs once. His chest aches sharply, but no more will come out.

Pidge goes to her father and Sam pulls her into his arms. The chamber is so quiet it’s a shock when the door bursts open, a male Arellan hurrying in.

“Madame Chair!” He pauses at the scene he rushes in on. He seems temporarily apologetic, but still he hurries to Elwan’s side to speak to her, quiet but urgent.

When she turns to the rest of them, she seems just as alarmed. “You must go. You must return to your ship; it is no longer safe for you here.”

Shiro steps forward. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“An error in the shield facility control computer. The generator is experiencing a critical buildup of energy. If we cannot stop it, the release could prove fatal to half the continent. Perhaps more. Please! Get yourselves to safety.”

Beside Lance, Hunk seems to be trying to gather his wits. “What? Y-you should let us help!”

Sam is still holding onto his daughter, but he nods quickly. “Take us there.”

She is already bolting from the room after the messenger. “We will not be responsible for the deaths of the Paladins of Voltron; you are too important to this universe,” she calls over her shoulder. “You must go!”

None of them listen. Of course they don’t. Running away isn’t what they do. They follow the Arellan council from the chamber.

“Are you going to try to evacuate the city in case the overload can’t be stopped?” Shiro is asking the other members.

“Yes. There are procedures in place,” one of them says. “The bullet trains and shuttles are fast enough to get some people to safety in time.”

“Not everyone?” Keith asks.

“It depends on how much time we have. We can’t be certain.”

Everyone quiets briefly at a piercing sound from outside. A long wailing that grows and dies down in cycles.

“The alarms,” one of the Arellans explains.

“Lance, Allura,” Keith says quickly. “We can shuttle more people to safety. Sam, Pidge, Hunk—get to the shield facility. Do anything you can.” He looks to the Arellans. “How far should we go?”

“At least the other side of this continent. The trains and shuttles for evacuation go as far as the coast.”

“Coran and I will gather people into groups in the park,” Shiro says.

Lance moves to follow Keith and Allura as they break off for the lions, but he catches Pidge’s hand on the way.

“Pidge…”

He doesn’t know what to say. What he COULD say. And there’s no time even if he knew.

She returns his gaze, if only for a moment, and squeezes his hand before extracting hers.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

Pidge disappears around the corner with Sam and Hunk and several of the Arellans. Lance swipes at an escaped tear, gulping the rest back as he pivots to race after Keith and Allura.

Me too.

***

Let Shiro wave as many people into the cargo hold as possible. Hit the gas to the other side of the continent and open the cargo bay door to let them pile out. Back to the capital city. Repeat.

Three times. Four.

Pidge and Hunk’s armor comms keep them updated on the situation at the shield facility.

Lance knows it’s bad when Hunk actually swears.

“Quiznak! We caused this...you have more than one unit; I’m guessing you rotate them for maintenance so the shield is always active. It always HAS to be active.”

An Arellan voice, not Elwan but also female. “Yes. It’s been thousands of years since the shield was entirely turned off.”

“That’s what caused the error in the computer. It just...wasn’t ready for that. The shield’s creators coded for it, but it malfunctioned and allowed the buildup to happen. This is our fault. You shut it down to let us in.”

“Nonsense,” Elwan says. “Even if shutting down the shield had something to do with it, the fault is not yours. Please; you and others should evacuate while you still can.”

“Yeah we don’t have time to argue. How much longer do we have?”

“Approximately fifteen dobashes,” the other Arellan voice answers.

“We have tried everything,” a male Arellan voice cuts in. “There is no other way to attempt to shut it down from here, and the main mechanics bay is already flooded.”

“With what?” Pidge asks. “Telepathic energy?”

“Yes. Far too much.”

“From these schematics, it appears that is where the manual override is?”

The radio channel goes silent for a long moment, as Lance and Red take off from the drop point across the continent once more.

“Yes,” the other female Arellan answers.

Sam Holt is muttering in the background. “Wait, what about—? Oh. No, that wouldn’t do it either…Katie, Hunk, you should go, you—Katie?”

Hunk cuts in. “Pidge, what are you…?”

“Katie!”

A slamming sound. Something sparking. The Arellans’ voices echoing Hunk and Sam’s pleas.

“Pidge! The door won’t—Pidge, you can’t go in there!”

“Katie, stop! Katie!  

Lance shouts into the comms. “What’s going on! Hunk!”

“What happened!” Keith calls.

“Pidge locked us in the control room and she’s trying to get into the mechanics bay!” Hunk answers.

Lance lands in the capital city park once more, this time jumping up from his seat. Shiro meets him on the ground.

“Lance, what are you—?”

“I’m going in after them! When Keith comes back you and Coran should get on board and get another load of passengers out of here; we’re running out of time.”

“No, I’ll go. You should get out of here.”

“Are you crazy? The Atlas needs you.”

Shiro opens his mouth to protest again, but Keith cuts in over the comms as the black lion sets down beside Red. “Shiro...he’s right.” He doesn’t sound happy about it.

Lance doesn’t wait for Shiro to agree. He takes the chance to bolt for the shield plant. His bayard’s imaging system leads him to Hunk and Pidge, guiding him to the right building entrance and through the mostly evacuated building to the control area where Hunk, and Sam, Elwan, and two other Arellans are trapped.

The area the shape that is Pidge is getting farther and farther away from as the others’ shouts for her echo in his ears.

“Katie, get out of there!”

“Pidge! Pidge!”

The larger control area is all but empty when Lance finds it. Two other Arellans—the only ones left in the building he’s seen—are already working at the door to the central control room with a cutting laser. Inside, he can see through the wide windows, are Hunk and Sam and the others.

“Will you be able to get them out in time?” he asks. “My lion is here.” One of them nods quickly, not looking up.

“Keith?” Lance calls. “Please tell me Shiro and Coran actually left with you.”

“We’re clear,” Keith answers tightly. “Just get them out of there.”

Allura’s voice next. “I’ve just left with another load as well. We will be clear in two doboshes. How many people are left in the city and surrounding area?”

Elwan answers quietly over the comms from inside the control room. “Tens of thousands, still.”

