#just the horrible dull pang of having lost something

[varjopeura]

.

[realmackross]

PARTIES: @arustysnake, @realmackross TIMING: Around 12 AM, September 10th. SUMMARY: Oliver decides to go for a late night grocery run. Unfortunately for him, the only other customer currently shopping is a very, very hungry Mackenzie. WARNINGS: Unsanitary tw, gore tw, vomit mention tw (nothing actually happens, but there is a mention of it), murder mention tw (rip kim k.) PREVIOUS THREADS: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - Current.

Soft jazz rang out over the speakers as the doors slid open to an empty grocery store aside from a stoner kid who definitely didn’t want to be working. The fluorescent lights made everything brighter than it needed to be and almost hurt the shambling zombie's eyes as she entered the building with little effort. There had been no set goal on Mackenzie’s journey of wreaking havoc and consuming whatever was in her path. She just needed to feed and that was it.

Making her way down the aisles aimlessly bumping into things and knocking them off the shelves had caused a mess, but the kid up front had been lost in his own world listening to heavy metal not paying a bit of attention. The one thing that seemed to piss Mackenize off though was a cardboard cutout of Kim Kardashian that seemed to have gotten in her way. Growling with frustration, the zombie leaned forward and bit into the face of the smiling figure only to spit out the paper person in disgust with no sustenance to be found. And instead of waiting for Kim to fight back, she pushed the cutout down and walked over her, resuming her journey through the store.

—

How. How. Had he run out of… so much. Ollie had tried to write an actual list - his phone hadn’t charged, of course; the outlets were just that unpredictable, such a fun guessing game - before heading out, bleary-eyed. It was way too late for anyone to be walking around, nevermind along Worm Row. Even the locals didn’t wander at this hour. But he was, for some reason, too hungry to care. That’s what he’d been, the last few days. Hungry. He hadn’t quite placed it, at first, somehow; hard to, maybe, among all the other pinches and pangs he’d caught sleeping on a beat up mattress, on the floor, when he wasn’t tearing apart that old house from timbers to tiles. But tonight, sleepless and losing the argument with himself as to how tired he was, how he really ought to just be able to pass out and rest, please, he’d attempted to midnight snack himself to sleep. And found the fridge… weirdly bare. 

So. Fine. Problem-solving. That’s what he was doing, standing, in an absolute daze, in the tiny dairy etc. aisle, wondering why there were no more eggs. Scuffing a hand over his 2AM shadow, Ollie - found the eggs. In his basket. The last three dozen in the store. Apparently. God. Shambling on to… whatever was next, he rocked to a stop. There was a, some sort of - noise? Not the elevator-grade ambience fizzing on the speakers. Like… 

Cardboard, tearing? An art room noise. And growling? Not, typically, an art room noise. The cardboard that slapped to the floor several aisle-ends ahead. The growling - followed. Dredging up, it seemed, out of the chest of a woman who could, genuinely, horribly, be called cadaverous. White-knuckled, staring, Ollie froze. In the freezer section. He just - he couldn’t move. Something, low down in the back of his ringing skull, seemed very, very sure that was the best thing to do; Ollie couldn’t have explained the case it made, exactly, but. It was compelling, all the same.

—

The smell of fresh meat had caught Mackenzie’s dull senses and made her mouth water. Stumbling around aisle after aisle, inching closer and closer to what was going to be a tasty snack, she had her sights set on one thing. The meat department. The open cooler full of freshly cut steaks, chicken, and pork looked like a dream come true to an endlessly hungry zombie, and it was easy prey. The hardest part would be getting the tender morsels out of the plastic wrap, which she quickly found to be a challenge.

One by one, she picked up the containers of meat and bit into them, only to be stopped by endless after endless plastic wrap. With each package of meat she couldn’t open up, Mack’s frustration grew, and the harder she threw down the steaks, chicken, and pork onto the floor. The meat was piling up, but finally with enough anger and the one cell that seemed to be functioning in her brain, she managed to open up a package.

Pulling the large roast out of the plastic wrap and off the foam tray, Mackenzie bit into the meat and started gnawing on it. It was juicy, but not as tender as she had anticipated. Still it tasted like satisfaction, and she longed for more. With one successful snack obtained, she managed to pull off the next piece of plastic shrink-wrapped around a $22 t-bone steak. Her absolute favorite. And without any hesitation, began chewing on the red meat until she was cleaning the bone. 

—

The, well, meaty smack of tray after slightly gnawed tray hitting the tiles was only getting louder. And with it, some of the downright animal terror that’d wired Ollie in place started to snap, a strand at a time. His hand flickered to his back pocket, which was - empty. Shit. Because, right, his phone might be charging, blocks away. Couldn’t get an ambulance. Which… that’s what he should do, right? There had to be something wrong. 

So wrong. The plasticky squeak-rip of the wrapper peeling off a blood-swollen hunk of beef ran down his spine. Not like nails on a chalkboard; like nails, on skin. Those nails Willa had left thrown around in the cellar, rust-crusted, scraping before they gashed. He’d managed to slither a half-step back, soundlessly. Still staring, wide-eyed. Now, now she was just - eating it. Obviously. What else would she have been trying to do, besides tear into a raw, seeping, cooler-cold roast? Just. With her teeth. Obviously.

(He should move. Quick as that petrified, sensible skitter crawling up and down his spine. But she was just - she wasn’t well, to say the fucking least. And besides that checked-out clerk, there was nobody else around to do anything. And, and if everything Willa’d told him was true, which it wasn’t, and being something wrong got his mom murdered, which it hadn’t, then…)

“Can I help you?” He rasped, words forming faster, at this god awful hour, than the better judgment that would’ve definitely stopped them cold. “Is there anything you could… use a hand with?” Ollie tried again, wincing as those teeth tore at a waxy clump of gristle and crunched it down. “Anybody we could call?” At the desk. Which seemed so, so far away; he craned his neck a little, risking a quick glance towards the till, way down the aisles. 

—

Mackenzie continued to rip and gnaw. Chew and snack. Blood ran down her chin from the deep bites she was consistently taking from package after package of meat, now that she was able to actually open them up. That also meant that the meat on the floor would be next. It was a smorgasbord of delicious cuts. Organic meat. Cheap meat. Even vegan meat - that she didn’t like too well, and upon first bite, flung it halfway across the store. She had sausages, roasts, and steaks. Pigs feet, tripe, liver. You named it, and she ate it as quickly as she could get her hands on it. Yes, Mackenzie was in pure meaty bliss, until…

The quivering voice drew her attention away from her feast. And looking up at him slowly, mid-bite and still chewing, her glazed eyes grew wide and a breathy, demented gasping noise left her mouth; a current bite of meat dropping to the floor with a string of drool to follow. The already cut and prepackaged meal was tasty, but there was nothing like a fresh and very alive human.

Dropping what was currently in her grimey little hands, Mack slowly started moving forward with arms outstretched - cute dead grabby hands coming his way. Her eyes, though hollow and a milky white color, looked like an adorable and curious baby animal longing to explore what was right in front of it. But the bared teeth and growling said otherwise.

—

He absolutely could not help them at all. 

Ollie knew that, now, should’ve known, but. If he was lucky, he’d be out of here and behind every deadbolt on the O’Rourke door very, very soon, and then, only then, he could tear himself all the new ones his currently jackhammering heart desired. So long as whatever the hell all this was didn’t tear him a few first. 

Those eyes. He’d seen eyes like those before - on the rotting corpse of a deer he’d slipped and stumbled through on Lyssa’s Peak, years and years ago. Gauzy, bleak marble-eyes, staring out of a withering head, over black lips curled to bare baby-white teeth. It was hardly more than a fawn, its moldering fur still spotted under squirming clusters of hungry worms; he’d been hardly more than ten, skinned from the wild, gravelly fall. And heaving, nearly elbow-deep in its stinking, empty-sackish gut, where his hand had burst through as he finally skidded to a stop at the bottom of the hill. His fingers had torn away slimy, the juices of the thing gone thick and dark. Ollie hadn’t made a sound, then. Not until he scrambled back to the top of the fucking hill, and threw up - again, somehow - so hard he couldn’t help crying. And crying, God, red-hot with the mortification of it all. He didn’t say a word when he got home. Couldn’t. Never have been allowed outside again, probably ever. 

None of that was the fawn’s fault. Obviously. Maybe it wasn’t hers, either. But Ollie was dead-silent, again,  - dead, she looked fucking dead - besides the smash of those cartons of eggs and everything else he had in his basket shattering across the floor as he dropped it all, lurched backwards, and ran.

—

Mackenzie had her sights now set on one thing and that was the man that had currently turned and ran from her. What was it with people and running from her? If she could express herself in any way, she’d probably have let out a heavy sigh of frustration - comical at best, as if to say, here we go again. Why did she always have to work for her meals? The best thing she had come across had been the deer carcass on the road, before she had faced a man who was determined to saw her head off with a dull blade. It was just getting ridiculous at this point, but nevertheless, the power of the Flats drove her forward with a determination like no other. She just lacked the speed and coordination sometimes.

Much like an episode of Scooby Doo, Mackenzie made it a point to weave in and out of every aisle with her dirty, blood and glitter covered hands trying to grab anything that she could eat, mostly the only man in the store running from her; all while the kid at the front still had no clue that his store was being trashed to a heavy metal soundtrack that only played through his earbuds. Instead, they got the soft, but inspired jazz solo that rang out through the entirety of the store while boxes and jars crashed and broke with each wobbly bump into the shelves that the hungry zombie had made.

Finally, as if Lady Luck was on her cold, dead side, Mackenzie caught up to her prey and with a tight forceful grip, yanked him back and laid her blood stained veneers into his shoulder as hard as she could. Growling and yanking back, she tugged until his shirt ripped and she had managed to pull out a chunk of fresh flesh from his body. The warm and tender meat had tasted so much better than the store bought cuts laying in a messy, bloody pile on the floor in the back of the store, and she knew she had to have more. She wasn’t going to let him get away this time!

—

How loud was whatever the hell that kid at the front was listening to? He’d yelled, hadn’t he? Shouted - something? Couldn’t say. Ollie’s world had closed into the glare of the fluorescents, the scatter of swept shelves, his own bolting sprint, and the wet-mouthed snarl rattling down the nape of his neck, it seemed. It was. A freakishly strong hand smashed the air out of his lungs, slamming against the back of his ribs and tearing at a fistful of his flannel. His sneakers skidded, his arms flailed, he caught hold of a shelf. A hold he lost to the hard, hungry grip of whatever that lady was. 

(Sick. Strung out. Something.) 

And then - then he was in those teeth, shearing at wiry muscle and grating along bone and he was silent, still, fighting to get that lost breath back. Fighting with a rip and roll that left her with a mouthful, a mouth, full, of his shoulder, and a bundle of camping aisle firewood in his clenched-tight fingers, the zap strap digging in deep. Until it snapped. Because he’d hit her with it, blindly, wildly. Just slung the stack back and around as hard as he could, stomach churning, the smell of his own blood and the whole goddamn meat department and who knew what else she’d been eating roiling down the back of his throat. Fingers sticky - bloody? Bloody - on that barely-held-together firewood, Ollie staggered down the aisle, panting, staring. He’d hit her.

Hard enough? 

She’d been eating him.

—

Mackenzie wanted more. She needed more. Oh how she needed more of his sweet, sweet flesh. But when she went in for a second nibble she felt something hard smack her upside the head. Hard enough that she’d faltered. Hard enough to send her backwards and to the ground as splintered wood stuck out of her face leaving her wounded and panting loudly. But just like before, when the man with the knife had knocked her to the ground, she rolled around clumsily trying to find her footing. This time slipping on the blood that had dripped to the floor from her meal that was now fleeing away from her yet again. But she couldn’t find a way up, and instead, her one brain cell told her to crawl.

Pulling forward through the muck on the floor; scattered firewood, glass, and random bits of flesh and other bits and bobbles, Mackenzie used her arms to guide her towards the front. She hadn’t seen where her wounded walking nuggie had gone, but it didn’t matter. The moment was ruined. The meat in the back hadn’t even satisfied her craving anymore. No, she wanted fresh meat. And not some scrawny kid that looked like a twig with arms and a head.

—

She was still going. Even with a face full of splinters and bones that weren’t put together quite so neatly as they used to be. The tattered plastic just-holding that firewood together tore completely apart as Ollie turned away from the horrible sight of her, reaching, dragging. He stumbled around the scattered pine, but didn’t stop. Not for anything, Jesus. Until he was passing the cash register, swerving across the counter to sweep a bloody, shuddering hand right in the way of that neckbearded clerk. 

Who didn’t so much as take his goddamn airpods out as he blinked, slowly. And stepped back, holding the broom he’d been air-guitaring across. Hadn’t noticed a thing. Couldn’t. At this hour. In Worm Row. In Wicked’s Rest. Like there was nothing, at all, to be scared of. 

Ollie, wide-eyed, head light and hollow besides the roiling, animal panic bursting away like a crate of Roman candles, simply stared back for a moment. And shook, and dripped blood on the countertop ,and the floor, his shirt reefed apart, his shoulder gnawed open. “Dude,” the twentysomething scowled. At the mess, spattered all over the candy bars and gum, the fliers. Ollie might’ve had something - a lot of something, a hell of a lot - to say, like sorry, or run, or what the fuck!, or help, if he weren’t desperately trying not to puke, grey-faced. And if he hadn’t heard another of those growls. The clerk’s head had swiveled with his, at least; Ollie didn’t stick around to see what the guy made of whatever the hell he’d been missing. The door, streaked with red, screeched open as he tore through, and slammed shut, far behind him. Not far enough, though. Not yet. 

—

Mackenzie slowly pulled herself towards the front, but it was a much longer trek than just shambling along. The blood trail had led her back to the entrance of the store where the confused and wide-eyed kid stood dumbfounded; his eyes shifting to her as she made her way along. Not paying any attention to him, she finally found her footing again and shambled out into the cool night air. Eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness after the bright fluorescents had taken over her hazy view, the zombie felt her stomach rumble at the longing for another hardy meal.

Mackenzie held her head up and looked towards the sky, not really looking at anything in particular, but soaking in the warmth of the hold of the Flats that already felt like it was slipping by the pain from the pieces of firewood lodged in her face. And with a breathy hiss, she turned right and resumed her walk through the dark hoping she’d at least find something worth munching on that was more pleasurable and held still long enough for her to fully consume it. Maybe then, the pain that was oddly causing her face to throb, would dissipate and she could get back to hunting more substantial meals.

[imkylotrash]

Whatever It Takes

Pairing: Finnick Odair x reader

Request: They’re getting ready to go into the Quarter Quell, and essentially have a super sweet conversation where they confess their love, and are like “damn the revolution I’ll protect you”. Anonymous

A/N It’s been a long time since I read the books so if I accidentally used the wrong word for something please let me know and I’ll correct it 💛

Tagging: @bitchwhytho​ @music-of-melody​

You called it before they even announce it. You knew all the victors would get involved in the Quarter Quell because how else would he get Katniss to be in the arena without letting the public know that it’s purely to kill her? When you hear Finnick’s name get called out, there’s no choice. But was there ever one to begin with?  

“I volunteer as tribute,” you say raising your hand to let them know that you’ll be going into the Quarter Quell and not that poor girl they’ve got on stage. You don’t look at Finnick because you know his face will just mirror back the pain you feel. No matter what the revolution has planned, you highly doubt that both of you gets out alive. The focus will be on Katniss because she’s the one that’s been fuelling the fire while the rest of you can die a martyr and inspire the people then Katniss’ death would squash the tiny flame. It’s not fair but she made everything possible when she took out those berries. 

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Finnick tells you once you’re on the train travelling to the Capitol. 

“There was no way I was going to let you go alone.” Not to mention that innocent girl who got drafted. You’d have been a proper piece of shit had you not volunteered. 

“But you could’ve survived. Don’t you understand that’s all I care about?” 

“Careful, Finnick. Someone might hear your declaration of love and think it means something else.” It’s a warning that the walls have ears and not necessarily just the Capitol’s ears. Although you both want to think only the best of the lovely Coin, you can’t help but feel like it’s too good to be true. And you have no doubt that she’s got as many spies all around as President Snow. 

“I just want you to live,” he says hearing your warning loud and clear. Katniss and to some extent Peeta are untouchable, you are not. He takes your hand without another word. The rest of the train ride you remain quiet, too worried about saying the wrong thing and jeopardising this whole thing. Haymitch is counting on to keep Katniss alive until the rescue mission and your lives can’t matter more than the entire of Panem. Even if you want to say screw that sometimes.

“God, you’ve gotten old,” you smile spotting Haymitch next to the star-crossed lovers. He scoffs but can’t help but laugh. You’ve known each other for quite some time now and learned a long time ago that humour is how you all get through this with at least some level of sanity.

“I see your kindness have only grown over the years,” he mocks before giving you a massive hug. Being a victor and having to mentor the kids every year creates a certain bond between you all but Haymitch has always been one of your favourites. It’s the reason you know you can trust him to do you a favour. 

“We should talk once all the celebrations die down. Catch up on old times,” you smile giving his shoulder a friendly squeeze. He agrees suggesting the rooftop for a gorgeous view. When Finnick sneaks his arm around you, there’s a slight pang of guilt but you force it to the back of your mind. He’s going to survive the Quarter Quell if you can do anything about it. 

“What did you talk about?” he asks quietly and you keep a smile on your face not even looking at him. 

“Just good old days,” you utter hoping Finnick will understand not to ask more questions right now. There are too many people around you to speak freely and, in a minute, you’ll have to get on that carriage and pretend you’re proud to be fighting once again. 

“Katniss, Peeta!” you call out catching their attention just as they’re about to get on their carriage, “nice costumes.” You’re trying to be nice and establish some sort of positive relation between you but all it does is make Katniss stare at you like you’re personally responsible for putting her in the Quarter Quell. 

“I already tried. Tough nut,” Finnick tells you. It makes sense why the revolution needs a face but why they would ever choose someone like Katniss is beyond you. She’s not kind or caring expect when it comes to the people she loves. The future of Panem seems oddly low on her list of priorities but then again when has war ever made sense? And you certainly can’t say you’re morally better than her. 

“Is holding hands a cliché?” You look over to Finnick who’s doing his very best to put on a brave face.

“I think it’s perfect.” You intertwine your fingers with his not letting go until the carriage has driven through those gates at the end where the public can’t see you anymore. And even then, it’s just to get some blood flow back. 

“I just want some sleep,” Finnick says itching to get the costume off and you’re thinking the same thing. You ride up in the elevator with Katniss, Peeta and Joanna which makes for an interesting end to the day. 

“Never a dull moment,” you say before exiting the elevator with Finnick. Joanna laughs loudly while both Katniss and Peeta looks slightly mortified. If she’s trying to win over Katniss, Joanna is doing a poor job. 

“Let’s take a shower,” Finnick suggests now that you’re finally alone and you’re all too happy to comply. In the shower you can finally speak freely with the sound of water drowning out the sound of your voices. 

“I know it’s horrible to say but the revolution doesn’t matter to me if I don’t have you next to me when it’s done.” He slowly lets his hands slide down your arms until they reach your hands. 

“I know,” you whisper feeling the exact same way. The guilt returns tenfold this time but you keep quiet knowing that when he’s sleeping tonight, you’ll be bargaining for his life. 

“I say damn the revolution. I swore to protect to you a long time ago and I’m not breaking that promise now.” He kisses you with a fire that tells you just how badly he wants to keep you safe. Desperation takes over your body as you kiss him back. You wish you could leave now and hide somewhere far away from everything. If it were up to you, you would’ve fled the moment you heard about the Quarter Quell. But it’s difficult leaving behind so many decent people who needs your help and the few moments of hesitation had been enough for the peacekeepers to show up and make sure you didn’t take off. Snow always knew you were a runner. 

“And I say you’re sounding crazy. We can’t change the plan now. There’s nowhere to run.” As much as you’d love to run away and hide with him, you know it’s too late for that now. You wouldn’t make it out of the building. 

“I don’t care if I sound crazy. We can protect each other in the arena, make sure we never part. And when they come get us, we make sure they grab both of us.” It’s cruel really to give hope to him because you know it won’t work but you wish it could be so easy. 

“And then when we’re out, we hide. No more war, no more revolution. Just you and me and a small cottage near the water.” Hope may be cruel but it’s a strong motivator to survive and if anything you need Finnick to survive. You hide your face in the crook of his neck allowing yourself to feel a pang of sadness at the prospect of the future you’ve lost. Your lives ended the day you got drawn for the Hunger Games. 

“And you can finally have enough quiet to paint,” he adds and you don’t have to see his face to see the affection in his eyes. 

“It would be perfect,” you say closing your eyes to picture the cottage and the life you could’ve had with Finnick. The water hides the tears that fall from your eyes and it’s a good thing because you’re not sure you would be able to hold your secret from spilling out if Finnick noticed. 

“I promise I will make it happen. I promise we’ll be alive to spend the rest of our lives together. Whatever it takes,” he says. Instead of answering him, you kiss him again. When the water turns cold, you get out and dry off. You both know that your safety is gone now and they can hear whatever you say so you keep quiet letting your eyes do the talking. You cuddle up in bed where you wait for him to drift off before you head to the roof where Haymitch is waiting. The wind is loud tonight working as a noise diffuser. 

“I want you to save him.” It doesn’t surprise Haymitch but you both know he can’t make any promises. 

“I know Katniss is the main goal and that’s she’s probably made some demand for Peeta. But if there comes a choice between saving Finnick or the rest, you save him. Do you understand?” It’s the least he can do for you after everything you’ve sacrificed for President Coin and the revolution. You could’ve had a life if things had gone differently. 

“And that includes me, Haymitch. Once you’ve gotten Katniss and Peeta out, Finnick is your priority,” you add knowing that if Haymitch could choose, he’d pick you. 

“Finnick will make more sense for the revolution. I won’t be an asset the way he can be.” He knows you’re right. Of course he does but it doesn’t mean he has to like it. 

“I know,” he grumbles. You both know there’s a good chance you won’t make it out of that arena but then again none of you have been safe ever since you became victors. Snow made sure of that. 

“Promise me. I need to hear you say it.” You’re not satisfied until you hear him say those words that will give Finnick a chance to make it. As much as you’d love to believe his plan of getting out of the arena together, you can’t afford to entertain the idea. Even if Finnick isn’t ready to admit it, you both know it’s a fairy tale ending you won’t get. 

“I always thought he was just your way of getting through it, you know. That he offered some sort of relieve.” Maybe at first Finnick was your escape from reality but not now. He’s your world and everything else. 

“He has my heart, Haymitch.” You hug him tightly hoping he knows how much his friendship has meant to you over the years of being a mentor.

“Take care,” he says before you spin around hurrying back. Finnick doesn’t wake up until you crawl back to bed but a quick excuse about the bathroom satisfies his curiosity. 

“I love you,” you whisper looking over at the man who’s given you so much more than you’ll ever be able to explain. 

“I love you more.” 

[showrunnerihardlyknowher]

26 for the prompts? perhaps w the cat n mouse lads :3 (also look danny i did it i sent a prompt are u proud)

I...actually don't remember what the prompt was for this one, but I'm 87% sure it was "I'm not that scary, am I?"

So fine since y'all keep asking for 'em, here's more of the cat and mouse bois. Shoutout to @gabbydafurry and an anon for finally giving them names.

--

“C’mon.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“I said no.”

“I’ll make pollo asado for dinner, we can eat it together while we watch!”

Aaron sighed and rubbed his hands against his forehead, trying to ease the dull throb that had yet to wane over the past two days. His headache certainly wasn’t being helped by the constant badgering of his...roommate, for a lack of better words (as well as being a title so eagerly self bestowed by the cat in question) but much like many of their other interactions, his resolve was starting to wear thin. Usually, he was able to hold his ground for at least a week until he was bribed into giving the other some type of social interaction with the promise of his favorite foods. Today, however, the poor mouse just wanted a moment’s peace free from knocking on the walls or calling through the cracks until he answered, and if that meant watching some stupid movie then fine.

Plus, Lucas did know how to make some incredible Mexican food.

“...fine,” Aaron conceded after a pause, the pressure behind his eyes giving him a sharp pang before fading to its usual ache, almost like his own body was projecting how horrible of an idea this was.

As soon as the mouse slipped out from behind the curio, he came face to face with the massive grin of the cat mere inches away from the opening. Seeing the grin only split wider when he was fully in view of the other normally would have instinctively sent a shiver up his spine, it was kind of difficult to be intimidated seeing how Lucas had strangely contorted his body to lay on the floor between the curio and the bookcase. Most cats seemed to be fairly flexible, so it probably wasn’t too uncomfortable for him to be so bent and curled up, but he definitely lost some of that hunter’s prowess with his back twisted sideways and one leg leaning against the shelving.

In a flash, Lucas had managed to untangle his strange positioning to instead be crouched on his knees, now looming over Aaron in a way he wasn’t sure he would ever get used to. He flinched back when his hand started to reach out towards him, fully intending to scoop him up to dizzying heights without a second thought, but the appendage stopped just short of touching him at all. Instead, he dropped his hand palm side up and waited, smiling all the while. At least he was getting better at remembering Aaron’s explicit request to not be grabbed without permission, though he did always apologize with a sheepish look and some little treat whenever he forgot.

