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thedreadvampy · 3 years

Note

Hey Ruth! I noticed you've talked in the past about asexuality in quite a negative manner. As an ace-person (who has received backlash for it) I was wondering: do you still uphold these opinions?

Hey! I have in the past said I don’t really...like people popping up in my ask box asking me My Opinion On Asexuality, but I do appreciate you asking me as someone I kinda know and with your face turned on, so I’m gonna aim to answer in the macro. Though I mean it depends on what the opinions...are? I have had a lot of opinions over the time I’ve had this blog and I don’t necessarily know what all of them were or which ones have concerned you. I can give you a top-level view of how I see my views, though (however, since I have been largely holding off on answering this kind of ask for Literally A Year Now this is less an answer to your specific question and more an answer to the last year of asks)

(also if I get dogpiled in my inbox for Having Bad Asexuality Opinions which I do every time I talk about asexuality regardless of what I actually say then. my phone is broken I won’t know about it :) so I feel untouchable)

I don’t think I hold a negative opinion of asexuality as an identity (I say I don’t think bc we all have blind spots)? I have a lot of very important people in my life who are asexual, aromantic or aroace and. I mean it feels pretty condescending to say ~uwu it’s valid~ bc like. ace and aro people don’t really need my input to validate their identity. but a) it seems like a pretty accurate way to describe their experience and b) I know a lot of them have had a really huge boost from finding a name and community to fit their experience and have found that really helpful, and I’ve seen that make a huge difference in people’s lives and I’m really happy to watch my friends come to understand themselves and feel comfortable and accepted in a part of themselves they had felt really alienated or stigmatised by. In a broader sense, I think there’s huge value in decentralising romance and sex in our assumptions of What Human Happiness Means and for some people that’s not the most important thing, and for some it’s just not interesting.

So like. I find it difficult to really express these opinions in any meaningful way because my opinion on asexuals and aromantics is much like my opinion on trans people or idk like people of colour. like very obviously those people exist and very obviously those people don’t deserve to be marginalised or stigmatised but it would feel. weird and performative to just make a post saying like “Asexuality Is Good And Valid, I Am Pro It” bc again like. who needs my permission or cares about my opinion. it’s not a Good Thing To Do it’s just. a thing you are that shouldn’t be treated as a bad thing.

however. and I suspect that this is what you’re referring to. while I love and appreciate ace and aro people, I think building communities and active support for ace and aro people is valuable and needed and, as above, I think Asexuality Is Good And Valid I Am Pro It, I do take some issue with elements of how discussions around asexuality are framed online (pretty much only online, I really haven’t run into the kind of black-and-white thinking in in-person queer spaces)

and I also. think there are some issues with people extrapolating their experience of their own sexuality onto the world in a way which. I’m just going to say a lot of the time when I talk about The Ace Discourse in a negative way it’s around people assuming that the world is split into a binary between ace and allo people, or assuming that only aspec people experience a nuanced or complex or fluid relationship to their sexuality while pigeonholing allosexuality into a pretty flat image of sex and romance focus. and I have always felt like this does a massive disservice not just to people who don’t identify with aspec labels, but also to the general hope that we could work against the expectation that there’s a Standard Amount To Value Sex/Romance - I think that the assumption that there are aspec people and then Everyone Else Has The Normal Type and Level of Attraction just. reinforces the idea that there’s a “Normal” type and level of attraction. which is ultimately pretty self-defeating and also just. observably untrue.

and this division of the world into Aspec People and Allo People also has some other weird knockon effects - I don’t think there’s anything intrinsically wrong with identities like gray ace or demi or other aspec labels beyond asexual and aromantic, but I do think that the way those labels are used is often. unhelpful. and they’re defined in such personal, subjective ways that you get weirdnesses sometimes like people Diagnosing Each Other With Demisexual or people saying ‘you can’t talk about this experience you share because it’s an Aspec Experience’ and again. there isn’t a concrete material experience there because the whole experience of romantic and sexual attraction, what that feels like and how sharply divisible it is is very, very personal and subjective. and everyone has different experiences of those and will name those experiences differently.

there’s also. historically a minority of Big Ace Blogs that kind of sneer at allosexuality or who would hijack posts about other issues to derail them to asexuality. but I don’t think they were ever representative of the community as a whole and I certainly think that inasmuch as those blogs remain around they’re a legacy of the Long-Ago (and a lot of them are trolls imo)

but there is. an issue I take that does seem to be more currently live which is the question of allo privilege. I think personally that framing all allosexuals/alloromantics as privileged over all aspec people on the basis of feeling sexual/romantic attraction is provably untrue in a world where people, particularly queer people, are actively oppressed and marginalised for expressing non-normative sexuality. it isn’t that I don’t think asexuality and aromanticism isn’t marginalised and stigmatised, because it visibly is, but it seems pretty reductive to boil it down to a binary yes/no privilege when both sexualisation and desexualisation are so actively tied into other forms of marginalisation (this is what I was trying to express in the argument about Martin a while ago - sex and sexuality are so often disincentivised for fat, queer, disabled and neuroatypical people that it doesn’t...feel like a reclamation that those tend to be the characters that get fanonised as ace where slim, straight, able-bodied and neurotypical characters aren’t. like it’s more complex than a binary privilege equation; sex and romance are incentivised and stigmatised differently at the intersection of oppressions and. for example. in a world where gay conversion therapy and religious oppression of gay and SGA people is so often focused specifically on celibacy and on punishing the act of sexual attraction, I don’t think it’s a reasonable framing to say that a gay allosexual man has privilege over an aroace man on the basis of his attraction)

so those are like. things I would consider myself to feel actively negative about in online discourse (and again. in online discourse. not in how I relate to asexuality or aromanticism or aspec identities in general but in the framing and approaches people take towards discussing it in a very specific bubble).

but also. um. the main criticism I have of the online discourse culture of asexuality is that there are things I don’t have experience of that I have mentioned, when asked, that I don’t personally understand the meaning of but I don’t need to understand them to appreciate that they’re useful/meaningful to others. things like

the difference between QPRs, asexual romantic relationships and close friendships

how you know the difference between romantic attraction and friendship

the distinction between sexual attraction and a desire to have sex with someone for another reason

and I hope I’ve generally been clear that this is. honest lack of understanding and not condemnation. I personally have a very muddled sense of attraction and often have difficulty identifying the specifics of any of my own emotional needs so like. it’s a closed book for me at the moment, how you would identify the fine distinctions between types of want when I’m still at step 1: identify That You Want Something Of Some Sort, Eventually, Through Trial And Error. but I think I’ve always been explicit that this isn’t a value judgement it’s just a gap in my own knowledge and yet. every single time I’ve said anything other than enthusiastic “yes I understand this and I love it and it’s good and valid” (and again. I have not gone out of my way to talk about it I have mostly only mentioned it because people keep asking me to talk about it) I have got a massive rush of anger and accusations of aphobia and “just shut up if you don’t know what you’re talking about but also answer my 30 questions to prove you think Correct Things about asexuality” and. I understand that this comes from a place of really unpleasant and aggressive backlash towards the ace community so it’s a sensitivity with a lot of people but like. it doesn’t seem proportional.

also I feel like ever since I hit like 700 followers my Tumblr life has been a constant cycle of people asking me Are You An Ace Inclusionist Are You An Exclus Are You An Aphobe Justify Your Opinion On Asexuality which. eventually yeah I’ve got pretty snippy about the whole thing. but you know. fuck it I’m just gonna lay it out and if you or anyone else is uncomfortable following me based on those opinions then I’m sorry to hear that and I will be sad to see you not want to engage with me any more but I also think that’s absolutely your prerogative. however I will not be taking questions at this time (and not just bc my phone’s broken) - demands for an argument about this Are Going To Be Ignored so if you want to go then go.

so like the big question I reckon is Do You Think Asexuality Is Queer and

yes. no. maybe. I don’t understand the question what does it mean for an identity to be queer?

there are spaces and conversations where any form of aromanticism or asexuality makes sense as a relevant identity. talking about hegemonic expectations of normative romance. building community. combatting the idea that heterosexual missionary married sex between a man and a woman is the only rewarding or valuable form of relationship or intimacy.

there are spaces where I think heterosexual aros/heteromantic cis aces don’t. have a more meaningful or direct experience of the issues than allo cishets. because while being aro or ace or aspec has a direct impact on those people on a personal and relational level, disclosure is largely a choice, and the world at large sees them as straight. they don’t have the lived experience of being visibly nonconforming that SGA people and aroace people do. they may still be queer but there’s a lot of conversations where they bring a lot of the baggage of being Straight People (because. even if you’re ace or aro you can still be straight in your romantic or sexual attraction and if your relationships are all outwardly straight then you don’t necessarily have an intimate personal understanding of being marginalised from mainstream society by dint of your sexuality). this doesn’t make you Not Queer in the same way that being a bi person who’s only ever been in m/f relationships is still queer, but in both cases a) you don’t magically have a personal experience of societal oppression through the transitive properties of Being Queer and b) it’s really obnoxious to talk as if you’re The Most Oppressed when other people are trying to have a conversation about their lived experience of societal oppression. and they’re within their rights to say ‘we’re talking about the experience of being marginalised for same gender/non-heterosexual attraction and you’re straight, could you butt out?’)

(I very much object to the assumption coming from a lot of exclus that “cishet ace” is a term that can reasonably be applied to non-orientated aroace people though. het is not a default it really extremely doesn’t make sense to treat people who feel no attraction as Straight By Default. when I were a lad I feel like we mostly understood “asexual” to mean that identity - non-orientated aroace - and while I think it’s obvious that a lot of people do find value in using a more split-model because. well. some people are both gay/straight/bi and aro/ace, and it’s good that language reflects that. but I do think it’s left a gap in the language to simply refer to non-attracted people. this isn’t a criticism of anything in particular - there’s a constant balancing act in language between specificity and adaptability and sometimes a gain for one is a loss for the other)

some queer conversations and spaces just. aren’t built with aces in mind. and that isn’t a flaw. some spaces aren’t built with men in mind, but that doesn’t mean men can’t be queer. some conversations are about Black experiences of queerness but that doesn’t mean non-Black people can’t be queer. not all queer spaces will focus on ace needs but that doesn’t mean asexuality isn’t queer, or that queerness is opposed to aceness - sex, sexuality, romance and dating are all really important things to a lot of queer people, especially those whose sexuality and romantic relationships are often stigmatised or violently suppressed in wider society. there should be gay bars, hookup apps, gay and trans friendly sex education, making out at Pride, leather parades and topless dyke marches and porn made by and for queer people, romantic representation in media of young and old gay, bi and trans couples kissing and snuggling and getting married and saying sloppy romantic things. and there should be non-sexual queer spaces, there should be discussions around queerness that don’t suppose that a monogamous romantic relationship is what everyone’s fighting for, sex ed should be ace inclusive, etc.

I think the whole question of inclusionism vs exclusionism is based on a weird underlying assumption that If An Identity Is Queer All Queer Spaces Should Directly Cater To That. like. aspec identities can be queer and it can be totally reasonable for there to be queer spaces that revolve around being sexual and romantic and there can be conversations it’s not appropriate or productive to centre asexuality and aspec experiences in and we can recognise that not all queer people do prioritise or have any interest in sex or romance. in the same way that there’s value in centring binary trans experiences sometimes and nonbinary experiences at other times but both of those conversations should recognise that neither binary or nonbinary gender identity is a Universal Queer Experience.

anyway that one probably isn’t one of the opinions you were asking about but I have been wanting to find a way to express it for a while so you’re getting it: the Ruth Thedreadvampy Inclusionism Take.

uh. it’s 1:30 on a work night so I have been typing too long. if there was an opinion you were specifically thinking of that I haven’t mentioned, chuck me another ask specifically pointing to what you want me to clarify my thinking on. sometimes I gotta be honest I’ve just been kind of careless in my framing (thinking of the Martin Fucks debacle where I spent ages insisting I didn’t say Martin couldn’t be aroace then read back like two days later and realised that I had said “he’s not aroace” bc I had written the post at 2am without proofreading and had meant to say “unless you think he’s aroace”) so I May Well Not Stand By Some Posts or might Stand By Them With Clarification

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thejudgingtrash · 4 years

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would you class percy as a morally grey character? i’m really interested to hear your input

Anon 2: Would u class percy as an Morally Gray character?