“There is no need for alarm. I’ve located the manual override. I will reach it within four doboshes, and should be able to execute the shutdown sequence within one, with four doboshes to spare before the overload is critical.” Pidge’s voice, finally.

“And what if something goes wrong!” Hunk shoots back.

“I’ve calculated you will be free of the control room within five doboshes; if it doesn’t appear I will have time to complete the sequence, you will have time to escape to the Red Lion, take off, and stay just ahead of the escaping wave of energy release.”

“What about you, Pidge!” Lance calls.

No answer.

“Where is she?” he asks.

Through the windows, the Arellans point across the large area to what looks like an airlock. Three layers of doors and security measures lead into the mechanics bay—the inner workings of the shield.

“Can I go in there?” he asks. “Even for a minute or two?”

Hunk answers him. “Uh...from what they’ve told me, briefly? If you kept your helmet on?”

“Does Pidge have her helmet?”

“Yeah, but we’re pretty sure she locked those doors down too.”

Lance hurries to the control panel, and Elwan talks him through trying to access the door control, but they’re right; all it does is deep loud negative sounds at him.

“Pidge!” He pounds on the glass of the outer door. Through the layers he can see a distant figure in the bay; the unmistakable outline of paladin armor.

A barely audible voice over the comms. The male Arellan. “She has been inside nearly too long; the level of leakage in the bay…”

“Katie! You don’t have to do this!” Sam.

Lance sobs, pounding helplessly on the door. “Pidge, please! Get out of there! There’s still time! Pidge!”

In the distance, she disappears, turning into the innards of the bay. This time, when she answers, her voice is labored.

“I can...see the override. I am nearly there.”

Maybe she can do it and it’ll be all right. Maybe she can shut it down and she’ll be okay. She has to be okay.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Sam asks.

“I am...experiencing some pain.”

No. No no no, she has to get out there. They have to get of here.

“Pidge, come back!” Lance pleads. “Just turn around. Run! Please! Please come back...” His heart is pounding in what feels like his throat, his knees feel weak...his arms are shaking as he beats helplessly on the glass.

“Pidge, come on!” Hunk pleads again.

But rather than answering, she shouts.

“Katie!”

“Pidge!”

Other voices, chiming in over the comms. Keith. Allura. Shiro. Lance shouts, but his voice catches and his throat clogs. A clattering sound as Pidge cries out, as if she collapsed.

“Pidge!” Lance chokes out.

“Katie! What’s happening!” Sam cries.

When she answers, it’s like the world tips sideways.

...the amount of telepathic energy required to remove the block completely would prove fatal...

“Dad? Lance?” Pidge gasps.

She sounds like herself.

And she sounds afraid.

Read Chpt 9 >>

[fallen-gravity]

Thanks For the Memories

Fandom: Moana

Category: Gen

Relationships: Moana & Maui, Moana & Her family

Word Count: 3,839

Summary: Sharing memories is said to be something only the most closely bonded and the most legendary of duos are able to accomplish. When Moana discovers that she and Maui are compatible, what’s one of the first things she does with her ability?

Use it to help him experience the one thing he’s spent his entire life deprived of. 

Notes: “Angst first, fluff later”- that seems to have become a bit of a motto seren and I have whenever we discuss concepts. After I recieved an ask regarding drift compatibility between Moana and Maui, the two of us clung to that idea and we talked about it for days. 

At first, we only talked about the horrible downsides that come with these abilities, and we even each wrote different pieces on the conept of a shared nightmare.

But then we started talking about fluffier concepts, about these two dorks using their ability to show the other something they’ve always wanted to see, to do something they’ve never been able to experience. 

One word stood out to me more than anything else. Family. 

As Moana exits from her fale, she yawns, stretching her arms up towards the sky. When she opens her eyes, she looks up at the sky, and notices that the sun is setting. It’s been a long day. She’s been up since early this morning fulfilling her duties alongside her father, and now that the sun is going down Tui had told her he thought she’d done enough for today. It took a lot out of her, but it didn’t bother her. Not really. She loves her people, and she loves serving them as Chief, so working consistently throughout the day is nothing more than a fair price to pay for her.

Moana reaches up to run her hands through her hair, and hisses in irritation when her fingers curl around a stubborn knot. Rolling her eyes at herself, she turns back into her fale to grab her hairbrush before coming back out with it in her hand. As she brushes out that stubborn knot, she begins to wander around her village for a little bit of sightseeing. Now that the sun is setting, everyone is slowly setting down, ceasing in their work to put it off until tomorrow. Even if Moana’s lived on this island her entire life, and no matter how many times she’s counted the steps from one end to the other, there’s always something really pleasing about Motunui when the sun goes down. Maybe it’s the way the sunset always reflects off the water, surrounding the entire island in beautiful shades of oranges and pinks.

Or maybe it’s the mountain peak and the way it casts shadows over the village, where people hide to cool from the heat the sun provides even as it sets. Whatever the reason, Moana’s not sure, but when she thinks of Motunui, she thinks home. And when she thinks of the people, she thinks family.

As Moana finishes off brushing the knot out of her hair, she finds herself circling back around to her fale. Shrugging to herself, Moana heads back inside, places her brush down beside her sleeping mat, and heads back outside. She spares another glance up at the sky, and even though the sun is still casting the last of its rays over the island, Moana can see the stars beginning to peek their way out into the night sky.  

At the sight, Moana smiles to herself as she begins to head down to the beach. Instead of heading straight, however, she takes a sharp turn and cuts through the trees, down a little hidden path only she seems to know the location of.

Okay, so not just her. When Moana arrives at her favorite stargazing spot at the end of the trail, there’s already somebody else here. A large figure resting back on his hands comfortably as he looks out at the water.

Moana snorts. “You didn’t need to wait here for me, you know” she says, and Maui laughs as he turns to face her.

“You know me” he says, and moves over to make room for her. “I’d hate to keep my number one fan waiting” He says, and Moana laughs.

“Really?” She asks, smirking. “You expecting someone new? I thought this was our spot. How could you let someone else in on it?” Moana exaggerates, and laughs some more when Maui turns a glare on her.

“Ha ha, very funny” Maui deadpans, and crosses his arms at her. “I know you look up to me” He says, smirking, and Moana rolls her eyes as she settles herself more comfortably against the shore.