Once Aaron climbed onto the awaiting hand that radiated a delightfully intense warmth into his already aching muscles, Lucas was already jumping up a chattering a mile a minute about how much the mouse was going to love the movie he picked out, how dinner would be ready soon, how he wasn’t expecting him to actually agree to watch a scary movie with him since he never seemed like the type who would be into that sort of thing but--

“It’s a scary movie?” Aaron interrupted, the noise finally registering beyond the headache. Truthfully, he tuned a lot of what the other said out for almost every conversation, not that it ever seemed to make a difference. Yeah, sorry, I’m a bit of a chatterbox, he admitted once, but it’s less weird talking to someone who doesn’t respond than to talk to yourself, right?

Debatable.

Lucas tilted his head and snorted. “Uh, yeah? That was one of the first things I told you about. You know that one actress who’s in almost every one of those Christmas movies we watch, who’s always the jealous best friend?” Aaron has no idea who he was referring to given that he never absorbed anything from those stupid romance movies he was boarderline forced to watch, but nodded anyways, “Right, this is supposed to be her big break out role, or something. It’s the first thing she’s doing as a lead actress, and you know, good for her! I’m glad she’s getting out of that typecast she’s been in forever. Horror probably wouldn’t be my first choice for her, but I guess since she has those singing vocals it could carry over to being a scream queen. Kind of like when--”

And Aaron was out of the conversation again.

Lucas continued to drone on about the actress’s entire film career, or at least that’s what the mouse was assuming he was doing when he occasionally zoned back in to pick up a stray word here and there. The headache he had been staving off to the best of his ability was starting to come back with twice as much force as it often did in the later days. He probably could have just asked the other for some aspirin, maybe even some cold medicine as that was no doubt what this bout of illness was turning into, but asking the cat for anything was always out of the question. Of course, Lucas tried to sway him numerous times into thinking it most certainly was not and that he could always ask for whatever he needed, never to his avail. Aaron was indeed willing to prolong his suffering if it meant not having to stomach the dreadful embarrassment that would come to being indebted to the feline, no matter how insignificant.

Unfortunately, he was only setting himself up for failure in thinking this “agreement” would be providing him any sort of relief. His headache was treading dangerously close into becoming a full fledged migraine and the flashes of light and screams from the television would not be doing him any favors. His only saving grace was that, after he had been settled on the couch and Lucas scampered off to get the dinner he promised, the cat turned off every other light possible to, as he put it, really get them in the spooky mood!

The smell of the food was delicious and nauseating. His stomach both wanted and revolted at the idea of anything filling it, which would only serve to worsen his headache no doubt. Damn it all, he wanted to throttle both himself and this illness, the first for agreeing to watch this stupid movie when he was already feeling under the weather, the second for preventing him from getting his half of the deal. These movie-dinner dates deals were the only reason Aaron continued to stick around, even if he thought the torment of being forced to watch awful romcoms in exchange for a hot, homemade meal was a little unfair. No, that wasn’t entirely true, Lucas was a freaking culinary genius as far as the mouse was aware. It was a wonder why he wasn’t majoring in a cooking field.

“I’m not hungry right now,” Aaron lied when Lucas had asked why he wasn’t eating. “I’ll try some later.”

The cat looked at him strangely before shrugging. “Alright, just let me know. If you don’t like it, I can always make you something else.” There he goes again, offering things he knows the other can’t accept. At least he could let it slide this time as he had no appetite to think of any other dish.

Lucas finished his own meal in silence, completely fixed on the television as the opening scene carried on, introducing the canine main character that Aaron did, in fact, vaguely recognize. This was fine, he figured, the dark apartment coupled with a painfully slow movie, a warm body moving to curl up behind him as it so often did during these deals, he could probably get a few moments of real rest in before the credits rolled. As much as he loathed to admit it, the cat was actually rather...comfortable to be forcefully cuddled by. He wasn’t like other movie goers that needed to make a comment on every character’s decision, steady breathing and the occasional purr helping the mouse slowly relax.

That relaxation was cut short as soon as the romcom actress tore her tiny avian neighbor to shreds by the end of the first act.

Aaron had hardly been paying attention to the storyline up until this point, something to do with the girl being bitten and experiencing insatiable hunger lately. The sudden carnage of the otherwise trusting little prey creature made both of them flinch in surprise, though Lucas was quick to laugh it off. From then on the mouse’s unwavering attention was glued to the screen, but not by his choice. A chill ran through him each time she claimed another unsuspecting victim, always a prey animal, and ripped them apart with her teeth and nails like a starving animal. The way the tiny’s incredibly realistic viscera was slurped into her bloody mouth made him queasy, all too easily imagining himself in their shoes.

Eventually, her hunger became too strong and she began attacking fellow predator species as well. Ripping into throats and soft bellies was far messier than snacking on a tiny creature in three bites, making her feast all the more gory. While the violence still unsettled him, it was a touch more bearable now that he couldn’t picture his own body being mangled between the teeth of a predator he thought he could trust. Speaking of…

The mouse gulped and risked a glance behind him at the other who had hardly moved, save for a few jolts and snickers whenever a particularly good jump scare managed to startle him. It didn’t go unnoticed that every time Aaron had physically reacted to a sudden screech or attack, the cat would curl just a little bit tighter around him, hiding a laugh behind a rumbling purr. He wanted to believe this was meant to be an act of comfort and not something equally as nefarious as the canine plotting her next kill. Regardless, Lucas was equally transfixed on the movie, except he seemed to be enjoying every minute of the horror aspect. His tail would flick in interest during the high tension scenes, even more so when a chase sequence was underway. It made sense, considering that was his favorite game to make Aaron play.

Whatever the case may be, the mouse couldn’t help but be unnerved tenfold that the other had the audacity to enjoy a fictional movie he was interested in seeing. The last thing the mouse wanted was for Lucas to get any more ideas when it came to chasing him around the apartment, much less awaken any sort of primitive instinct to maim his prize after it had been captured. To this day, it remains a deep seated fear in the back of his mind that every time the cat cupped his hands over him, his teeth would be quick to follow. Natural instincts were hard to shake for a reason when it came to prey animals such as himself, he could only hope the same wasn’t true for predators.

His imagination was running rampant, enough so that he completely missed how the movie ended. Something about a cure, something about being put down, whatever. The only thing on his mind was the morbidly hilarious thought that if Lucas were to go feral like the canine, would he eat him raw or would he cook him up in another fantastic dish?

Aaron jumped when Lucas moved to sit up behind him, only now registering the credits scrolling across the screen. He stretched a bit, the quickly fading warmth that had been surrounding the mouse making him realize just how tight the other must have been snuggled around him. How did he not notice?

“Wow,” Lucas said, pursing his lips. “That...was one of the worst movies I have ever seen in my life.”

That wasn’t the reaction Aaron had been expecting him to have, but it was certainly better than to hear him go on about how it was a brilliant masterpiece. He got up to flick the lights back on, still laughing as he recounted each poorly written scene and cheesy effects. “I mean, oh my god, right? The mail man saved everyone? Seriously? I actually feel bad for making you watch that, you totally have dibs on the next movie night.”

He turned around to look at the mouse who was still huddled tight on the couch, wide eyes glued to the screen even if it was just names moving along with ominous background music. Lucas gave him another quizzical look, smirking.

“C’mon, even you have to admit those tinies had zero survival instincts. Like, who goes up to a rabid dog and asks for directions? I get suspending my disbelief and all, but they could have made it just a pinch realistic. This is so going to tank her acting career…” The cat shook his head and moved closer to the couch so that he stood right in front of the television, finally drawing the other’s attention to himself. “Hey, you hungry now?”

Oh, absolutely fucking not. An hour and a half of being tensed up gave no relief to his aching muscles and now that the lights were back on, so was his pounding headache. His stomach rolled, the nausea a mix of dizziness and disgust from the special effects. He didn’t even want to think about food, he didn’t want to be out in the open anymore, and he most certainly did not want to spend another minute in the cat’s company right now.

“S-sure…” Aaron finally squeaked out. He just needed Lucas out of the room, distracted somewhere so he could make a break for it. In some instances, he would have just darted off whether the cat saw him or not, but that always resulted in a game of chase that had a 50/50 success rate, the other loving it anyways. All he wanted was some peace and quiet to rest up and heal and not think about how easy it would be for the other to bite off his head whenever he felt like it.

Lucas stood there for a minute, studying him, and just when Aaron genuinely feared he was going to pounce, he flashed an innocent smile. “Cool, just give me a couple minutes to get it heated up.” And with that, he disappeared into the kitchen.

Aaron decided to be bold and waste a few precious seconds of his head start to collect himself. Deep down, he knew he was being ridiculous. Lucas had been nothing but kind to him. Aloof, but still kind all the same. But as a prey animal that spent the better part of his life living in walls and stealing to survive, trust was a risk he simply couldn’t take. There was hardly any benefit to keeping up this con if the end goal was simply to eat him. For all he knew, though, Lucas was nothing more than a merciless sociopath that was willing to milk every ounce of fear he could before chowing down. A sociopath obsessed with romantic comedies and wore an apron when he cooked and had begged Aaron for two months straight to tell him when his birthday was so that he could make him a miniature cake.

...okay, so maybe Lucas wasn’t a sociopath, but that didn’t mean he was trustworthy. Evolution gave him sharpened fangs and agile reflexes for a reason and the mouse was not about to find out what it was like to be on the receiving end of those one day.

With his head as clear as it was going to be for the time being, sans the dull throb behind his eyes, the mouse finally pushed himself up to make his way over to the couch arm. Slowly, as to not overwork his stiff joints, he climbed his way down to the floor and skittered under the couch for a little extra protection. Strangely, he noticed that he didn’t hear any noises coming from the kitchen just up ahead and when he stopped by the doorway, he couldn’t see anyone either. Losing track of the massive cat should not be possible, especially considering this was a one bedroom apartment and there was literally nowhere else for the feline to go without coming back through the entryway. Aaron should have taken it as a blessing, but of course he couldn’t leave well enough alone.

He proceeded to be daring and come out from under the couch completely to peek into the kitchen, confirming it was empty. Again, that shouldn’t even be possible for Lucas to slip out without having to directly pass the living room to go somewhere else. Unless he had, which would mean Aaron missed him somehow. He had been in quite a deep thought process on the couch...but he could have sworn he was only collecting himself for a minute!

The answer became glaringly obvious when the mouse took a few hesitant steps back and turned to retreat under the safety of the couch, only to come face to face with Lucas. He damn near jumped out of his skin, slamming his back against the wall in an effort to gain another inch of distance between himself and the face taking up his entire view. Really, this was nothing too out of the ordinary for the cat, he loved to sneak up and pounce whenever the opportunity presented itself and Aaron wasn’t too obviously close to heart failure. What made his heart stutter, however, was the fact that Lucas didn’t look like...well, Lucas. There was no smile, no warm eyes, no words being talked a mile a minute about nothing.

No, there was just a frowning cat with his ears pinned back and pupils slit, stalking closer with a terrifying rumble in his throat.

Instinct overtook him as soon as he saw the other’s lip twitch, trying to dart under the couch for safety and having his path immediately blocked by a hand being slammed down, claw out. Aaron couldn’t even yelp, the bile in his throat threatening to turn into vomit if he idled around too long. So, he didn’t. Instead, he turned on his heel and scampered in the opposite direction with the cat hot on his trail. He very nearly dodged a swipe, Lucas hissing that his blow didn’t land while Aaron only tried to speed up his sprinting. They circled maybe half of the living room, the mouse weaving under furniture while the cat knocked into them in an effort to jarr his prey into taking a misstep.

It worked, unfortunately, when Aaron took a sharp turn at the bookshelf and caused Lucas to clip it with his shoulder. The small bump did nothing to deter the cat on his hunt, but the two books that came tumbling down were enough to make the smaller skid and trip to avoid being squashed under the novels. He ended up twisting his ankle awkwardly, stumbling flat on his face while the momentum of his running made him roll twice until he landed on his back. Despite being winded and the additional pain in his leg, he knew there was no time to waste, trying to pull himself. It was too late, though. The cat was already on top of him, hand coming down to pin him under his palm while only his head poked free from between his fingers.

That cold, terrifying face came nearer, eyes tunnel visioned on its prize. Oh God, Aaron would give anything to have the other Lucas back right now. He’d watch a thousand sappy movies, do a date night for every meal, actually move into his bedroom like the cat had suggested he do a dozen times. He wanted...fuck, he wanted his friend back. What he thought was his friend, anyways. Not this killer, not this predator who was baring his teeth and was now mere inches away from biting off his face and--

The growling above him broke off into a snort shortly before turning into a full blown laugh. Aaron wasn’t sure when he had closed his eyes in preparation for his certain death, but when he dared to open them and blinked away the budding tears, he saw that smile he had been wishing for again. Kind and warm, just like eyes, and it was like Lucas had never even taken the form of a starving hunter in his life. Like he hadn’t been moments away from devouring his beloved roommate.

“Oh, come on,” he howled with laughter, “You can’t be serious! That movie actually scared you? I mean, I thought you looked a little freaked out by it, but wow!”

The movie...so this...this wasn’t real. Lucas was just pretending, just playing a prank on him. He thought that the movie had simply wound him up and made him jumpier than usual, no different than watching a zombie flick and popping out from behind a bush at your friend later on.

Except it was different. It was different in the fact that zombies aren't real, but predators are. Predators didn’t need an excuse to go feral and maim and consume their tiny cohabitants, they simply could by the laws of nature. And yes, it may be illegal and have several laws in place to protect prey species, but if no body was ever left behind, who could say if foul play was involved? That was the whole plot point in the otherwise dull movie they sat through together, the reason why the woman was able to avoid suspicion of her sickness by feeding on tinies that could only be reported missing at most.

Lucas’s laughter had tapered off, still clearly enjoying himself. “Alright, note to self, no more horror movies.” Finally, he released Aaron from under his hand to sit back on his haunches. “Man, I really didn’t think you would scare that easily, especially from a B-movie like that. Anyways, are you actually ready to eat now? I put your stuff in the oven so it would reheat better, but it should be done by now….Ronnie?”

Aaron hadn’t moved an inch since he was originally pinned, not even after the hand had been lifted off of him. He just stared up blankly at the cat, trembling and wide eyed, unable to do anything as the rapid succession of events sunk in. The cat’s humor died down a little, smile hesitating.

“Hey, look, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t resist, you know?” He shrugged a little sheepishly. “You didn’t even notice when I came back so I thought...I don’t know, it was funnier in my head. I almost broke character and started laughing before you ran!” With still no verbal response, Lucas reached out a hand. “Aaron? You good? Come on, I’m not that scary, am I?”

The reaction he got probably wasn’t what he was hoping for with Aaron suddenly scrambling to push himself away from the outstretched hand that might trap and tear apart his limbs. He gave a sharp squeak, managing to find his footing only to come crashing down as soon as he took the first step, his ankle noticeably swollen by this point. His cry of pain was muffled into a desperate grunt, trying so hard to drag himself away as a last ditch effort to avoid the same fate as the bird and the squirrel and the mole in the movie.

Lucas gasped. “Oh, Ronnie, your leg!” Both hands were reaching for the mouse now, aiming to cup around him and scoop him up before they surely put him out of his misery. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I didn’t...oh my God, I hurt you.”

Yes and no. In truth, Aaron had been the one to hurt himself by making his body move in ways it physically shouldn’t. But that didn’t change the fact that Lucas had shown his true colors. Perhaps in hindsight, that wasn’t a fair assessment, as he really did think he was playing a harmless little joke on a skittish friend. The pain came from knowing that the cat could turn feral, though, no matter how genuine he was being. There was still clearly an instinct within him, one that knew how to hunt and bare his teeth and hiss, one that knew deep down where they both ranked on the food chain. It hurt in knowing everything he thought about his friend, everything that kept him from really letting down his walls like the other so desperately wanted, was right. Cats and mice were not friends.

“Get away from me!” Aaron shrieked when the hands came too close. Though they withdrew quickly, he didn’t bother to watch if they would move again as he forced himself up to stumble back to his nook behind the bookshelf.

“Aaron, wait!” It was a fruitless request and Lucas knew it as he didn’t even try to stop the mouse from disappearing behind the furniture back into the walls. It would only make matters so much worse. “Aaron, please, you’re hurt, just...at least let me help you. Please. I...I’m so sorry! It was an accident, I promise!”

The cat shuffled closer, leaning down in hopes that the other could at least hear his pleas better, could hear how sincere he was trying to be. “I would never hurt you, Aaron. You’re one of my best friends. Look, it was a stupid prank and I’m an asshole and I’ll never do it again, just please come out. Just let me know if you’re alright?”

It didn’t matter how hard or for how long he tried, Aaron was long gone within the walls.

[imagine-otome-games]

Survivors Guilt [GI Childe]

Pairing: Childe x Fem!Reader [[3RD POV]] [[Heavy use of she/her]]

Warnings: Angst, dark-ish imagery, dark thoughts etc also kinda long since theres barely any dialouge.

!!SPOILERS FOR LIYUE ARCHON QUEST!! [[Vague but if you know you know]]

A/N: working on that diluc but uh this hit me sooo.. I wondered what would have happened if that fight didn’t go so smoothly..

;; a day in which all his debts were paid off with interest;;

 “ Pᴀɪɴᴛ ʙʟᴇᴇᴅs, ɪɴᴋ ʀᴜɴs, ɪᴍᴀɢᴇ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ..”

It was truly a sight to behold- something like a breathtaking scene in a famous novel. Poets and authors alike would try to replicate it, but it would never be quite the same- not as impactful.

No words could ever truly replicate the way he had screamed upon hearing the news. No painter could even come close to recreating the look in his anguished eyes- the rigid state of his entire body- the immediate stream of tears. However, who would truly want to? Words hit hard enough so an actual image would be pure torture and yet.. some found inspiration at the way this hardened Harbinger absolutely broke down for his love..

Even the strongest of people have their weaknesses and his lied with her..

“I promise I’ll be back soon.”, he had said, with pure confidence too despite it all. 

She had been so far from the harbor- she didn’t give him any hint that she would be on the waters that day. Even she had, what had ultimately happened was a last resort. He never intended to do it but.. perhaps if she had mentioned something that day.. he would have stopped himself.

If he was stronger- if he hadn’t allowed himself to be used..

The rage mixed in all that anguish was suffocating- each and every breath he took as he moved forward felt like it was searing his lungs. His legs felt like the bones within were made of lead, threatening to cave in on themselves. He almost wished they would- he wished they’d shatter- he begged to his current wounds to just end what was only the beginnings of his endless suffering.

Instead of hoping his death would happen in glorious battle he wished for it to be swift- for it to carry him home immediately, no matter how selfish it seemed.

He had a family, he had to think of how they would feel but now... now the blood on his hands was blood he was never meant to spill..

He always knew the true costs of his line of work would catch up to him.. Childe simply thought that cost wouldn’t be so high- so immediate. Or.. something of his own doing-

Once he made it to where the crowds had gathered- to the aftermath seen by all, he was gifted with burning daggers in his back by their eyes- a hint of pity accented within the obvious poison. They would forever be embedded in his flesh. None would be unaware of his horrific deed in Liyue harbor- the absolute disregard for innocents and his own dearest heart.

He wished the people would be more violent, but he knew they wouldn’t be. That was too easy- too merciful.

Within that crowd he found what he had destroyed. There, in the calm waters, surrounded by mourning citizens that knew her well... she floated calmly. Her calm face struck him hard- it was now dull, there was no life within her features- this was not like when she slept or when she turned her face to soak in the beautiful sun.

The reality of everything hit him so hard it knocked the breath and rationality out of him.

He had begged and pleaded and sobbed in vain- she had been gone all along. When he was told you were missing- lost at sea, deep in his very core he knew the waves had stolen her. Osial must have stolen her was what he allowed himself to believe for a time, but Childe was not that much of a fool. His own idiocy and failure to think rationally stole her from him. He did this to himself and now, in front of all of those which he wronged, he breaks.

He will never be able to see her smile- how is it that one person can have so many different smiles? So many expressions to miss and touches to crave and be robbed of. Childe would never hold her in his arms. He could no longer relish in the taste of her lips or her warm embrace on late nights. 

Her voice would no longer bring him back to life on the days he lost himself- he would be left to drown out at sea, just as he deserved. There was no future to look forward to- a time when he would get to call you his wife or perhaps the mother of his children- not even a time in which he got to live freely. To be just Ajax and not Childe, the Eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui. Nothing. There was nothing and perhaps it is selfish thinking- his family still lives but will they still adore him when they learn of his horrific deed- of what his job genuinely costs.

“ I ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜᴇ, ɴᴇᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ..”

The screams were so painful that no one could bare to look for long, the cries so devastating others felt its harsh pangs in their chests. He cried like he was being tortured- cradled her head and damned the very skies for taking something so precious- something that was not for it to take- someone that deserved better.

The people of Liyue granted him the mercy of time with her. His only true gift from those he hurt. They felt the sincerity in his regret and pain.

Hours felt like mere seconds to him and in the setting sun the cold finally dug its claws into him. He could feel the blood in his throat and the raw sting in his eyes. His freezing fingers had to be pried from her lifeless body and still he begged. He pleaded for everything to be a lie- a cruel prank to get him to see how horrible that was of him.

How could she be the only fatality in all this- surely there were others on the water? Her little boat was not the only one out there. Not to say he wished the same fate of other innocents but... did it have to be only her? In the very boat he gifted her when he learned how she adored to just... exist in the middle of the ocean for a short time. To take in the salty air from its source and take in the scenery the archons gifted its people to see.

In the same boat that was now in pieces along various shores and in the unrelenting depths of the ocean. Lost to him forever, just like her.

Her sweet laughter from that day still haunts him, “I’ll believe you if you promise to go out to sea with me when you get back.”, she had said, bargaining with him as if she actually ever needed to. She could tell him to jump and he would have asked her how high.

‘I love you, Ajax. Be safe.’

So, he promised- crossed his heart and hoped to die. Then when would that debt be paid? How long must he wait to be in her presence again?

“ Aɴɢᴇʟs ғᴀʟʟ, ɪᴛ’s ɴᴏᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ғᴀᴜʟᴛ..”  

The picture painted of her for that day pierced through what was left of his now dead heart. He meant no offense to the artist, but it did no true justice for her. It did not encapsulate her like his cruel mind did. Her eyes felt lacking- the expression was so.. unreal. Yet, silent tears felt all the same.

This was it. He must let her go for good. This is all real- too real. His breathing becomes labored and soon he is doing his best to silently sob. Her painting becomes blurred and, in the midst,... it looks as though she is crying with him. Somehow.

‘You know I’ll always love you, right?’

“ Gᴏᴏᴅʙʏᴇ ᴏʟᴅ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ. ᴡᴇ’ʟʟ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ...”

“Traveler...”, he begins, “Do we have to do this every time? You know what I want... stop denying me for the sake of your own morals... please..”

The outlander looks at him, pity in the swirls of gold staring into his dull blue hues, “You know I can’t, Childe..”

He laughs bitterly, ignoring the way it hurts to do so, “You can- c’mon, it’s not that hard. Your sword is sharp enough. One good blow-”

“You need to move on somehow- take a break and grieve properly stop asking me-”

“Move on? Move on? I am a murderer- I killed her- I deserve to-”, he starts, voice growing angry and so very sad.

“You didn’t do it on purpose. You didn’t want her to...go.”, the outlander says, pools of gold growing brighter in concern, staring upon his form in the ground.

Childe was a mess of sweat and blood, on his back staring up at another whom he deceived, begging to be put out of his misery. Shamelessly so.

He laughs again, this time with a ragged breath, “It should never have been her- it should have been me. It was always supposed to be me first.”, he’s crying now, he’s sure of it. It always turned out this way, usually the tears are left out, “I was never- I never... she was never supposed to even be hurt because of me. Traveler I... I loved her so much- I still love her. I can’t let go- please. I’m begging you- please. End it- end me..”

There was no answer, just silence. There was no saving him and as painful as it was, the wandering traveler left him there on the ground. He never saw this traveler again. In the back of his mind he always wonders if the sibling was found. Was the journey fulfilled- was there a happy ending?

He hopes so. No one deserves to suffer loss in any way.

“I miss you..”, he whispers into the sky, knowing she resides somewhere far past the clouds.

The calm waves of the sea gently rock him in this small boat. There is only one destination for him. He is no longer welcome anywhere else. No one has said so, but he feels it within his soul. A piece is missing, and he will find it once more, one way or another.

“I’m coming home.. I hope you didn’t wait long..”, he says as the blackened clouds start to surround him. The sea below him darkens and he can feel the static of danger in the tense air. The waves start to come alive and he hopes they finally swallow him entirely.

This time, he hopes he will not be found by a pitying soul.

“ Tɪᴍᴇ ɢᴏᴇs ᴏɴ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ..”

[bitchapalooza]

Nothing

Tw for mentions of death and talking about death

What is it like on the other side?

Is the grass really that much greener?

Do the birds chirp for the fallen?

Is heaven really a place to desire, hell to fear?

There he sat. Trembling in the dirty, muddied trenches. He, the young German lad, clenched his rifle to his chest as if it would shield him from the war. Fix all his problems.

Will there be a tunnel of light as so many claim?

Voices of heaven's angels guiding him home?

Loved ones at the gate awaiting the arrival of their fallen brother?

Germany looked to his side. His reluctantly claimed friend, Northern Italy, was strangely calm. His eyes a dull brown as he stared off into space.

Is it just like sleeping?

Or is it painful?

How much will it hurt?