Hey there! Let me write that essay for you about morally gray Percy ^^

It’s not about whether Percy is a morally gray character or not, it’s about he has to be otherwise the story doesn’t make any sense. At least for me it wouldn’t.

Ashley (@gr33kg0ds) said in the tags of my dark!Percy post something along the line of people diminishing Percy’s character because they need him to be pure and fluffy and I wholeheartedly agree with that!

Just because Percy’s twelve doesn’t mean he’s pure and didn’t do unproblematic things. I’ll mostly refer to The Lightning Thief because that book is the Magnus Opus for Riordan and perfectly stands for Percy as a morally gray character from the very beginning of the saga. (Also the only book I’ve recently re-read)

As much as I love fanon with all the amazing artworks, debates, memes and jokes, analysis, cool edits and wonderful fanfics, projecting your version of Percy doesn’t make the image in your head real. Percy in canon is not the fun and fluffy boy you imagine him to be or which social media sites (Reddit, Twitter, Instagram and yes, also Tumblr) tend to make him to be. He’s a scrawny little sarcastic twerp that was the unpopular kid. He isn’t that cringy dude Tony Lopez doing that fucking weird TikTok dance (side note: I don’t even know who this person is and I don't care, I saw the video and immediately wanted to delete every social media app on my phone, so thanks Tony?), kissing his Yeezys goodnight, vibing to our lord and gay icon Taylord “T. Swizzle” Swift song and flexing them iPhone 11 Max Pros. Percy literally said that going to Burger King with his mother once in a while would be considered a luxury. He’s a poor bastard in literal sense.

Part of the problem with the distinction of Percy’s character and his motives stem from the fact that Percy is a sneaky unreliable narrator and we as the audience (especially if you’re younger) don’t question most of his behavior if you even question some (pretty sure that most of us only picked up weird stuff as adults). Everything seems plausible to you. But does it mean that his behavior is necessarily good? Something that would paint his character as good?

Like I’ve said, let’s take a look at TLT. The very beginning of everything and the wonderful line that gets quoted everywhere: “Look, I didn't want to be a half-blood”.

The very first line that quoted everywhere or used as in moodboard and edits but its meaning and significance get brushed off for the most part. It immediately sets the tone and the atmosphere for the book and for Percy as a character. A(n in my opinion) morally gray character. The very first thing we hear from Percy is that he doesn’t want to be in this world. He’s an involuntary participant who has been (upon further reading) blackmailed and forced into this world and is only cooperating to get his mother back and said in regards to his father (who also stands for the Greek pantheon) ”well yeah, would be nice to know about my dad but I’ve survived without him the past twelve years so I don’t know, he wouldn’t be missed necessarily I guess?“ That pretty much tells you, it foreshadows, that we will be dealing with someone with grit, someone that fights back, someone that went through shit, someone that isn’t a goody two-shoed character. Does it mean he’s a terrible (in the sense of evil or bad) character from the get go? Not really, but it tells you in nuances that he won’t be the white shining knight you might expect from a fairy tale.

There is so much that little Perseus Jackson has to offer you directly in the first book. So much that paints him as a morally gray character. From the illegal candy stash all the way to tricking Procrustes into his own trap. He knows right from wrong and isn’t innocent by any means. He wants you to think he’s innocent. Yes, he hunts monsters and the book also tells you that some adults (Gabe) can also be monsters, but Percy’s personality is so interesting and full of facets which I love! He’s misleading you on purpose. Deflects, plays events down. He lies in front of you to others but you don’t really doubt it. Instead of questioning it, you understand it.

What distinguishes Percy from other male protagonists in that notion that the author doesn’t try to paint him as particularly good (the reader connects the dots, in reality) is pretty much that. Percy is neither inherently good or bad. He’s in the middle. He does lots of questionable things and his personality adds to it. Something that immediately comes to my mind is his lack of fear of consequences. He thinks in the short term and not in the long term. Of course, he’s caring about those that are close and important to him (Grover, Annabeth and his mother of course. And well. The world not getting destroyed by his weird father and fucking crazy uncle would be a plus). But Percy isn’t really a strategist (yet). Look at the Medusa head thingy. Annabeth and Grover warn him, that he’s gonna get his ass beat and he doesn’t care. That these gods could squish him in the end didn’t matter to him.

The Olympian gods are painted as these unpenetrable huge mighty force and some fuzzy annoyed twelve year old dipshit sends them the severed head of a monster - but not any monster, the monster his father had a role in creating (well, Athena for the most part, but you know what I mean). (Also, I know this kinda reckless behavior gets sorta rewarded but at first, everyone was like ‘NO, NO, NO!’ before Percy was glorious with his attempt). Percy essentially tells these ancient forces that drive the way of his new cosmos how shit‘s gonna work from now on.

Percy isn’t fear riddled and doesn’t think about the possible outcome. He manipulates, he lies, he persuades and all of this as soon as he hits twelve. But probably earlier. Pretty sure he had to become a believable lier in order to trick (survive being around) Gabe. Perseus is angry, he’s agitated. Had Riordan written Percy as a soft spoken, frightened, goody two-shoed kid, almost nothing in TLT and the follow-ups would have made sense. He’s the outcast, but slowly blossoms into the strength and muscles of the group. Of the entire camp. Someone that outsmarts opponents and wins battles. But he didn’t do that by playing nice and being a bootlicker.

TLT would’ve been a perfect standalone book that would have emphasized that Percy is an involuntary person sive) if you skip Kronos, leave a little bit foreshadowing with the prophecy out, tweak the talks with the gods and Annabeth’s first meeting and skip Luke and the scorpion at the end. The ending would’ve been “and so Percy had a first awesome summer vacation and found a group of friends for life” or so (aka PJO movie 1 in less shitty and more cohesive).

The morally gray character shrinks a little bit in the SOM because there lie straighter dangers ahead which dive more into the bigger picture and Percy grows more into the character who takes care of friends and but he does come back with TTC, and definitely BOTL and the St. Helens explosion.

Consequences of Percy’s interactions had people partially dying. There is doubt, there is guilt. But the show must go on. There are battles that have to be won. There is no big giving up, no big overturn for the bad guys.

Also... isn’t it interesting that we start with Percy saying ”look, I don’t want to be in this world“ in TLT and it ends with TLO where he says ”for once I didn’t look back“? The full circle? The way that accepting his fate took five books? To change Percy from being an involuntary participant to becoming voluntary? He didn’t want to be a half-blood, he didn’t want to be the kid in the prophecy, but he actively chose to be in the end. He went from a darker shade of gray to a mayhaps lighter, if you want to say so.

To conclude, I repeat myself again: it’s not about whether Percy is a morally gray character or not, it’s that he has to be.

Thanks for asking me about some meta stuff I really do like diving into these things here and there. Tumblr’s sorta glitchy, I do get notifications but I really don’t see asks, so I’m sorry if my response is mad late ^^

#mel answers #pjo #Percy Jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #the lightning thief #rick riordan #the last olympian

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silent-scythe · 3 years

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Broken Love

Hello! My name is Scythe, this is my very first time posting on tumblr, I really don’t know how to lmao. This is a story that I wrote on AO3 a few months ago, but I’ll be posting it here too. Really sorry if the formatting is wonky, I don’t know how to use this lol

TRIGGER WARNING FOR: alcohol abuse, self hate, semi-descriptive mention of sexual assault, and slight sexual content. Please read at your own risk.

༺༻

“What, do you think your mother even bothered to think about you while she was worked to death?”

Nesta regretted it the moment those hateful words left her mouth. A part of her wanted to take back the venom she spat out, yet dignity trampled it down, keeping her spine straight and her head held high. She refused to acknowledge the pain that creeped upon her heart, instead curling her hands into fists as that maelstrom in her eyes swirled angrily.

Her eyes were a force to behold; oh, such rage filled those cunning blue-gray eyes, like that of a wrathful thunderstorm.

She watched, not a flicker of emotion showing, as the fire in Cassian’s eyes died out, reduced to ashes.

She wanted, ached for him to spit back at her, to argue and quarrel.

But she knew she went too far with that remark.

Yet pride, insufferable pride, refused to let her apologize.

༺༻

Cassian felt his breath still at the sneering insult she had flung back at him. They bickered endlessly, yet it was an unspoken rule between them to never bring relatives into it.

Never.

Especially when they were dead- have been dead for five hundred years.

Thousands of retorts came to mind, an endless collection of insults he could hurl back, yet they all died on the tip of his tongue.

Cassian could feel nothing, hear nothing, as he closed the door quietly behind him and walked out of Nesta’s apartment in deafening, roaring silence, wings tucked in tight. He did not know where he was going, and he definitely was not in the mood to fly back to the House of Wind. So he let his steps carry him to the ends of the earth.

And he couldn’t help but think back to what Nesta had said.

Do you think your mother even bothered to think about you while she was worked to death?

Somewhere inside him, uncertainty crept along his bones. He knew that his mother cared for him, even as he was abandoned at an Illyrian camp with nothing but himself. But what if he was wrong? Five centuries later, his only recollection of his mother was a hazy, warm face.

Oh, and the screams and body-wracking sobs that she had let out as he was taken away.

His mother had left him with an amulet, a necklace of ruby the same brilliant carmine color as his seven siphons. He chose to give it to Nesta. Yet that was at the bottom of the Sidra, thrown in there after she refused to accept it, telling him that she wanted nothing from him and leaving.

Oh, how he loathed himself.

༺༻

Nesta stood there, fists clenching and unclenching, as she processed what just happened, replaying the events over and over again.

She should have never said that. She had never hurt Cassian so deep before, so thoroughly that he had left, just left. Without firing some stinging retort back at her.

And what killed her the most? He was a good male. In her heart, she knew that he was worth everything in the world. Gods, he had even closed the door quietly, not slamming it like she would’ve undoubtedly done.

She finally shook herself out of her stance, pacing around her messy, drab-gray apartment, dirty clothes flung everywhere, cobwebs on the corners of the walls.

And so, Nesta resorted to the only option at hand.

The only way she knew how to cope.

Oh, how she loathed herself.

༺༻

Cassian’s steps eventually led him to the Sidra, his unkempt hair blowing in the harsh breeze. The biting cold chilled his fingertips, but he paid it no mind as he stared across the river, waves lapping gently at the sand that he stood on.

From besides him, he could feel shadows wreath him, swirling around the secluded beach, twirling in the air.

“Not now, Azriel,” he spoke, responding to the silent shadows. “I want to be alone.”

The shadows seemed to stop, hesitating, as if saying, ‘are you sure, brother?’ before eventually blowing away, returning to their master.

The Illyrian Commander stared out across the Sidra, his gaze unfocused, eyes on the horizon. Though he did not see the point where water met land.

No, the only thing he could see were smoldering eyes of stormy blue.

༺༻

Nesta cringed inwardly at the cheap alcohol that went down her throat, rough and burning. She took another massive gulp.And she kept this up, until only the last dregs remained.

And then she asked for another drink.

And another.

She drank, and drank, and drank, welcoming the oblivion and the lack of emotion that accompanied this. Nesta kept at it, until her head was fuzzy and dizzy and she could not hear nor see a single thing clearly. Empty bottles lined the table she sat at.

You are worthless, a voice in her head hissed. Worthless. You do not deserve him, you do not deserve Feyre and Elain’s kindness. You should continue to waste away, until you are completely gone.

Nesta wholeheartedly agreed with whatever spoke in her mind.

She hated herself, hated her walls of thorns, hated that she was like a plague, spreading hatred and sadness to everyone around her.

She wished she could change. And when she realized she couldn’t change, wouldn’t change, she wished she was gone.

A male approached her, sitting down next to her. A cruel smile slashed across his face, displaying a handsome face with striking blue eyes and cropped, dirty blond hair. Pointed ears and sharp canines added to his features.

High Fae, then, Nesta thought.