“Mmhm” Moana hums, and returns his smirk with one of her own. “Whatever you say, Sharkhead” she replies, and almost can’t help but giggle when he splutters at the nickname.

“Whatever” he grumbles, and in a pattern mirroring her own, he begins to settle himself more comfortably against the sand. “You’ll slip up one of these days, princess”, He stresses. “I know you admire me in one way or another” He says, and Moana only rolls her eyes, smiling in amusement as she slowly begins to slide backwards until her back is lying flat against the shore.

Apparently taking her smile as an answer he’s satisfied with, Maui lies down to copy her position, arm pressed against hers as they watch the stars come out.

Recently, stargazing with Maui after a long day of work has become somewhat of a tradition between the two of them. At first, it had only started out on rare occasions, maybe on the first and last nights when Maui would come to visit. But now that he stays more often than leaves, and he’s got his own fale close by hers, it’s become something they do much more often. Even when they first started stargazing more often than they used to, Moana quickly found that neither really wanted to stop once they’re already started. The two of them would lie side by side on the sand for hours, talking and joking. Sometimes, they wouldn’t talk much at all, and just use the time to enjoy each other’s company. It was these times, Moana found, that they were more likely to both fall asleep lying in the sand than times they would spend the night talking and laughing.

To avoid this, and to try to save both of them the trouble of spending hours trying to pick the sand out of their hair the next morning, they decided to stargaze more often, thinking it would help rid of that problem. That maybe by spending more time together they’d be okay with spending more time apart.

Only to find that it didn’t help.

At all.

“So,” Maui says, and when Moana turns her head to look at him his expression looks as if it’s softened significantly from that mischievous, joking expression he had on earlier. “How are your ‘Chief-ly’ duties coming along?” He asks, and Moana can’t help but snort as he bounces his head against the sand in a mocking pattern at chiefly. He does really want to know, though. Moana can tell.

“Exhausting” she admits, scooting slightly away from him to allow herself to place her hands behind her head without jabbing him in the shoulder. Because it is. She doesn’t mind though.

“Huh. Are you doing okay?” he asks, and it takes Moana a few moments to realize what he must mean by that.

“Yeah, I don’t mind” She says, craning her neck slightly to send a glance back at her village. “Sure, it’s a lot of work, but it’s worth it, you know?” She says, and readjusts her position to allow herself to look at the stars again.

“How so?” Maui asks, pushing himself up into a sitting position, and Moana follows suit so she can look at him better.

“Well, for them” She says, gesturing back towards her village. “Sure, it’s a lot of work, and it’s exhausting, but the thing that makes it worth it is that they’re really loving and supportive. They’re kind of like a family, you know?” She asks, but Maui doesn’t respond. He looks back toward her village, like he is deep in thought, profile turned to her, and the smile he had worn so easily only seconds before is completely faded away, and he almost looks like he’s...confused, by her words.

“Maui?” Moana asks, jolting him from his thoughts, and as he turns to look at her the confusion remains plastered to his face. “Maui, do you...do you not know what that’s like?”

Maui only stares at her for a few long seconds after that, like he’s rummaging through himself for some sort of answer, but then he shrugs, turns his gaze out towards the sea.

“I can’t say that I do” Maui says, too casual for Moana’s comfort.

That’s...awful. Moana’s always had people to go to, people to support her when she’s down. Even when she’s not able to turn to her family directly, she has a whole island full of people who love her enough that she could go to them for anything. They’ve seen her at her worst, and they’ve never judged her once for it.

But Maui, her dear best friend- He doesn’t have someone like that. He’s never had someone he was able to trust with his dark secrets that ate away at him if he went too long without speaking about them. He’s never had someone to support him when he’s down, when the weight on his shoulders becomes too heavy to carry on his own. He’s never had somebody to catch him when he falls. For thousands of years he’s been forced to keep to himself because he never had someone who was willing to just sit down beside him to listen.

Except, Moana realizes, for herself. Maui trusts her. He turns to her when he needs advice, or comforting, or just because he wants someone to talk to. He turns to her for support because he needs her. Not only is she his best friend, she’s also his support system. The first he’s had in his entire life.

“Well,” Moana says, and she moves herself away from his side to plant herself in front of him. “Do you want to know what a family’s like?” She beams. “Because I’d be more than happy to show you”

A while back, she and Maui discovered that they’re able to share their memories with each other while they’re pulled into a hongi, foreheads pressed against each other. If they focus hard enough on each other, match their breathing patterns perfectly, they’re able to reach this sort of headspace that belongs to not one or the other, but to both of them collectively.

That’s not the part that shocked Moana at first. She’d definitely heard of people having the ability in legends she grew up with, of inseparable dynamic duos who were so closely bonded that they were able to share life experiences just by touching their foreheads together. The process didn’t faze her at all.

No, the part that shocked Moana is that she and Maui had discovered their ability entirely by mistake. They were saying goodbye after one of his earlier visits to Motunui. He had leaned his head down just as she rose hers up to meet his, and when her eyes closed she abruptly found herself back out on the water with Maui. When she realized what was happening she pulled away, stumbled backwards a little bit, and the first thing she was met with when she forced her eyes back open was Maui, staring at her with just as much shock as she’s sure she felt.

That’s what they got for restoring the heart together, she supposes. A special connection that could bond them even closer.

Maui laughs, then, like he knows exactly where she’s going with this. “You’re something else, Moana, you know that?” He says, and gestures towards himself like an invitation. Grinning, Moana crawls towards him, and Maui adjusts his position slightly to allow Moana to come closer and so she doesn’t have to lean up so much to reach him. In perfect unison, they touch their foreheads together and close their eyes, and in one coordinated move, they breathe in and then out.

Moana loves her family. She doesn’t know where she would be without their constant love and support helping her on her way. She can’t even begin to imagine what it would be like to be deprived of this, to be forced to go without having a family to fall back on when you need it.

So she can’t help herself, not really, when she finds herself sharing only the fondest of her memories of her family with Maui.

She’s a toddler. Not even four years old. She’s crying, the result of a bad nightmare. Her mother is at her side instantly, softly singing her back to sleep.

Her father is teaching her the beginnings of what it will be like to be Chief. She’s just a kid, so she can’t do any of the hard work yet. He’s letting her follow him around and watch him as he goes.