Ludwig had never died before. The Great War is his first war. Hopefully not his last either. His brother was hesitant to allow him to enter the fight, knowing how young and inexperienced he was. But eventually he allowed it. And so here he was. Covered in mud. Sweat. His own silent tears from the previous night.

His hands shook as he felt the harsh pang in his chest as another young German soldier died. And another. And another.

Gilbert said he'd get used to that.

Ludwig turned to Feliciano. With how still the elder was, Ludwig swore he was a statue. Frozen in place. Everything about him seemed. Muted. Off. Depressing to look at. He looked his age this way. Not a young twenty-something but rather a man in his mid thirties. A tired man. Old. Still actively aging. Eyes hanging low and dark underneath. Cracked lips.

A still corpse. Just like the ones out there.

"Have you ever died before?" He asked without thinking.

When he realized what he'd said he tried to apologize. But North Italy spoke before him.

"Yes." He said. A simple, quick answer as opposed to the long winded ones the Italian usually gave.

Of course he has. Most of everyone older than him has died more than once already.

Ludwig bit his lip in fear of the outcome of his next question.

"What.... What was it like?"

North Italy smiled to himself. Almost nostalgic. A bit unsettling considering the topic but Germany ignored it.

Then he chuckled.

Germany's heart sunk. Stomach acid eating away at it as his hands began to trimble. He was expecting this war to tire the Italian down but to witness this side of him… It was nerve racking.

"You really are young. So I'll let you in on a little secret." The Italian turned to face the German. Bright brown eyes dulled. Clouded over. Full of lost hope.

A mirror image of the battlefield, Germany compared.

If he blicked, Ludwig feared it meant another young life was taken out there.

"If you ever find yourself in a situation where death is unavoidable— which you will—" The Italian raised a hand to his head. Reminiscent of a gun. He jerked his wrist, signifying it being triggered. "—remember to let them aim for the head." He grinned as he slowly lowered it back down. A broken, tired grin.

Ludwig's stomach churned. Cotton filled his mouth. His lungs. All the moisture was soaked up in an instant, leaving his throat dry.

"W-what..?" He rasped, fidgeting with his rifle. Gripping it tighter.

Feliciano shrugged. "It's immediate. It hurts way less than bleeding out on the hard cold ground. Hurts more when you wake up, too, because it hasn't fully healed over." The Italian rested his hand on over his torso where Ludwig had seen the ghost of a scar once. He internally winced, feeling horrible.

"At least with a headshot, all you'd suffer from is a headache after waking. Maybe a little nausea if you're unlucky enough."

The words of experience, Germany thought. He suddenly felt guilty of those few times as a boy where he'd ask Prussia to play mere days after he'd come home from war due to injury. Where he complained of a migraine that wouldn't go away.

Just what did his big brother go through?

"Then," Germany gulped. "What.. What is there? After you die? What is it like?"

Silence stretched between the two. It felt like hours had passed.

Ludwig was prepared to ask again when Feliciano spoke up.

"Nothing."

"...Pardon?"

"There's nothing there."

Germany shivered. "There's... Nothing?"

"That's right." Feliciano nodded.

"Nothing."

[jessiebanethedragon]

BOG to YYZ (Javier x reader)

Hey all! not too sure where this came from, but i was walking in the snow today and had this idea of bringing Javi home for the first time!  I’m Canadian so it takes place in Canada, sorry it’s not more ambiguous i just felt compelled to belt this one shot out outta nowhere. 

Please let me know what you think!

Javier x Canadian!Reader

Javier was such a beautiful sleeper, you lost count of how many sleepless nights you spent watching him softly snore. Those humid days in Bogata, and anxiety ridden nights in Medellin were overshadowed by him shirtless and passed out on your bed, those nights where he’d pull you closer and closer in his sleep for fear of you slipping away. And the dull ache in your neck from looking up at his face, finally calm while he slept. 

Seeing him now feels so different, passed out in the window seat of the airplane, dress shirt unwrinkled and hand not hovering above his belt where he kept his gun. The Narcos were gone, Pablo Escobar no more. 

“What will you do when we’ve caught him?” You’d asked one night, stuck in a cop car just outside of a narcos den, waiting for something to happen. 

“What will you do maravillosa?” He retorted, pulling his sunglasses down to look into your eyes, even though in the dead of night he didn’t need them anyways. 

“I’d like to see my family again.” You told him softly, thinking of the thick snowflakes and broad pine trees sent pangs of longing through your chest. 

“You never talk about them.” Javier commented, lighting a cigarette and opening his window. 

“You never talk about yours.” You quipped back, noticing his raised eyebrow even though he was staring at the Sicario den across the street. Your voice, he noted, was softer now, the same way it would soften when you whispered reassuringly to him after a particularly bad day. 

“I don’t like my family.” He pressed, purposely leaving  gasps in the conversation in hopes of getting you to talk. 

“Well, i don’t really either, i guess my family isn’t really my family, it’s more close friends, and then their families, i don’t know, it just made sense to me when i was little, and i never thought about it I guess,” You were playing with your hands again out of nerves, and he was startled to realise, you wanted him to like your family. 

“That’s what we’ll do then.” Javier told you firmly. Flicking his cigarette to the ground even though he wasn’t done with it yet. You began to smile at him before you caught movement from the building, two figures exiting out a side door. One hand flying to the car door and the other to your gun, moving to get out of the car, Javies hand stopped you. 

“I mean it, when this is over we’ll fly out, I'll meet your folks, we can stay for a bit, put this whole mess behind us. I mean it Maravillosa.” You really smiled at that, and pulled him in for a quick kiss to seal the promise. 

“Well then, let's catch these Batados then.” You smirked, and Javier didn’t even have it in him to tell you that you’d said Batted instead of Bastards. 

Landing in Toronto in early January was something else entirely. The snow had settled firmly by late december and now all there was to greet people was frigid winds and dangerous ice. And yet you couldn't stop smiling at the familiar biting cold and puffs of air that could be seen as you exhaled. 

Finding your excitedly waiting family was a mission all on its own. Becoming a fluster of hugs, hellos, and ‘we’ve heard so much about you’ to your boyfriend in a situation that you thought for sure wasn’t Javier friendly. 

“Kiddos run ahead and get the car started for your auntie, it’s been a long time since  she was  in the cold.” You sister said, passing along the keys to her children who took off running through the car park. 

“Thanks.” You said trying to subtly wrestle Javi into a beanie and out of his baseball hat. And pulling a face when he kept meeting you hands as you went to put the hat on. 

“We saw the news,” your mum whispered. “Are you both okay?” 

“He’s dead.” You stated, “that's all that matters, wasn't either of us who pulled the trigger anyways.” 

“Your mum wanted to throw a party.” Your dad chuckled, oh how you missed his brashness. “Celebrate the asshole being dead.” Javier chuckled. 

“That sounds like a party I'd be interested in.” 

Javier hates the snow. He hates wearing the stupid jackets and having to preapre himself with various layers and accessories just to be able to walk out the front door. He hates having to clean off the car,  and most of all he hates how dark it gets halfway through the afternoon. On top of that he never knows what in the hell your dad is talking about and he’s sick of trying to remember the difference between a Toonie and a Loonie. Why did he think this was a good idea? And why the fuck did he think he’d fit in with your family? But it’s you, and he’d do anything for you, so even on the days when he wants to take off back to columbia, leave like he did at the altar of his last meaningful relationship, he wouldn't do that to you. 

You’re sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee that gets extended to him as he joins you, taking a sip and grimacing at the amount of sugar that's in it he hands the cup back. 

“My mum says they're all going over to my aunt and uncles tonight.” You tell him, waiting to gauge his reaction.  

“I thought you hated your aunt?” He says stealing your cup again after you’ve had a sip, still pulling a face at how sweet the beverage is. 

“No this is my aunt who isn't really my aunt.” You explain. 

“Ohhh, you mean the couple that lived next to you guys who are more like grandparents?” Javier asks, trying to keep names and people straight in his head. You make a noise of conformation as you take another sip of coffee.  

“I can get us out of going.” You offer, 

“Why would we do that?” Javier questions, confused, maybe he was missing something, or confusing them with someone else but as far as he knew you loved this side of your non-family. 

“I don’t know, there’s gonna be a lot of people there, and it’s really different from Columbia and you hate the snow and…” You trail off. 

“And?” he’s pushing you to continue talking. Damn DEA tactics, you think to yourself. 

“And I think you hate it here.” You say flatly, months of fighting dirty in Columbia has hardened you, there's no such thing as letting it down gently anymore. 

“I don’t hate it here.” He lies. “it’s just…” he stops for a moment. “It's just not Columbia.” 

“Do you  want to go back to Columbia?” You ask, you’ve been nervous to have this conversation, but you don’t show it, another perk of dealing with the world's most dangerous drug dealers, you’ve learned to hide your fears. 

“No... yes, no. Maybe.” Javier admits, thinking back to that first day, when you showed up at the embassy, long sleeves and cardigan like it wasnt hot as hell outside. How you stumbled through spanish and furred your eyebrows every time he talked too fast. 

“We can go, if you want.” Your voice brings him back to the moment. “We can go back to Columbia.” 

“Maravillosa…” Javier sighs, pulling you into his chest. 

“I don’t mind, honestly.” You tell him, scared he’s slipping further away the longer he stays. 

“I don’t want to go back to Columbia.” He tells you with a kiss on your head. 

“Promise?” 

“sí prometo.” 

Now this is Javier's kind of scene, you’re crowded around the fireplace in someone's garage passing around food and alcohol without a care in the world. He’s settled into a campfire chair, one arm over your shoulder with a beer in his hand and a cigarette in his mouth, courtesy of your extended family. They listen to all his plights in Colombia and respond with warm laughs and calming comments. This is something he could get used to, maybe not the snow, but when a friend of your dad's friend offers to take him hunting, Javier actually finds himself wanting to go, and not only to upstage Steve the next time he sees him. It’s so picture perfect that the Javier Pena who existed before he met you would’ve gagged at the sight. 

And yet, when his phone rings, and he excuses himself to take it, standing outside in the horrible weather. Answering it with a “Pena”, and rubbing his forehead in anxiety as the voice on the other side begins to talk, he cuts them off. 

“I’ll be in Bogata by the end of the week.” He tells the DEA agent on the other end of the line, he does it without thinking, without hesitating. And when he stomps out of the cigarette in the snow, he wonders how he is going to tell you that now, after everything he went through,  after all his promises, he is going after the Cali Cartel. 

Translations: 

Maravillosa - Gorgeous 

sí prometo - I  promise

[dilfbane]

Every Bright Shade of Crimson - Dhawan!Master x Reader

Summary: In the aftermath of killing someone, you ask the Master a question. Based on this ask by @supermegapauselouca: Could you write something with this prompt “How many more innocent people have to die?” “What would you do if I didn’t come back?” 

Pairing: Dhawan!Master x Reader

Warnings: Again, a bit dark and angsty. Description of violence and discussions of self-guilt and self-hatred. 

Word Count: 957

A/N: Thank you to @supermegapauselouca for the request! This fic is pretty short, and pretty angsty, but it turned out to be one of my favorite imagines to write? I really enjoy writing darker, angstier stuff, so it was nice to get a prompt that allowed me to jump in and explore that, and I hope that you all enjoy it!

“How many more innocent people have to die?” 

You still remember asking him, how the salt wind had scoured your skin, and took your voice down with it into the desert, carrying it away to burn, like the slavers and the slaves, their blood as thick as honey where the sun baked it into your clothes. He had been there, but you had not been able to face him, only heard his long and low sigh behind you. He’d stood perfectly, horribly still. 

“They weren’t,” He had finally said, as if that made it any better. Bile rose up in your throat. “Nobody is. Don’t you know that by now?” 

Mutely, you’d shaken your head; fingers twitching, mind numb. He had kissed you on dying worlds, before, blood and death in the air, but it had never been on your hands, before, and you’d been unable to forget the look on the young boy’s face when the bullet hit home, twisted in fear, shock, and anguish. You hadn’t even known his name. 

“How do you live with it, Master?” You’d asked him. Your voice had sounded far away, and you’d seen him approach you from somewhere outside of your body, his hand settling on your shoulder in a gesture that you’d barely felt. 

“Everyone dies,” He had told you, “And everyone sins. That’s how I live with it, love.” 

He had said it too harsh, and too final, but it had been soft, underneath. You’d wondered if that was for you, and had known that you didn’t deserve it. 

“I can’t forgive myself,” You had said - to the desert, and its rolling red sandhills, painted in every bright shade of crimson, every black shade of worry and sad; to the suns and the sky and the woman you’d no longer been - to no one in particular. “Master, I -“ 

“Koschei,” He’d told you, snaking his free arm around you, pulling you close to his side. The warmth of him hadn’t reached you, then, but later, as he tucked you into bed and set a glass of water at the bedside table, casting concerned glances at you now and again as he walked to turn out the lights; later, you would remember how it had felt, as if nothing could hurt you, anymore. As if, from your thoughts and your fears and your agonies, the million things that could fell humans dead without mercy, you were safe, in his there-ness and needing. 

“You did what you had to do, you know,” He had said, almost conversationally, as he’d led you back to the TARDIS. Your feet had gone anywhere, everywhere, that he wanted them to go, and you’d known that it would be like that forever, as long as you weren’t asleep. You’d have nightmares, you’d thought, distantly, and you had been right. 

You wake up from them, still - images of the boy pleading, begging you through choked sobs to let him live, he hadn’t meant to hurt you, and his blood and your blood in a puddle on the floor of the alien bazaar, so that all his pains were yours, so that the hole in his chest was a hole in your chest, ripping you into pieces - but the Master is there, when you do, dark hair and purple coat rumpled from whatever it is that he does when you aren’t awake. Reading, you think. Making plans. And you hear your voice from far away again, as he takes you in and you take him in, and he lowers his lips to your own, tasting of smoke and of vitriol, of tea and old ink and betrayal; and the universe, for a glimmering time, the causal nexus to which you are doomed, is a beautiful plane, and whole. You feel the silk sheets. The rough of his coat and the scratch of his sideburns. The heat of his living skin. His fingertips spill over you, painting soft marks on your body. They take the place of the nameless boy as you adjust to him, there, in the shadows. 

Your bedroom becomes a sacred place, and your heart and your soul become his. 

“What does it mean?” You had asked him, that day, feeling the wind lashing at you, the salt pellets embedding deep in your skin, and the dull throb from where the young boy had cut you swelling through your red, raw nerves, mixing with the horror, and with the guilt. You had not known if you were asking about death, or living, or him. You had not been certain that there was any difference. 

The Master had said, 

“It’s my name.” 

“What would you do if I didn’t come back?” You had asked - on a whim, on a pang, on an anger. Somehow, you had needed to know. He had gone rigid, for just a moment, and a torrent of rage had coursed through him, so strong and so sharp you had felt it. Everyone dies, you had thought to yourself. And everyone sins; even you. 

“You won’t ever leave me,” He’d said. “So it doesn’t matter, love, does it?” 

“If I did, though -“ You’d asked him, a frantic note rising, bursting out from your throat. 

“You won’t, love,” He’d told you, so firm and indomitable that it had been easy for you to believe him, haloed in the TARDIS lights. 

I love you, Koschei, you’d thought to yourself, covered in blood that was yours and was not yours, lost in his keeping of you. You had not known who you’d be tomorrow; had known, less, who you’d been today. 

Everyone dies, You had thought to yourself. Everyone dies, but I love you. 

With a snap of his fingers, the doors of the TARDIS had closed. 

[fluffymcu]

Letting Loose

Part TEN

This series is TICKLE related. Outfits that are linked here are purely for picturing the clothes, you don’t have to look like the model.

Series Summary:  You’re the little sister of the one and only Captain America. You’re also the youngest girl on the team, so that automatically makes you the avengers’ little princess. And they spoil you as such. They have become your amazing family and you don’t know where you’d be without them. This series will show random adventures and fluffy events in the daily life of the reader and her family, along with an unexpected turn later on as you read.

A/N: I’m so exited to have gotten to the big twist! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter even though it doesn’t have any tickle scenes in this one just because I didn’t really feel it fit right with this part since it’s kinda serious.

Warnings: Drama?

Word Count: 2,335

Previous       Next

----

“I don’t understand, how is that possible?” You ask her, the team equally as confused. You had let her in, motioning for her to take a seat. She did so with a sigh and had a look of mild annoyance. 

“To put it simply, I was made out of a one night stand. My mom was Cassandra Murray.” She started, Tony instantly recognizing that name and gulping at the small pang of sadness hitting his chest. “She got diagnosed with cancer when I was 12. I didn’t have any other family because my mom and her parents had a falling out years ago for being too abusive. Of course, she didn’t want me staying with my abusive grandparents ever, or ending up in foster care, so she made me promise that when she died, I would go straight to find my father.” 

“I don’t understand, why didn’t your mother tell me she was pregnant or that I had a daughter?” Tony asked, his brows furrowed in deep confusion. Ruby Anne only shrugged and looked away.

“She never said. She just... kept it a secret until I was old enough to know who you were and she finally told me you were my father.” The room feel into a deep silence before Steve decided to speak up.

“Well, thank you for keeping your promise coming to us. You’ll stay here in the compound until you’re of legal age and after that you can decide where you want be. But we’d be happy to have you here for as long as you want.” Steve nodded at her, giving her a sympathetic smile before deciding to give them some space. “Oh, and I’m so sorry about your mom. May she rest in peace.” The rest of the team agreed and gave her their apologies before you followed the team out of the living room, leaving Tony and Ruby to talk. 

The room fell silent again, Ruby Anne avoiding Tony’s gaze. He took a deep breath. “Would you like me to... show you to your room?” He asked. She nodded without a word and followed him upstairs, taking her bag with her. 

----

“Holy crap, this is insane!” You exclaimed. All of you were currently in the basement processing the news. The team agreed and ran their fingers through their hair and rubbed their hands on their faces. You were still also very confused as to why she was looking at you weirdly. You had nothing to do with her, why was she giving you weird looks? You knew everybody knew who you were, and that you lived with the team but that wouldn’t really seem like a valid excuse to take it out on you. But then again, we all grieve in different ways??

“Yup, and we’ve seen some weird crap over the years.” Clint chuckled humorlessly, taking a seat on one of the cushions. “Poor Tony, this is gonna hit him hard.” Your stomach tied itself in a knot at the thought of Tony being so distraught. Tony deserved only happiness and the fact that he might be experiencing something other than that made you frown. 

“But, he’s Tony. He can handle anything, right?” You asked, doubt and worry dripping from your words. When you didn’t receive a verbal answer, instead just unsure looks, you sighed, making it your mission to help Tony as much as he needed with this situation.

--- 

“Okay! This is you.” Tony sighed, giving her a small smile as she walked in, putting her bag by the bed and looking around, showing no expression. “Umm, listen, so I know you’re going through a tough time right now, your mother just... passed and I just wanna say I’m so sorry. And I mean that for everything. For-” He gets cut off by Ruby Anne looking at him straight in the eye for the first time since she got here.

“I don’t need your pity right now. I’m fine. Thanks for the room, I’m good for now.” She says dryly, turning her back to him. 

He wants to say he’s surprised at her behavior but how could he? He hadn’t been there for her, and her mother just died, and now she has to come live with a bunch of strangers all of a sudden. So no, he wasn’t surprised at her distant behavior, but he could only hope she would warm up soon so he could make up for all of that lost time. He nodded quietly, grabbing the knob to her door. “Well, if you need anything, anything at all, just let know.” And with that, he left, shutting the door behind him. Ruby sighs, and sits down on the big chair next to her nightstand and stares around the room. It’s nothing like her room at home. Everything in here looked expensive, but it didn’t surprise her. It was the Avengers compound after all. 

-----

You and the team were surrounding the kitchen island trying to have a normal conversation after all of this, but failing miserably. Moments later Tony joins them at the island and sighs, rubbing his hands over his face. You frown and feel bad for him, walking over to give him a hug. He returns it, a sad expression on his face. 

“I know it’s only the first day but it still hurts to see her hate me.” He mumbled. 

Nat tilted her head and rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. “She doesn’t hate you Tony, she’s just stressed. Like you said, this is the first day and a lot of things are changing for her and it may be too much for her right now. Plus she’s going through grief right now, so just give her time. She’ll come around.” She smiled, the rest of the team nodding in agreement. Tony sighed, not really believing it but nodding nonetheless. Now he just has to explain to Pepper why there’s another 15 year girl living in the compound when she comes back from her business trip.

---- 

It’s been 2 weeks, things have settled down a bit, the news finally settling in. The talk between Pepper and Tony going much better than expected, Pepper being very understanding and supportive. It made Tony feel at least a little better about the situation now that he had the support of his wife. Ruby Anne is still very distant, but he tells himself to be patient and give her time and space. She’ll warm up. He thought. She’ll warm up.

You and Peter trudged down the stairs, ready for school, waving everyone goodbye before running out to the car. Ruby was already there, sitting in the front seat next to Happy since you and Peter always sat in the back.

You thanked Happy, the 3 of you getting out of the car and walking inside. When Peter left to go to his class, you took advantage of this small time alone to try and talk to her, and maybe convince her to spend a little time with Tony.

“Hey, so maybe you wanna spend a little time with tony after school? I know he’s been eager to get to know you better and be a father to you?” You smile, trying to get her excited about spending some quality time with her dad. She turned to look at you with dulled eyes.

“He’s never been a father to me.” She ground out, walking in front of you. You stay there for a few seconds in mild shock but quickly recover, shaking off the stress and catching up to her.

“Ok... but,,, he didn’t know you had- you know, he didn’t know you existed then. But he does now! And he wants to apologize for everything and fix it!” You shrug cheerfully. She glanced at you once more before shaking her head and walking faster.

“No thanks.” She spat. You stand there and sigh, watching her advance and roll your eyes tiredly.

The whole school day you were thinking of plans to get Ruby Anne out of her shell. Right now, you would have liked it better if she could start warming up to Tony but apparently that wasn’t gonna happen just yet. So your next move was trying to get her to warm up to the rest of the team. Or at least for now, you and Peter.

———

You had gotten home later that day because traffic was horrible today so by the time you, Peter and Ruby got home, dinner was ready and they were waiting for you at the table.

“I’m not eating tonight.” Ruby mumbles, going straight to her room and closing the door. You raise your eyebrows a bit in mild awkwardness as you and Peter make your way to the table. Tony sighs, almost inaudible but you heard it. Pepper pats Tony’s back and reassured him. “Don’t worry, she’ll come around.”

“I wonder when that’ll be.” He chuckled dryly and you all begin to eat, trying to change the subject to a happier matter. You hate to see Tony so upset like this. And although you understood what Ruby was going through right now, the fact that his own daughter was the cause of him feeling like this didn’t sit right with you. You were getting impatient for him.

——-

3 weeks have passed, and Ruby has taken no steps toward getting to know anyone on the team. She would literally spend the whole day in her room if she wasn’t in school.

It was a Friday afternoon, and you all had gotten back from school and you and peter were watching a movie with Bucky and Wanda in the small movie theatre in the basement. Tony went to check up on Ruby, as he did everyday, hoping today would be the day where they take a positive step towards healing.

Ruby sighed when she heard the knock on her door and she rolled her eyes, letting out a mumbled “come in.” and facing away from the door. Tony stepped in, offering a smile even though she couldn’t see it. “Hey.” He started, not surprised when she didn’t respond.

“I uhh, just wanted to-“ He paused, not wanting to be turned down immediately again, deciding to delay the subject a bit. “Uhh y/n and Peter are down in the basement. They’re watching a movie with Barnes and Wanda. You didn’t wanna join them?” He asks.

She shakes her head silently, acting annoyed and shifting in her position. Tony bites his lip for a moment before trying once again to talk to her. “I also cane to say that I’m really sorry for not being there for you. If I had known-“ He sighs deeply as he gets cut off like he does every time he brings it up, looking down at the floor as she talks. But this time, she snaps at him.

“Look! I didn’t want to come here! The only reason I came in the first place was because I promised my mom I would. I didn’t want to come here!! I begged her not to make come here, but she made me promise because she didn’t want me ending up in an orphanage or foster care. That’s it! My mom was there for me!! You weren’t.” She spat, turning back around and giving him her back. Tony stood there, shocked. It was the longest conversation they’ve had together in the 2 months she’s been here, and it was to snap at him.

“I-I know, I didn’t know she had a daughter. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I promise, if I had known, I would never-“ he paused, chocking up a little as the guilt overtakes him. “I would have been there for you.”

She rolled her eyes and looking down at the floor, her brows knitted together. “I don’t need a father.” She seethed. “I spent all the important years of my life without one. It can stay that way.” She mumbled. Tony stayed there in silence, processing her words, and slowly nodding.

“Ok.” He sighs, leaving the room and closing the door, making his way down the halls. Ruby feels a bit of guilt for a split second before anger overcoming it and he grunts, taking a seat on the chair and moping.

———

After the movie, you go to check on Tony and after looking everywhere else, you go check down in his lab and you find him there, working on a suit. As you come in and walk closer to him, you notice how distraught he looks and your heart hurts as you walk faster over to him and rest your hand on his shoulder. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Tony looks up at you, giving you a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and looks down to his work. “She uhh,,, doesn’t want me around her; at all. Says she’s lived all the important years of her life without me, so she can keep it that way.” He mumbled. You furrow your eyebrows at the fact that she would actually say that to her father. “Maybe I should just let her be. When she’s a legal adult, she’ll be allowed to leave the compound and she won’t have to see me again.” Your body jerks up a bit at the sound of Tony being close to giving up and you shake your head.