She could practically smell the lust and whiskey on the male.

She welcomed it.

Nesta did not mind as a phantom hand of his grazed her leg, inching up to her thigh. She smirked at him, an invitation and a taunt.

Soon enough, she grabbed his hand harshly, and they were in her bedroom within minutes.

This was the only way she could find freedom, through sex and alcohol. Perhaps she indeed was wasting away, a useless pile of garbage. Once upon a time, she would bristle at such a comparison. Now, she could only agree.

The male entered her, and an image of Tomas Mandray crossed her mind. The foreign touch, the mortal man who had torn her clothes to pieces and pinned her on the wall, until she had screamed her throat raw and clawed her way out of his grip. She still shuddered at the memory, but she shoved it down in her brain, all the way to the back of her mind, where all these other emotions and memories and feelings and happiness were, repressed and behind a gate that Nesta would never open.

She rode him deep into the twilight, though she did not see the male Fae.

No, the only thing she could see were fiery eyes of warm hazel.

༺༻

Cassian stayed by the riverbank until dusk, the rays of twilight sun warming him. Occasionally, he stretched his wings out, extending them and flapping once before he tucked them in tight again. Other than that, he stayed still, letting the waves lull him as he combed through memories and thoughts.

They always seemed to rebel, to go to that one day he didn’t want to think of. The day where his wings were broken, shredded to pieces, wounds dotting his body like stars in the night sky as he laid on that battlefield, with Nesta covering him.

I have no regrets in my life, but this. That we did not have time. That I did not have time with you, Nesta. I will find you again in the next world- and we will have that time, I promise.

Those words he had spoken echoed in his mind, and he remembered the way Nesta had shielded his body with her own.

And right before that- as Nesta had shouted, roaring his name, as he had avoided that blast of magic that would have killed him within milliseconds.

Did he deserve that?

Nightmares still plagued his mind during the night, where he watched as his soldiers, men he grew up with, died on the battlegrounds.

Where they had lain their lives for the war.

Where they died, and he didn’t.

Guilt still ate at him, reprimanding and lashing at himself for surviving when he should have died, was supposed to die with those people. He had been grateful for Elain and Nesta, who killed Hybern, yet oftentimes he still went back to that day, wondering why he was still alive when he shouldn’t be.

Cassian’s slumbering siphons flared brightly as thoughts invaded his mind.

He watched as the sun sank into the sky, the last rays of crimson and gold died with the sun, falling below the horizon. For a moment, the atmosphere turned the same, dark shade of vermillion as his siphons.

Gradually, the sky grew dark, as night fell and stars peeked out from behind their blanket of darkness.

Cassian lowered his head.

Purpose sang in his body, purpose to live. If he was granted with life, he would live it to the fullest. He would pull Nesta out of that dark, dark place, no matter how long it would take. No matter how much it would hurt himself, no matter how bleak some days might be. He made a promise to himself, vowing to never admit defeat and stop trying.

Because he loved her. Truly.

And love, unending love, refused to let him give up.

༺༻

Yeah that’s it! Leave any comments down below (are they called comments on tumblr? I think they’re like,, notes or smth? Also, prompts r nice, gimme prompts for Nessian if you want :)) love them sm. Hope u enjoyed!! I have other fanfic oneshots, which i’ll post probably after i figure out how Tumblr works

- Scythe

#nesta x cassian #nesta #cassian #nesta archeron #nessian #angst #how do i tag these things

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dearest-alexander · 4 years

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Hither and Thither Chapter II- 365 DNI fanfic

Summary: She saved him, in so many ways a man could be saved. Massimo x Laura.

Read it here! I’m not that active in Tumblr. Check these sites for updates.

AO3

FANFICTION

CHAPTER II- Search and Rescue

Sicily, Italy

He was staring at the ceiling fan for what almost felt like hours. He was hoping, in some way, that the blades whirring above could distract him from his overworked brain.

He couldn't sleep. He didn't want to.

By some reason, the nightmares were more constant these past few weeks. He would wake up in the middle of the night, sweating; his mouth in a half scream. His hands instinctively going to his side, to the scar that hurt the most. He was expecting the warm, thick liquid seeping out of him, draining his life. One spill at a time.

Sleeping was not an option anymore.

And as the stressful nights increased, thinking of her became the automatic alternative.

The only alternative.

As it had been for the past five years.

He closed his eyes, recounting the only and best part of that day.

The raven-haired, dark eyed beauty.

Stay with me. Her voice resounded.

For five years, he's haunted by her image, the sound of her voice, the gentle warmth of her hands. For five years, he's been trying to fill the void, she unknowingly opened. And for five, long years, he's been scouring around the world to find her.

No one could confirm that she was real. Except Alek whose description of the day solidified his determination to find her.

She saved him.

All hell broke loose once they exchanged gunfire. A stampede ensued in the marketplace. Alek managed to drive through the commotion, the woman was still with them. She refused to leave him, even as his other bodyguard, Theo, threatened her. Even then, as they reached the packed hospital.

They rolled him to the emergency room. But en route, due to blood loss, organ failure and shock, he went straight into cardiac arrest. Alek told him how, without hesitation, the woman jumped into the hospital bed, straddled his chest and revived him.

She had single-handedly brought him back. No medical instrument needed.

When he woke up a few days later, the woman wasn't there. Nobody could tell him who and where she was. She didn't leave anything behind. The hospital CCTV cameras didn't get a decent snap of her. The swarm of victims from the stampede, and their relatives didn't help either. He didn't fret about it. He thought that with his connections, he'll find her in a heartbeat. He was complacent, he could find her.

How wrong he was.

From the way she acted professionally, they speculated she was a doctor or a nurse. Or something related. He ruled out her being a doctor, because she looked no more than 30.

Unless she's some kind of prodigy.

He began his search again in the hospitals in Cefalú. Then to local clinics, schools, then volunteer groups, and laboratories. When she wasn't, he tried the nearby town. And the next town. And the next town. And the next. The whole country. The continent. It took a whole solid year.

Sensing that he might've misjudged something, he changed his focus to airports, then to hotels. The tourists that visited the country, spanning to three to six months that summer. He started with Cefalú again. But, even that was still unsuccessful.

It was arduous work, he was aware of it. It's about to be the craziest thing he'd ever done (and he did plenty). But nobody had the gall to call him crazy. Not to his face, anyway.

To be honest, he almost wanted to give up. He wanted to accept defeat for the first time in his miserable life. Without a single progress over the years, he had questioned himself if she was even real. But whenever he did, he would try to distract himself on the endless queue of ladies on his bed.

But the harder he tried to forget her, the memory became more vivid, more real. All his efforts to forget her will be futile. He's back to square one. He'll eventually find himself scanning the reports his people will give him the next day.

What was it about that woman that makes her so damn hard to forget?

Her tenacity?

Her kindness?

Her willingness to save a stranger?

Save him?

The questions were making him restless all these years. He wasn't used to not knowing, not having the thing he wanted. He figured it'll all be answered when—not if—he finds her.

Sometimes, he would daydream of the day he'll finally find her. What would be the first thing he'll do? He didn't know a single thing about romance. He reminisced about those sweet things his father did for his mother when she was still alive. All the things he could remember from his 8-year old memories. He figured, he'd thank her first. Wouldn't that be a first?

Then take her to dinner?

Give her flowers?

Take her shopping?

Give her jewelry?

All that romantic shit he swore he'd never do.

He recalled the old conversations he had with his father. He'd tell him how he met his mother, how she made the notorious Don Victorio Torricelli puny in her arms.

"Women are heaven for the eyes and hell for the soul." His father would tell him.

And he would add, in a cheeky tone. "And purgatory for the wallet."

But he had a tingling, annoying feeling, she'd be worth every euro. Hell, she could spend all his money and he wouldn't care less.

He had never had a more disturbing thought than that.

The woman next to him stirred and snuggled closer to him. She kissed his chest and opened her eyes.

For a moment, he anticipated the gray eyes that tortured his dreams and reality. Instead of the haunting grays, the eyes staring back at him in wonder were deep violet. Like amethyst —cynical, majestic and arrogant. A true reflection of the woman beneath.

He looked away, disappointed.

She was beautiful, perfect, powerful, flawless in every way, even he could admit that. With her dirty blonde hair, tan complexion, long legs and lean physique, men and women bow at her feet.

She was a good diversion, a good release for all the pent up frustration of his existence. He could tell that it was the same for her. For the first few years, anyway.

"Awake already?" She asked against his shoulder, clutching the blanket keeping her decency. "How can I never tire you out?"

He stretched his arms above him and under the pillow to his head. He watched the fan blades again, nonchalant to the kisses she started. Her hand started trailing downwards, tempting. But not tempting enough.

"Fermata."

"You weren't saying that earlier." She said between kisses. Her nails raking his abdomen, down, down.

There was nothing more irritating than disobedience. He clasped her wrist. "I said, stop."

He threw the covers and picked up his pants, phone, and his gun on her bedside table. He didn't need to look at her to see or feel her violet eyes digging holes in his back. He was buttoning his shirt when she spoke.

"Ti amo."

He sighed, his fingers couldn't close around his buttons faster.

"Ti amo, Massimo." She repeated, a little louder this time.

He raised his eyes and unsurprised to see her glistening eyes. "Don't make this hard, Anna."

She sat forward, the blanket, no longer her concern. It slid down her breasts, pooling down her wide hips. "Why not?"

Fuck, why are women so complicated?

He knew he should've gone to Magdalena or Althea instead.

He didn't answer her. He grabbed his suit jacket over the chair, but before he could put it on, he heard her said,

"It's because of her isn't it? That woman."

He stopped, but remained his position- his back to her.

He heard get up, her naked feet treading on the wooden floor. To him.

"You thought that I wouldn't find out that you're still looking for her? After all these years?" Her voice, croaked yet poisonous.

He muttered a curse. A jealous Anna was as dangerous as a hungry lioness.

"Don't you think it's time to give up, Massimo? It's pointless. You will never find-"

The remaining patience in him snapped. He faced her, his hand immediately closing around her throat. He felt a sense pride surge in him when he saw the flicker of fear in her violet eyes.

"Don't."

Anna grabbed the hand holding her throat and faked a confident smirk.

"You will never find her." She enunciated in a tone meant to dishearten him.

He tightened his hold on her jaw. And the fear in her eyes pulsed.

He hissed, truth staining his words, "And you will never be her."

Her eyes widened and he swore he heard something inside her iciness, break.

He released her.

Anna stared at him, her eyes watering. He should be sorry. Or apologize, or feel remorse, feel something, whatever people fool themselves with. But he doesn't. The cavity where his heart would be was only a hollow, corrupted emptiness.

Fuck manners.

Fuck tradition.

Fuck Mario and his dream of marrying a Torricelli to a Rizzuto.

"I can't do this anymore." He said.

And this time, he knew he meant it.

He passed her and put his jacket. He headed towards the door, not the very least concerned that Anna might point a gun on him.

She, of all people, knew better than that.

The mansion was dark and empty, but her men lurk every corner. He went down the grand staircase, the candles on the walls were his guide. He heard and saw his and Anna's guards huddled around the table in the foyer. They were knee-deep in a game of poker. And from the boisterous shrieks of her men, his team was losing. Domenico was laughing, but when he met his eyes, he cleared his throat. The men scurried with their spoils, stuffing them in their pockets.

The car was already outside. Alek opened the door for him as he checked his phone. Beni, his IT guy, sent him the reports he's gathered for the day.

He flipped through the profiles of women as they drove through the night. All of them were raven-haired, has dark gray eyes, aged 25 to late 30's. Single women, married women, lesbian.

What if she changed her hair now?

Or what if she was wearing contact lenses that day?

What if he already found her profile, but missed it?

Worse, what if she's married? Or has a kid?

He exhaled a sigh of frustration, leaned his elbow on the door and pinched the sides of his nose.

Where are you?

Beside him, he could feel his brother smirking at him.

Without taking his eyes off his phone, he warned. "If you don't stop peeking, I'll gouge your eyes out with the same toothpick you're using."

Domenico tittered with amusement, but looked away anyway. Unlike everyone else, his brother still supported his foolish pursuits.