She’s with her father again. She’s older, and this time he’s letting her help. She watches him carefully and follows his every move. After a long day of work, he offers her a coconut to drink from.

She is dancing with Tala on the shore. Moving as one, she, her grandmother, and the ocean all move as once in a three-part dance.

It’s downpouring on Motunui. Moana is shivering, tucked away in her fale, pressed closely together on both of her sides by her parents, keeping her warm.

Her grandmother is braiding her hair, whispering stories of her ancestors to her in a quiet voice so only she will be able to hear.

She is stargazing on the beach. Beside her, Tala lays, pointing up at the constellations, telling her that each of them represent-

“Wait” Maui’s voice suddenly cuts into her memory. “This actually feels...familiar” He says, and it takes Moana a few solid seconds to realize he probably didn’t say that out loud at all. She realizes abruptly that because they’re inside their shared headspace that not only are they capable of sharing memories, but they’re probably also capable of hearing each other’s thoughts.

This catches Moana so off guard so suddenly that her wrists slip forward in the sand, accidentally breaking away from the hongi and pulling both Maui and herself away from the memory.

She scoots backwards so she can look at him. “What was that?” Moana asks, and Maui blinks a few times to readjust himself to his surroundings before he meets her gaze.

“Your family” He says. “I said it felt familiar”

“Yeah? Did it?” Moana asks, smiling. “How so?” She asks, and Maui laughs quietly, more to himself than at her question, and shakes his head.

He smiles fondly at her then. “Well,” he says, and flicks his head toward himself. “C’mere. Let me show you” he says, and Moana can’t help but grin as she sort of scrambles back over to him. Maui’s never talked about having a family, not really, and especially not one apparently filled with just as much love and just as much support as Moana’s own.

But Moana knows both from legend and from the snippets of stories he’s told her from his childhood that he was raised by the gods.

The gods. He could be showing her what it was like to grow up with the gods.

Sensing her enthusiasm, Maui chuckles at her as she makes her way back towards him. Still smiling fondly, he bows his head down to her, and Moana grins as she leans up to meet him halfway. When their foreheads touch, they close their eyes, and both take a deep breath, in and out.

Moana barely registers the feeling of Maui placing a hand on her shoulder. One moment, there is nothing, and the next, everything shifts. They’re deep into his memories, Moana can tell, when she finds that she’s looking at…

...herself.

They’re in Lalotai, Tamatoa’s cave. Maui is lying on the floor, defeated. He tries to push himself to his feet, but he fails. He drops back down into the sand, too weak to stand on his own. Seconds later, Moana comes rushing to his side, dragging his hook with her. She tosses it to him, more than anything, before she plants herself under his arm. Carefully, making sure not to hurt him, she slings one arm around his back and curls the other around the arm he flung over her shoulder. Together, though slowly, they stand up to their feet. She supports him as they make their way out of Tamatoa’s cave, watching his movements carefully.

It’s the middle of the night. They’re back on their canoe. There are stars all around them and the ocean lay still as she and Maui sit side by side at the edge of the canoe. She’s speaking to him softly, encouragingly. Telling him things he hasn’t heard in thousands of years. Stuff he should already know. A single sentence of hers rings louder than all the rest, like Maui remembers it the most clearly. As if it’s what he considers the most important.

“It is not the gods who make you Maui”.

The sun is starting to peak over the horizon. He raises his hook to her, and she blocks his blow with her oar. They’re both smiling. Moana returns his blow with one of her own, and this time he raises his hook back up to block it. He jumps to his feet, and back and forth across the deck the two of them spar. They’re both laughing.

It’s morning. Moana says something to Mini Maui, who somehow communicates what she wants to Maui. With a nervous glance towards her he flashes his hook and pops into a beetle onto the deck of her canoe. Then he changes again and he’s a lizard, a shark, a hawk, and finally, a whale.

He jumps back onto the deck of the canoe, returns her high five just as enthusiastically as she gives it. He doesn’t seem to realize that he’s dropped his hook, or maybe, he has, but doesn’t care to pick it back up.

She hands him the oar. He pays careful attention, Moana realizes for the first time, to the heart he carved into the wood before he flips the oar around and hands it back to her.

In perfect unison, they dip their hands in the water to check the currents. Maui sits beside her as she adjusts the sail, helps her when she can’t figure out how to get it to catch in the wind. Their arms raise side by side as they measure the stars.

They reach Te Fiti. Maui is too nervous to admit that he’s nervous. They make their warrior faces at each other briefly to pump each other up before she reaches into her locket and pulls out the heart to hand it to him.

Te Kā knocks him from the sky. Immediately Moana is racing towards him. He flops back onto the deck of the canoe, pained, and Moana places a comforting hand on his shoulder as she runs the other along his back to check for any severe burns.

He is flying, frantic and panicked, back towards Te Fiti from a location unknown to her. He is praying to the gods to let her be alive. He makes a promise to the wind and sea, to the gods themselves, to himself. A promise to never leave her again.

She is climbing up the shore to look for the spiral. Te Kā conjures a fireball to shoot at her. Maui stares Te Kā down in boiling hatred, and if Moana looks hard enough she thinks she can see something protective in his expression. He leaps into the air, and his fish hook shatters to pieces.

Moana shows her face again, after her inability to find the spiral. Maui does not give up. He calls for Te Kā again, and begins to perform a haka for her with one thought and one thought only, repeating over and over in his mind.

Keep Moana safe. Keep Moana safe. Keep Moana safe.

They’re on Te Fiti, the heart restored. The two of them are talking. She’s offering him to come back to Motunui with her. He declines, and pulls his necklace aside. Mini Moana appears over his chest, right beside Mini Maui holding up the sky. Right over his heart. Keeping it safe.

She leaps into his arms. They both grab for the other to pull them closer at the same time-

Wait.

Wait.

Wait wait wait.

Maui can hear this, hear her protesting, coming to realization. She knows he can, but he’s not letting up. Moana can almost swear she can hear him laughing.

A hawk soars over the shores of Motunui. On the sand below, she chases after it, yelling after it to land. There are tears in her eyes. He touches down, and she barely slows as she barrels herself into him.