“No, don’t give up, Tony! She’s your daughter. She’s gonna be a challenge... I mean, she is your daughter after all,” you smile lightly, hoping to liven up the mood. Tony chuckles once and shrugs.

“Yeah, but... if she doesn’t want this, why should I force her.” He draws his lips in a fine line.

“Because she’s your daughter. And you have to show her that you’ll be there for her now, and that you won’t give up on her. Make her know she’s worth it to you. It’s gonna be hard, but, you can do it! You’re Iron man.” You smirk, nudging him a bit. He smirks up at you and hugs you tightly.

“My little munchkin.” He cooes, pulling apart from the hug to look at you again. “You sure you’re not gonna be jealous now since you’re gonna have to share my attention between you, Peter, and Ruby Anne?” He teased, pinching your hip causing you to giggle.

“No. She deserves all your attention right now.” You grin, patting Tony’s head affectionately. He smiled and nods, promising himself that he won’t give up.

———-

So since this chapter was a bit serious, there wasn’t really any tickle scenes, but chapter 11 will have lots of fluff so that will be out this Friday! I also have a short Steve x reader imagine that I will post next week :)

[willadisastercry]

the boys of voltron when pidge is on her period

TW: description of things to do with mestraution, reference to blood, and depiction of vomiting and passing out

SUMMARY: so basically the boys are absolutely clueless when it comes to Pidge being on her period, only some of them make the connection at times but they kind of eventually forget completely that she even gets it and allura can’t necessarily relate... good thing Pidge’s periods haven’t been particularly painful while she’s been in space, until this one is and she is not at all prepared.

{2:27 am}

Pidge woke up drenched in sweat.

“What the f...?” she mused groggily, blinking dumbly in the dark trying to figure out what was wrong until she felt it, the throbbing ache in her stomach just above her bladder that somehow spread insttantly to her lower back and made her hips feel like they were being wrenched apart.

“Ooowwh,” she groaned queasily, rolling to her side and hugging her stomach tightly.

Shit.

Pidge hadn’t had a heavy period since she’d been in space, she had been so busy with voltron, so physically active that it had lightened substantially and she almost forgot how painful they could be. It was sort of a blessing, that aspect at least.

But then the fact that she was in space at all was entirely inconvenient. No one got to pack before they became the universe’s greatest defender and the castle wasn’t necessarily toting the supplies humans needed, especially supplies specific to female humans. And they just didn’t carry pads or tampons in any Earth souvenir shops because why the fuck would they. 

So, it was awkward enough having to explain to Allura the intricacies of the female reproductive system when she found stained painties in her bin after her first offfical space period, let alone having to relay that to Coran in order for him to create sanitary products for her. Pidge would be utterly mortified if she ever had to ask him for more than the additional supply or additionally medicine to take away the horrible cramps and other unpleasant symptoms. But she hadn’t needed to yet, so she had never worried about it.

Until now. Because now she was crying from the excruciating agony of cramps after not having any for who knew how long.

Voltron had been relatively inactive doing promotions on planets they freed from the Galra, so they hadn’t been on a particularly taxing mission in weeks. Pidge had never even considered the sudden decrease in physical activity could cause her period to come back in full force. She should have considered it. She could’ve ask Coran before... she could’ve made something to...

FUCK.

She almost cried out as the onset of another wave of cramps made her stomach churn. This was bad. Her head was already pounding and her back ached dully, for the moment overshadowed by how foul her stomach and uterus felt, taking turns pulsing but both succeeding in making her want to profusely vomit up all of the green alien goop she’d had for dinner earlier.

The boys had remarked at just how much she was eating that night. Now she knew why. And now she was really regretting it.

Pidge pulled herself up to a hunch and waited a beat as the movement ran its course, a new flare of pain spreading down her back and making its way to the joints of her hips.

She needed to do something. The pain was unbearable. Everything that could hurt, did. She blinked back dots, a small whimper escaping her lips at the thought of it not ceasing anytime soon and so she got to her feet to begin making her way to the kitchen to search for something, anything before the next wave landed and she lost her resolve.

The hallway outside of her room was dark, the only light coming from a lamp in the common room. She made her way swiftly. First to the bathroom with Coran’s alien solution of a pad. Pausing only to wash her hands before trudging on. And then she could feel her stomach pulling, getting ready for another gush of pain. She walked quicker after that, despite the deep ache in her back that threatened the contents in her stomach once more.

When Pidge finally made it to the kitchen she was blinking back more dots and leaning heavily on the counter as she reached for a glass, her hands shaking holding the pitcher as she filled it. She takes a couple of sips. Her headache was splitting now.

There’s nothing in the cabinets for pain relief, there’s usually tea... some sort of herb thing. But there’s nothing, she’ll have to go to the infirmary. And then the realization that she’ll have to drag herself all the way across the ship while she felt like this made her head spin.

Like genuinely spin. Pidge couldn’t decipher why she suddenly felt so faint, she’d eaten more than enough that night, yea sure it hurt but this didn’t warrant-

And before Pidge knew it her mind had gone blank. She didn’t remember letting go of her glass or falling but suddenly the floor was rushing up to meet her face very quickly.

The floor tile of the castle was very cold against her clamy skin and it was very helpful in reviving her, so was the insessant shaking.

Pidge blinked in confusion, but the pain that followed her renewed consciousness prevented any sort of protest. She looked up to see a very worried Keith shaking her shoulders slightly.

“Pidge! What the fuck?! Are you okay?” he rambled off quickly, his eyes working her over trying to deduce what could possibly be the problem.

“Yeah...” she said sort of sadly, but before she could even consider how to start explaining she made a humph sound and lurched forward, narrowly clamping a hand over her mouth to choke back down the saliva that had welled up in her mouth, just as Lance nearly tipped himself over with how fast he had raced to discover the source of commotion.

“What the fuck was that?” he inquired surveying the strange sight, “uh, you guys having a party or something?”

Neither of them answered as Keith scrambled to shove the bowl that previously held earth veggies under Pidge’s chin and helped her sit up before she began aggressively losing the contents of her stomach.

“Holy-“

“Lance, shut up! Pidge passed out... I don’t think she’s feeling great,” Keith explained, rubbing circles on Pidge’s back, her whole body trembling while she retched.

“Oh,” Lance softened, a pang of worry apparnt in his gut when he moved closer to check her out for himself.

He then got to work sweeping the broken glass away from where his friends sat before he lowered himself down as well. When Pidge finally came up for air she reddened immediately. This was just not ideal.

“I’m-i’m done, I think,” she rested her head back against the cabinet and held her stomach.

“So... what the heck was that?” Lance asked taking the bowl away to empty it.

“Uh, nothing—”

“Bull,” Keith interrupted. Pidge wasn’t expecting that, but then again she was talking to the king of hiding injuries and ailments and feelings, especially pain.

“No! I’m fine, really—“

“Yeahhh i’m just not buying it.” 

Pidge’s heart dropped as she realized Keith wasn’t going to just let it go. Crap.

“You passed out and then almost threw up all over me, you’re not fine Pidge. You can tell us what’s wrong... it’s not like we’ll judge or anything,” Keith said gingerly and she knew he meant it. Fuck.

Am I really about to confide in these two boneheads about my period? In space?!

“You can’t laugh,” she choked as another ache stole her breath. It was looking like she would in fact have to admit she was on her period if she wanted any sort of remedy, of which she really really did.

UGH.

“We won’t, we promise,” Lance assured. She didn’t expect that either. From him at least.

“I’m on my fucking period,” she whispered almost inaudibly. Keith nodded in understanding.

“Oh! Well that explains it,” Lance breathed, “I thought you were like deathly ill or something.”

“Juries still out on that one,” Pidge grimaced, squirming as she tried to find a more comfortable position, one that didn’t put so much pressure on her hips or her stomach or her back.

“Oh, c’mon—“

“I wouldn’t finish that statement if I were you buddy,” Keith tried to hold back his laugh.

“Listen to the mullet,” Pidge warned, her death stare shutting the boy up instantly, “because only when you can handle feeling your uterus shedding its own skin without what just happened occurring can you then talk, otherwise please save it.”

Whether it was her subtle threat or the way her voice shook with her last plead, Lance did as he was told.

“So, how can we help you?” Keith offered, “I don’t feel comfortable leaving you like this, like... I mean I know you’re not traditionally sick but for all intents and purposes sure seem to be. So what can we do?”

Pidge shifted uncomfortably, unable to keep a straight face now.

“You can help me find some sort of medicine to take. Anything, literally anything. For pain, or sleep, or death, I don’t care. I’m good with whatever you can find.”

“Damn, I’m sorry Pidge. I’ve never seen you like this over your... your period before,” Lance apologized and scratched his head.

“Yeah, because it’s never been this bad,” she tried to steady her breath and shut her eyes, swaying her knees slowly from side to side because she was so freaking antsy and in such pain it was all she could to do to somewhat soothe herself.

“She look pale to you?” Pidge was barely aware of Lance hushing his worry under his breath.

“Yeah, but she’s like flushed too.”

“Hm...”

And then there was the back of a cold hand against her forehead and an exclamation of concern.

The boys looked at each other worriedly like “shit, this is bad” and then launched into a discussion on how they were going to proceed. Pidge didn’t listen to the conversation that followed, she could only focus on keeping her fist pressed against the right spot on her lower back and refraining from crying out as the pain rose and dulled and rose again.

And then Lance was nudging her, his hands out for her to take. He helped her to her feet, his hands firm on her back when she stopped to wait for the blood rush to dissipate and then guided her over to the sunken couch. Keith must’ve been asleep on it before because there was a pillow and unraveled blanket next to a curled up Kosmo.

She laid down slowly while the boys bustled around her, not having enough energy to accurately produce any theories explaining why Keith would be sleeping in here and not in his own room, saving the thought for later.

Then she was aware that the boys had gone off to wherever and she was alone with a peaceful Kosmo as another horrible pain flared up in her back and travelled to her hips.

“Fuck!” she exclaimed, unable to surpress the tears as they rolled down her face, her breath hitching now. Pidge rolled to her stomach and brought her legs under her in a sort of mock child’s pose, accidentally waking Kosmo up in the process. But to her surprise, he didn’t seem annoyed at the disturbance like he normally would’ve been, he’d stretched out in front of her and licked her face instead.

Pidge could’ve sworn he looked genuinely worried, somehow sensing that the salty wetness of her face and contorted breathing meant anguish, because he then went to comfort her. This is right about when Keith and Lance turned up with Coran and some strange alien goodies in the heat of an enlightening conversation about how a cryopod likely wouldn’t make a lick of a difference in this situation.

“Good boy,” Keith commended, petting his wolf’s head who was in a vice grip in Pidge’s arms, but he didn’t seem to mind in the least.

“Little one, I am displeased to hear of your great discomfort. If I had known these menstrautions could be accompanied by such horrible pains I would’ve something prepared sooner... but fear not, my girl, because I may very well have a few remedies that might do the trick.”

Pidge sighed and heaved herself to a sitting position, Kosmo turning himself around and nestling in her lap. The boys silently remarking at how she’d somehow looked worse than before.

Her face and eyes were blotchy and puffy from crying and her trembling was more apparent now, either from the cold of the common room or her abnormal temperature, regardless she looked like she was really going through it.

And she was because as soon as she straightened up her face fell. Keith didn’t wait even a tick before he took off barreling for the veggie bowl, vaulting over the couch just in time to once again shove the bowl under Pidge’s chin.

Kosmo whined in distress.

“My girl...” Coran lamented, fussing with the supplies they had gathered in Lance’s arms.

“Here, once you’ve calmed down try this, it’ll make you sleepy but it should ease the pain for now,” Coran had a thick blue leaf in his hands.

Pidge nodded, Keith’s hand behind her neck gripping her solidly in case she tipped over because she looked like she was about to. Her face was ashen, almost tinged green.

“I’ll get you something to wash that down with,” Lance stated and headed for the kitchen. Coran headed off somewhere too.

It took her a minute to be sure she was done but when she was she shivered and sat back, Kosmo nudging his head under her arm.

“You cold? Or just shaky?”

“Cold. I run fevers sometimes but only usually the first day and then I spew when the cramps pick up... hey look, I’m sorry to be making such a fuss so late and keep you all up for something so stup—“

“Are you kidding?” Keith seemed genuinely taken back as he draped the blanket he was using earlier around the tiny girl’s shoulders.

“Wha—don’t apologize!! You know we’d all do anything to make sure you’re okay, your Pidge! You’re like our nerdy little sister, how can we not fuss over you?” Lance said when he returned with a little laugh. Pidge managed a smile while she gnawed on the oddly textured leaf, gulping it down quickly with the water Lance brought.

“And I was up anyway,” Keith started “I couldn’t sleep so I came out to hang with Kosmo. I was surprised you didn’t yell at me for being awake when you first came in. And then I heard the glass break followed by a sloid thud, so naturally I needed to see if ya know you were alive.”

They all laughed at that. Pidge let out a big yawn.

“I forgot you even get your period, Pidge. You never let on that you’re in pain, like ever. That’s freaky, that’s like a superpower holy--”

“I’ve got just what you need, my girl!” Coran beamed, effectively shutting down Lance’s tangent.

Coran presented Pidge with a blanket.

“Uhh, thanks?” she took it from him and rubbed at her eyes.

He then held up a remote and pressed a button. The blanket started to glow, it was getting warm.

“Oh, yes! You’re the best, Coran.” 

Pidge gave Keith’s blanket back and wrapped Coran’s around her middle, Kosmo seemed to like it to because he nuzzled into it and pawed at her for more of it to cover him.

“I don’t get it, if she’s feverish isn’t she gonna over heat?” Keith asked, more confused than anything, and maybe a little sad that his blanket was rejected.

“From what Allura has told me, heat sometimes soothes the cramps associated with a female human’s menstruation! It is quite fascinating, but it makes perfect sense, you see the release of the hormone prostaglandin is a hypothermic process so--”

“Okay, spare us and our simple minds. Anyway let’s be quieter, I think she’s finally asleep,” Lance pointed to a very peaceful Pidge curled up in her new blanket with Kosmo, her mouth hung open and steadily blowing on a tuft of hair with each breath.

“I think it’s time for you boys to retire as well,” Coran suggested, settling down at the other end of the couch, “I’m sure our Pidgeon has greatly appreciated all of your assistance, but you both need to rest, I can watch over her from here.”

Keith and Lance shared a look.

“What’s the harm is staying with her a bit longer, just to make sure she doesn’t get sick again or anything, ya know?” Keith postured.

“Yeah, I don’t see anything wrong with staying just a little while longer,” Lance said stretching out at Pidge’s feet, she was nestled in the corner of the couch, so Keith took to the other part of the couch by Kosmo and rubbed his nose.

And within no time the two boneheads were out. Lance’s head resting on Pidge’s leg as a pillow, limbs strewn all about, snoring like an old man. While Keith was cacooned himself in his own blanket all but his arm because it was trapped under both Pidge and Kosmo.

This was the scene that Allura walked into early that morning. She was very confused to say the least.

[solarune]

so this is love

pairing: na jaemin x fem!reader, (implied) lee jeno x na jaemin

genre: cinderella au, sort of but not really a greek mythology au (the fairy godmother is based off of both the character in the movie/fairytale as well as calypso), fluff, angst

warnings: very vague allusions to abuse (family treats jaemin horribly like in the fairytale, that’s it), unrequited love, uh angst lol

word count: 12,978

summary: as the years go by and you watch jaemin grow up, you begin to forget what your job as his fairy godmother really is: to help him find true happiness.

a/n: this is my first time ever writing a fic this long and i’m honestly very proud of myself. i didn’t think it would be as long as it is but here we are. shoutout to my girl kelly @mingyoongles​ for editing this monstrosity for me ily. this took me so long so i really hope you enjoy it!

You feel a tear slip down your cheek as you fade from view, Jaehyun’s eyes opening just as you vanish from your spot in front of him—along with your spot in his memories. You hear a woman call out his name, feeling your heart pang in your chest when you see the wide smile that instantly appears on his face at the sight of her. She takes his hand in hers and they continue to walk down the busy street, their figures disappearing amongst the crowd in a second.

You hear Jaehyun’s laughter clear as day. The sound makes you smile but causes your heart to break at the same moment. Another person that you’re destined to help and fall in love with but not destined to be loved by in return. You rub at the tattoo of a dolphin on your wrist, wondering again why the Fates had made you a descendent of Calypso and thereby cursed to be unloved forever. 

The world around you becomes blurry as you’re transported somewhere else, only having a few moments to take a deep, shuddering breath in an attempt to calm down before you materialize in a large bedroom. You see women gathered around a bed and a man kneeling at the head of the bed, clutching what must be his wife’s hand. Your eyes move to his wife just as she opens her mouth and an ear-piercing scream is the first thing that welcomes you to your new assignment.

The first time you meet Jaemin is when he’s exiting the womb.

“One last push, miss, you’re almost there,” a midwife encourages the woman as she grabs a blanket from another midwife beside her, the mother groaning in response as she goes through the last few grueling minutes of labor.

You watch as the child is welcomed into the world, thick hair already sitting atop its head as it cries loudly and flails its arms around. Nurses bustle around the mother as they attempt to clean her up, but the mother only has eyes for her child, immediately reaching her arms out as the midwife walks up to her. She places the child into her arms and the father rushes to her side, the two of them staring down at their beautiful baby. Her hair is matted to her forehead, skin pale, and breathing still shallow from the amount of strain she put in, but her eyes seemed to hold all of the love in the world. “Hello Jaemin,” she whispers as she kisses her baby’s head, her eyes closing as she holds him tighter to her.

The first time you formally meet Jaemin, he’s 4 years old.

Jaemin’s laugh can be heard echoing through the garden as he chases a butterfly around, a wide smile on his face as he clenches and unclenches his chubby hands into fists. You’re seated up on the branches of a tree in the farthest corner of the garden, your legs swinging as a breeze ruffles your blue robe. Jaemin’s parents had left to go out into the town a few minutes ago and had left him under the care of one of their maids. Usually you would never take it upon yourself to babysit him, but something in you told you to keep a close eye on him, and you had learned to trust your gut in the 4 years that you’ve been here.

Never before had you been assigned as someone’s fairy godmother and been forced to watch them grow up. You had always come into their lives at the time that they most needed it, your job being to help them find true happiness. But Jaemin was just born when you had come into his life, so what was there for him to truly need? So for 4 years you kept yourself hidden, watching his mother and father raise him in the estate that you’ve now come to call home (not like they knew though). You had been there during his first steps, his first words, his first snowfall, his first everything—you had been there for it all, invisible but always close at hand.

You’re drawn out of your thoughts by a dull thump, looking down at Jaemin and smiling when you see him playing with the ball that his father had given to him just last week. He’s throwing the ball around as he animatedly talks to his imaginary friend, Joonyoung, encouraging him to catch the ball as he throws it higher and higher. Jaemin runs closer to the tree that you’re perched on and you can’t help but laugh at how excited he is. That is, until he throws the ball far too high and it ends up getting stuck between the branches right below your feet. You watch the panic flit across his face as he gazes up at the tall tree in front of him, his whole body spinning around as he searches for anyone to help him retrieve his ball. Slowly, the young boy turns back around to gaze sadly at the ball, his lower lip quivering at the fact that there was nothing he could do. 

You feel your heart ache as you watch the first few tears roll down his cheeks and you can’t resist standing up on the branch to help him. You pull your wand out to get rid of the invisibility spell and help you float down to the ground, your feet touching the grass as you think, I’m gonna have to introduce myself eventually. Jaemin watches you with wide eyes as you land in front of him, not even taking notice of his ball as he goes from staring at your face to your blue robe to the white wand in your hand.

“Hello,” you greet him softly, a wide smile on your face as you hold out the ball to him. “Is this yours?” Jaemin nods, slowly taking the ball from your hands as he continues to stare at you in awe. “My name is (Y/N). What’s yours?”

“Jaemin,” he whispers shyly, his ears turning red as he fidgets with his toy.

“Well Jaemin, you should be more careful with your toys,” you gently reprimand him, walking forward to spin him around and urge him back to where he was playing before. “You don’t want to lose them, do you?” The boy walks forward without question but turns around when he doesn’t hear you following him. When he looks back, his eyebrows furrow because you’re nowhere to be found. He glances around the garden, even looking up at the branches of the tree for good measure, but Jaemin can’t seem to find the nice lady that gave him his ball back.

“Jaemin, it’s time to come inside! Your mother and father are home!” one of the maids calls from inside. You watch from your spot against the tree as he runs back inside the estate, shouting excitedly for his parents while the ball lies forgotten in the middle of the garden.

The next time you meet Jaemin, he’s 7. And this time, he realizes you aren’t just a dream.

After the fateful first encounter, Jaemin had convinced himself that it hadn’t actually happened.

Fairy godmothers aren’t real and he definitely knows that magic doesn’t exist, so whoever that woman in the blue robe was was just a figment of his imagination. So his life continues as normal; his parents continue to dote on him the way that loving parents do, he makes friends with the other kids in the town, picks up gardening as a hobby and starts doing it with his mother, and he creates his own little hideout in the tree in the farthest corner of the garden (the same spot that you were sitting in 3 years ago, unbeknownst to him).

Every Saturday, Jaemin and his mother go out into the town’s square to walk through the market. And today, much to Jaemin’s excitement, is Saturday. The sky is bright blue, the birds are chirping, and Jaemin takes a deep breath as he steps out of the estate holding his mother’s hand. You take a deep breath at the same time as him, savoring the sweet smell of the first day of spring. The sun feels delightfully warm on your skin and your magic feels stronger, your senses heightened due to the spring equinox, allowing you to detect even the slightest shift in the magic flowing through the earth. During every solstice and every equinox, your magic is at its peak and you can’t help but be excited every time it happens. You’re not particularly sure why this happens, nobody had ever explained it to you, but it just felt good to know just how connected you are with the earth below you.

You trail behind Jaemin and his mother as they walk to the market, the boy animatedly telling his mother about the squirrel that sat next to him yesterday in the garden. He’s waving his arms every which way, his eyes sparkling while the smile never leaves his face, and in that moment, you can see the uncanny resemblance between mother and son as she smiles down at him.

As his mother looks through a stall’s vegetables, a group of kids calls out to Jaemin, asking him to play with them. The boy turns to his mother, barely opening his mouth before she urges him forward with a, “Go play with your friends, darling. Just don’t be home too late.” He parts from her with a tight hug, a wide smile on his face as he runs towards his friends, the group of boys getting lost in the bustling crowd as you simply stand and watch. You decide to leave Jaemin be for now, allowing yourself some alone time as you wander the streets and browse through the various things that people are selling.

When the sun is at its highest point in the sky, the day finds you in the town square, sitting on the edge of a fountain as you bite into an apple. You tilt your face upwards as you chew, closing your eyes to let all of the sounds and smells wash over you. The beginnings of drowsiness begin to creep up on your body, but when you hear the loud voices of a group of boys, your ears perk up, eyes opening to see what all the commotion is about.

“I can’t believe Jaemin would really just leave us like that, we were in the middle of a game!” a dark-haired boy, whose name you think is Hyunjin, exclaims.

The 3 other boys with him shrug their shoulders, one of them saying, “Maybe his mother wanted him home early. 

You jump up from your seat on the fountain, the apple in your hand falling to the ground as you pull out your wand from your sleeve. Jaemin always came back home by going through the town square because he loved to stop by the bakery to get something sweet to eat. You hadn’t sensed him near you or seen him walk by and you feel your stomach tighten at your worry. Trusting your gut, you wave your wand to transport yourself to wherever Jaemin is.

Leaves crunch underneath your feet when you materialize, the air around you a bit cooler due to the shade that was provided by the forest that you suddenly find yourself in. You can sense Jaemin near you and follow your gut once more, stumbling upon a small clearing and seeing him sitting on a tree stump in the middle. A small, white daisy is pinched between his thumb and forefinger, the boy subconsciously twirling it as he looks around him. Feeling a sense of déjà vu, you rid yourself of the invisibility spell and slowly walk towards the boy, a soft smile appearing on your face when his head whips towards you and the two of you make eye contact.

At your appearance, Jaemin’s eyes widen and you can practically hear the gears turning in his head. You can’t help but smile wider at his expression, stopping halfway between the edge of the clearing and where Jaemin is seated. “Hello, Jaemin,” you greet him. “Are you lost?”

Jaemin’s mouth opens and closes for a few seconds, the boy at a loss for words as he stares at you with a mix of shock and wariness. “I-It’s you,” he whispers hoarsely. He clears his throat and continues, “You were the woman in the tree. From before.”

You nod at his words with your hands clasped loosely in front of you, the breeze ruffling your robe around your ankles. “I’m not just a dream like you told yourself,” you chuckle, taking a few steps closer when you see his body relax, though you notice a flush creeping up his neck from your words. “I’m-“

“My fairy godmother.” You look at Jaemin in surprise, the boy flushing an even darker red when he realizes that he interrupted you. You continue walking towards him as he continues talking. “Sorry. But that’s who you are, right? (Y/N), my fairy godmother? My mother would always tell me stories about them when I was younger, but I never really believed her. You’re really real?”