He was caught up with his task when Domenico reminded him,

"Mario's asking me if we're still going to Rome tomorrow... er in a few hours?"

Ah. Fuck.

He glanced at his clock, 3:12.

"Tell him we're leaving at 5. We'll be back here at 11."

"Va bene." Domenico simpered, chewing on his toothpick.

Massimo closed his eyes and her image intruded his darkness again. Her delicate steady hands. A pair of eyes that were the darkest of grays that resembled the storms at sea. And her radiant smile that was nudging something, waking something in him.

I'll find you.

Whatever it takes.

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Warsaw, Poland

The sandwich her assistant left for her was sitting idle, cold on her table. It reminded her that she hasn't eaten her lunch yet. Or her breakfast.

She's been working on her lateral and sales report she thought she could give to Marek today. If Oskar was correct (he usually is), she'd be getting that promotion today. Though, no one in this company comes close to her credentials, she felt that she should still secure it. She hadn't stopped since last night. Even when Martin came home at 1 in the morning.

Her nails tapped against the keyboard in unwavering determination. The classical piano music she's listening to was helping her concentration. She worked on her keyboard as if they were piano keys, an instrument close to her by heart.

She's only two words away when there's a knock on her door. From the corner of her eye, she saw her assistant peeked her red head behind the door.

"Miss Biel?"

"Yes?" She answered, without taking her eyes off her screen.

"There's someone here."

Oh, God. Please don't be Martin.

They had a little argument today. Again. This time, it was about the empty carton of milk he keeps putting back in the fridge. They had a little scream fest, thus the reason for her lost of appetite. She was finally seeing the pig Olga was describing. But still, she felt regretful when he stormed out of their apartment. In a day, they'll be travelling to Sicily and she wouldn't be caught dead going alone on her own birthday. Let alone, be alone in an airplane.

She frowned, "Who?"

Her assistant opened the door to reveal her long-time friend.

The second her eyes landed on the baggy sweatpants, she knew something was wrong.

"Bianka!" She pushed her chair and strode towards her. She pulled her into a tight hug and nodded to her assistant, who closed the door behind her.

If Olga's the craziest and loudest person, Bianka's always been the most timid, the prettiest. She's the heart of their little group, their valuable asset. Put Bianka in front of the group and they're sure, bouncers would let them in, people would part and give them way. Men, women craned their necks whenever she passes by. They never pay for their own drink in the bar— much to Olga's pleasure— whenever Bianka was with them. She lost count of the times Bianka saved their asses with her power of persuasion and flirting. She had the charming face and the body of a supermodel that everyone envies. Mile-long legs that look good in any dress, plump lips, a sun-kissed complexion, shiny brown hair that went past her waist.

But instead of the straight brown mane, was a disheveled nest for a hair. Bianka was a mess. Her clothes were baggy and wrinkled. It's a wonder how she got past security looking like that.

"What happened, B?"

Instead of answering, Bianka returned her hug and sobbed.

"There, there honey. Come, sit." With her still in her arms, she sat them on the nearby couch in her office. "Is it Russo, again?"

Like a plaguing curse to every beautiful woman, her friend decided to fall in love with yet another jerk. Though, this time it was an upgrade from the alcoholic she had before. This time, it was a user. They broke up not more than a month ago, but she tell could from the tousled appearance of her friend that she's not over it.

Bianka raised her head from her chest and shook her head. "No." She snuffled. "Well, not entirely."

"Oh honey. How many times do we have to tell you." She wiped her friend's tears and offered a handkerchief from her pants pocket. "He's not worth your tears. Nobody is. You're too beautiful for him anyway."

She continued, her tone half joking, half serious. "Can you imagine your children? I wouldn't forgive you if you ever had his children. I mean, poor little things Just, biedne małe rzeczy." She clicked her tongue.

Bianka let out a weak chuckle. "Yeah, we will have ugly children."

"See? Cheer up B."

Bianka sat up, grabbed her hankie, all the while keeping her head down.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there with you yesterday." she apologized, the guilt creeping up her stomach.

"I told you, it's okay. I know how your work is important to you." Her friend took a lighter tone and met her eyes. "So, did you kick Dexter's ass? Or whatever his name was?"

"Like you have to ask?" She chuckled and sat with a leg under her, her hand behind her bun. "You're now looking at the general manager of the Regent."

"Shut up! Shut up! Are you serious?" Bianka's face brightened with pride. She and Olga knew how long she has been waiting for that promotion.

"Well, not yet. The Senior asked me to go to his office later today to discuss yesterday and something." She replied, applying the quotation marks on the word "something".

"Well, I'm so proud of you. You deserve it." Bianka beamed at her.

And an idea hit her. She stood up and grabbed the handset from the phone on her marble coffee table.

"Sophia?" She called her assistant. "Won't you come over here, please?"

Within seconds, Sophia came at her door again. "Yes, Miss Biel?"

"Please book the same flight for Bianka Antos. She's going with me to Sicily tomorrow. Put it on my card. That's Bianka, with a K and Atnos as A-T-N-O-S. Check my book for her details.

Bianka's turquoise eyes widened. "No, Laura, no."

She smirked before adding, "Could you also go with Conrad to get my things in my apartment? Send it here. I'll talk to Oskar."

Sophia nodded, her hand still on the doorknob.

"That would be all Sophia, thank you."

And her assistant left.

"No, Laura. I can't let you—"

"It's already done. Sophia is very efficient. We're leaving 7 am tomorrow." She waved her cellphone, showing the confirmed flight. "See?"

"I can't, Laura. You can't"

"Yeah, I can." She insisted.

"I have—"

"Please. It's not like you can't bat your eyes at your boss, who, I think is the perfect match for you." She teased, before getting up to check on their reservation on her laptop.

Better cancel that queen-sized bed too.

"What about Martin?"

"We had a fight this morning. I don't think he's coming." She shrugged, unfazed.

"Why? What about?"

"Nothing. Something stupid." She replied with a resigned tone.

Bianka patted the empty space next to her, the spot she vacated not moments ago. "Tell me."

Bianka's always felt happy with her and Martin's relationship. She was their cheerleader. Unlike Olga, who was more vocal about her dislike and disapproval. When Martin proposed, Bianka cried as she congratulated her while Olga didn't talk to her for three days. Bianka's always been the one person she could go for a Martin-related advice. If there was someone she could vent out right now, Bianka was the right person.

"I'm not so sure if I should still marry him." She admitted, quite surprised by how steady she sounded.

"Why?"

"I… I don't know." She shrugged again. "Am I crazy? Or this was just cold feet?"

Bianka gaped at her, her smothered eyes, deep and pensive. "You don't love him anymore?"

She seemed startled by the question and answered in reflex.

"I do." And she repeated for good measure, as if it'll make it true. "I do."

Bianka cocked a groomed eyebrow at her.

Deep down, she knew. She had a feeling she had always known. Something about last night and this morning was the final straw. She sighed.

It was Bianka's turn to pull her in her arms. "Oh, honey."

"I'm okay. I'm okay." She appealed, hugging her friend back. "I just have to be sure."

They fell into a comfortable silence, until she heard Bianka mumbled,

"If you want my two cents, yeah, you should break up with him."

She gave a bittersweet laugh, pulled away and held Bianka's shoulders at arms length. "Who are you and what have you done to Bianka, the manager of Laura and Martin's fan club?"

Her friend looked relieved. "I'm happy if you're happy… Now." She clapped her hand on her knees and got up, enlivened of a sudden. "If I'm going with you to Italy tomorrow, I got some persuading to do. What was I thinking going here dressed up like this?"

She chuckled, "Glad to have you back."

"Do you have clothes here?"

Being the Sales Director, she's privileged enough to have her own office.

The wide window allowed her a view of the garden. Her office has its own powder room. A three-seater mid century blue couch and two white armchairs laid for her guests. Displayed on her walls were gold rimmed glass shelves lined with decor. At the center of the space, resting on the finely crafted carpet was her glass computer desk. It wasn't as big and luxurious like what Sawecki had. But it was enough for her. She was content with having her own space for a change.

She nodded. "Yeah. Check the cabinet in the bathroom."

"Please tell me that I won't find that same outfit in there." Bianka complained, pointing to her clothes with disgust.

She looked down herself. She was wearing a black pencil skirt, a matching black long sleeve and black pumps— her work clothes. "Why? What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"Nobody died, Laura. Why are you always like somebody died?"

She laughed. "Go, get cleaned up. I also have some make-up there." She got up and fetch her phone again. "I'll call Olga, see if she wants to come too."

"Yeah, but you know what she's gonna say. You know how she is with Italy."

She stopped, her fingers hovering on the button.

She could still remember it as if it was yesterday. What's supposed to be a relaxing summer vacation became one of the most unforgettable moments of her life.

Some five years ago, Olga's cousin, Remri, invited them for the summer. Laura fell in love with the place. Everything about Sicily was a dream come true. From the landscapes, the culture, the ancient architecture, the people, the food. Everything was going well. Olga even met and hooked up with an Italian guy from Cefalú whom they met in one of the clubs.

One summer day, they drove down to Cefalú to see where the guy lived. They stopped by the marketplace because two of their colleagues wanted to check it out. Bianka and her boyfriend at the time went to find a restaurant while Olga and Italian guy stayed in the car. She didn't wanna be around with all the moaning and frolicking so she left them.

She was dawdling around, fascinated by the souvenir shops when Bianka called her. She told her to meet them at this Mediterranean restaurant they found. They're seated in the balcony overlooking the market and the sea when she heard it.

At first, she thought they were fireworks. She was about to joke that Italians have a weird sense of timing.

Who would light fireworks in the middle of the day?

But at the corner of her eye, she saw two bodies fall down. Then everybody was running in different directions, screaming, panicking.

One of the men in black grabbed the other fallen, an older gentleman and disappeared to the stairs.

It didn't take a moment for her instincts to kick in. She rushed to the body nearest her. A younger man— she could tell that he was Italian from his deep-set eyes, his stubble and bone structure.

No more than two years older than me, she remembered thinking.

He had a bullet lodged in his torso, right where his large intestine was. His body was going into a septic shock. And the guards around her were more concerned about who fired at them rather than the man lying on the balcony.

She remembered his brown eyes— so dark they looked almost black. She couldn't forget, how, even at the brink of death, they still look fearless, calm… exquisite. His eyes, his willingness to live motivated her to keep him awake, alive. They were the only thing that kept her from running away with the other terrified guests.

Olga and Italian guy were one of the victims of the stampede that occurred in the marketplace. Olga had been traumatized and swore she would never go back to Italy. They left as soon as they released Olga from the hospital hours later.

After that summer, she had never had a stronger MO to become a doctor.

But alas, life hit her like a bitch.

Sometimes she still wonders about the man and his dark chocolate eyes.

Did he live?

She hoped he did.

The creak of the door opening interrupted her reverie.

"Explain to me," Bianka announced, "Why do you insist on wearing black when you've got this in your closet?"

She turned around and sashayed towards her, fresh faced- far from the wreck she was earlier. Bianka was wearing her white off-shoulder peplum dress. It was the one dress Martin bought for compensation when he forgot to pick her up.

"Bright colors are not really my thing… If you want it, you can have it."

"No! After you have forced me to take that trip." Bianka whined as she checked herself in the mirror. "Stop being so nice for a change, Laura."

"Correction. I'm only kind to you. And Olga… sometimes… when she's not cranky."

"Did you call her yet?"

"No."

She got… distracted.

"What do you think she'll say?" She bit her nails. Olga could be pretty scary sometimes. "What if I told her there's gonna be free booze?"

"Ha!" Bianka scoffed, running her hand down her dress. "Even that won't make her come."

"But it's my birthday!" She pouted. "I want my best girls with me."

Bianka flopped down the couch where she was at. "For you my friend, I'll convince her."

"Thank you." She pursed her lips.

Bianka smiled and gave her a peck.

"Now, get out of here. I got some work to do."

Bianka got up from the couch and turned to the door, her ratty sweats in her hands. "I don't deserve you, Laura."

"Don't go sappy on me now. Get out." She grinned at Bianka blew her a kiss and left.