They’re back out on the water. They’re both sitting on the deck of their canoe, side by side. Talking. Laughing. Neither of them are caring for the controls, or where their canoe is going. For some reason that’s not a concern for either of them.

She’s coming into his fale in the middle of the night. She can’t sleep. She had a nightmare. For some reason she wants to talk to him specifically. Unfortunately, words fail him, so when she goes to hug him he begins to pet at her hair. In his arms, Moana laughs at the sudden gesture, at the clear awkwardness spreading to both of them. She shoves herself away from him, laughing still, and somehow she already feels much better than she would’ve with some sort of cheesy motivational speech.

They’re walking through the forest. They discover a hidden path, one not even Moana recognizes. They follow it, and discover a small cove closed off from the rest of the beach. Above it, the stars seem to shine brighter than they do anywhere else on the island. She’s the first to move to sit down, and she pats at the ground next to her, smiling.

This is their spot now, they claim. Their spot and their spot only.

They’re lying against the sand of their cove after a long day. Neither are talking. At a closer look Moana sees that her eyes are closed, fast asleep on the shore beside Maui. He’s not asleep, not yet, but it’s clear that he’s about to lose the little war he seems to be having with his eyelids about keeping them open-

When Moana pulls away from the hongi, there are tears in her eyes.

Maui considers her family. Her. For years he’s been viewing her the same way she’s been viewing her own her entire life, and-

She-

She loves her family more than anything. For Maui to hold her that closely, to love her just as much as she does her own- For Maui to consider her family- The family he never had- That thought alone is enough to bring even more tears to her eyes. She reaches to scrub them away before she returns her attention to Maui. He’s watching her carefully. Cautiously. Like he’s waiting for her reaction.

“Y’know” he shrugs, trying for casual. “Kind of like that, I guess” he says, and smiles affectionately at her again. Moana wipes at her eyes before rushing towards him again, throwing her arms around him in a hug.

“You too” Moana replies instantly, before Maui can do or say anything else. “You’re my family too” She says.

Because it’s true. When he was sharing his memories with her- their memories, their precious memories, Moana looked at Maui. Really looked.

And when she looked, she found family.

She found home.

[lexiauteur]

Noble Reign

Ch.1 Mytic Messenger Middle Ages AU

|Ch. 2| |Ch. 3|

Author’s Note: It finally happened. I’m so sorry it took me such a long time to finish it, but I’m so proud to present you the Mystic Messenger Middle Ages AU! ^^ I have absolutely no idea if anyone will read this but I had so much fun writing it and I will definitely continue updating it. Keep in mind that English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any grammar mistakes. Nevertheless, I hope y’all enjoy it. Please feel free to leave any sort of comments or message me; I would love to write some headcanons for this AU and I like to integrate your ideas as well.

I also want to give special thanks to @promiscuous-jalapeno for giving me advice and encouraging me in my writing. If you should ever read this, I hope you’ll enjoy it as well. <3

Wordcount: 3,247

“A long time ago, there existed a great kingdom that was ruled by two brothers. Their names were Jaehyun and Jaekwang.

The brothers were loved by their people and everyone lived together in harmony. But one day, Jaekwang desired the sole control over the kingdom and rebelled against his brother.

With soldiers at his command, he imprisoned his brother and spread misery across the kingdom. For a long time the kingdom was ruled by bitterness and people were living in fear.

But then, when all hope had died and the hour of doom seemed at hand, a girl appeared as if from nowhere. With fire burning in her soul and magic running through her veins, she defeated Jaekwang and freed his brother.

In anger, she divided the kingdom in half by forcing water and earth between the villages. A grand river and high mountains were now separating Jaekwang and Jaehyun.

Pleased with her work, the girl vanished and was never seen again. Over time, the two brothers created different kingdoms, one ruled by fear and one ruled by strength.

Generations passed and so did the girl’s tale. The kingdoms became enemies and the tale became legend. They say that someday, the girl will come back to reunite the kingdoms in peace and harmony again but until then the kingdoms remain in discord.”

The familiar scent of freshly baked bread was in the air, mixed with the smell of smoke and soot. Wood crackled in the old fireplace, the fire glazing the room in a rather dim light, and the wind was whistling around the windows, but other than that, the kitchen was quiet today. Quieter than usual at least. Working as a maid was always loud and hectic, apart from a few days that included holidays and Sundays, where the castle was less crowded. But today, only a few maids besides her were working in the kitchen, despite the fact that today was neither a holiday nor a Sunday. Still, preparing dinner for the guards and members of the castle was always exhausting and nerve-wracking, whether it’s a special day or not.

The distinct smell of yeast reached her nose as she was kneading sourdough on a flat wooden board, flour sprinkled all over the surface. Some even got in her hair and on her apron but she didn’t care. Her apron was dirty anyway. Working as a maid in the castle was by all means not an easy job. Sometimes she missed the old bakery of her parents she used to help in. It had always been comfortable, a welcoming and friendly atmosphere. But preparing meals in a different kitchen and delivering them to the members of the castle still felt strange, even after two years. Admittedly, she became used to doing it every single day over time, but that feeling wouldn’t go away. Baking bread and cooking soup was becoming her daily routine now, just as it had always been actually, but that should only be a transition. A transition for the actual goal she was targeting.

Fay was made of sterner stuff. The long hours of working haven’t made her weak, if anything, they made her stronger and even more resilient. She wasn’t quick to give up on something she had taken into her head which helped her surviving the stressful everyday life of the castle. And all those qualities were more than important. She needed the strength and the endurance and the ambition. Because her goal was to become a knight, a fighter, a heroine, and her mind was determined to fight for her dream. Some told her she was crazy, that they have never seen a single woman fighting with a sword; others admired her for her perseverance. But in the end, she couldn’t care less about other people’s opinions. She only cared about herself.

As she was putting the last bread into the oven, one of the maids approached her. “Fay, it’s your turn to bring dinner to the guards. You did enough for today anyway, so let me finish that. When you’re done, you are free to go to bed. I know how hard you’ve worked today.”