“As real as the trees around us,” you respond, patting the tree stump that he’s sitting on to emphasize your point. “I’ve been watching over you ever since you were born.” Albeit a bit unwillingly, you think to yourself, but he doesn’t have to know that. He scoots over and you sit beside him, looking up at him with a small smile. Whatever it takes to get Jaemin to trust you, right? You are the one responsible for helping him find true happiness after all. You take the white flower from his hand and place it in his hair, and you’re reminded of when Taeyong would do that to you. You spent every day in that florist’s shop, and every day he would place a flower in your hair and your cheeks would turn as red as a tomato, just like Jaemin’s are doing right now. Your chest tightens as you remember Taeyong, but you shake the memories away in favor of staying in the moment. You can’t afford to get distracted right now. 

Jaemin continues to stare at you in awe and you can feel your cheeks heat up a bit at all of the attention. “So,” you say after clearing your throat, wanting to keep the conversation going to fill up the awkward silence. “How about we get out of here, hm?”

Jaemin is only 10 years old when his mother dies.

Standing invisible next to the boy as he holds her hand, you can’t help but shed a few tears for the woman who has strangely come to feel like family to you. She was the spot of sunshine in Jaemin’s life; he would greet her with a bone-crushing hug and sloppy kiss when she came home and would hold her hand every chance he got. His mother meant absolutely everything to him, and you would feel your heart swell at how happy the two would look together. And now their time together, as short as it was in the grand scheme of things, is coming to an end.

You place a hand on Jaemin’s shoulder, the boy barely acknowledging the invisible touch that he knows is from you as your thumb rubs circles into the fabric of his shirt in an attempt to soothe him. You can practically hear his heart break when his mother gives him a weak smile, the sorrow in her eyes telling you that she knows that she only has a few moments left with her son. Her hand shakes as she reaches out to place something in his hand. There’s a flash of gold and then it’s gone, Jaemin’s mother curling his fingers over the object as tears slide down both of their cheeks.

“We’ll meet again soon, I promise,” she rasps out, wiping away her son’s tears as he looks on with a pained expression. “But until that day comes, just know that I will always be with you. And should you need a reminder, you can always open that.”

Jaemin looks down at his hand and opens it, his breath catching in his throat when he sees his mother’s gold locket in his hand—the same locket that his father had given to her for their first wedding anniversary. With her encouragement, he opens it to reveal a piece of paper with the words I love you in her handwriting. 

That same night, Jaemin’s mother dies and the note in the locket has an additional line: I miss you.

At the age of 12, Jaemin’s father tells his son that he’s met someone.

“Is she nice?” is definitely not what he or you expect Jaemin’s initial reaction to be. But then again, he is his wife’s son. Jaemin knew that one day, his father would move on and so would he, and so he accepted the fact that their small family would grow again some day. 

His father tells him that she’s a widow with 2 sons, both of them the same age as him. She had married into nobility but when her husband died of a heart attack, she suddenly stopped receiving financial support from her family. Jaemin feels his heart sink at that; family is family, no matter what. Who could be so cruel as to cut off their loved ones completely like that? Unlike Jaemin, you’re a bit wary of this stranger and her 2 children who are suddenly coming into Jaemin’s life, having felt more and more protective of him as the years went by and especially after his mother died. But for his benefit, you decide to remain positive; after all, he had been raised as an only child for so long, so it would be good for him to finally have company in the large estate.

Days turn into weeks which turn into months, and one year later, you find yourself watching Jaemin lug the last of his stepmother’s trunks into the foyer. You try to keep a scowl off your face as he does so, your distaste in the new members of his family already having been discussed with him previously. You had tried to tell him that they aren’t who they say they are, that you had seen her sons stealing in the marketplace while she turns a blind eye, had seen his stepmother flirting with the widowed butcher for some extra meat, and had seen those boys ruining his mother’s flower garden in the front yard by running through it. But he didn’t listen, always coming up with excuses for them: “You must have been mistaken, the marketplace is always busy so it could’ve been anyone!”, “Perhaps she was just being nice, did you even hear their conversation?”, “The soil needed to be turned anyways, so if anything, they helped!”

The last excuse had surprised you, probably even himself as well, because you had seen a flash of hurt cross Jaemin’s face when you mentioned the flowers. Gardening was something he only ever did with his mother, always offering to carry the bags of soil or the heaviest flower pots. The two would work tirelessly to create the most beautiful plots, their clothes soaked-through with sweat and Jaemin’s entire body covered in dirt by the time they were done.You had hoped that he would get back into it after a while, but after seeing him burst into tears whenever he tried, you suppose it’s better that he stopped.

He looks over at Donghyuck and Renjun (his new brothers, he reminds himself) lounging around in the living room, brushing it off when he sees them throwing a ball back and forth—they were probably tired from all of the packing and the journey to their new house. Meanwhile, you’re narrowing your eyes at the two boys because something is telling you that their exhaustion is just an act.

“That’s the last of them, stepmother,” Jaemin says cheerily as he turns to the woman in question. She gets up from where she was sitting on the grand staircase, warm smile on her face as she approaches him. Your eyes follow her figure as you sit on the railing of the stairs, legs swinging in tandem with the swish of her hips.

“Thank you very much for your help, Jaemin,” she says while pulling him into a one-armed hug, the other preoccupied with holding her rather mean-looking cat. “We’re all very tired from the move, as you can imagine. Even poor Woong-ie is exhausted.” She holds up the cat in front of Jaemin’s face and he reaches out to pet him, but jumps back when the feline hisses and tries to scratch him.

“I don’t think he likes me very much,” Jaemin says sheepishly, glancing at the cat once more and shocked to find it glaring at him. You shoot daggers at the animal, smirking when you see its fur beginning to stand; even though it can’t see you, it can still sense you.

Just then, Jaemin’s father comes down from upstairs, announcing, “Your mother and I are going out tonight so that you boys can get to know one another without the adults around.” He smiles at his son, ruffling his hair as his new wife links arms with him. “We won’t be home late. Be good.”

“Always,” Jaemin replies after giggling and pushing his father’s hand away. He closes the door behind his parents before entering the living room. “So what do you guys want to do first?”

“Jaemin, Renjun and I are very tired,” Donghyuck sighs as he catches the ball that his brother throws to him without even looking, you rolling your eyes at how dramatic the boy sounds. “Would you mind taking our things up to our rooms? We can get to know one another after. 

“Of course!” Jaemin exclaims, and you could tell that he was mentally berating himself for asking his brothers to play when he already knew how tired they were (though he didn’t actually know, much to your disdain).

He picks up two of the trunks and begins his trek up the stairs, eyes widening and head shaking back and forth frantically when you materialize. The trunks float out of his hands and up the stairs and Jaemin has to stop himself from squeaking, scrambling up the stairs and grabbing them before his brothers could see. “(Y/N), have you gone mad?” he hisses at you as he takes the stairs two at a time. “What if they suddenly come out and see you?” 

With a sigh, you slip your wand back into your sleeve, quietly lowering the remaining suitcases back on to the ground before he could notice. “Jaemin, you’re tired too,” you chastise him as you follow him to their bedrooms. “You already carried all of their things into the house, I don’t see why they can’t take their things up to their rooms.”

Jaemin waves off your grumbling, bounding down the stairs to grab another two trunks. “I need the exercise anyways,” he says with a wide smile. “I haven’t been getting as much since I stopped gardening.”

Your shoulders sag when he says that, eyes following him wordlessly as he continues. He lugs the six trunks to their respective rooms after denying your help, and you wonder just how much stuff they own as he makes his way down the stairs once the last one was placed in Renjun’s room. He stands in front of the stairs with his hands on his hips, panting from the effort as he looks around at the finally empty foyer. With a satisfied sigh, he makes his way back towards the living room, almost tripping over Woong in the process, only to find his brothers gone and the front door ajar.

Another year passes, and Jaemin faces nothing but open doors and empty rooms; nothing has changed. Jaemin is still kind as ever to his stepmother and siblings, blissfully unaware at the fact that he’s constantly being taken advantage of. His father doesn’t take notice of these things because he spends almost all of his time at work now to make ends meet for his 2 new sons, wanting nothing more than to eat dinner and go to bed when he comes home. But then all of a sudden, everything changes.

At the age of 14, Jaemin’s father dies. And you are the only person that Jaemin has left.

At the sound of the first bell chime, you appear in Jaemin’s room perched on the windowsill, the sun warm on your back. At the third bell chime, you sigh because you know you’re going to have to force him out of bed again. At the final seventh bell chime, you wave your hand and the blankets are ripped off of him, the boy groaning the second his body is exposed to the chilly morning air. You watch in amusement as he blindly fumbles around for the blanket, huffing out a laugh when he sits up to glare at you with his hair sticking up in different directions. “Can’t you just let me sleep in for once? It’s been 5 years, I deserve at least 10 more minutes.” He squints against the morning sunlight, hands coming up and running through his hair in an attempt to flatten it down.

The way his hair is sticking up and his tired grumbling remind you of Jaehyun and how difficult it was to get him up in the mornings, but you quickly push those memories down. Jaehyun was the past, you have to focus on Jaemin now. No use in thinking about what could’ve been with him; what could’ve been with any of them had you not been cursed. “Excuse me, I seem to recall that you are the one that asked me to wake you up every day if you weren’t up by the seventh bell,” you retort, flicking your wrist so that the blanket is thrown in his face. “I’m just doing what you told me to.” 

“Yeah well, maybe the reason I’m not truly happy yet is because I have to wake up so early,” Jaemin jokes, his natural good mood already starting to appear. “Let me wash up and then I’ll get started.”

You nod at that, leaving his room in the tower quietly to allow him to get ready for the day. At this early in the morning, you knew that no one else would be awake so you take the time to walk through the deteriorating estate. With a wave of your wand, the windows, curtains, and carpet in the corridor are cleaned, the remaining bits of lingering magic leaving a soapy scent in the air. You try not to interfere with Jaemin’s chores too much, per his request, but sometimes you just can’t help yourself. You stop in front of a large portrait of his father and sigh, your mind wandering back to the early days of Jaemin’s father’s death.

You remember how absolutely heartbroken he was to go through the death of his other parent, knowing that although he still had a family, his true family was gone. But just as always, he pushed through. He did everything he could to help around the house, and as money continuously got tight, more and more of the staff left until it was just Jaemin. And you knew the truth; you knew that his stepmother and step-brothers were just squirreling it away for themselves, only providing the bare minimum to put food on the table and to buy new clothes. You knew the truth and you told him, but Jaemin refused to let that stop him because if he did, who would do all of the work that needed to get done? So for the past 5 years, Jaemin has essentially been a servant for his family, cooking and cleaning and taking care of the animals in his family’s huge estate because there’s no one else. And you have hated every minute of it.

“(Y/N), what did I tell you about doing my chores for me,” Jaemin chastises you, stopping to stare at the portrait of his father next to you with a smile on his face. 

“It was just the corridor this time, I didn’t do anything else,” you huff as you cross your arms, your heart jumping in your chest when you look up to see Jaemin smiling down at you. Out of all of the people you’ve been sent to help, Jaemin is definitely your favorite. With a heart of gold, bright smile, and sparkling eyes, it’s hard not to fall in love with him. 

For the rest of the day, you follow Jaemin around as he does his various tasks around the house, talking to him and keeping him company while you watch. You don’t even bother to try to help him secretly because you know he’ll just end up catching you anyways (he somehow always knows, and part of you wonders if he’s able to detect magic). A drop of sweat slides down the side of his face as he scatters food along the ground for the chickens and you walk over with a towel to wipe it away. He smiles at you gratefully and you falter, the towel lingering against his face as you stare up at him. He’s certainly not the same quiet little 4 year old that got his ball stuck in a tree, you think to yourself as you appreciate the angles of his face, face flushing as the two of you continue to stare at each other. Jaemin opens his mouth to say something and you can feel yourself leaning closer to him, but the moment is interrupted by the ringing of 3 bells. 

“Jaemin!” 3 voices yell simultaneously, and you sigh as Jaemin rushes inside, scrambling to balance the 3 trays in his hands to bring to his family for their morning tea.

“Open in the name of the King!” a gruff voice yells from outside following 3 loud knocks. Your back straightens as Jaemin scrambles to get up from where he was sat on the floor, rag and bucket of soapy water abandoned as he opens the door. He reveals a man dressed in uniform, various medals decorating his chest as he exclaims, “An urgent message from His Imperial Majesty!” He pulls out an envelope from inside his jacket and hands it to Jaemin, bowing deeply while the boy stutters out his thanks, and Jaemin watches as he scurries back into his carriage, presumably to deliver more letters.

You stand on your toes to try to peer at the letter from behind him, calves straining as you struggle you get higher. You don’t notice the way you’re leaning on him and holding on to his arm for a better look until your eyes flick up and are staring directly into his. You almost choke at the close proximity and immediately take a small step back, tucking your hair behind your ear as you keep your eyes on the envelope in his hands. The curse, you remind yourself. Remember the curse. But it’s no use; you love him, there’s no denying that. “W-What does it say?” you stutter, a frown appearing on your face when Jaemin suddenly turns and begins to make his way upstairs. “Where are you going?”

He stops on the stairs to smile at you, waiting for you to catch up as he runs his thumb over the ink on the envelope. “You know that stepmother will have my head on a plate if I dared to open this before her.” He shakes his head at you before continuing up the stairs, the strumming of a guitar becoming clearer as you walked. “Besides, I think it’s time for their music lesson to have a break, don’t you think?” You laugh at that, Renjun’s incorrect guitar chords and Donghyuck’s unstable vocals making the both of you wince as you get closer to the study. 

At the sound of Jaemin’s knock, Donghyuck stops singing and you hear the bang of piano keys before his mother lets out a sharp, “Yes?”

Jaemin opens the door slowly, face sheepish as his gaze meets the smug ones of his siblings. “I’m sorry to interrupt-“

“Then you shouldn’t have in the first place,” Donghyuck sneers, he and Renjun laughing to themselves as their mother shushes them with a smile on her face.

“B-But this letter just arrived from the palace,” Jaemin stutters out, and you swear that you could hear his heart racing in his chest from Donghyuck’s teasing. Your hands tighten into fists at your side but you urge yourself to calm down, knowing that there’s unfortunately nothing you can do.

“From the palace?” Renjun repeats, him and his brother rushing over to rip the letter from Jaemin’s hands. “Give it to me!” He and his brother fight over who gets to open the envelope, their mother grabbing it from the both of them before they could ruin it.

“Boys, calm yourselves,” she scolds them softly, the both of them rolling their eyes before urging her to read it. “There’s to be a ball,” she gasps, looking up at her sons with wide eyes. 

“A ball?” they repeat, equally as shocked.

“In honor of Her Highness, the princess,” their mother continues.

“The princess?” the boys repeat once again. You’re starting to wonder if this family has more than 3 collective brain cells, 2 of which belong to their mother.

“And,” she finishes, pausing for what you guess is dramatic effect. “By royal command, every eligible gentleman is to attend.”

“That’s us!” Renjun exclaims, grasping his brother’s shoulder tightly as he looks at him excitedly.

“And I am much more than eligible,” Donghyuck smirks, a hand coming up to run through his hair to sweep it back.

“That means I can go too!” Jaemin gasps as he steps forward to glance at the letter. He steps back when his family looks up at him, and you take a protective stance in front of him, invisibly glaring at his step-siblings as they laugh at him. “Why are you laughing? I’m still part of the family. And besides, it said ‘by royal command, every eligible gentleman is to attend’. I have to go!”

“Just imagine you dancing with the princess?” Renjun guffaws, he and his brother falling over each other from how hard they were laughing. “Oh, I would be honored, Your Highness! And might I say that my dish rag goes very well with your dress!” The two of them dance in a circle to mock Jaemin even more, Jaemin’s shoulders sagging at their words.

“The dirt underneath the princess’s shoes is worth more than the dirt on your face,” Donghyuck sneers, letting out a laugh when Jaemin subconsciously rubs at his cheek. “Face it, Jaemin, you’re just going to embarrass us.”

“Boys, that’s enough,” their mother finally says, effectively quieting them. “Now I see no reason for Jaemin to not attend the ball as well.” Jaemin’s eyes, as well as yours, widen at her words; where had this sudden change of heart come from? “That is,” she says, turning her eyes directly on him and raising an eyebrow. “If you get your chores done. And of course, if you’re able to find something suitable to wear.”

Jaemin reveals his outfit to you with a flourish, grinning from ear to ear as he holds it in front of his body and admires himself in the mirror. “It was my father’s,” Jaemin says softly. “He outgrew it and knew that I would grow into it. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

You will admit, it is quite beautiful. The jacket and vest are a deep red color with gold trimming and gold vines around the wrist and upper chest area. There are gold buttons on each side of the opening, and the back is longer than the front. The pants had a similar design with the vines running down the side of the legs. But you just couldn’t get over the number of ruffles and dangly bits around every single edge of clothing possible. “It is beautiful,” you agree. “But perhaps a bit… Outdated.”

He chuckles softly at that, looking down at the floor before looking back up at you. “The ruffles and things are a bit much, aren’t they?” he asks, wrinkling his nose in response to you wrinkling your own and nodding. “Well that’s no matter. I’ve actually been planning out how I want to fix this up for a few years now.” He crouches down and begins searching for something at the bottom of his wardrobe, his voice muffled as he continues, “I drew it out in the back of an old design book that mother had… If only I could find it…” Just before Jaemin can begin his search in the very back of his closet, the shrill shriek of his stepmother’s voice calling for him makes him jump. He lets out a sigh as he stands up, squeezing his eyes shut as you brush the dust out of his hair. He smiles at you gratefully and then runs towards the door, casting one more glance back at you and his father’s suit before running down the stairs.

“He’s never going to be able to fix this if that wench keeps calling him down for useless chores,” you mutter to yourself, rubbing the fabric of the sleeve between your thumb and forefinger as you get lost in thought. You know that Jaemin’s stepmother has every intention of keeping him busy until the ball, but maybe…

Your posture straightens when Donghyuck’s voice floats up from downstairs, complaining about his black trousers having a stain on them and “how am I supposed to marry the princess with a stain on my trousers, mother?” The gears in your brain begin to turn when Renjun’s voice immediately follows with a “I’ve had this shirt for nearly two years now, I have nothing new to wear!” After a slam and a thud, you’re bounding down the tower stairs so fast that it feels as if the winds of Zephyr himself were carrying you down. Lying on the floor of the foyer is a pile of clothes deemed unworthy by Renjun and Donghyuck’s standards but considered a luxury in Jaemin’s eyes. You pick out the pants with the stain and Renjun’s “old” shirt, rifling through the pile for anything else that could be of use. You hear a door open behind you and immediately turn around, the breath that you had unknowingly been holding exiting your mouth in a soft sigh when you see that it’s just Woong. The feline regards you with narrowed eyes and lets out a hiss at your presence, scurrying out of the room when you narrow your eyes in response.

“Evil cat,” you mumble, gaze still following him as he enters a different room in the house. You gather your things and make your way back up to Jaemin’s room, careful to turn yourself invisible this time in case any of his family was walking around. Once you’re back in his room, you lay out the pants on his bed and place the jacket and shirt beside it. You pull out your wand from your sleeve and get to work, the tip glowing a bright orange as you drag it along the edges of the jacket to remove the fringe and ruffles. It changes to a bright blue color when you move to the dirty clothes and tap your wand on the stains, watching with a satisfied smile as they disappear. You get rid of the design on the buttons of the jacket and vest so that they’re a plain gold and get Jaemin’s nicest pair of shoes from his closet to place them on the floor. With a wave of your hand, the outfit is hung up against the door of the wardrobe and hidden away, waiting to be revealed once Jaemin comes back.

You fall asleep on Jaemin’s bed while waiting for him to finish his chores, your dreams filled with the people that you’ve fallen in love with while helping them find their true happiness. You dream about Jaehyun and his bride-to-be, Sooyoung and her husband in her newly opened bakery, Taeyong and the first time he sets eyes on his lover in his flower shop. Your memories swirl around you in a haze of heartbreak and reluctance, the anger that you feel towards the gods only temporary because you know that no matter what you do, nothing will convince them to lift the curse of Calypso. Jaemin materializes in front of you and you reach out to him, your fingers just brushing against his when he disappears, only to reappear a few feet away from you, smiling at a figure next to him. You can’t make out any features but even in your dream state, you know what this means. His true happiness will reveal itself to him soon.

Your eyes flutter open just as Jaemin’s bedroom door opens, his shoulders slumped as he drags his feet towards the window. “You’re back,” you croak, voice thick with sleep. Jaemin merely hums in response, gaze refusing to leave the night sky above him. You feel sad as you look at him, the feelings from your dream still lingering, but you can feel something else; his own sadness as he looks up at the stars. “What are you doing? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the ball?”

Jaemin turns around to reveal his sad smile to you, fingers drumming against the wooden window frame as he shakes his head at you. “My chores took a lot longer than I thought,” he shrugs, and you can tell that he’s trying his best to not look too upset. “Stepmother, Hyuck, and Renjun will be leaving soon and I don’t have enough time to fix father’s suit.”

“About that…” you trail off as you suppress the smile threatening to appear on your face. You wave your wand to open his wardrobe door, revealing to him his outfit of the night. “Ta-da!”

“(Y/N), you… You did this for me?” Jaemin asks in awe, one hand coming up to touch the jacket but withdrawing a second later, as if the clothing would disappear if he were to touch it.

“No, I actually made this for me to wear,” you tease him as you get up from the bed. “Of course I did it for you, silly. Now hurry up and put it on, the carriage will be here soon.”

You and Jaemin run down the grand staircase just as his family is beginning to head out the door, Jaemin’s shouts of “Wait! Wait for me!” stopping them in their tracks. Renjun’s and Donghyuck’s jaws drop as he runs up to them, his hands smoothing over the jacket as he beams at them. “Isn’t it stunning? Do you like it?” At his words, his stepbrothers immediately begin to protest to their mother, and you can’t help but smirk at them invisibly from behind Jaemin.

“Boys, that’s enough,” their mother scolds them, stepping forward towards Jaemin while her sons pout from behind her. “The pants suit you well, Jaemin. Don’t you agree, Hyuckie?” She turns to raise an eyebrow at him as she pinches at the fabric, and you feel yourself stiffen at her question.

“I guess,” Donghyuck replies with dismissive wave, eyes widening when he sees what his mother wants him to see. “Wait, those are my pants! Take them off!” He runs forward and grabs at the waist of Jaemin’s pants, tugging on the fabric harshly while demanding that he take them off.

“And that shirt, that’s my shirt!” Renjun shrieks, running forward to rip Jaemin’s jacket off to get at his shirt.

Jaemin’s protests are drowned out by their shrieks, their hands fluttering around him as they pinch and pull at his outfit until all that’s left is shreds of clothing, his father’s jacket lying torn at his feet. Your eyes don’t know where to look as they flick from Jaemin to his step-brothers to his stepmother. You see Jaemin’s resolve cracking with each hand they lay on him, the irritation and power radiating off of Donghyuck and Renjun as they tear their brother down, and the satisfaction and smugness in the form of a smirk and raised eyebrows on Jaemin’s stepmother. All of this is happening and you can’t do anything but watch, forced to keep yourself hidden from his family rather than stepping in to protect the boy you’ve come to love.

“Boys, boys!” their mother yells, her voice making all of you freeze in place and immediately getting her sons to stop and return to her side. “That’s quite enough. Let’s go, the carriage is waiting.” The three of them make their way towards the front door looking very satisfied with themselves, and all you and Jaemin can do is watch as they get farther away. “Goodnight,” she says with a smile before shutting the door with a dull thud. And that’s when it all comes crashing down.

You turn to Jaemin with wide eyes, your hands shaking with rage when you see him beginning to tremble. “Jaemin,” you say, unsure of what you could possibly say to make him feel better in this situation. He lets out a pained sob and you feel your heart break at just how sad he sounds. “Jaemin, I-” 

Before you can get any closer, he runs. And you let him run past you, allowing him a few moments to himself before beginning your search. You let the sound of his cries guide you to him, gaze softening when you see him at the tree in the corner of the garden. His head is buried in his arms as he sobs on a stone bench, and you’re able to make out a faint “It’s not fair,” as you approach him. You sit on the bench beside his head, your hand coming up to stroke his hair as he continues to cry. “It’s not fair, (Y/N), it just isn’t fair,” he cries, his emotions so strong that they cause your own tears to form. “I’ve tried so hard for so long to believe. Believe that you could help me, believe that I could help myself. But maybe this is just how it’s going to be. Maybe this is where I’m meant to be.”

As he continues to cry beside you, an aura of magic begins to glow around the two of you. It becomes brighter and brighter and the raw power that it exudes becomes stronger and stronger, and you know that your time with Jaemin is coming to an end soon. “Don’t be ridiculous,” you chide. “Everyone deserves to be happy, especially you.” You push his hair away from his face and coax him to look up at you, wiping at his tear-stained cheeks as you smile down at him. “It’s time, Jaemin. It’s time for you to find your true happiness.” You pull him with you as you stand up, giving him your widest smile as you try to hide just how bittersweet this really is for you. “You’re going to Princess Chaeyoung’s ball tonight, I’m making sure of it.”

“But how?” he sniffles, hands squeezing yours as his eyes water once more. “Father’s suit is ruined and I have no way of getting to the palace.”

“Have you forgotten who I am?” you tease as you reveal your wand to him. “Your stepmother may have had a few tricks up her sleeve, but I have a magic wand up mine.” Your heart skips a beat when Jaemin beams at you, hands balling into fists in excitement. “Now close your eyes and count to 20.”