She went back to her desk and proceeded to finish her paper. When she was all done, she printed two copies of each and practiced her spiel.

With still thirty minutes to spare, she typed Sicily on the web and searched for activities she and Bianka could do. She cancelled the romantic getaways and listed her and Bianka's name in the Spa and the city tour. She was humming along the keys of Yiruma, astonished by the lack of guilt for Martin.

That must be a good thing.

Still have time to kill, she found herself googling "Cefalú Shootout 2015" again. But the results remain the same. As it had been for the past few years. The news only focused on the stampede that injured a hundred others. It mentioned nothing about the gunfire that happened in the restaurant. The Google pages ran out and still, nothing.

How weird.

How could they not report anything that big? It probably started the stampede in the first place.

There was a soft knock on the door again.

"Miss Biel?" Came a high, honeyed voice. She recognized the short, pixie-haired woman, her elfish face peering behind the door.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Marek is ready for you now." Marek's assistant informed.

Showtime.

"I'll be there in two."

She fetched her items and glanced at the mirror to check her hair and attire. "I don't dress for a funeral." She convinced herself, flattening the nonexistent crease on her skirt.

She made her way to the 32nd floor, her chin held high. She tried to keep the butterflies floating around her stomach.

This is it, Laura.

She held a conscious hand to her heart before knocking on the door. "Sir?"

Don't faint. Don't faint. Don't faint. No matter what he says, no matter what happens, don't faint.

"Come in." Said the deep voice from behind the room.

"Good afternoon Sir." She smiled, her brightest smile while clutching the folder behind her back. "You wanted to see me?"

"Ah yes, Miss Biel." The man stood up and extended his hand.

She grasped it.

His office was 10x bigger than hers. But you could expect that from the top senior position in the company. He has its own adjacent meeting room, a large lounge area, a comfortable bathroom and a 360 degree view of the city.

"Sit down, sit down." He pointed to the sturdy chairs in front of his table.

"Thank you."

"What do we have here?" He asked, eyeing the folder on her lap.

"Ah, these are the annual sales report for the past year. Thought you might want to see that." She slid him the file.

"Thank you. But I don't need to review this to see that the hotel is thriving, Miss Biel." He supplied and leaned back on his high chair. "All thanks to you. You're the best in this job."

"It's only because I have the best team, Mr. Marek."

"Hayden, please. Don't make me feel older than I am."

She tried ignoring the lewd glint in his eyes.

"Hayden."

"How many years have you been working for The Regent, Laura?"

"Four and a half years this coming August."

"And you started as a server, right?"

"Yes, si- uh, Hayden."

"Then you became our receptionist."

She smiled and nodded.

"I like your story, Laura. It tells me that hard work can get you anywhere… Is it true that you were a med student? Before you came here?"

"Yes. I, uh, I was on my Clerkship. But I had to quit."

"Yeah. I'm sorry about that." The prick didn't look sorry though. "If given the chance, do you still wanna go back? To studying medicine, I mean?"

She'd been thinking about it. But if she said yes to Marek, she might not get that promotion. "I still think about it to past the time but I fell in love with hotels. I can still help and serve people here, without the gory details."

Marek laughed. "Of course, of course."

He stood from his chair, and patted the file to his lips. "As you now know, we're in need of a general manager by the end of the week…" He half sat on the table, his beady eyes on her. "And I know for a fact, you're perfect for the job."

Yes.

She tried to control her voice. "I will do my best, Sir."

"Hayden."

"Hayden." She repeated with a forced smile.

"Good, good."

Okay, can she go now?

Marek, once again, stood and circled her in a way that reminded her of a predator.

She heard the alarming ringtones going off in her head.

Please don't do anything stupid. Please don't do anything stupid.

She willed her heart to slow down.

He stopped behind her and grasped her shoulders. She flinched, but remained seated. Even as he sniffed her hair.

She felt the bile rising from her throat.

"Yes, good, good. You will be good."

"Please, take your hands off me." She pleaded, keeping her voice firm and stable. Her hands, closed into tight fists on her lap, to keep it from shaking.

"You will do everything I say if you want still want that promotion."

His breath smelt like cigarettes.

She tried her best not to gag.

But then, he licked behind her ear and she cracked.

She stood up, his chin hitting her shoulder with a loud thwack!

Marek yelped in surprise and pain from biting his own tongue. "Mah tang!"

She turned on her heel and threw her quivering fist on his nose. It landed square on and Marek fell down on his ass.

Her fist was burning from the impact. Hot ball of tears wet her eyelids. Her entire body, being, shaking from the assault. "You can have your promotion, you fucking pervert."

"You bitch!" He cried, pinching his bleeding nose.

"Don't ever tough me again." She hissed and with great effort, she ran out. She ignored the sly looks from the people she passed by and went straight to her office.

Sophia caught up to her. "Miss Biel? Miss Biel? Are you alright?"

She's here already?

She wiped the tear running down her cheek. "You found everything okay at my apartment?"

"Yes... Um." Sophia pushed her round glasses on the bridge of her nose. "Your luggage is in the lobby. Shall I send them up?"

She shook her head. "No. But can you book me my usual room downstairs? I'll stay here for the night."

"Of course." Her assistant gave her a wry smile.

"Dziękuję Ci, Sophie."

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The sound of the rotors touching down roused him from his dreamless sleep.

He sat up from the nook and took his seat. The stewardess proceeded to arrange the pillows and blanket he slept on. Mario has already been awake on the opposite gangway. The old man nudged a snoozing Domenico beside him who jumped out of his chair. His hand going to his holster.

Glad to know, paranoia runs in the family.

Business in Rome has always been a pleasure. The one-hour flight was almost worth it. But right now, he's looking forward to the day off. After the drama with Anna, he wanted to be alone. He craved it, like a kid with a candy. He felt like he deserves a moment of solitude. Away from the drugs, the prostitution rings, the guns, the people, and Mario. Especially Mario.

May be I'll take out the Titan this afternoon.

Of all the things he owned, his yacht has to be his favorite. It was his cheapest yet most treasured escape. Only a few selected people have the prerogative to join him there. He's determined to keep it that way. Mario hated it. Then again, the old man have always hated and avoided everything with the word "Fun" on it.

The pressurized cabin door opened. Mario rose from his seat first before a yawning Domenico followed him out the aircraft. He stretched his legs before he, too, was up on his feet.

"Hope you had a wonderful flight, Signore." Flirted the stewardess before flashing him a toothy grin. She was pretty and looked too rangy for a stewardess. Domenico must have picked her out the litter himself.

He ignored her and stepped out the threshold. The sun was blooming on the horizon, warming the sky in an orange bluish blanket. He inhaled the fresh and sweet Sicilian breeze, relishing it.

Home again.

He closed his jacket and donned his aviators. The sun may be pretty today, but that doesn't mean he stopped hating it.

"Massimo," Mario started as soon as he entered the car. "Montisanno wanted to meet with you regarding the new armory shipments."

"It's already here?" He asked, surprised.

"Yes. It arrived only an hour ago. They want to know if you wanna take a look."

Fuck. So much for the day off.

He gave him curt nod. "We'll go straight there." He ordered the driver who pulled up at the arrival area where a sea of people are waiting in queue for their taxi.

"Why are we going this way?" He asked, irritated.

The driver looked nervous and stammered a reply. Domenico stepped in for him. He shifted from the front passenger seat to explain. "They closed the private road for some maintenance."

"Out of all the days, they chose today." He grumbled.

"Infatti, no?" His brother muttered back, chomping down his gum.

"Where's your toothpick?" He joked, his voice flat.

He knew that Domenico was trying (and failing) to quit smoking. His "alternatives", including toothpicks and gum, were only making it worse for him.

He told him that if he wanted to smoke, then he should. They're all gonna die anyway, some way. And with their lifestyle, it's a guarantee.

Domenico turned to him again, his eyebrows wiggling. He bragged, "The stewardess has it."

His lips quirked into a smirk.

The driver slowed as a couple wheeled their push carts over the trolley lanes. A traffic marshall recognized their car and immediately stopped the other vehicles. The man was pointing for the other cars to move aside and make way. The man was wearing a very distracting tattered, neon vest. It was hurting his eyes.

He was staring forward, making a mental note to mention this detail to the governor, when a reflection caught his attention.

Everything moved, as if in slow motion.

But, not slow enough.

A black haired woman was arranging her hair in a messy bun. All the while, she was staring at his window. Her eyes, ever so gray and penetrating.

He felt his pathetic excuse for a heart, stopped.

The hair on his arms prickled.

He bolted from his seat and removed his sunglasses.

He spun on his torso, as they passed by her, unwilling to take his eyes off her, in case he was dreaming.

He couldn't speak.

He couldn't think.

"Che cos'è, Massimo?" Mario demanded, alert. "What is it?"

The woman was still staring at the car, as if she could see him through the back tint. Another woman approached her, smiling and pointed to the cab driving to them. The raven-haired woman broke eye contact and smiled at her friend. They loaded their luggages when their cab stopped in front of them.

"Stop the car." His voice between a rasp and a whisper.

"What?"

"I SAID STOP THE CAR!" He bellowed, his voice shaking the interior of the SUV.

The tires screeched to a halt at the side of the road. The impact forced Domenico and Mario forward in their seats.

He threw the car door and sprung from his seat. He ran towards the trunk and watched as she entered the cab. Her smile, not leaving her face.

He heard Mario and Domenico got out the car.

"What happened?" His brother questioned, his head swirling back and forth to his face and the taxi zone.

"It's her."

"What?!" Domenico walked to him, his eyes not leaving him.

While his, were not leaving her ride.

"Where?! Are you sure?"

His entire body was shaking.

He was sure.

This time, he was fucking sure.

The taxi was still stuck in the traffic behind them. He couldn't take his eyes off it. The windows weren't tinted. She was in the back passenger seat, he saw her removing her cardigan. She was laughing at her friend.

It's her.

It's her!

"Domenico, tell the second car to pick you up here."

"Massimo, be rational. We have-" Mario began.

"I don't care! I'm not letting her out of my sight." He was pulsing.

"Who?!" The old man looked mad.

He couldn't waste time.

The traffic was starting to move.

"Get out the car." With hasty footsteps, he walked backwards to the SUV. "Get out, I'm driving!"

The driver stepped down and away from the car.

"Look, let's be calm down for a minute here." Domenico amended and pulled his phone. "I'll ask Alek and the other guys to follow. I'm calling them right now."

No. It has to be him.

He memorized how the cab looked like. A white Ford Galaxy. The company's name branded on the passengers' and rear doors.

"Massimo?"

She's here.

She wasn't a dream.

After all these years.

Five fucking years.

She's real.

"Massimo!" Domenico called again. "Did you get a look at the plates?"

"BB 03813. The Airport Taxi company." he responded in a minute.

Domenico repeated it to the phone. "Okay, okay. Good." He hung up the phone. "It's one of Stefan's."

Cars zoomed past them. Nobody dared to horn; Everybody seemed to recognize the seal on the side doors.

"Good. Tell the second car to pick you up."

"But-" Mario interrupted again.

"Get out of my way or I'll run you over." He snarled, stepping on the driver's stool. His eyes anywhere but the nasty, senile man.

"You're gonna leave us here in the gutter?" Mario complained.

For a minute, he let his eyes wander to his brother. "Domenico…"

His brother nodded at him in understanding. "Alek has your back. The second car is on its way here. I'll make up for your absence."

"Fanculo!" Mario threw his hands up in exasperation.

He was never more thankful for Domenico than that moment.

The taxi took the east 92nd exit, he changed the gear to Drive.

He rolled the windows as Domenico hollered, "I'll patch the taxi's GPS on yours. Vai a prenderla, brother." Go get her.

He smirked at Nico before flooring on the gas.

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

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

I made Laura (indirectly) curious about Massimo too, that way they're both weird together. LOL. I would like to believe that Domenico and Massimo have a great relationship. 'Cause I know Massimo won't have someone he doesn't trust to watch Laura. ALSO, I had different versions of the ending. At first, I don't want Massimo to come after her, but, after five years of pinning? It wouldn't make sense to me if he ordered somebody to do it for him. Tell me if you like it.