The maid gently smiled at her and took over. Fay sighed with relieve and stretched her aching muscles. Her feet felt like rocks tied to her legs, dull pain shooting up her bones with every step she was taking. She simply nodded in gratitude to the maid; Fay was just way too tired to say a proper ‘thank you’. She quickly took off her dirty apron and prepared for leaving the kitchen.

The basket was packed with dried meat, apples, butter and the freshly baked bread she had made earlier. It felt heavy in her arms and Fay had to alternate hands while carrying it. The guards were leisurely hanging around the hallways and already eyed her from afar. It made her feel uncomfortable so she quickly averted her gaze. Fay swallowed hard, she knew exactly what was about to come. She took a deep breath and gathered all her confidence, approaching the group of armored men.

“Damn sweetheart, I wanna take you to my chambers tonight!”

“Come on girl, show me what’s under that skirt”, the guards were shouting to her.

Fay was used to being hit on by some of them but it still left her disgusted and boiling with rage every single time. Sadly, she couldn’t do anything about it except ignoring their cocky pick-up lines because making a scene would only cause her trouble. But as long as they didn’t start touching her, she was able to control her anger.

Annoyed, she put down the basket in front of the guards, wishing she could wipe their smug smiles off their faces. “Gentlemen, I brought you dinner. I hope you enjoy it”, Fay said with the sweetest, most sarcastic voice possible and deeply curtsied, the guard’s eyes following her every move. Then she turned around and quickly strode away, tightly clasping the piece of bread she secretly stole from the basket and hid with her skirt.

The whistling and laughter reverberated through the hallways but eventually subsided as Fay was going down the cold and stony stairs to the main floor. Old paintings framed in gold were decorating the wall to her left, trying to hide the cracks and crevices of the wall without success. A thin purple carpet was draped over the stairs all the way down to the bottom that feathered her steps. Overall, the castle was lavishly furnished in the colors of the C&R Empire: gold and purple.

Although it was a warm summer evening, the halls of the castle were still chilly and the air smelled slightly musty. Fay shuddered, rubbing her bare arms, and quickly left the castle through the rear exit that led to the stables. A blow of fresh air greeted her. It was already dark outside, a brisk wind blowing through her hair. The branches of the oak trees were slowly moving to the wind, rustling with every breeze. She closed her eyes and deeply inhaled, taking a moment to appreciate the change of scenery, before walking towards the stables.

The cobbled path which led to the stables eventually faded into dried out grass. The tall buildings in front of her were framed with dark wood and sandstone, slightly illuminated by a few oil lamps. Fay passed the old well to her left before entering the stables through a set of large wooden doors.

Yoosung was already waiting for her, combing down one of the horses inside it’s box. It was a beautiful rust-colored mare, her hair shining in the light of the oil lamps that were hanging down the old wooden roof beams. Piles of lose straw were spread across the dusty floor and pitchforks leaned against the stone walls.

Bits of the straw were still clinging to Yoosung’s blond hair and his plaid shirt was stained with dirt. He immediately looked up as soon as he heard the doors opening, his face lighting up with excitement.

“Fay, there you are! I was waiting for you. I’m pretty damn hungry, ya’ know?” He stepped out of the horse box, closing the gate behind him.

Fay smiled. “Sorry, the usual happened. And I also lost track of time while baking bread”, she answered and slumped into a pile of straw next to the doorway, tossing half of the bread to Yoosung. He smoothly caught it with one hand and greedily bit into it.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to explain yourself. I know how disgusting the guards can be”, he munched and slumped down next to her.

Yoosung wasn’t only Fay’s best friend but more like a little brother to her. She felt this strange sense of responsibility for him ever since her parents had passed away. Over time he had become her family because he was somehow filling the gap her parents had left, at least that’s what she told herself. He comforted her and listened to her dreams, and she was more than thankful for that. This boy was the only one Fay could blindly trust, he didn’t laugh at her and was always being honest.

After finishing her piece of bread, Fay stood up and briefly dusted off her clothes. She walked over to one of the boxes and curiously peered into it, Yoosung watching her amused. A white mare stuck out her head, her back covered with a purple blanket. “It’s King Jumin’s horse. Her name is Elizabeth the 3rd”, Yoosung told her. He stood up and slowly walked towards Fay.

“She is really beautiful. I’ve never seen a horse this white”, she admired, carefully extending her arm to caress Elizabeth’s head. The mare snorted in contentment, bucking her head up.

“She likes you”, Yoosung said, gently petting Elizabeth’s neck. A few moments passed before Fay broke the silence, “It’s getting late. I think I should go to bed.” She sighed, glancing at Yoosung.

“Yeah, me too. Was a long day, wasn’t it… Have a good night Fay”, he replied, still lost in his thoughts. It was almost a whisper. Fay wondered what caused him to be so silent this evening, his cheerfulness from before almost completely gone. With a last glance at the white mare, Fay made her way back to the front yard.

As soon as the wooden doors had closed behind her, a wave of tiredness overcame her, clouding her vision. She hadn’t noticed until then how completely worn out she felt. Her legs started moving on their own, carrying her aching body towards the small village behind the castle. It was pitch black. Only a few lights lined up the path in front of her. She followed a thin trail, until it branched off, each path leading to a small dwelling. The houses were roofed with straw and another well was located in the middle of the village.

The windows of the houses were dark, probably because it was so late that everyone was already sleeping. Only the moonlight illuminated parts of the houses, glazing the village in a silvery light. Trees that surrounded the dwellings rustled in the wind, accentuating the silence even more. She walked along the middle path, the dirt trail finally fading into solid cobblestone, as she came closer to the center of the village.

She had reached the well, her house that was framed with a small porch only a few steps away. But something felt odd. It was too quiet. Then a few branches snapped in the nearby bushes. Her shoulders suddenly became tense; it felt like someone was watching her. She stopped and glanced around. It was too dark to see anything clearly, the trees around the village casting long shadows. A sudden alertness overcame her, the tiredness from before gone. She listened again but not a single noise was to be heard. She suddenly felt really uneasy, her breathing became ragged, but her feet were unable to move.