As Jaemin begins counting, the tattered clothes on his body begin to shimmer and transform. The tree behind him uproots itself and bends and twists into the shape of a carriage while 7 chickens are summoned from the barn, 6 to be turned into horses while the last is turned into a coachmen. You look down and see a golden glow around your entire body as the magic does its work, and you can’t help but grimace at the sight. All of this power flowing through your veins and for what? The gods will allow you to use your magic to help people find true happiness but they have forbidden you from using it to find your own. You’ve tried fighting back against your destiny, against this curse, for so long, but they are always watching. 

“Open your eyes,” you say to him when he finishes counting. Behind you sits his horse-drawn carriage, its proud coachmen standing beside it. And in front of you stands the boy you’ve fallen in love with, looking handsome as ever and one step closer to getting his happy ending. You smile softly as he looks at his new outfit, the dark blue velvet of his jacket making the silver detailing stand out nicely. “I kept the original design of your father’s jacket, just made a few changes,” you explain. “I think blue suits you better.” 

With a wave of your wand, you produce a mirror for Jaemin to look at himself in, moving so that you can stand behind him as he analyzes your work. He first fiddles with the jacket, his fingers running over the vines at his chest and the ones running down his sleeves. He then turns every which way to look at the black trousers you’ve created, the silver vines once again running down the sides. Jaemin makes eye contact with you through the mirror and beams brightly at you. “You’ve truly outdone yourself,” he compliments you, spinning around and opening his arms to pull you into a bone-crushing hug. “Thank you, (Y/N), this really means a lot to me.” 

He pulls away from you to stare into your eyes, his own sparkling as he continues to smile down at you. You clear your throat and take a step back from him, willing your heart to stop beating so fast as you explain, “The spell will only last until midnight-”

“That long? Oh, that’s more than enough time,” Jaemin interrupts you out of excitement.

You give him a pointed look, which quiets him down, and continue. “So make sure you’re home by then. I’ll be more specific: at the first stroke of midnight, the spell will begin to wear off. If you are still at the ball by the twelfth stroke, you will be stuck at the palace in your tattered clothes. Make sure you’re home before then.”

Jaemin nods along with your words with wide eyes, walking with you as you lead him to the carriage. “I’ll be home by midnight, I promise.”

You nod and open the door for him, watching as he looks at the lush interior and then back at you, excitement dancing in his eyes. “Go,” you urge him softly. “You have a ball to get to.” 

You close the door behind him and watch as the carriage gets smaller and smaller, your stomach feeling like it’s going to turn itself inside out the farther it gets from you—the farther Jaemin gets from you. Before the rational part of your brain can stop you, you wave your wand, and suddenly you’re sitting next to the coachmen. Invisible to all, even Jaemin, you close your eyes as the wind whips your hair back, mentally preparing yourself for the heartbreak that you know will eventually come.

Jaemin is very careful as he walks around the castle towards the grand ballroom, the only sound he hears being the music and muffled chatter from the party getting louder the closer he gets. You’ve never been in a castle yourself so the both of you are taking your time as you walk up the staircase, your eyes wide as you try to take everything in. From the plush carpet underneath your feet to the marble columns on either side of you to the molding and artwork on the ceiling above you, you had never seen anything like it before.

The two of you enter the ballroom, invisible to everyone (but you more so) because their eyes were drawn to Princess Chaeyoung at the front of the room who was greeting every gentleman of every family that has come to seek her hand in marriage. A few steps behind her is her brother, Prince Jeno, and behind him sits their parents, the king and queen. Jeno looks rather bored from what you can tell from the expression on his face, and you can’t help but chuckle when you see him stifle a yawn. The prince’s eyes wander around the room as his sister continues to greet their guests, landing on something that piques his interest and causes his eyebrows to furrow. You follow his gaze and your eyes land on Jaemin, who’s wandering around the edge of the room and peering at the long velvet curtains and the windows that they cover. 

After the princess is done greeting all of her guests, 2 of whom were unfortunately Jaemin’s step-brothers (the both of you had to suppress a grimace at just how hard they tried to impress her in those 10 seconds they had her attention), the king requests a waltz. You hear suppressed groans when all of the young boys around you see that Princess Chaeyoung is dancing with her father for the first dance, and you struggle to not bump into anyone as they all scramble to find a dancing partner. From the corner of your eye, you can see Jaemin also doing the same but he ends up getting pushed in the process, and you begin to rush over to help him when you realize that he doesn’t even know you’re there. And besides, someone had already beat you to it.

Your eyes follow the hand that’s offered to Jaemin, and you feel your heart sink a bit when they’re met with Jeno’s smiling face. Jaemin takes it with a smile, and you watch as the two boys continue to stare at each other. “Hello,” Jeno greets him, and that’s when Jaemin realizes that his hand is still in his, causing him to take a step back as he lets go and bump into the balcony doors behind him as he tries to stutter out a response. “My name is Jeno.”

“Y-Your Majesty,” Jaemin responds, bowing lowly which causes Jeno’s mouth to open and close in surprise, resembling a fish. “Th-Thank you for the help.”

“Oh, you don’t need to call me that,” Jeno says as he rubs at the back of his neck, face flushing red from embarrassment. “Just Jeno is fine.” The two stare at the floor as they stand in front of each other, both of their faces red as the awkward silence stretches over them. “Do you… want to go outside for a bit?”

Jaemin nods quickly. Anything to get out of this busy crowd. Jeno shuffles behind him and opens the balcony doors, the two of them taking deep breaths of fresh air the second they step outside. You seat yourself on the railing as they stare out into the distance, Jaemin’s eyes sparkling as he gazes out at the town below him. His head turns in your direction and you freeze when his eyes land on you—or well, through you, looking at his family’s estate.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, tearing his eyes away from you to look back out at the view right in front of him, the lights down below making his face glow a dull orange.

Yeah, you think to yourself softly. You are.

Jaemin and Jeno continue to enjoy the view and each other’s company in silence, glad to be away from the bustling crowd and all of the boys vying for the princess’s attention. You block out their conversation as Jaemin asks Jeno about life in the palace and Jeno asks Jaemin about life outside of the palace. With each smile that appears on Jaemin’s face and each laugh that Jeno lets out, your heart sinks further and further. You get up from your spot on the rail and drift down into the palace gardens, no longer in the mood to be at the ball. 

You know what’s coming.

“Jaemin?” you call out, approaching him from behind. He slowly turns to face you, his mother’s locket clenched in his hands. “Are you okay?”

“This was the best night of my life,” he says softly, a fond smile on his face as he looks up at the star-filled night sky. He had just watched his carriage turn back into the tree in the corner of the garden that it originally was, and he can’t help but feel like there’s magic all around him still. “I’m more than okay. But I guess not everything is meant to go as planned.”

“What happened?” you ask, steeling yourself for anything. What could have gone wrong tonight?

He walks forward and shows you the locket, his mother’s face smiling up at you as you look down. There wasn’t a scratch on it. But something felt...wrong. “The note from my mother,” he explains, answering your unasked question. “It’s gone. I stopped outside the palace before leaving and I opened it, just to talk to her for a second, but the knights were catching up to me so I had to run and-” Jaemin pauses, laughing at the confusion on your face. He forgot that you weren’t with him at the ball tonight. “I’ll explain it later. But I guess the wind must have blown it away.”

“W-We can go to the palace and look for it, I’m sure it’s still near wherever you opened the locket,” you reassure him frantically, trying to calm your own rising panic because you know how much that locket and note mean to Jaemin. “We can-”

“It’s okay,” he cuts you off with a hand on your shoulder, soft smile still on his face. “I don’t need a note to keep her close. I know that she’s always with me.” You feel your lower lip wobble at his words, tears brimming in your eyes as you think back to the 10 year old boy who could barely step outside without crying. With a sniffle, you wrap your arms around his middle and shove your face into his chest, your tears soaking his white shirt. He pulls you back and his eyes look over you frantically, trying to figure out why you’re suddenly crying. “(Y/N), what’s wrong?”

After a few deep breaths and a few seconds to clear your throat, you finally look up at him with watery eyes. “I have been watching over you since the moment you were born, Na Jaemin. I heard your first cry, watched your first steps, heard your first word. I held you close when your mother died, wiped your tears when your father died, and stayed by your side every day. You’ve been through and have grown so much and yet somehow, you’re still the same little boy with a heart of gold that I first met. And I am so so proud of you. It’s truly an honor to know you.” You close your mouth before you can continue, knowing that if you do, you would say the three words you’ve been hiding for so long—the three words that could ruin everything.

“(Y/N),” he breathes out, his own eyes watering from just how moved he is by your words. “Wh-What’s gotten into you, why are you saying all of this? You’ve never-”

His words are cut off when he hears the faint crunch of gravel in the distance, letting him know that his family is coming home. The two of you rush back into the house and up the stairs, the loud voices of his stepmother and step-siblings drifting all the way up to his bedroom where Jaemin lays with a smile on his face. He made a new friend tonight and his best friend just told him she’s proud of him. Life is good.

It’s the next day and Jaemin couldn’t be happier. The two of you are currently in the music room and you’re watching Jaemin sweep while his brothers fool around on the other side of the room, waiting for their mother to come home and start their lesson. You’re perched on top of the grand piano, legs swinging, and you keep shooting funny faces at Jaemin while he does his chores, smiling when you see him try his best to stifle his laughter. 

“I wonder who that boy was,” Renjun speculates to Hyuck as they sprawl out on the chairs in the corner of the room. “That one with the blue jacket that Prince Jeno went up to during the waltz. I heard everyone around me saying that they had never seen him before.”

You feel your stomach drop at Renjun’s words, doing your best to mask your fear but keep the shock on your face as you look over at Jaemin. His back is turned to all of you but you can tell from his slow movements that he’s listening to their conversation now.

“Mother said the same thing too,” Hyuck responds as he picks the dirt out of his nails. “Maybe the prince went out to look for a suitor for the princess but they ended up becoming friends. Apparently, they stayed out on the balcony the whole night, just talking. I even heard the king say that he’s never seen Prince Jeno that friendly with a stranger before.”

Suddenly, his stepmother bursts into the room, causing all four of you to freeze and look at her. “The king,” she gasps, waving Jaemin over and handing him her coat as she tries to control her breathing. “The king has issued a proclamation. Prince Jeno is looking for the boy from last night, the one in the blue jacket. He wants this boy to train alongside him as a knight and the king is willing to appoint him as the prince’s groom of the bedchamber. The Duke has been searching the whole kingdom all night and will be arriving here soon.”

Her sons slump in their seats at her words, not understanding why she’s so worked up about this. “If the prince is looking for that boy, then why should we care? We’re not him,” Hyuck whines.

She takes a few steps forward and points at them. “Nobody knows who this boy is. The only clue that they have is a note that was found lying at the bottom of the stairs where the boy was last seen.” She lets out a sigh of frustration when she’s met with nothing but silence from them. “This means that the boy will get to live in the palace and has the possibility of marrying Princess Chaeyoung since he will already be acquainted with the royal family.”

At that, the two boys shoot out of their seats and run out of the room, only to quickly rush back in and throw piles of clothes at Jaemin. They shout demand after demand at him, telling him to wash their clothes and shine their shoes, but they’re only met with silence and a dreamy look on his face. During their mother’s explanation, you had watched as the wheels in Jaemin’s head began to turn and he understood exactly what this could mean for him; a life in the palace, a life with his new friend, a life away from his cruel family. Here is the chance he’s been waiting for, ready for him to take it.

“Mother, something’s wrong with Jaemin,” Renjun snickers, pointing at the glazed over look in his eyes to her.

“Pay attention, stupid,” Hyuck says loudly as he snaps in front of Jaemin’s face. “The Duke is going to be here soon and we need to get ready.”

Jaemin snaps out of his reverie with a shake of his head, dropping the clothes in his hands to smooth over his own clothes on his body. “Yes, we need to get ready,” he mumbles to himself, much to the confusion of the rest of his family. “We have to look nice for the Duke.” He begins to hum the waltz from last night as he walks out of the room, and you don’t miss the narrowing of his stepmother’s eyes before you exit as well.

You begin to follow him up to his room when he suddenly stops before going up the stairs, causing you to almost run face-first into his chest. “Would you mind making me a cup of tea while I get ready?” he asks you. “I just… I feel too excited right now so I need something to calm me down.”

You laugh at his explanation and nod, watching him as he makes his way to his tower before leaving your line of sight. Just as you’re about to enter the kitchen, you see his stepmother making her way up the stairs, and you feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You grab the jar of tea leaves from the shelf and begin to boil some water, mulling over what she could possibly be up to this time. Suddenly, you hear Jaemin let out a distressed cry which makes you jump, and you take the kettle off the fire before running up to his room.

“Jaemin!” you shout as you bound up the stairs, breathing hard as you run. “What’s wrong?” You turn the handle but find yourself unable to, so you begin to pound on the door. “Jaemin, let me in!”

“Stepmother!” he cries out, and you can hear as well as feel him shaking the door handle in the hopes that it will somehow break and unlock. “She locked me in here! She knows, (Y/N), she somehow knows that I was the boy with Jeno last night. She’s not going to let me leave. Please, (Y/N), use your wand and get me out of here.”

You begin patting down your robe and you feel a chill run through your spine when you don’t feel your wand hidden amongst the fabric. You take it off and shake it out, thinking it’ll just fall to the floor, but you hear nothing. “Jaemin,” you say quietly, but you know that he can still hear you. “I can’t find my wand.” The both of you are silent at your confession, neither knowing what to do but not wanting to discourage the other. “I-It’s fine,” you reassure him. “I’ll just go find it, it has to be somewhere in the house.” Without waiting for a response, you run back down the stairs as you try to remember the last place you put it. 

Running as fast as you can without missing anything, you check the foyer, the staircase, and the kitchen but come up empty. The last place you can think of is the music room and you pray to every single god you know that it’s there. And funnily enough, they answered your prayers. Except unfortunately, you’re still cursed because the wand is in Woong’s mouth. He’s sat at his owner’s feet, who’s asleep on one of the armchairs in the corner of the room, and is gnawing at your wand hard enough to cause sparks to fly out. 

“Good kitty,” you say to him calmly as you slowly approach him. You reach your hands out towards the cat and push down a wave of irritation when the cat scoots away from you. “It’s okay, I just want what’s in your mouth.” And it’s like Woong can understand you because he bites down on it and growls lowly, glaring at you through narrowed eyes. You take a step closer and bite back a groan when he gets up and runs away from you. 

It’s going to take ages to chase that damn cat around, you grumble to yourself in your head. You’re just about to go after him when you spot it: a key about to fall out of Jaemin’s stepmother’s pocket. You wave your hand in front of her sleeping face, making sure that she can’t see you and hoping that she won’t wake up from any movement, before walking closer to her. Slowly, you reach out and slide the key out from underneath her hand, almost jumping out of your skin when you hear a knock from the front door. His stepmother jumps out of her seat and you scramble to get out of her way, her dress fluttering around your ankles as she frantically fixes herself before opening the door. You quickly run back to the tower as you hear her greet the Duke and introduce her sons to him, praying that you make it in time.

You’re out of breath by the time you’re at the top of the stairs, and you’re just about to call out to Jaemin when your words die in your throat as your eyes are once again met with the demon cat. Your wand is still between his teeth and he growls at you, as if threatening to use your own wand against you. Annoyed and tired from running around, you pull back your lips and hiss at him, stunned when he lets out a yowl that causes him to drop your wand before running down the stairs. With shaking hands, you unlock the door while picking up your wand at the same time, urgently saying, “Go, Jaemin, quickly! Before he leaves!”

Jaemin whips past you and bounds down the stairs, not even bothering to check if you’re following him because he knows that you will. You can hear his family saying their goodbyes to the Duke and wishing him well, so with a wave of your wand, you give Jaemin a little push, one that puts him in the sights of the Duke at the very last second.

“Wait, Your Grace!” Jaemin exclaims from the top of the grand staircase as he waves his hands at him. “I’d like to try, if you’ll let me!”

Jaemin’s family’s eyes widen at his sudden appearance, his stepmother patting her now-empty pocket on her dress as all of them stutter out excuses as to why Jaemin shouldn’t have a chance to prove himself. Their protests fall on deaf ears though as the Duke walks forward and gestures for Jaemin to take a seat. He hands him a pen and paper and says, “This note has 2 lines of writing on it. The first says I love you, what does the second one say?”

You feel your heart clench when Jaemin lets out a soft chuckle and writes down the words he wrote all those years ago: I miss you.

You and Jaemin collapse on to his bed, the both of you tired out from packing up all of Jaemin’s things and moving them to the palace. You look around at the room and then turn your head to look at him, a fond smile appearing when you see his wide eyes staring up at the ceiling above him. His room was big, as big as his stepmother’s bedroom at his old home, and you know that it’s going to take a while for him to get used to this kind of lifestyle. Your stare lingers a little too long and you’re forced to meet his gaze when he turns to look at you with a wide smile.

“True happiness looks good on you,” you tease him, though both of you know that you really mean it. There’s no one that you’ve met that deserves to live the rest of his days in happiness more than Jaemin. 

Jaemin sits up and lets out a content sigh, looking around the room once more before turning back to you. “Jeno should be here soon. Do you think it’s a good idea to tell him about you?” he asks and your breath catches in your throat at his words. He takes your silence as shock and continues, “Because I think we should get you your own room. Not that I don’t like sharing a room with you! But also I think it’ll be hard keeping you a secret because I’ll always be around people and it’ll be a bit strange if they see me talking to no one.”

You get up from his bed and stand in front of him, placing your hands on your shoulders as you look down at him with sad eyes. “I don’t need my own room-”

“Oh good, because I actually do like sharing a room with you, and I feel like this big one will make me feel lonely. Maybe-”

“Jaemin,” you cut him off. “I’m not staying here. My job is done, you don’t need me anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” Jaemin asks, not understanding what you’re saying. Don’t need you anymore? You’re his best friend, of course he needs you; he’ll always need you. “You’re my best friend! We just moved into the palace, you can’t leave!”

“I helped you find true happiness,” you explain as you take a step back and draw your hands away from him. “It’s time for us to go our separate ways.”

He grabs your wrist to prevent you from moving back, his gaze fierce as he stands up. You’ve never noticed before but he towers over you now; he really has grown up. “No,” he protests. “You can’t leave. If you do, then I won’t be truly happy. You’ve been a part of my life for 19 years, (Y/N), and you expect me to accept the fact that just because my life is better now then that means I can never see you again?”

“Please,” you plead weakly, lightly tugging at your arm in an attempt to get him to let go. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be-”

“Don’t make it hard at all then,” Jaemin argues, his brow furrowed as he looks down at you. Tears begin to form in his eyes and he wipes them away angrily. Why are you so insistent on leaving him? “Just stay.”

You hear thunder rumbling in the distance, and a quick glance at the window behind Jaemin shows you that it’s still a beautiful day outside. The gods are calling you. “I’m sorry, Jaemin,” you apologize, forcefully separating yourself from him with a watery smile. “I wish there was another way, but there’s nothing I can do.” You draw your wand out from your sleeve and raise it up with a shaky hand to point it at him. “It’s going to be alright,” you reassure him. “You’re not going to remember me anyways.”

His eyes widen and they flicker from your wand back to your face. “(Y/N)...” he trails off breathily. There are tears running down your face but your gaze is hard. Jaemin knows that there’s nothing he can do.

You want to tell him, to say those 3 little words so badly. But you can’t ruin this more than you already have. You weren’t even supposed to tell him that you’re leaving in the first place. “I’m proud of you, Jaemin, and I wish you the best. It was an honor to be by your side all these years, and you will always be my best friend.” 

With a wave of your wand, a mist covers his whole body, and when he opens his eyes, he finds himself standing beside his bed. What was he doing again? Standing invisibile in front of him, you watch him look around in confusion and you can’t help but reach out a hand towards him, letting it hover over his arm. You really will miss him.

The door opens and you both look up to see Jeno standing there, concern in his gaze when he sees his friend’s confused expression. “Jaemin? Are you okay?”

Their eyes meet and Jaemin smiles widely at him, exiting the room and closing the door behind him as he reassures Jeno, “I’m fine, just had a moment of déjà vu.” 

The room around you fades until there’s nothing left but a white mist floating around you. You wipe away the last of your tears as you wonder where you are. Usually you would already be meeting your new assignment by now. A glowing orb drifts down and lands in front of you, its light pulsing as it radiates warmth. “The gods have decided to be merciful,” a voice says, it’s tone soothing and low, and you wonder if it’s coming from the ball of light. “The curse shall end with you. You’ve done well, child, and it is time for you to move on.”

The orb begins to grow brighter and brighter, causing you to shield your eyes. Your ears begin to pop, as if pressure is building, and is that a faint ringing you hear? Black spots begin to dance in front of your vision and you feel yourself becoming lightheaded. What’s happening? What or who even was that? Your heart begins to race from panic and you reach out blindly as your knees give out beneath you. “Move on”? Am I becoming mortal? You open your mouth to call out to Jaemin for help, only a whispered yell leaving your lips when you remember. No… I’m dying. You remember that he’s not there, that he doesn’t even know who you are now. And that, you think, is a fate worse than death. You close your eyes. And then… nothingness.

[moccahobi]

A Fae’s Brew To Take You Away: Chapter 7 [Taehyung x Reader]

Warnings: paranoid reader

Summery: Photography: Taehyung loves it. Specifically he loves film photography. He even spent an entire day hiking and taking photos in a meadow (there was a woman there at first but she left soon after). For Y/n though, Taehyung’s trip to the meadow was the start of something bad. Something real bad.

Word Count:  2.4k words

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fae AU!, College AU!

Chapter 6 >> Chapter 8 << Next

You looked over the edge of the large and smooth rock carefully holding onto the cold and strange logs on the edge. They were as cold as water and chilled every part of your body that touched it. Below you was a sudden drop off and you could see roaring beasts below. This spot was a dead-end. This whole world the humans lived in was strange and scary. Everything was larger than you. For all you know, something could attack you at any minute and you'd have almost no way of protecting yourself. You felt some solace in the few plants you could hide in, not only did they offer you cover but they also reminded you of the village… somewhat. They were strange plants, all of them in individual pods of dirt that were too small for them. Their energies felt weak as if they were barely holding on and it made your heart ache. They would do so much better with more space. They were practically begging for more space. You took no joy out of eating the bitter leaves of one of the tree-like plants but you ate it nonetheless because you needed the energy. The leaves left a sour aftertaste in your mouth and left your stomach churning for at least a few hours. They were some sort of food though. Maybe the human who wrapped your wings could get you good food at some point so that you didn’t have to rely on such food. You didn’t know if you trusted him though. 

He saved you from the frogs but that didn’t mean that he was some sort of saint that wanted to help you. What if he only saved you to do experiments on you? 

You shuddered and spared a glance to where the two humans were in the building. You were safe out here… even with the cavern and roaring beasts below. The human didn’t seem to be able to find you when you moved deeper in the plants so you could hide from him if need be. Turning around, you crawled onto the ledge of one of the plant pods not yet trusting your wings to carry you. There wasn’t a place you could burrow into on any of the plants but you figured you could crawl under one of the plants that covered the floor of its pod and hide there for the time being. With that in plan, you hopped around the pods until you came to the proper plant, its leaves sagging and shading all of the nutrient-lacking soil beneath. It smelled like lavender back at the village but it didn’t grow similar to the trees of lavender back home. This one was less of a large tree and more like a bush or grass and as you carefully crawled under the lavender you were able to notice how all of it still came from one common stem. 

Under the strange lavender plant you curled up, pressing your abused wings deep into the moist and cool ground in hopes of soothing them. The cold dirt, though almost completely void of nutrients did feel good on your wings and for a little, you simply sat and paid attention to how your wings started to feel less painful. Maybe you could bounce around the pods and steal some energy from all of them to help your wings. It would take a long time to fully heal even if you did take some energy from the soil. What was worse though was that as long as your wings were hurt, you couldn't escape. This... home for humans was too high up and you were too weak. It might serve you best to act friendly to the human in the mean time... Even if you get scared witless. If they think you are friendly and grateful then they may not harm you. Maybe you could cast a charm on them… or make another human potion and take them on as a human.

You sighed and wiggled deeper into the dirt. The plant was trapping warmth in and you found yourself slowly drifting. It had been a long unknown amount of time since you last slept and at least for now, you were somewhat safe from harm. It was ok to sleep. It should be. 

With the warmth gently caressing and surrounding you under the plant, your eyes fell closed and you started to drift into a deep sleep. Unlike last time you fell asleep, you felt comfortable and warm, dreams slowly drifting in and out of your mind. At one point, you woke up and just laid in the dirt. While asleep, you somehow maneuvered yourself to be much deeper in the dirt but you didn't mind because you felt even more safe and comfortable in your current position. It wasn’t your bed back home in your apartment but it was comfortable. Your whole body ached and the dirt was soothing it. It was giving u energy similar to how it was giving energy to the strange lavender plant and you felt your body slowly start to feel less pained. Distantly you could hear the metal beasts in the cavern below roar with anger and hunger but you didn’t care as much this time. 

Under the strange lavender you were safe. 

You heard the human who helped you earlier come closer, cooing and saying something that you couldn’t understand. You got up some and looked over at him, carefully eyeing him as he came closer and cooed again, his hands out as if to cup something. Was he looking for you?