Still interested? 😬 My original plan was three chapters only, but if guys want maybe (?) I could do more and cover the entire movie. ?

PLEASE CHECK OUT THE AO3 site and Fanfic I added in the title. I’ll be uploading future chapters there. It’s so hard here on Tumblr.

#365 dni #365 days #365 days fanfic #365 dni fanfic #Laura x Massimo #Massimo and Laura #massimo torricelli #laura biel #michele morrone #anna maria sieklucka #Blanka Lipinska #archive of our own #fanfiction

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mdelpin · 4 years

Text

The Red Dragon - Chapter 22

AO3 | FF.Net | Tumblr: Ch1 | Ch21 @ao3feed-gratsu

Natsu had left the cave with no clear direction in mind. He'd just needed to get away. He'd meant what he'd said, he absolutely understood why Sting had done it, but that didn't lessen the pang of betrayal any. Sting was the only one he had trusted with his secret, it wasn't like he hadn't known what could happen.

He could almost hear his father in his head telling him there was no point in dwelling in things he couldn't do anything about, but after everything that had happened in the last few days, he wasn't capable of much else.

With nowhere else to go, he flew towards Drak Aast, trusting Atlas to get Weisslogia there on his own. Upon his arrival, he was greeted eagerly by all the dragons before getting flooded with problems that required his attention, grateful for the distraction they offered. He set to work on them, promptly ignoring Belserion's concerned expression at seeing him there at all.

By the time Atlas arrived a few days later, Natsu was on the other side of the island, mediating a dispute between the earth and rock dragons.

He spent months on the island immersing himself more and more in his duties, happy to see many dragons had already begun nesting. He was excited about the possibility of seeing plenty of hatchlings when he returned on his next visit. If they had a successful season, they might be able to bring their numbers up sooner than expected.

Natsu never stayed in any one area of the large island for long, moving along to the next one as soon as things had settled, and he had too much time to think. But no matter how much he did to try to keep himself busy, he could never escape his thoughts of Gray completely. The continuous physical ache was a consistent reminder of what he'd lost.

After entering a mating bond, a dragon needed to remain close to his mate for a full year. Any extended separation within that time was painful and to be avoided at all costs, with the intensity increasing every day. It was one of the reasons he had decided to wait when they had first confessed to each other, knowing he might have to leave at any moment.

While he was on the island, he could keep himself busy, but Natsu knew he should go home eventually. He'd only meant to be gone for a month or two, just enough time to process what had happened and accept his fate. But he could feel a pull at his bond, and he knew that it was Gray calling to him. He didn't know what to do, but he also knew he couldn't ignore it much longer.

0-0

Gray wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand, taking a break from cutting wood with the saw he'd fashioned out of his ice. He had taken off Natsu's scarf so as not to get it dirty, setting it down neatly on top of his shirt. Lyon had taken off his shirt as well, the strenuous work making them both uncomfortably hot despite having set up the sawhorses by the lake.

After making sure no other nearby villages had been attacked by the black dragon, they'd set about rebuilding Talos to the best of their ability. Everyone chipped in as best they could, from the village guards all the way down to the orphans in Anna's care. Together they'd managed to get the village back into livable shape, forging a closer community along the way.

Gray noticed Erza and Juvia coming over carrying what looked to be two large picnic baskets and sat down, willing the breeze to pick up so he could cool his body without having to resort to magic. He looked forward to taking a break after a long morning spent doing construction work.

Things with Juvia had improved somewhat after that first disastrous night. He had apologized for the necklace incident, although he still didn't understand what had prompted it. It had not responded that way to anyone else. In return, she'd toned down her advances, which had made her a lot more pleasant to be around.

Lyon waved at the girls and hurried over to take the basket from Erza, taking a moment to kiss her in greeting before setting up a blanket where they stood.

Juvia kept walking towards Gray, giving the two lovers some space. She sat down next to him and smiled shyly.

"Juvia thinks Talos is beginning to look nice again," she remarked, absently grabbing some water from the lake and turning it into a cool mist she let fall on Gray, who smiled at her in appreciation.

"Thanks, it's murder out here."

Juvia nodded and stared out at the water, "It's so hard to believe how quickly everything was destroyed."

The dragon fight had ruined many buildings and caused many injuries, but miraculously no lives had been lost. Gray had been the one to suffer the most wounds, and since his memories had yet to return, he had no idea how bad they had really been.

He'd returned to the field in daylight, hoping it would trigger something, but outside of dismay at the large patches of blood splattered grass, there had been nothing.

It was a constant hum in his brain that he couldn't quiet. Where had he gone? Had he been alone? But no matter how much he thought on it, the answers still evaded him.

All he could remember for sure was that he had begun walking to Talos full of a feeling that something good was going to happen. Then he'd woken up in the field. As soon as the village repairs were done, he planned to return to the village where he'd taken that last job. Maybe if he retraced his steps, it would give him some sort of clue as to what had happened to him.

"How are the repairs to the orphanage going?" Gray asked, mostly to make conversation.

"We're almost done," Juvia assured him although her expression got a little teary. "Anna is a lovely woman, Juvia wishes there had been a place like that for her when she was younger."

"Yeah, she took care of most of my friends before they were adopted by… uhm before they were adopted." Gray caught himself before he revealed they'd been taken in by dragons, a fact that as he understood it, was not generally known.

"Are these the dragonslayers that left to fight in the war?" Juvia asked cautiously, her eyes searching his face for a reaction, suggesting she knew she was getting close to a forbidden topic.

"Yes," Gray replied and immediately opened the picnic basket to see what was inside, not wanting to invite any further discussion, but Juvia seemed to be on some sort of mission.

"And the scarf you wear belongs to your partner?"

Gray's head jerked as he heard those words, his eyes widening in panic before realizing much too late that Juvia was referring to the fact that Natsu had been his guard partner. And even as he bravely tried to answer noncommittally, he knew he'd given himself away.

"Uhm, yeah."

"Oh," Juvia remained silent for a moment, her cheeks reddening slightly as she grasped what his reaction to her innocent question meant. But then she rallied, gazing at him intently.

"Juvia is sorry for her actions, she should not have made assumptions," she grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently before letting go and smiling at him, "Juvia is sure he will return to you."

"I wish I was," Gray muttered as he absently fidgeted with his necklace.

0-0

Natsu flew home with Atlas, who had shown up to retrieve him a few days earlier. They hadn't spoken since he'd left the cave Sting and the others had been staying in, and although he could tell Altas was working hard to remain quiet, he could also see that the effort wasn't easy for him.

They slowed down as soon as he could pick out Gray's scent, and Atlas finally spoke.

"I didn't tell Igneel what happened. I will leave it up to you whether you want to do that or not."

"Thank you, it's probably best he doesn't know."

Atlas grunted, although Natsu wasn't sure if he agreed with his decision, "How are you feeling these days, Kid?"

"About as expected, I figure if I'm near him, it might be enough to help."

They arrived at the cave, and Natsu spent a few days catching Igneel up on the goings-on of the island. Each day his curiosity and need to see Gray grew incrementally until he finally gave in.

He found a perch atop their mountain where he could sit and have a clear view of the village without being seen. Natsu was relieved to see the repairs had been finished, remembering with some guilt how much damage he'd caused during his fight with Acnologia.

Throughout the day he got peeks of Anna as well as Lyon and Erza and some of the other guards he recognized from his time there. But it wasn't until the third day that he got a glimpse of Gray. He was doing his patrol sweep, a route Natsu remembered well.

He'd been expecting to feel something when he saw him, but he hadn't anticipated the overwhelming need that came over him at seeing Gray so close.

Natsu watched him eagerly at first, noticing all the small changes the last few months had wrought. All he wanted was to hear Gray’s voice and know his touch. To share his bed and feel his love. Images he'd spent months trying not to think about played in his mind, each one stealing his breath and shattering his already damaged heart further.

And as the scent of what he wanted most but could never have again filled his nostrils, he imagined that this was what hell would be like. No blazing inferno, but having his heart shattered over and over again. He steeled himself for what would surely be several months of this torture, swearing to himself that once the required time had passed, he would make his way back to Drak Aast, never to return.

0-0

Gray glanced around his apartment in the dim light of the early dawn hours, trying to make sure he had everything he needed before he left. He was getting ready to go when he was startled by a noise behind him.

"Aren't you even going to eat anything?" Lyon complained, exiting his room with his travel bag slung on his back.

"Where are you going?" Gray asked, puzzled that Lyon hadn't mentioned leaving on a job.

"Where do you think, dumbass? With you." Lyon walked into their kitchen, opening their refrigerator in search of something to eat and throwing a piece of fruit at Gray. "Or did you think I was just going to let you leave on your own?"

"How did you —?"

"Know you were going to leave?" Lyon smirked, "Erza told me you asked for leave, it didn't take much for me to figure out what you were up to. Knowing you, there were only two possible choices. You're either going to go retrace your steps, or you're going to go off in search of Natsu. Or both?"

Gray stared at his brother, and while his first inclination was to tell him he wanted to go alone, the truth was he was somewhat scared of what he might find. Having Lyon around would be a welcome distraction, not to mention his brother had always been very observant. He could be a lot of help on this journey, but more importantly, it had been a long time since they had done anything just the two of them.

But it wasn't fair, Gray had no idea where this trip was going to take him. If something happened to him, no one would miss him all that much, but if something happened to Lyon, Erza would be devastated. She'd already had too many people leave her behind, it wasn't fair to her.

"I'm not taking no for an answer," Lyon insisted, arms crossed across his chest in stubborn defiance.

"Erza?"

"Already knows I'm leaving," Lyon remained in the same posture, but the way his eyes strayed away from his face let Gray know he'd had similar thoughts.

"I don't know what's going to happen," Gray cautioned, trying to give him one last chance at an out.

Lyon sighed, putting his arms back down by his sides, "Look, I'll admit the thought has occurred to me that we might not return, but I understand you have to do this. The truth is, if something like this had happened to me, I'd want to do the same. I'm your brother, let me help you."

"Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you."

Lyon grinned in triumph, moving forward to give him a quick hug before opening their door and stepping out into the chilly morning air, "Let' s go!"

Gray immediately followed, locking their apartment door behind them. They made their way to Gray's last confirmed location slowly, neither knowing what it was they were looking for but hoping they'd recognize it when they found it.

The first few days were filled with a lot of talks, and Gray had almost been enjoying himself, despite the lack of progress. It had been a long time since he'd gotten to spend time like this with his brother outside of a few hikes into the mountains, and he'd missed the closeness they'd shared before Lyon had begun dating Erza. Not that he minded, he felt they were right for each other.

They finally reached the town, and even after two days of asking questions of anyone who would listen, they had come away with zero answers. Gray had sort of expected that, though. After all, Erza had mentioned Lyon and Juvia had already investigated when he had gone missing.

So they began their search for Natsu and the other dragon slayers, heading towards the last location where they had heard there had been fighting. But after a week of finding nothing but destroyed scenery, Lyon had become very quiet, and Gray didn't know what to make of it. He was almost startled when Lyon finally spoke.

"When we return, I'm going to ask Erza to marry me." Lyon declared, his words filled with a strange determination that didn't quite vibe with their message.

"That's great!" Gray replied with a smile, and he meant it. He was glad things had worked out for his brother and his friend, and he refused to let his own perpetual misery mar that.

"Thanks," Lyon smiled briefly, walking alongside Gray with his hands stuffed into his pockets, once again seemingly deep in thought. He remained silent for a few more minutes before starting a line of conversation that Gray hadn't seen coming.

"It's been almost three years, Gray," Lyon began, stopping amidst a particularly charred area in the forest they were currently traveling in, "I don't think they're coming back."

Gray could only gape, his brother's words going straight through to his heart, for they were words he thought often but refused to believe.

"He's coming back, he's too stubborn not to. You said so yourself."

"I know what I said, but look around you," Lyon pointed at the remains of the once lush forest, "The things they were fighting were capable of all the destruction we've seen, they didn't stand a chance."