Then another snap. Eyes wide with shock, Fay was still paralyzed with fear. She couldn’t control her legs, her body was unable to respond. Valuable seconds passed until the rush of adrenaline finally kicked in. With energy flooding her veins, Fay started running as fast as she could towards her house, only seeing a blur of trees and images passing by. Too afraid to look around, she almost tripped over the stairs, barely catching her balance before she collided with her front door. She frantically rattled at the doorknob, desperately trying to escape whatever might be following her. Then finally, she tore it open, shutting it with a bang behind her. Scared to be discovered, she held her breath, almost fainting due to the lack of oxygen. When nothing was happening, she collapsed to the floor, panting and gasping for air. Blood was roaring in her ears and her heart was beating so fast, it was almost painful.

A few minutes passed but nothing happened. Slowly, the rush of adrenalin subsided and Fay was able to stand up, her legs feeling like jello. Her breathing had steadied again and her heart was beating at it’s normal pace. She took a deep breath, then she summoned all her courage and peeked out the window next to her door. But nothing was there. Just trees and bushes and the other dwellings that still remained in darkness. Could it be possible that her ears had tricked her?

The clashing sound of metal awoke her from her light slumber. It was still dark outside, the sun had not yet risen. Her eyelids felt heavy, and all she wanted to do was go back to sleep. After all, she had to get up early at sunrise because of work. But just as she was drifting back to sleep, the clashing sound of metal against stone became even louder. Her eyes shot open. ‘Who the hell is out there in the middle of the night?’ She got up and walked to the window, ready to confront whoever was out there. But as she drew up the curtains, it was too dark to see anything.

She hastily put on a jacket and walked to the front door. But just before she opened it, her hand already on the knob, she paused. ‘What if the thing that followed me is still out there?’ she thought to herself. Then she shook her head as if it were to get rid of her hesitation. ‘Get it together Fay; you’re not a child anymore!’ After a few moments of uncertainty her curiosity overcame her caution. She quietly opened the door, and what she saw left her baffled.

A young man, perhaps just a few years older than her, was training outside at the well, a shiny iron sword in his hands. He effortlessly swung it through the air and it clashed against the rim of the well. His bright red hair was reflecting the moonlight and bits of perspiration left his face glowing. Fay was amazed at his skills; he seemed to move with the wind. His defined muscles tensed with every blow, cutting the air smoothly.

Fay couldn’t keep her eyes off of him; she was enthralled by his gracefulness. But then he stopped. He had noticed her staring and turned towards her, slightly out of breath. Then he took an exaggerated bow where his nose was almost touching the ground, as if to thank his audience.

“Good evening young lady. I hope I didn’t interrupt your sleep?” he spoke to her in pomposity. He took a few steps towards her house and smiled at her.

“Well, you did actually,” she responded, crossing her arms in front of her chest, “it’s in the middle of the night, if you haven’t noticed yet. What are you doing here anyway?”

“My my, a feisty one we have here, don’t we?” he snickered. “Well, I, the defender of justice, was only practicing the art of sword fight to become your knight in shining armor. I will protect you with my life against the dark forces, milady!” He bowed again and gave her a cheeky grin.

“You’re quite full of yourself, aren’t you?” Fay retorted and walked down the stairs. This boy was pretty self-confident to speak to her in such a bold way. But she decided to play along. “What’s your name? Or does everyone just call you the defender of justice?”

“Well, to defend myself; I’ve seen you staring with infinite admiration for the great talent of Saeyoung Choi. So don’t pretend you’re not mesmerized by my masculinity”, he winked at her.

He was now standing right in front of her and she had to look up at him. The scent of his sweat filled her nose and his amber-colored eyes stared down at her. She had to admit it; he was a good-looking guy. But nonetheless, his cockiness did bother her.

“And with whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?” he asked her in a low voice, eyes still locked with hers.

“Not that you need to know that, but it’s Fay.” And given the chance, she didn’t hesitate and took the opportunity served to her on a silver platter.

“I want to learn how to handle a sword. And if you’re really as skilled with it as you pretend to be, you can teach me, right?” A light flicked through her eyes.

“Oh dear, a woman who wants to fight? This is quite unusual,” he chuckled, “but I’m afraid I can’t do that. I’m a mere squire, you see, and I neither have time to teach you, nor do I want to put effort into something that could cost a man his head.” His expression became serious.

What he said was true; women weren’t allowed to fight in every respect. Women were supposed to cook and raise their children, but that hadn’t stopped Fay.

“And furthermore, a beautiful girl like you shouldn’t get her hands dirty”, his cocky smile returned.

Fay opened her mouth to counter something, “Please teach me, I’ll do any-” but he cut her off by pressing a finger to her lips.

“Shh, be quiet, I think someone’s coming,” he listened for a moment, and then looked at her again, “you need to go inside the house again, quick!” He almost pushed her away. She was confused but obeyed his orders and quickly ran inside. As soon as she closed her door, she went to her window and looked outside, her breath already fogging up the glass.

Three guards in heavy armor appeared from the shadows, holding torches in their hands. One of them pointed at Saeyoung after he had recognized him, his expression angry, and he was shouting something towards the others. Then they started running towards Saeyoung.

Fay couldn’t see his face, but he must have been terrified. He dropped his sword and lifted his hands as if to surrender, but the guards didn’t seem to care. Before Saeyoung could run away or explain anything, a guard lunged at him and cleanly knocked him out without hesitation. He fell to the floor, blood running down the side of his head.

Fay jumped in shock, her hands pressed to her mouth to stifle her cries. She was petrified with horror, her legs almost giving in under her weight.

The last thing she saw was how the guards lifted up his limp body and carried him away into the darkness, before she passed out.

[angstymarshmallow]

#ChoicesCreates Carnival Round 1

Prompt: My Heart Finally Told Me To Stop Wasting My Time 

Title: Patterns.

Choices Book #LoveHacks 

Rating: T

Pairing: Mark x MC

Summary: Mark Collins wants to break his patterns. His heart wants him to finally stop wasting his time and confess the feelings he’s been holding onto ever since they met.

Patterns.

Consistent and recurring traits (or characteristics) that helped to identify some sort of a phenomenon or in my case a bunch problems. They never start off that way, but that was what they always became.

Patterns were problems - bad habits that I’ve forgotten to quit. I had never given much thought to it nor did I think I was a patterns kind of guy. They didn’t start as patterns, they were more like coping mechanisms whenever something felt out of sync. 