The human sighed and came even closer before looking around some of the plants. He was definitely looking for you. Did you want to reveal yourself? Was it safe to?

He seemed trustworthy... for now. Plus you had decided to act as if you liked the human so it would probably be best to come out. 

At that thought, you carefully got up and fluttered your wings slightly. They were feeling better that was for sure, but they weren’t yet at a point where you could fly. Not even just a light fly. Cautiously, you hopped between pods until you were standing in front of the human on the pod he originally dropped you in. A smile grew on the man’s face when he saw you, his hands slowly lowering closer to the floor of the pod and he started speaking again. You carefully stepped onto his hands and sat down before looking up at his face. It was still talking, a guilty look slowly growing on its face as it spoke. You tilted your head in confusion as it kept talking, watching as it carefully got up. There was some sort of forcefield that he had to turn off to enter the sheltered area and it fascinated you. Even as cold air that shocked you started to blast once inside, you turned around and focused on the forcefield that protected the inside of the house. From what? You didn't know.

Sadly, there was a point when the human went into a different room and closed the door, thus cutting you off from the strange forcefield. You didn’t know that humans had figured out how to harness magic but now that you knew they did, you wanted to examine it. There wasn’t much time to dwell on your possibly lost opportunity to learn about human magic though because the human had set his hands down near something and so you got off carefully. The room that he'd taken you to was messy and as you looked around, you didn't quite know what to think of the large space. What could possibly be used for? 

In front of you sat some strange box with a tiny hole cut out of the front. Strange writing graced the front of the black box but the writing didn't look like any magical runes you'd seen in the past. There was no way that you would be able to enter that thing without crouching and you didn't even know if you wanted to. What type of horrible things could lie inside the box just out of view?

You took a small step forward and looked back at the human and watched as he nodded happily. He must want you to interact with the box. Was it supposed to be your home for the time being? 

Stealing all your confidence that you wouldn’t be walking into some sort of death trap, you slowly walked closer to the box. It didn’t smell of anything poisonous. Although you were versed in stuff that fae and other creatures of the forest used, not humans... but it wasn't poisonous. Hopefully. Turning around once again, you saw how the human smiled happily and sighed. You should enter it. Who knew what it would do if you didn’t enter. 

Much to your surprise, the inside of the box was softly lit with a few holes in the top and inside it were multiple… containers... or furniture-esque things. One set of containers and surfaces were grouped together in a group of three and another stood on its own in the corner. You didn’t know what you were supposed to do in here but you didn’t feel comfortable leaving while the human was still outside and moving. Moving around the parameter, you tried to see if there were any holes that you could look out of and keep track of what the human did and where the human went. 

The only hole was the one you entered by though. Did you feel safe looking out that hole and keeping track of what the human did? 

You sighed and sat on the floor. It was some sort of woody material but you couldn’t figure out what wood it was. There was something waxy on top of it and there was no… natural smell you could pick out from it. This box you in is also made of some sort of wood but it didn’t feel like wood and it didn’t act like wood. It was as if it wasn't even wood but you didn't want to believe that. It had to be or all that you previously thought about so much would be wrong. Your home back in the village felt so different than this box and you felt a pang of sadness at the thought. You wanted to go home. To sleep in your bed. To talk to Jin and Jimin. Would you ever be able to return home? To work with Sen? To feed the squirrels? To sleep in your own bed? 

Something cold hit your chest and you looked down in shock to see that you were crying. Once you noticed though, you couldn’t stop. More tears falling as you felt your whole body start to ache. Your ears were pulsating in a dull pain as your chest heaved forcefully, lungs screaming for a rest. Soon enough, your mind was reeling, almost all thoughts gone as you started to hyperventilate, lungs heaving and eyes squeezing shut. 

Everything was closing in on you.

It was too much.

Your clothes were too tight. 

Frantically, you started clawing at the clothes in an attempt to give yourself some space. They came off easily, barely being held together after what happened with the frogs. 

But it wasn’t enough. 

Everything was coming down on you and there didn’t seem to be an escape.

You sat there crying and hyperventilating for an unknown amount of time, eventually calming down enough to even out your breaths. You needed to be prepared to face the human tomorrow. Anything you could do to be ready, you needed to do. Stealing a glance at your dirty and torn rags, you couldn’t use those anymore and you couldn’t just wander around naked. Even if the human didn’t mind, you did. 

Slowly moving to look out the opening, you saw some magical box illuminating the human who looked to be asleep. There was no way to be sure though. Especially with the numerous human voices that you heard coming from the box. What if they were having some sort of meeting? What if it was about you?

There wasn't a way for you to know though... you don't know human. It would probably be useful to learn it though.

You needed something to wear. There wasn’t time to wait. The cold of the space was already getting to you and you didn’t want to be naked around this human. 

Stealing all of your confidence, you snuck out of the box, carefully eying the human to make sure that it wasn’t moving. As soon as you exited though, you were faced with a new challenge: 

You were on some sort of island type thing. A straight drop down on all sides. It wouldn’t be a big deal if your wings were fully healed but, they could barely support your weight. Plus, you were too high up to just jump. How you were possibly going to get down? 

A strange sound left the human as he jerked and you ran as quickly as possible to hide in the box again. Hopefully he didn’t see you out. Being as careful as possible, you looked out the hole from one of the sides and watched as he walked towards you before doing something with the island. It vibrated as he kept moving stuff. You watched as he performed some sort of magic with the island and summoned clothes. He took his shirt off and you looked away, a hot blush rising on your face.

He was so… fae looking. 

Anatomically... he looked almost the same... but bigger.

The human wasn’t a fae though. That was obvious by just how large he was. Fae didn’t naturally grow that much. He could easily kill you if he wanted. Any of his body parts was a lethal weapon against you. You shuddered at that thought. Hopefully it never came down to that. He seemed intent on helping you for now. Carefully, you watched as he sniffed his hand, scratched his back, and crawled into the box.

It looked like a bed but with different things used to make it.

Humans used beds?

Jin would love this information.

You sighed and shook your head. Now wasn’t the time to think of people back home. You needed to adapt to your situation. To survive.

The human did something with the magic thing on his bed, more humans started talking, and then he slid under something that must be similar to sheets. From where you were, you could see visions of humans moving and talking in the box. Eventually, you settled down to watch whatever the box was and learn from the visions talking. Maybe… with enough watching, you could learn some words and actually somehow communicate with the human. 

[marie-dufresne]

@exsiliumductoris

Stepping out of the train station and into the city, Marie felt oddly out of place. It could have been because she was in the same outfit she’d been wearing for the past five or so months (when she was even wearing clothes. At some point it had become more practical to wrap up in a fur and leave it at that), worn down to practically threads by her standards, yet ballet flats that were practically brand new.

She had no makeup on to speak of (in public of all places) and was, despite her now tighter fitting clothing since being fed properly on a regular basis, also without a bra, the damned thing having split right into two halves and rendering itself useless.

At least she wouldn’t be recognized.

In the pocket of her jacket she had some money that Veld had given her and a piece of paper with a name and the number of someone who would get her a new identity and the proper paperwork to travel freely out of the country and into almost any of her choosing.

He owed Veld.

Make a good life for yourself, he’d told her before they parted.

Amidst the bustling of Prague she sighed, stepping out of the way and making herself small by a lamp post. She didn’t know what that meant.

What she did know was that she needed clothes and a hotel. Locating the shopping mall was simple. She practically had radar for the finer things in life and though she was eyed by the sales woman for her incredibly average appearance, Marie paid no mind, flipping over the tag of the dress she’d set out to purchase.

Her heart sank.

The dress alone cost almost half of what Veld had given her. There was no way she could provide herself with a new wardrobe here. With tears in her eyes, Marie dropped the tag and turned away, realizing how little she really knew about surviving on her own.

“You might try MY,” drawled the sales clerk, examining the diamonds on her fingers, “perhaps better suited for your….budget.”

Thanking her, Marie left the boutique, and, locating a directory, was pleased to find this ‘My’ was an anchor store and she wasn’t likely to get lost finding it.

The clothing selection, she found, was severely lacking in…well anything she cared for, really. But then again, she’d been living practically primitive for nearly half a year and had found herself quite happy in doing so, so purchasing a few bits of clothing she might have to share the style of the masses was not the most horrible thing she’d ever endured.

And to her surprise, they had everything. Undergarments, pajamas, hair accessories, makeup (bargain brand, but still), purses, shoes, and even a not-quite-awful and sort-of-formal-depending-on-her-hairstyle dress she might be able to wear should she choose to treat herself to a drink at a place more her scale.

She even found a new suitcase.

Leaving the mall she encountered a small tourist cart where she was able to pick up a few brochures and pamphlets in English and sought out a budget-friendly hotel. Family-friendly, it said. That was likely to be affordable enough without being questionable. She was right.

Feeling successful, she checked into the hotel and rolled her new suitcase containing her entire new life, into the little room and when she laid eyes on the shower, she let out a squeal and practically jumped from her clothes and underneath the running, hot water. Oh how such a simple pleasure was a luxury.

The towels and robe provided by the hotel may have been of moderate quality but to Marie, it was like entering the world again and when she flopped down on the bed, she smiled. Life could be good, if lived on her own terms.

She sat up, digging in her jacket pocket for the piece of paper Veld had given her, and scooted closer to the telephone, reading the name and numbers over and over again until she wasn’t reading them anymore, but simply…staring through the paper.

Mmm….maybe not tonight. She put the paper back in her pocket. Maybe she’d wait just…another day.

She didn’t sleep that night, the sounds of the city ringing through her ears and thundering in her head. They were loud, obnoxious, unnatural noises she’d forgotten about. Here there was no crackling of a dying evening fire, and no steady heartbeat of another person. It was screeching and yelling and music and she was overly aware of all of it.

The next morning, though she’d had little sleep, she was determined to have a good day. It was the last day she’d spend in Prague, she decided, and while she was there, she might as well do some touristing.

She had breakfast at a cafe, walked some fashionable streets, and when she found the library, she decided to see what they might offer by means of nearby attractions. There was a sign in the lobby she couldn’t quite read, but she recognized the wifi logo and the currency, and the image of a clock.

Maybe…just for a few moments she could rent some time on a computer. There was something she was curious about. Into the search engine went her name.

Gossip blogs had plenty to say about her death. None of it good, of course, but she brushed those aside, looking for an actual news article and found exactly one.

One.

“…where Californian heiress fell victim to the brutality of Czech mountain terrain. Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Dufresne have refused to speak about the loss and wish to mourn in peace. No services will be held.”

She hadn’t even been named.

Angrily she clicked away, returning to the search and typing out Harold Davenport. Pages of articles of the great tragedy that befell the ‘philanthropist’ and ‘business guru’ assaulted her eyes and had she been one to make more a scene, she might have thrown the monitor from the table. Instead, she clicked out of everything and with angry tears in her eyes, stormed silently from the library.

Even in death she meant nothing to anyone.

On the steps of the library she sat off to the side, tucking her face into her knees and sobbed. The benefit of city folk was that they were city folk and had better things to do than bother with someone who may or may not be crying and she was left alone.

When she was calm enough to stand, she walked aimlessly, not knowing what exactly to do anymore. She’d lost interest in being a tourist. She needed to decide where to go from here. London and Paris were too obvious. She had too many connections in both places. Anywhere in the United States put her too close to Arthur.

Australia? New Zealand?

No, too many creepy crawlies that were beyond the appropriate size. Tahiti was a nice idea. It was her favourite place in the world, after all, but it was expensive and she wasn’t exactly equipped with the capital to set up residence there. It would be a great place to establish herself as a photographer though.

She sighed. But she didn’t have her camera. It was at the bottom of Veld’s boar pit. She wondered if it had survived. It was in its protective bag, inside of the suitcase. Well, it didn’t matter now. Still, she wondered if he’d look through her things. If he’d look at her photos. There were some of herself on that card, she remembered.

She wondered if he’d miss her. She grunted. “Probably not,” she whispered to herself as she walked, “useless burden.”

There was a pang in her heart as she thought about not being cared for by yet another person, but this pang was small and dull, as if she’d made it up to torment herself.  The greater pain came with remembering he wasn’t next to her in the bed when she’d tried to sleep.

Get over it, get over it.

Of course they’d grown close. Of course they’d grown intimate. Two people cooped up in a cabin for five months were bound to have sex eventually. That’s just how the world worked. It didn’t mean it meant anything.

Well, it had meant something to her. She wouldn’t deny it. She’d hold those memories close to her heart. She’d allowed him in. She’d chosen him, even if, admittedly, the options were limited, she had genuinely wanted him and he hadn’t paid a single penny for her.

She stopped at a deli for something in between lunch and dinner, a hot sandwich loaded with more meat than she’d ever been allowed outside the cabin before, having acquired the taste for it and finding herself craving it now.

Back in her hotel, she took to the complimentary pad of paper and pen, trying to decide where she might decide to live. Singapore was an enticing option, but like Paris and London, she knew far too many people who frequented the area and the circles of the rich and powerful were small. Crossing someone’s path was inevitable.

Both Ireland and Scotland were possibilities. There wasn’t anyone in either of those countries large enough for Arthur to deal with and they were English speaking lands. That was a plus. She thought some more, tapping the pen against the little desk in the room. Both of those options were a little…chilly for her tastes.

“Scotland, Ireland…Germa…no….Greeeeece?”

She put a question mark next to that one, then promptly scribbled it out. Lamb was too high on their list of favourite meats.

“Oh! Spain!”

She’d been to Spain several times and enjoyed the climate, the food, the people, and they were lovers of the arts. Almost too cultured for her family, truthfully, and it had only ever been a place clients had taken her to on their holidays. She favored Barcelona.

The Spanish were a passionate bunch too. Not that she wanted to take advantage of men exactly, but she didn’t see the harm in securing a temporary boyfriend for temporary lodgings while she got on her feet. She would even be honest about her reason for being in the city. A photographer making a name for herself—

She frowned. It would be hard to claim to be a photographer without equipment. She didn’t have money for all the equipment she needed. She didn’t even have money for the sort of camera she preferred and that was…one thing she simply wouldn’t budge on.

Sighing, her hand found her hair and she rested her elbow on the desk. Stupid money. If only there were some way to…

Her eyes fell on the little black dress hanging up on the back of the hotel door. She knew where the swankiest hotels were, and the lofty bars that sat below the rooms the visitors kept.

That evening found her at the bar, dressed and made up to entice, nursing a glass of white wine, her cheap lipstick leaving a kiss on the rim of her glass.  A man sat down beside her but she paid him no mind. They would come to her. They always had. Whether they left putting koruny in her purse or not was entirely up to them.

“You’re new.”

With no one else at the bar top, Marie turned, knowing she’d been addressed.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re new,” the man repeated, all knowing eyes and thick accent, “to this bar.”

“It’s a hotel,” she pointed out, “everyone is new.”

“Maybe this is true, yes, but you are working.”

Irritation rose up in her chest then. Was she so obvious? “I am waiting for someone,” she clarified instead.

The man chuckled. “Ah. Yes. I’m sure you are waiting for many someones. But here now, is only me.”

With slightly narrowed eyes, she studied him. Early ffities by the looks of it, well groomed, sporting a rolex and tailored suit; he had money. Then again, so did almost everyone else coming through the doors of this hotel. Everyone except her.

“You seem to think you know a lot about me,” she replied, taking a sip of her wine and fully intending to ignore him.

“Mmm,” he hummed, “maybe I assume but only a working girl who is new here would sit at this bar in costume jewelry and a hmmmm….” he waved his hand in the air a bit, calculating the currency in his head, “…sixty dollar dress.”

Well.

He had here there.

Now the question was: did he believe her cheap attire was a reflection of her skills? Did he think her out of her element and would be be unwilling to pay?

“Well,” she cooed, leaning over to him, “I don’t see the point in spending all my money on a dress that is going to spend the night on the floor.”

Her glass was at her lips again. “Besides, men usually don’t notice these sorts of things.”

“Ah.” He motioned for the bartender to bring her another glass. “Maybe not the boys you played with in…America, is it? Boston maybe. They will not know any better. But here in Prague…men, we know.”

She didn’t know what in her face changed, but he picked up on it, quirking a brow and giving her a smirk.

“You do know men,” he noted softly, “and yet here you are.”

Accepting the new glass, she straightened her back, looking over the rim through her lashes. She wasn’t accustomed to being read so easily by strangers and she was willing to admit her pride was hurt. She had been good at what she did, as involuntary as it had been.

“I took some time off,” she replied, lips turning up softly, “not by choice.”

The man beside her tended to his own drink for a moment, before his hand found her thigh and he leaned over.

“You will come with me and if I am satisfied, I will give you ten thousand dollars.”

Marie’s eyes flicked to the side, then down to his hand. His drink hit the bar top, thumb and forefinger snapping up to take hold of her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“And you will return tomorrow looking like a woman who can afford to sit at my brother’s bar.”

These words were colder now, almost threatening and he squeezed, though not hard enough to bruise. “The fee to do business here is thirty percent.”

Marie nodded and for a month, she returned to what she knew. There was money to be made in the escort business, particularly when the fee was paid directly to her and not her father.

After a month, she met a trust fund baby on vacation with a bunch of his buddies. She didn’t care for orgies, but they were her age and not nearly smart enough to keep their money in their pockets. Easy targets. The whole weekend ended in one of them setting her up in a penthouse flat as he cancelled his return trip home, opting instead to stay in Prague with her, living the high life.

While she’d taken the name ‘Poppy’ for work, this boy toy of hers had opted instead to call her ‘Puppy’, a pouty little pet name he held for her when he wanted to get his way.

Marie had not touched the money Veld had given her. It didn’t seem right to spend it. This was not the ‘good life’ he’d meant for her to make for herself, and guilt ate at her whenever she thought about him. She had more money than she’d ever need. Both in cash and jewelry. Her boyfriend had bought her a luxury car she couldn’t drive. That alone could buy her a pleasant country cottage if she sold it.

She wasn’t pleased with herself. She wasn’t even particularly enjoying her life. As she nursed her sore cheek outside on the balcony, even that was a generous assessment.

She hated herself.

She’d found what she knew, what she was comfortable with, and like a coward had crawled back into its toxic embrace—a life of distraction, of pretending.

Her boyfriend didn’t love her. She didn’t even think he liked her all that much. He liked her body and he liked what she could do with it. He liked how powerful he felt when jealous stares of his peers followed him when she was on his arm, and he liked the power he had over her when he was putting her in her place. But her? No, she didn’t think he liked her. She’d asked him once if he would hold her hair back if she was sick. She didn’t know why she asked. The mood had soured immediately and he reminded her the rug was new and if she vomited on it, he’d rub her face in it so she’d know what she’d done.

Just like a puppy.

Rubbing at her cheek gingerly, she stood, palms flat on the marble railing as she overlooked the city. She’d asked to meet his family and he hit her.

She wasn’t his girlfriend, he’d sneered, she was his whore. Up until tonight, she hadn’t known he had a fiancee in London. Up until tonight, she had thought he was a reckless party boy with a bit of a temper.

He’d never called her a whore before. Not just ‘a’ whore, but his whore. He wasn’t name calling; he was stating the facts of their arrangement.

He was passed out in the bedroom now. The sun was flirting with the horizon and Marie looked directly to the street below, lifting one foot onto one of the little bistro chairs set up there. No one would have to see her. Someone would find her, but…there was no one about right now. If she jumped, no one would witness her death. No one would be traumatized. It was the least selfish thing she could do.

With her second leg up on the chair, she brought her knees up onto the stone and took a deep breath. With a sharp inhale, she looked up, taking in the view, pausing for a moment and savoring one last look. The bridges and beyond them, the shadow of the mountains. Was one of those mountains Veld’s mountain? Probably not. They were too close.

Her chin wobbled and she ducked her chin into her chest.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, teetering where she knelt. He would have been disappointed in her. She didn’t imagine he’d look too favorably on rich girl suicide. He hadn’t been impressed with her drug addiction.

He’d held her hair back for her when she vomited. He’d cared for her as she detoxed. He nursed her back to health, a perfect stranger who had barrelled into his peaceful life.

She wobbled a bit at the memory, yelping and throwing herself back, back onto the balcony, back to safety. The chair clanged against the table as she fell and when she realized just what she’d almost done, she choked on her own guilt, sobbing onto the slate beneath her.

By the time the sun rose above the horizon, she was just picking herself up, throat raw and eyes swollen. Her arms and legs shook and she found that she couldn’t look down onto the street without the feeling of falling assaulting her.

As she stepped back into the penthouse, a new sense of clarity overcame her.

She wasn’t stuck. She wasn’t as trapped in this lifestyle as she pretended to be.

After a shower, she cleaned the apartment of all liquid assets she could fit in her purse and, cutting her credit card and fake identification card in half, she tossed them onto the bedside table beside the unconscious leech on society, and left.

She spent the earlier hours of the morning in a cafe, fueling herself and making a list of necessities. She bought a train ticket, and when the shops opened, she bought what she would need. She was on a mission. Whether it was clarity or mania was still yet to be seen and on the train, ‘out of sight, out of mind’, came into play. Her guilt and self loathing began to melt into excitement.

At the train station, a taxi took her to the small mountain village and for a little (lot) more than his fee, continued up the narrow mountain road until it became almost impossible to drive any further. This was fine.

She was sure the taxi driver thought she was insane as she hauled her much heavier duty suitcase, military grade duffle, and all season backpack out from his trunk but returned down the mountain without her after her insistence.

Traveling wasn’t much easier than it had been the first time almost a year ago, but knowing where she was going this time kept her motivated.

Her far more practical footwear helped immensely.

When finally Veld’s cabin came into view, she found muscles and speed she hadn’t previously been able to access, and several yards from the dwelling, abandoned her luggage, hastily throwing the backpack from her back as she sprinted forward, calling out his name.

Would he be happy to see her? God she hoped so. She felt that he might. Her months with him up here in this cabin had felt so real, so genuine.

Her new leather boots thudded up the few steps to the door and she froze before she could even knock, his name dying on her lips.

It was entirely boarded up. The door, the windows. In fact, it was so oddly still, there was no mistaking the lack of life in the tiny house that had held so much of it this past winter.

“…no….” She shook her head, backing away, eyes darting all over, “No!”

With her tiny fists, she pounded on the door, screaming for him. It couldn’t go like this. He couldn’t just be gone. It…it wasn’t fair.

Dropping to the porch, she cried into the wood of the door. She shouldn’t have left. She’d made the wrong choice, continued to make poor choices, and now she was paying the price for it.  

If she had just…stayed.

[iwhumpyou]

I mean just to be ~official~ “You guys are a bunch of idiots.  Did you bother to do any research before you snatched me off the streets?  I’m not a part of the team anymore.  They won’t come for me.  No one will come for me.” For janiya? 🥺🥺🥺

My whump prompts are being used against me. 😂

Changed ‘team’ to ‘pack’ for werewolf!verse.  This happens in an alternate timeline for Venom (which means I need to reorganize the masterlist, don’t I? *sighs in tumblr’s-organizational-options-are-shit*)

Also quickly got out of hand and I didn’t want to wrap it up with an unsatisfyingly short ending.

Masterlist.  Janiya.

~#~#~#~#~#~

She sighed as she got stuck behind a group of gossiping teenagers more interested in blocking the sidewalk than taking their discussion somewhere else, and stepped onto the road to bypass them.  A car blared its horn practically next to her and she flinched, stumbling back onto the sidewalk and shooting the car a filthy glare.

And then, just because it’d been that kind of day, the dark skies let out the rain they’d been promising, and the weather went from a drizzle to a downpour in seconds.

Janiya shivered from underneath a shop awning and glared at the way the streets became gray and misty. The desperate job hunting she’d done a few months ago had netted her only an entry-level research position, and the pay was shitty enough that her apartment was on the far side of the city, a forty-five-minute commute on a good day.

Today was not a good day. Today was going horribly.

Janiya stared at the underside of the awning.  “I just want to collapse on my bed,” she said, “Is that really too much to ask?”

No one answered her, and the pang of not hearing the immediate comebacks had dulled over time. Janiya sighed, eyed the dark clouds and decided that she’d be standing here for the rest of the afternoon if she waited for the rain to stop.

Planning to underline ‘umbrella’ on her shopping list, she stepped out, wincing as she was soaked within a minute.  The subway was a couple of blocks away and she resigned herself to going back to her apartment dripping wet, like a bedraggled cat.

The comments on wet dog smell and muddy paw prints were no longer on the tip of her tongue, but she could still remember that summer day when the lightning was flashing and the air was full of warm rain and shrieks and giggles as all of them had gotten thoroughly soaked, chasing each other in the front yard.

It still hurt.  Even now. Even months after she’d left.

Janiya tried to convince herself that the rain was making her gloomy and she’d feel better once she had a shower and a hot meal, but it didn’t quite stick.  There was an ache under her heart that never went away – a hollow that had once been filled with pack.

But that had been torn out and nothing would fill it ever again.

Janiya tried to tell herself that she didn’t like those losers anyway, but even her mental pep talk was unenthusiastic.  Janiya continued walking, glaring at the asshole approaching her with a black umbrella – he had clearly been prepared for this weather, he had gotten the essentials, he hadn’t absently filled his shopping cart with Rita’s favorite chips or Ash’s chocolate or five different flavors of ice cream before panicking and heading for checkout with only a bag of fruit and boxed pasta.

She shivered, something cold slithering down her spine, and picked up her pace.