"You don't know that for a fact," Gray argued angrily, "All of them were more powerful than us, and their magic was meant to fight dragons."

"Then, where are they? If the war has ended, why aren't they back yet?" Lyon debated, his voice remaining collected even as Gray's began to rise. "Don't you think he would've already rushed back if he could?"

"Shut up."

"This is Natsu we're talking about here, he wouldn't keep you waiting. I think you need to accept the fact that he's never coming back."

"SHUT UP!"

"Gray —"

"If he were dead, I would know it," he felt that with every cell in his body. His bond had felt muted since he'd woken up in the field, but it was still there.

"How? That spiritual bond you talked about? It's a child's story, Gray, a pretty tale he spun when he romanced you. Things like that don't exist in real life."

"That's not true, I've felt it. I've heard Natsu in my mind since I was a child, and I've been able to reach him a few times too."

"Alright fine, let's assume for the sake of argument that you're right. When was the last time that happened?" Lyon peered at him, not needing to wait for a response when he saw the way Gray's shoulders slumped at his question.

"Look, I will be with you on this journey for as long as you need me to, but I want you to promise me that if we don't find anything, you'll give up on this," Lyon pleaded, "You need to move on, Gray. While you insist on living out this fantasy, your life is passing you by. We both know that's not what Natsu would have wanted for you."

"Stop talking about him as if he were dead!" Gray snapped, feeling angry and scared. He didn't want to listen to any of the things Lyon was saying.

"Gray —."

"Natsu is out there, and he will come back to me when he can."

He could see the pity in Lyon's eyes, but he didn't care. He refused to believe he'd never see his mate again. They continued to search for an additional week before returning home, and Lyon wisely never brought up the topic back up, but Gray could still feel the weight of his worried stares.

He ignored them, the trip had been a complete waste of his time, he hadn't retrieved any memories or found any sign of Natsu, but even so, Gray refused to give up hope. He would see him again.

0-0

Natsu woke up slowly, eyes still closed, enjoying the warmth of the sunlight and the late spring breeze as it blew in through the window and caressed his body. He whimpered, knowing this dream well. Gray would be lying beside him, their limbs tangled up in each other as they always did when they slept together.

Natsu would move his blessedly human body slowly to face his mate and just stare at the ice mage as he slept. A soft smile playing on his lips at the sight, and his heart would soar with the knowledge that they were now one. That they would spend the rest of their days fighting together and loving each other. Nothing would ever tear them apart.

But then the dream would inevitably change. Natsu's body would transform into his dragon self, causing Gray to pierce his heart with one of his ice swords, even as Natsu cried out that he was still the same. He knew the whole thing was ridiculous, Gray's swords couldn't hurt him, but that did nothing to lessen his anxiety.

Natsu waited for the dream to shift, but to his surprise, there were only the sound of a soft sigh as long fingers threaded through his hair in a way that he instantly recognized. What kind of cruel dream was this? He sniffed the air in disbelief.

How could this be? He recalled flying down to the field to reminisce on some of his earlier times with Gray. He must have fallen asleep, but when had Gray gotten here and why wasn't he freaking out? And wait, hair? What the hell was going on?

"You still can't control it when you're asleep, can you?" Gray teased him softly, his voice fond and full of craving. Natsu found himself wanting to cry in response. He'd missed Gray so much, the time they'd been apart had been agony for him both physically and mentally.

"Why didn't you come find me when you got back?" Gray continued, his fingers stopping their gentle petting and thwapping him roughly on the head. "I wouldn't have cared if you woke me up. Are you back for good?" Natsu heard the hope in Gray's voice and wished he could reassure him, but he had no idea what to say. He was in unchartered territory at the moment.

Natsu opened his eyes and was instantly accosted by a pair of deep blue eyes staring down at him, donning too many emotions for him to track. Even so, those emotions were assaulting him through their fractured bond, overwhelming him with all of Gray's worry and pain and, gods, so much love, and this time Natsu did cry. From relief, from anxiety and from a joy he hadn't felt in so long.

Maybe he was getting a second chance, perhaps it had just taken him much longer to turn back this time. If that was so, he promised himself he would never transform again, it wasn't worth it. He didn't want to move from this spot, from this moment, afraid that it would somehow break whatever this spell was that had turned him back into his human self. He looked around to see he was indeed at their field, he'd fallen asleep at the very edge of it beneath some trees that would have usually hidden his body but now afforded them some privacy.

"Hey, are you okay?" Gray fussed over him, checking him over for injuries and rediscovering scars all over Natsu's torso he didn't know he'd forgotten. Not finding any open wounds, he grabbed Natsu and enveloped him in an embrace that threatened to take Natsu's ability to breathe away, yet Natsu found he didn't care.

"I thought I'd never see you again," Gray whispered into his ear, "Lyon told me to give up hope, that if you hadn't come back yet the worst must have happened, but I knew--" Gray swallowed around the lump that was threatening to drown them both in his tears. "I knew that if you'd died, I would know."

"I told you I'd be back," Natsu managed shakily as he attempted a smile. He touched Gray's face reverently and used his thumb to gently wipe away the tears. Now that Gray was in front of him, he wasn't about to waste any time. He wanted to hoard every second he was allowed, still not daring to believe this could be permanent.

"You did," Gray agreed readily enough, releasing Natsu from his embrace before growling, "But nearly three years is a fucking long time to go without any word."

Natsu felt guilt flood him as he looked at his mate and rushed to mask it, not wanting Gray to realize anything was amiss. He still felt terrible for removing Gray's memories of their six months together, but he knew he'd done the right thing.

The knowledge that they'd been so happy before it had all been wrested away from them in such a cruel manner killed Natsu a little more each day. He didn't want that for Gray. No, it was best Gray didn't remember, he'd already suffered enough. Natsu was only thankful he'd had enough magic left to heal the worst of Gray's injuries after Acnologia's attack.

"We should go back to the village, I'm sure everyone would love to see you," Gray said, but Natsu could tell it wasn't what he really wanted, and he had no desire to see anyone else at the moment either, just Gray.

"Not yet, it's been so long, I don't want to see anyone else, I just want to be with you." He looked at Gray, eyes pleading with him.

Gray smiled at him and leaned forward to capture Natsu's lips with his own, and Natsu was embarrassed by the needy moan he heard himself utter as he returned the kiss with a desperation born of separation, but Gray only wrapped his arms around him tightly.

Natsu had yearned for this, to believe his mate still loved and wanted him. He could feel their bond healing, reforging, and that worried him a bit, but it was so hard to think when his body's desires were raging out of control. The almost constant pain he'd experienced since leaving Talos had dissipated the moment Gray kissed him.

He wanted, no, he needed to claim his mate again, and the raw urgency of that thought scared him. But Gray's hands were soon straying from the embrace, beginning to explore Natsu's body as he continued to kiss him. His touches were tentative as his hands touched every part of Natsu they could reach in this position, reminding Natsu of the first time they had made love, both of them fumbling in their desperation to join together after so much time spent apart.

Natsu's heart ached at the memory as his body responded to the familiar touches. Gray's kiss grew more demanding, and Natsu didn't want to stop, his hands already returning the touches with an urgency he couldn't deny.

"Natsu," Gray's voice dripped with desire, a heat so intense that it melted through all of Natsu's quickly dwindling resolve and caused him to moan in anticipation, "If you want me to stop, please tell me now."

Natsu shook his head, and that was enough for Gray to begin undressing him, his mouth soon following his fingers. Natsu's back arched as he felt cold lips touch his skin, the perfect complement to his heat. He went to return the favor, only to realize Gray had already lost his shirt at some point. Was Gray even wearing it when Natsu first saw him? Natsu couldn't remember, but he also didn't care as it allowed him immediate access to the broad chest he was already covering with kisses. It had been so very long since he'd been able to touch his mate in any way.

"I love you," Natsu blurted, having only been able to recite the words in his head for too long.

Gray stopped for a second and peered at him in wonder, "You've never said that to me before."

"I never got the chance to," Natsu lied, memories of all the times he'd told Gray that very thing in those six months flitting through his mind. He'd said it often, sometimes in fondness, sometimes in ecstasy and sometimes just to remind himself from within his frustration or anger, but every time it was told with the same honesty that his feelings for Gray demanded.

Gray remained still, hands no longer roaming as he seemingly absorbed Natsu's words, interiorizing them. He flashed Natsu a smile that would forever become engraved in his heart, it was beatific and full of a tenderness that Natsu knew Gray never showed anyone else.

"I love you too," Gray's words nourished Natsu's soul, healing it from all the pain he'd experienced since Acnologia had shown up on their doorstep.

"I haven't said that to anyone since my parents died," Gray sighed at the realization that he'd never even uttered those words to Ur, although he thought that she'd known all the same.

Gray kissed Natsu again, and although this kiss was tender and full of promises, it had lost none of the earlier passion. There was no going back at this point, they were too caught up in their emotions and desires to rein themselves in. They spent the next few hours exploring each other's bodies slowly and repeatedly, neither bothering to muffle their cries of ecstasy. Though at first the noises of the forest stopped at their intrusion, they soon became complicit, masking them in their chatter. That noise, in turn, lulled them into a deep sleep as both their bodies and souls had now become sated. The last thing Natsu saw before his eyes closed was the radiant glow of Gray's necklace, and he smiled, knowing it meant their bond was whole once again.

O-o

Gray awoke to find Natsu watching him, and although he couldn't quite figure out his expression, it still brought a smile to his face. He'd missed waking up with Natsu, it was something that had been snatched from him just as he'd begun to get used to it.

"See something you like?" Gray grinned at the flustered expression on his lover's face at being caught staring, thrilled he could still affect Natsu that way even after all this time. He was a bit surprised that he felt so comfortable being naked around the other, but considering what they'd just shared, perhaps it wasn't so surprising after all.

"Always," Natsu replied, his gaze adoring as he leaned towards Gray and kissed his forehead gently before moving to kiss his lips. "Good afternoon, or whatever time it is." Natsu scratched his head as he looked up at the position of the sun in the sky, trying to figure out how long they had slept for. It looked like the sun was beginning to set.

Gray took advantage of Natsu's distraction to look at his body, really look at it. It was covered in faint scars, some that looked like the wounds had been quite severe. He started to shake at their enormity, he could've lost him to any one of those wounds. Just what had Natsu been through while they were apart? Natsu noticed his gaze and tried to cover the worst of them with his arms.

"Don't," Gray scolded, "I need to see them."

"They're nothing," Natsu shrugged, but he stopped trying to hide them and remained uncomfortably still as Gray traced the scars with his fingers.

"Dragons did this?" Gray growled angrily, every scar burned into his memory, adding fuel to his hatred.

"No, most of these were done by people," Natsu said, and it was true, Acnologia had once been a human before he had devolved into whatever he was now. "Most of the dragons are gone from this world."

"People did this? I find that hard to believe," Gray retorted, unwilling to let go of his earlier assumption.

"Why? People have always killed each other. Why would war be any different?"

Gray knew there was truth to Natsu's statement, so he changed the topic, not wanting to argue so soon after joining together. "Are the others back too? They are okay, aren't they?"

"They're alive," Natsu responded, and this was true enough, " I don't think any of us can really be expected to be okay, though,"

Gray studied him, quickly recognizing a lot was hiding in that statement but not precisely grasping how to pursue it without ruining the moment further. He felt like he needed to know, he'd worked and played with the dragon slayers since his arrival in Talos. He considered them all friends, and he'd worried about them too, but maybe now was not the time to push the subject, so he began a hasty retreat.

"Do, do they look like you?" Gray asked worriedly, fingers once again tracing Natsu's scars.

Natsu shook his head. He didn't want to talk about this, about them or the war or any of his other failures. The other dragon slayers were bruised, and they were definitely not the same, but they had survived, and maybe they would choose to return someday, but even if they did, he knew things would be different. Still, he felt he had to say something.

"They've chosen to stay with their dragons for the moment, I don't know when they'll be back."

Gray hastily switched subjects, this Natsu was different than he remembered, almost fragile. He supposed that was to be expected. Gray had no idea what his mate had been through in the last three years, but he was starting to realize they'd be sorting it out for years to come. The thought was daunting, but he didn't care because that meant that Natsu was home to stay. They could finally begin to build the life they'd wanted, together.