Sometimes things felt out of sync for so long, that they turned into nonsensical habits – little things I did just to make it through the rest of the day. Thinking about it now – it wasn’t the smartest thing to wait on life to get better on its own. Sometimes things happened because they well, happened.

If I was going to pinpoint where the patterns began, it would’ve had to been a time in my life full of ups and downs, rapid changes and colliding emotions. College was exactly that…Some of it remained a blur; nights of drinking out late then spending the next morning nursing each other back to health, frat parties that drove some of our neighbors crazy, and other pieces of it were fresh as if they were still happening. l remembered the late nights studying and entertaining a girlfriend that I could never give my entire heart to. All together they felt out of sync; sometimes to the point where I sunk so deep that I was afraid I’d never reach the surface again. College was a cycle, forever playing on repeat.

Cole was the first person to identify it. He observed them so much until it became its own messed-up category. He placed emphasis on the word itself. It went far beyond a series of unfortunate events or sporadic emotional breakdowns. Patterns. He’d call them and he added numerical values to represent whenever he found another one.

It was infuriating at first. Cole had the tendency to push me, and because he recognized my flaws so easily, I didn’t handle it well. Everytime he would mention a pattern, I almost lost it. But it also made me realized how much he cared. He concocted them all into patterns so he knew when to avoid me, when I needed my space. Eventually, I couldn’t deny how accurate they were. After every fight with Amy, every shitty decision in my job, and every mistake in my personal life, they all stirred me into that direction.

I guess some small part of me hoped by not confronting them; it meant I didn’t have to deal with or their consequences.

That was until Dani. Dani was a consequence of my lack of action, my lack of dealing with patterns. In college, she was the only friend that I could really talk to. It wasn’t that I didn’t have a lot of friends, but most of the time they only saw glimpses of the real me. The real Mark. I held some pieces of myself back and Dani was the closest to ever seeing most of it; the stupid, the ugly, the really good, the funny - she was the closest to seeing everything. Even now, I couldn’t understand it. What was it that just allowed us to click the way we always did? It was hard to put into words, to justify what exactly she meant to me. By design, she was my best-friend and yet she meant a lot more. 

There was always something about her that stuck out, that made her different from everyone else even before we became close. It wasn’t how pretty she was, or her big blue eyes that kind of sparkled whenever she was happy. It wasn’t even the smile she wore no matter how crappy her day was. She had a way with words. She knew when to listen and when to talk. She knew exactly what you needed to hear and sometimes gave exactly the advice a best friend needed to give. It was as natural as breathing when we were together. I didn’t think it was possible but I could hide my patterns whenever we were around each other.

We drifted apart after she left for New York. I thought our friendship could withstand the distance, but I quickly realized that some things in life were inevitable. A month after she left, the loneliness carved its way inside my heart and was unrelenting. It made me moody, cranky. It worsened before it got better. Soon I found excuses to stop texting her, skype calls became less frequent and with Amy’s anxiety and qualms over our friendship – I figured it was easier for the both of us to forget each other.

Amy was happy, and I was kind of happy. I thought that could be enough. Maybe that was the way things were supposed to be. Maybe some people were meant to be in our lives for only brief moments, to teach us some kind of lesson before ultimately leaving for good.

But circumstances changed. She moved back here in the heart of San Francisco. By that time, Cole had already established a list of my patterns in all its painfully detailed glory. I didn’t want to Dani to see that side of me. 

I panicked. 

She was supposed to stay away – become a distant memory; to fade away, only knowing the sides I wanted her to know. Instead, she came back and brought an upheaval of unresolved feelings with her, feelings that I thought I had left behind.

Right now, I was somewhere in between pattern twelve and ten. Dreading and avoiding all contact with her, cutting myself off from her like cold turkey. I was used to being the one that waited, the one that looked for the perfect moment. Now I was the one running away. After Amy and I broke up; I didn’t think I could trust myself to be with anyone else. Could I untangle my feelings for her?

At Brooke’s insistence, I pushed myself outside my comfort zone. She got inside my head and showed me that I couldn’t wait forever. She forced me to realize that no matter what happened, there might never be the right time. The right moment.

So what was I waiting for? What was stopping me?

Nothing would ever change if I didn’t want it to change.

My mind was constantly worrying about our friendship. What if she didn’t feel the same? What if I ruin the best thing that’s ever happened to me? Eventually, my heart finally told me to stop wasting my time. I just needed to find the words – the right words to explain. I was so uncertain what they would be, I imagined fumbling through it. 

It wasn’t love. 

Not yet. 

But it was something that I couldn’t fathom how to share. I could find easier answers at the bottom of shot glasses than trying to figure out what exactly we meant to each other. No matter how much distance we placed between us - there was always something there.

That dream didn’t last long. And like so many others I fantasized about, it fizzled out before it had the opportunity to begin. Instead, reality had a different plan, and because life rarely worked out the way we wanted it to. It had been busy making other plans.

The dream shattered the moment she cancelled our weekly meet-ups. Her text had been brief, a string of sentences explaining her blind date. It went better than she expected. My stomach churned when I read it. It left a bad taste inside my mouth. K.  It was the only response I could manage. 

Cole reminded me that passive aggressiveness wasn’t a good look for me, but I didn’t care. She wasn’t coming. She was gone.

Cole had given me a sympathetic grimace; as if he knew exactly what I was feeling. It must have been written all over my face. Why did I think I could change anything? She was having fun with some other guy that wasn’t me. 

Suddenly all the scented candles and romantic ideas I had planned had shriveled up into nothing. They withered and died as I scrambled to blow out the candles and nearly knocked over the whine bottle I planned to open. I sank back inside the couch, wanting the world to disappear – wishing it would.

Unwillingly, pattern three landed Cole beside me. We sat in quiet defeat for awhile before he suggested Space Jam.

I was angry at the suggestion. I was so sick of patterns dictating my life. I was so sick of falling back into the same desperate habits, but my will to change had crumbled. And this was the only way I knew how to cope, the only way I knew how to live. 

Bringing my knees to my chest, I took the glass of alcohol he offered as the beginning credits rolled onto our television screen.

Maybe I missed my chance a long time ago and I was the only one that hadn’t noticed.

-