She realized that the man with the umbrella was staring directly at her at about the time she heard the heavy, determined footsteps behind her.  Janiya’s well-honed senses shrieked danger but she only had enough time to feel a deep sense of dread before there was an arm tightening across her chest and a cloth pressed over her face.

She tried not to breathe but the cloth pressed deeper – it smelled sweet and cloying and, underneath that, a bitter scent that made her go cold.

She thought she heard a car screeching to a stop nearby, but there were raindrops in her eyes and everything was gray and she was beginning to feel…a little…dizzy…

~#~

She came back to consciousness with what felt like the worst hangover ever, a turn of events that wasn’t helped by the zipties pinning her wrists behind her back.  She was soaked wet and shivering and she’d lost her purse somewhere and her shoulders ached as she did her best to push up into sitting position.

Her head was pounding, her mouth was dry, she was cold and achy and the wet clothes were beginning to chafe and the irritation was enough to drown out the fear as someone stepped out of the shadows of the room.

“Giving you four stars on ambience, but one star on service,” Janiya said hoarsely.

It looked like a typical basement – no windows, naked bulb in the ceiling, rough, unfinished stone for the floor – except for the fact that there was only darkness beyond the dim halo of light, no walls or furniture visible in the shadows, and that was a lot of real estate for a simple kidnapping.

She was still holding out hope that this was a simple kidnapping, fully aware of how pathetic her life had become if these were her choices.

“You won’t have to worry about our service for long,” her captor said simply, “Your pack has already been contacted.  It’s nothing personal, but your pack has been…unreceptive to our advances in the past, so we had to resort to more heavy-handed measures.”

Of course it wasn’t a simple kidnapping.  Janiya exhaled, and let the hope die – the hope that should’ve died the moment she smelled wolfsbane on that cloth.

“You guys are a bunch of idiots,” Janiya drawled, “Did you bother to do any research before you snatched me off the streets?  I’m not a part of the pack anymore.  They won’t come for me.  No one will come for me.”  Janiya bit her lip, hard.  She hadn’t meant to say that last part.

“Pack is pack,” the guy said, shrugging.

Janiya scowled, a familiar swell of annoyance at the condescending ‘oh, what does the human know about pack’ and snapped back, “Yeah, and I’m not pack.”  The guy didn’t look like he cared, and the annoyance went razor-sharp. 

“Oh, well,” Janiya shrugged, easing back into as comfortable a position she could manage with her wrists twisted behind her, “Guess you’re going to get a clue eventually.”

The guy shot her a glance, but didn’t respond, hovering at the edge of the light.  Making sure she didn’t escape, she guessed, just in case they’d gotten it wrong and she wasn’t entirely human after all. 

She waited, counting down from one hundred in her head before she spoke again.  “What about, you know, food and everything?” she asked.  The guy almost startled.  “You do know I’m a human, right?  Passed the Care and Feeding of Non-Supernatural Beings? We’re super fragile.”

The guy growled and Janiya hid her smirk.  “You won’t be here long enough to need anything.”

“Really?  Because I’m freezing over here.  Do you want me to get frostbite?”

“You’re not going to get frostbite,” the guy rolled his eyes and turned away from her.

“Oh, wow,” Janiya sneered, “I knew I should’ve picked the Ritz.  What happened to the customer is always right?”

She could practically see his temper fraying.  “I don’t goddamn care,” he said, stalking towards her and Janiya hid her flinch with a shiver, “Either you shut up or –”

“You’ll make me?” Janiya finished sweetly.

The guy looked like he was considering ripping her head off – his fists were clenched and she could spot the hint of fangs – and she grinned back at him, giving him her best smirk, the one that had once incited Ash to a screaming rage in less than five seconds.

“What is going on?” another voice rang out in the darkness and the man eased back.  Janiya straightened to watch the woman enter the light, her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed.

“Oh, lovely, I wanted to speak to the manager,” Janiya said, “This place is freezing.  The zipties are too tight.  Oh, and you have the wrong person.”

“No, we don’t,” the woman said.

“I’m not in a pack,” Janiya smiled tightly.  Not anymore.  “So, really, can we get this over with?  Because it’s honestly a little embarrassing that I got kidnapped by a bunch of second-rate thugs.”

“She has a mouth on her,” the man muttered sullenly.

“I can see that,” the woman said.

“Can we shut her up?”

Janiya laughed at that. “Good luck trying,” she said.

The woman considered her for a long moment.  “We said alive,” she said, “We didn’t say unharmed.”

Something curdled in Janiya’s stomach.

She kept up the smile, the irritation, the anger, because werewolves could smell fear, because she wouldn’t give them the goddamn courtesy of knowing that their words had hit.

“Torture?” she sighed, “How original.  Like no one’s tried that before.”

“You think we’re going to spend time torturing you?” the woman laughed, “Just to keep that mouth shut?  Oh no.”  She nodded at the man, who vanished back into the darkness.

“Duct tape is going to ruin my pores,” Janiya said solemnly.

“Don’t worry,” the woman said, a patronizing smile on her face, “Your pores will be fine.”

The man returned with an odd contraption in his hand – buckles and belts and metal and –

Light glinted off metal at the right angle and the pieces slotted together into the whole.

“Meant for werewolves,” the woman smiled, watching her, “But it’ll do to shut your mouth.”

“I get accessories now?” Janiya blinked, suppressing the shriek as her voice threatened to go too high, “How kind of you.”

The woman’s smile merely grew, tracking all the tells that Janiya couldn’t hope to hide from werewolf senses.

She jerked away from the man, curling up to hide her face, but someone stepped on her bound wrists, sending her arching back, and werewolf-strong hands gripped her face. She could feel her jaw creak.

They fit the muzzle over her head – it was blocky and dense, fitting over her nose and brushing the top of her cheekbones and the line of her jaw.  There were slits to let her keep breathing, thankfully, and she glared as they began to tighten the buckles.

The muzzle had protruding parts and it pinched at her skin as they yanked the belt tight against the back of her head.  She hissed – or tried to, her lips were smashed against her teeth and the metal dampened her mumbles.

“You’ll want it tight,” the woman said, correctly reading the expression in her eyes, “Or your face will come off.”

Janiya frowned in confusion – but they finished adjusting the buckles and the woman stepped forward to…to press something on the mask and –

Janiya’s muscles clenched in sudden tension as a high-pitched whine built at the back of her throat – she couldn’t scream, she couldn’t even be heard because the damn thing had latched onto her face and the sudden stabbing pain had nearly brought tears to her eyes.

“What’s that?” the woman asked, stepping closer with wide eyes, “I couldn’t hear you.”

Janiya tried to convey her sincere wishes for the woman to go jump off a bridge into a shark pit with her narrowed eyes alone.

Judging by the woman’s laughter, it wasn’t as effective as she could hope.

“Come on,” she motioned to the other guards, “She won’t be causing problems anymore.”

Janiya slumped back as the footsteps receded, and tried to breathe through the shooting pains.

~#~

Part 2.

[green-spear-of-causality]

Finally got around to that one ask -

@whyme-why-not, as I'm pretty sure you're the one who asked this months ago, I hope you enjoy this! I'm sorry it took so long to get out, as well; getting Gawain's and Lancelot's characters down is a struggle for me, and with what's happening in NY...I've been all over the place. I don't even think I portrayed them right...

98. "Why can't you just believe me?" "Because you lied about it before."

----

Lancelot was an honorable man.

He was loyal, he was calming, he was trustworthy; if any Knight of the Round Table was asked which one of them was the most faithful to their King, their answers are one and the same: Lancelot.

Lancelot was honorable, loyal, calming, trustworthy...and a liar.

Gawain grumbled as he shifted, dull armored boots out of place on the cheerful checker-patterned blanket. The wind blew a gentle breeze throughout the pasture, the shade of the tree he waited under cooling him off from the heat of the sun. The Knights of the Round Table were supposed to have an outing to improve their teamwork as well as to boost their morale; their Master has said on multiple occasions that they need to "take a break", so to speak, so Arthur and Arturia went ahead and arranged a picnic in France, of all places. Jeanne was all too happy to point out a spot for them, as well.

Gawain looked at the watch his Master gave him, which rested on the ground next to him. 2:47. He's more than a little late...

What could have happened to Lancelot? They were supposed to have a picnic with the other Knights of the Round, and they -

His eyes widened. ...Wait. He was the only one here; if anything, he should be wondering if something happened to his King.

So why...?

Why do I prioritize Lancelot?

It must be because they were close friends. Yes, that has to be it. Gawain nodded to himself. It was the only thing that made sense. It was the only thing that was allowed to make sense.

Footsteps made his head turn. "Ah, there you are - "

The words died in his throat. Lancelot approached him wearing not his armor, but clothes their Master most likely picked out for him. His purple jacket blended nicely with his hair, the black shirt underneath giving him more of a subtle vibe. A pack was slung over one of his shoulders, and if Gawain didn't know better he'd think that Lancelot was an ordinary citizen who merely got lost.

Lancelot sat down next to him on the blanket, looking at anything except Gawain. "Sorry for the delay. Master insisted that I wear something more..."appropriate" for this outing."

Gawain looked at his own attire, feeling a bit out of place. He wore his battle armor, as the only other clothes he had were his nightwear. He glanced back up; why wouldn't Lancelot look at him? Was it because of his armor?

Gawain leaned back against the bark of the tree, the picnic basket beside him waiting to be opened. "Where are the others?"

There. Even though it was brief, Lancelot did indeed look his way before finding the rolling grass interesting. Relief made itself known in Gawain's chest, although he didn't have the faintest clue as to why.

It soon gave way to concern, however, when Lancelot mumbled "They're not coming."

Gawain stood up. "Did something happen? Are they in danger? Lancelot, they might require our assistance - "

Lancelot's hand reached out to grab his. The touch made Gawain's sentence trail off, eyes widening as he cast a curious gaze at Lancelot.

Lancelot's face was on fire, and he wasn't looking at Gawain anymore. It made his chest ache, for some reason. "They...cancelled...last minute."

Gawain's eyes narrowed, stepping back from Lancelot's grip on his hand. "Do you take me for a fool, Lancelot?"

Lancelot looked taken aback. "...What?"

"Something's wrong." He left the comfort of their picnic site, heading back to the Rayshift Site.

Footsteps from behind alerted him to Lancelot's prescence. "Gawain - "

"I'm sorry, Lancelot," Gawain's concern was rapidly evolving into frustration each time Lancelot opened his mouth, "but our picnic with the others will have to be put on hold."

Why was Lancelot hiding something? The man hasn't lied - ...He has. For the past two months, the Knights have planned for large outings only for the majority of them to not even show up. Gawain could understand if the Kings were too preoccupied with other matters, but he expected to see at least Bedivere.

And, everytime, it was only Lancelot who showed up. Lancelot, the honorable, trustworthy, loyal, painfully suspicious man who evaded Gawain's inquiries.

One of Gawain's mottos is that Honesty is the Best Policy. So, to be lied to over and over and over again...

I'm tired of it all.

Hands clamped down on his shoulders and turned the blonde around. "Gawain!"

Gawain made to retort, but the look of desperation on Lancelot's face stopped him. Lancelot looked ready to say something he would rather keep under wraps; he was...scared.

What would frighten Lancelot this badly?

"Just - listen. Please, believe me; they called it off. They're...attending to other matters at hand."

Gawain stared. "...I will contact Master and see if I can assist - "

"They're fine!" Lancelot shouted hastily. Gawain paused, searching his face for an answer he wasn't sure he'd find.

Lancelot deflated. Gawain thought that in this moment, he looked horribly out of place in the modern clothes Master provides for him.

For some reason, that made him feel a pang of sadness.

Lancelot's voice was barely above a whisper. "Why can't you just believe me?"

Gawain's expression softened into something akin to regret. He wanted to; he wanted to believe in one of his closest friends, and yet... "Because you lied about it before."

Lancelot drew back, as if stricken. Gawain watched as he seemed to steel himself, the other taking a step forward.

Lancelot's hand grasped Gawain's once more, and Gawain marvelled at the warmth it emanated. He regained his wits once Lancelot started walking, back to the picnic site.

"Lancelot - "

"They cancelled because they wanted us to enjoy ourselves." Gawain could only see Lancelot's back, but he heard the defeat in his voice. His eyes widened; was he...finally getting the truth?

Lancelot continued. "The Kings have both mentioned how we in particular go above and beyond when on the battlefield. They merely wanted us to relax, without feeling the burden of catering to them."

Gawain felt rather than saw Lancelot let go of his hand, crouching to unpack the food stored within the basket. He held up a ham and cheese sandwich for Gawain to take, a shy, awkward smile on his face.

"I know this won't do much as an apology, nor will it make up for the fact that I kept it from you,but I do hope that we get to enjoy this day together."

Gawain hesitated. Did his Kings really say that? He was a Servant; he didn't need to take breaks.

But... Lancelot's hopeful expression made his face warm. He glanced down at his gauntlets, the feeling of being out of place striking him once more.

He smiled, grabbing the offering. "It would be my honor, Lancelot."

Lancelot's expression lit up. Gawain had to turn away himself, because his face felt reminiscent to a volcano at this moment. This...has never happened before. I wonder if Servants can get sick?

Articles of clothing were then placed into his hands. Gawain looked up, surprised to see Lancelot standing in front of him. When did he get so close without his knowledge? My senses seem to be lacking today...and it's only ever with Lancelot. I must consult Master or Merlin about this, and see if it will be a hindrance in future battles. "Master also brought these along for you to change into."

"I will send them my regards afterwards." Gawain gave Lancelot a grateful smile as he moved behind the tree to change. Once he was finished, he placed the armor onto the grass before sitting next to Lancelot.

As they ate and talked and laughed, Gawain found that he felt lighter than ever before. He was glad the others didn't show up, after all; there was something about Lancelot that was...intriguing, to him.

Lancelot may have been a liar...

But Gawain wouldn't change him for the world.

----

Mordred looked through the binoculars Tristan provided him with, giving a thumbs up to the other Knights of the Round. "We're all good!"

The others, Arturia and Arthur in particular, gave a collective sigh of relief. When Lancelot had approached them two months ago about his "symptoms" concerning Gawain, they tried everything in their power to make this couple become a reality.

They had seen enough bloodshed; this small piece of happiness was well-deserved.

Merlin smiled, which carried every bit of amusement and mystery as it usually did. "That was close...If Gawain set off, we wouldn't have an alibi."

Bedivere frowned. "I know how Gawain can be. Will he even realize Lancelot's advances?"

Mordred jumped down next to them, laughing lightly. "I know what you mean; for someone as powerful as him, he sure can be thick-headed!'

Merlin's smile grew wider. "Worry not, Knights of the Round Table; we will start to see the fruits of our labor very soon."

And thus, the hidden group proceeded to quietly Rayshift back to Chaldea.

[sariahsue]

The Open Line - Ch 18, Masks

Read Chapter 1 Here Read Chapter 17 Here

"It's not a patrol night, Marinette," Tikki said.

"Cat Noir says he has something for me." Marinette wondered what it could be. Her hand had felt warm since last night, and she couldn't shake the feeling of what it had been like to have his lips all over it. She shivered, then turned to her mirror. Outside of her bedroom, everything was quiet. Her parents had already gone to bed, and the rest of the city sounded like it was asleep. Marinette, on the other hand, couldn't have been more awake.

"So why are you brushing your hair?"

"I don't want it to look like something lives in it. Like... like a nest."

"Ooh! You want to look nice for Cat Noir, don't you?"

"NO." She yanked, pulling on a tangle painfully. "I brush my hair all the time! It's going to get messed up anyway. Because- With all the wind, and-" And he already thinks I'm beautiful. "He has nothing to do with this!"

She slammed her hairbrush down on the stack of Adrien's pictures she'd pulled off her wall a few hours before. The pile slipped and spilled onto the floor. "Sorry, sorry! Ah! I'm so sorry, Adrien." It had taken most of the afternoon to decide which pictures to take down, and there were still plenty of them up, but... she'd needed more room for all the pictures of Cat Noir. There were just too many good ones of him. She'd had a hard time choosing.

No matter what she said to Tikki, Marinette couldn't deny the obvious truth of what was happening. As she shuffled Adrien's pictures and stacked them up neatly, she had to admit that Cat Noir had been right last night. She was falling for him, with no end in sight, and she wanted to keep falling forever. Adrien's pictures were tucked quietly into a drawer.

"I'm just... still not sure if I'm ready. Dating as superheroes would be so complicated, the city's safety depends on us, and-" She motioned to the many pictures of Adrien that remained around her room. She still had feelings for him.

Tikki's antennae wiggled, the way they always did when the kwami was holding back information.

"Never mind our identities!" Marinette continued. "There's so many problems that could come from sharing those! And we'd have to share them." If they got together, she would tell him who she was. It would be horrible to only be with him for part of her life. She wanted him all the time.

"So share identities," Tikki said.

"It's not that simple!" Marinette said, turning back to the mirror. Her hair was a probably a lost cause, but she tried to tie it up nicely anyway.

"It could be that simple," Tikki said. "Either way, you need to decide soon."

Marinette agreed. It was wrong to keep giving him hope if it turned out to be false. Stop it now, or choose him. She wasn't sure which option she wanted to take. Both sounded scary.

"Say... say I did choose Cat Noir," Marinette said. "What would happen? Just out of curiosity."

Tikki flitted around Marinette's head, tucking in loose strands of hair before stopping in front of her face to look her in the eye. "Then I think you would both be very happy."

***

The night was unseasonably warm, and a thick fog had rolled in. Combined with the dark night, it was difficult to pick out her partner until she almost swung past him. That suited Ladybug just fine. They'd have more privacy.

As usual, Cat Noir was waiting for her when she reached their meeting point. This time, he had chosen the Pons des Arts, the Lovelock Bridge. She didn't miss the implication, and she found that she didn't mind it either. Water lapped peacefully below them, and the dampness, fog and late hour ensured they were alone. After she dropped down next to him, she realized Cat Noir had his hands behind his back.

"You look nice."

"Thanks," Ladybug said. Unsure if she should keep her distance or stand closer to him like she wanted to, she compromised by leaning against the railing and shuffling her feet. "You know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think you got me something just so you'd have an excuse to see me again."

He smiled. "Purr-haps."

"Oh, please, don't start with those."

Instead of pun-ishing her further, he looked above them, Ladybug following his gaze. The flog blocked out the sky. A dull smudge was the only evidence of the moon.

"No stars," he said. "So I think I have a promise to keep." With a sweeping bow, he knelt and brought out a small, white jewelry box from behind his back and presented it to her. Ladybug couldn't help the coy smile that spread across her face as she reached for it, and was grateful that the night hid the color that was slowly pooling in her cheeks.

Tissue paper crinkled as she lifted the lid and peeked inside, and Cat Noir said, "I told you I would get you more stars. Now you can see them all the time. Plus, it matches your eyes." Inside was necklace, a spherical pendant on a thin chain. Cat Noir reached over and pulled it out, holding it up for her so she could get a better look.

She squinted at it. In the darkness, the dangling pendant looked black, barely distinguishable from the surrounding night.

"Oh, sorry," Cat Noir said, pulling out his baton and using the screen for a flashlight. "I forgot you don't have magical eyesight. Here." The necklace swung and arced into the light and with a flash was illuminated.

The glass sphere blazed bright blue and sparkled. He hadn't just given her stars, he'd given her a whole galaxy. Tiny planets swirled, carving avenues through stellar star dust, while pinpricks of light sparkled. It was a whirlpool of life, blue, purple, black, all burning and tumbling and dancing together. It was fixed in a small marble of glass, and yet it seemed to be growing and spinning as she stared.

"Thank you," she whispered, awed. "It's beautiful." What an understatement, but she couldn't think of anything to say that would do it justice.

The glow vanished suddenly as he moved the necklace out of the light to give it to her, but she put up a hand to stop him.

"What?" he asked.

There was no way she'd be able to do up the clasp behind her neck on the first try, and she'd rather not look like an idiot just now. Not in front of him.

"Help me put it on?" And she turned around without waiting for his answer.

It was a mistake.

She knew it as soon as he pulled her hair away from her neck, his claws grazing over her bare skin. She shivered as she felt her self fall in love just a little bit deeper, just a little bit closer to the precipice of choosing him.

Standing there quietly as he adjusted the necklace and fiddled with the clasp, she weighed her options. She should leave now. Before she got them both into trouble.

Before she changed her mind.

Before she chose to stay.

"Done," he said.

Ladybug took her time turning around, staring at the pendant resting just below her collarbone instead of looking at him and betraying how much his simple touch had affected her. But when he cleared his throat, she instinctively looked up.

Try though she had to hide her feelings, he saw them. His eyes softened, and she could see the tiniest bit of a blush around the edges of his mask. Was she staring at him? Was that weird? Had they been looking at each other too long? Maybe. And she didn't care.

Taking a step closer, Cat Noir reached forward and cupped her face even more tenderly than he had put on the necklace. Like she was fragile, precious, forbidden.

For the first time that night, Ladybug stopped thinking. Her hand floated up to his cheek in echo of his movement, and her fingers caressed the edge of his mask, then slipped underneath. He wanted her to know.

As he leaned in, her finger lifted the mask further. Two sets of eyes closed. His lips ghosted over hers, as gently as a breath, soft and timid and sweet.

Is this what choosing him feels like? 

Ladybug's brain re-engaged, her fears stuttering back to life, and her lips skimmed over his skin, away from his dangerous mouth and landed her kiss on his cheek. "S-sorry," she whispered into his hair.

He wilted against her before quickly pulling his disappointment and his head away from her. The edge of his mask fell back into place as her fingers slipped down, clenched at her sides, and she felt her own pangs of disappointment. Ladybug couldn't bring herself to step away, but he made no move to either, so they stayed there, chest to chest, Ladybug staring at a point on shoulder, both waiting for the other to move.

She was stuck. Undecided.

Who was he? She had almost kissed him.

She couldn't unmask him. She wanted to kiss him.

She wanted to stay and kiss away all his sadness, all the memories of being ignored, everyone one his problems. But she couldn't.

She still liked someone else. She hadn't decided. She couldn't unmask him. They had responsibilities. The city had to come before either of them.

All these arguments seemed little in comparison to the pounding of her heart, or the way he held her. He kept one hand in her hair, the other around her waist, and she could feel it trembling slightly, like he was trying to pull her closer and make himself let her go at the same time. Last night in the leaves she had wanted it kiss him, but it had been nothing compared to this. If she just leaned back into him, she could make her decision right now. It would be so easy.

She wanted to stay, but if she didn't leave him know, she wasn't sure she ever would.

Fighting the urge to kiss his cheek a second time, Ladybug pulled away. The gap between them felt suddenly isolating, though it was only a few inches. "Sorry," she whispered to the ground, and then she ran away.

Was she hoping to hear him chasing her? Did she want him to call out her name and hold her again? Or did she really want to be alone right now? Ladybug wasn't sure. One thing she was certain of, she wasn't going to keep doing this to him. With each pounding footstep she hammered out a promise. She would take the time to decide before she spent any more time with him. No matter what, she wouldn't hurt him further.

She didn't take out her yoyo the whole way home, preferring the rhythmic beat and exertion of running and leaping. The necklace bounced against her chest, reminding her of the mistake she had just made and how much it could cost her, or more importantly, cost her partner.

Out of breath, she landed on her roof, dropped through her skylight, and released her transformation. Everything was as still and dark as she had left it, which caught her off guard. Marinette tensed, looking around for something out of place, before realizing it was her. She was what felt different, felt like everything around her should be changed, too.

"Marinette," Tikki finally said.

"I know. I know!" Marinette flopped onto her back and blinked in the darkness. The necklace hadn't disappeared with her suit. The pendant's weight was heavy on her throat. "I shouldn't have almost kissed him like that. It was wrong."

"That wasn't what I was going to say," Tikki said. She floated toward the edge of the bed and out of sight.

"Then what?" Marinette called after her.

"You wanted to stay," Tikki said. "I think it was wrong of you to leave."

Marinette sat up and took the necklace off. So what? she wanted to ask. You think I should choose him? Or do you think I already have? But she wasn't sure she was brave enough to hear the answers, so she kept those questions to herself. The pendant swung by the chain in her hand, and it pulled her attention back to problems that were less scary, ones she knew she could fix. What to do with the necklace? She occasionally ran into Cat Noir when she wasn't masked, so wearing it as a civilian was out of the question. But it was too pretty to hide away.

In a burst of inspiration, Marinette turned on the lamp next to her bed. The halo of light it cast on her wall was the perfect place, and she tacked the necklace up. The pendant glowed, casting a streak of gold-flecked blue instead of a shadow across the picture Cat Noir had sent to her of their night at the park so long ago.

Even though it was late, Marinette was too wired to sleep. Knowing she had to at least try or she'd be a zombie in the morning, she curled up beneath her blankets and stared at the decorations on her wall. Her hand wandered up to her cheek where he had held her. His touch had been so soft, almost hesitant. She hadn't expected that. Nor had she expected to find herself wishing she hadn't run away, so she would know if his kisses were as gentle as his hands.

Their next patrol was Wednesday night. With luck, there wouldn't be any akumas before then, and she'd have 48 hours to think things through.

She was not lucky.

Read Chapter 19 Here

***

Author’s note: FOR REAL, LADYBUG. JUST KISS HIM ALREADY. (Thank you for waiting for this chapter! (Like you had a choice.) Next up is Cat Noir's POV! OOooOOh!)