"Are, are your dragons, okay?"

"They're alive," Natsu responded, but Gray could tell that once again, a lot was being left unsaid.

He was getting frustrated by all of Natsu's non-committal responses. Gray was trying to understand what had happened, what things Natsu had been through so that he could start the healing process, and he pushed more than he should have, "What was it like?"

"I don't really want to talk about this right now," Natsu snapped, his voice loud and angry, startling Gray. He immediately looked chagrined, and he softened his tone, "I don't want to waste whatever time we have rehashing all of that."

"Whatever time we have?" Gray looked confused and disappointed, " What do you mean by that, do you have to go back?

Natsu looked away, not knowing what to say, he had no idea how long he had, but he could already sense the change coming. Had felt it the moment he'd woken up, and no amount of trying to fight it off had made any difference. He wouldn't be able to stay in this form for much longer, and he was trying to hide his despair at the fact that he would soon have to say goodbye to the man he loved. Again.

If only they hadn't wasted so much time sleeping.

"Are you hungry? Cause I'm starving," Natsu got dressed and tossed Gray's clothes at him, trying to conceal the way his hands were shaking, "How about we go find a place to clean up and hunt down some food?"

"Natsu," Gray grabbed his clothes and put them on. "NATSU!" he repeated louder when Natsu seemed to be ignoring him. He grabbed Natsu by the hands and forced the fire mage to look at him. "What aren't you telling me?"

He'd expected a fight, a denial, anything but the broken look on Natsu's face, and that's when he felt it, despair so deep Gray lost his balance for a second. It was enough for Natsu to escape his grip.

"Natsu, what's wrong?"

"I'm so sorry," Natsu said as his fingers instinctively moved towards his neck, searching for the scarf he hadn't worn for years now.

It was no use, his transformation was beginning. Natsu could feel the scales start to cover his body. He was out of time. He hoped Gray could forgive him for leaving him without any answers. He tried to contain his tears, not wanting that to be the last thing Gray saw of him. "I'll always love you," he said one last time before running off into the wooded area that led away from the mountains.

"NATSU! Natsu, come back," Natsu heard Gray's yells below him as he managed to take to the skies unseen, but try as he might he couldn't ignore the deep, unmistakable hurt in his mate's voice. He'd done it again, only this time he'd managed to make things even worse.

Dammit!

Natsu flew towards his cave, hoping Atlas would know why he'd changed and if it was likely to happen again. A/N: Sorry I'm a little late with this one, I've had a lot of family obligations with the holidays. This will be the last chapter update until mid-January. I am putting this story on hiatus briefly as I need to fulfill other obligations for holiday exchanges and events. The next chapter is probably one of the most important to the story and I don't want to half-ass it because I was trying to spread myself too thin. I might switch to weekly updates for a bit once I return to try to get back on schedule. That said I hope you enjoy this one! A special thanks to @oryu404 for their help when I was stuck! Happy Holidays to everyone, however you celebrate it, and thank you so much for helping make this year a great one for me. I love you all!

#fairy tail #gratsu #ftlgbtales #update #fairy tail big bang 2018

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sushigirlali · 5 years

Text

Searching for the Light (Reylo Fanfic)

Art by: @fahrennheit

Summary: Rey has a Force-vision of Ben's death, but is there anything she can do to save him? Pairing: Rey x Kylo Ren/Ben Solo [Reylo] [ReyBen] Continuity: Post TLJ Rating: T Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or anything that relates to Star Wars.

A/N: I don't usually do angst, but I got this idea while listening to Body In A Box by City and Colour on the way home from work after a discussion about love songs vs angsty songs with my wifey, @grlie-girl ❤️💙 Enjoy!

Master list –> AO3 | ff.net | Tumblr

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Searching for the Light By: sushigirlali

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We celebrate the lives of the dead It's like a man's best party only happens when he dies We gather 'round to pay our respects While their souls are still searching for the light Searching for the light

——————

Rey felt like she was floating, drifting in a dream not her own.

No, not a dream, she realized, sensing the energy field flowing around her. She was communing with the Force, with him. But where is he? Where am I?

A strange haze encircled her, gray and opaque, making it difficult to see more than a few feet in any direction. “Ben?” Rey asked uneasily. “Are you here? I can’t see you.”

A bright white light burst into life at her words, revealing a hidden pathway to her right. Holding up a hand to lessen the glare, Rey attempted to locate the source of the light, but found it was impossible to do so without getting closer.

Rey…

Jumping as a disembodied voice called out from the abyss, Rey held very still, listening intently. When nothing but silence met her ear, she cautiously followed the narrow trail deeper into the fog, compelled to investigate the strange occurrence.

Whatever was happening, it was different from every other time she’d connected with Ben through the Force. Their bond was a living thing, growing deeper with every moment they spent in each other’s company, regardless of how far apart their corporeal bodies were. So, the fact that Ben was not responding to her now was highly concerning.

Anxiously picking up her pace, Rey was nearly running by the time the shadowy outline of a large rectangular something emerged from the void. The ethereal glow around the object sharpened the closer she got, revealing an intricately designed silver casket.

Stopping in her tracks a few feet away, fear slowly filled her heart and choked her lungs. The cloudy image of a man with inky hair and dark clothing was partially visible through the glass enclosure, though she could not yet see his face.

No…no, it can’t be...

Inching closer, she bravely brushed her hand over the misty surface, clearing away the visual barrier that separated her from the man under the dome.

“No!” she gasped, clutching her heart as she recognized Ben Solo’s pallid features.

Stumbling backwards into the fog, Rey tipped over some invisible precipice, falling for what seemed like an eternity before landing with a thud on the hard ground.

——————

“Ben!” Rey screamed, jerking awake as she tumbled off her bed and onto the floor.

Tears streaking down her cheeks in an uncontrollable flood of grief, Rey struggled to stop crying long enough to breath.

“It’s not real,” she whispered, shakily pulling herself into a sitting position. “It’s not real, he’s alive.”

The haunting image of Ben’s still form was burned into her brain, forcing her to finally accept the depth of her feelings for the beautifully damaged man. Despite everything, he had captured her heart.

But was it too late now? She had to know.

Folding her legs under her, Rey ruthlessly pushed down her distress, seeking her equal in the Force with a strength she’d only scratched the surface of before.

“Ben?” she entreated softly. “Ben, are you there?”

Rey felt a familiar surge of warmth, giving her a modicum of hope. Rubbing her eyes like a child, she tried again, more forcefully this time.

“Ben, please come to me! I need you!”

Another rush of heat washed over her, like a phantom embrace, but still, he didn’t materialize. What else could she do? Untrained as she was, Rey was at a loss for what to try next.

“Leia,” she suddenly remembered, thumping herself on the forehead. “Of course! I need to talk to Leia, she’ll know what to do.”

Bracing herself against the side of the bed, Rey tugged on her boots and staggered out the door, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“It can’t be real, it can’t be real,” she repeated like a mantra, racing down the stark white hallway leading to the command center, “it was just a dream, it can’t be real.”

Skidding around an errant astromech droid, Rey was panting by the time she neared the heavy blast door concealing her final destination. Not stopping to scan her palm print, she pried the door open with a flick of her wrist.

“General!” she exclaimed, bursting into the crowded room like a shot. “I think there might be something wrong with Ben, have you—General?” Rey faltered at the sight of her mentor’s crumpled form; the older woman was openly weeping in the circle of Kaydel’s arms. “What’s happened?” Rey said in alarm.

“Hux’s latest speech just broadcasted galaxy-wide,” Poe said unevenly, nodding toward the communications console. “I’m sorry, Rey, but Kylo Ren is...well…”

Crossing the room as the Commander awkwardly trailed off, Rey quickly brought up Hux’s holographic message.

“It is with great sorrow that I must report the passing of our venerated Supreme Leader,” he started with a condescending smirk. “I’ve been told that it was an unfortunate accident, but nevertheless, Kylo Ren is dead. As a result, I, Armitage Hux, have decided to assume command of the First Order, ensuring that…”

But she’d already stopped listening, the phrase, ‘Kylo Ren is dead,’ clanging loudly in her ears. Rey fell to her knees, feeling Ben’s loss with such anguish that she knew she’d never be whole again. “How could this be?”

“Rey!” Finn cried, racing to her side. “Are you alright?”

She shook her head, trying to make sense of it all. Come on, Rey! He can’t be dead! If he was, you’d know it. The Force was trying to show you something, now think! Although she hadn’t been able to contact Ben directly, she had felt something during the attempt, almost like he was in the room with her…

“Where’s his body?” Rey demanded, shooting back to her feet. “He’s here, isn’t he? I want to see his body.”

“Our long-range transport just got back,” Finn confirmed. “Hux wanted to ‘give the General her son back’ as some sort of sick negotiation tactic,” he added in disgust. “As if that would make up for assassinating her only son.”

“Where is he?” Rey said impatiently, not in the least bit interested in military maneuvers at the moment.

“Med bay five,” Poe informed her, looking up from his datapad. “They just unloaded his…coffin.”

Rey’s whole body clenched at his choice of words, but she managed to nod and walk out the door without collapsing again. “Then that’s where I’ll be.”

——————

Staring down at the same silver box that had called out to her in her dreams, Rey took a deep breath before unlatching the bolts sealing the glass top to the metal frame. It was an old-fashioned sort of contraption, not at all like the crude shipping container she’d used to board the Supremacy.

He is a prince, after all, she mused, taking in his regal uniform and aristocratic features, and I’m, well… It was incredible that they had met at all, given their stations in life. In fact, life on Jakku and Chandrila was so different that—

“Stop procrastinating, Rey,” she said forcefully, breaking up her own internal monologue. She was here to save Ben. Her focus had to be on him. She didn’t know how she knew this, but she did.

Stepping up to the edge of the cushion lined box, Rey carefully grasped his hand. Ben? Can you hear me? she probed, scanning their usual mental link.

A gentle glow enveloped him at her touch, but the phenomenon only lasted for a moment before dissipating. Encouraged by the minute reaction, Rey leaned over the side of the box and pressed her cheek against the firm contours of his muscular chest. She couldn’t hear a heartbeat, nor did he appear to be breathing, but his body was warm and pliable.

Pulling back, Rey brushed his tousled hair behind his ears before lowering her lips to within an inch of his own. Ben? she said tentatively. Don’t be alarmed, but I’m going to try something. And then she kissed him.

Rey?

Her head shot up as his rich baritone rolled over her, solid and clear. “Ben!” But his dark eyes were still closed, his massive form still unmoving. “Blast,” she sighed as his body shone for a few more seconds before burning out; it was almost like when Master Luke communicated to her from beyond the grave. “Well, I’m on the right track at least.” Rey nervously chewed the inside of her cheek. “I think.”

Blushing as she framed his pale face between her shaky hands, Rey slid her lips across his scared cheek to capture his mouth once again. But this time, she didn’t falter when Ben uttered her name.

Rey?

Ben?! Oh, thank the stars! she cried in relief. What happened?

Hux. Coup, he said shortly.

But you survived?

Yes.

How?

Meditation. The Force.

So, how do I pull you out of it?

I…can’t remember, he replied quietly.

Rey tangled her thin fingers in his soft raven locks, needing something to hold onto. Ben, please try! Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you, she promised desperately.

Can’t think. Cold. Alone.

You’re not alone, she insisted, kissing him harder. I’m here, Ben. I’ll always be here because I—because I love you! So, I need you to fight and—

Rey.

Yes? she encouraged.

Thank you, he said weakly.

Ben? Rey whispered, terrified by his tone. Don’t you dare leave me, Ben Solo! Ben? Ben!

But he didn’t answer.

“No!” she burst out, roughly shaking his broad shoulders. “Dammit, Ben, you have to let me help you! Please!” Great wracking sobs jolted her slender body when he remained motionless. “No, no, no! This can’t be happening! Not you too!” Rey covered her face with her hands, unable to continue looking at his lifeless form. “Damn you, Ben Solo! I could have helped you!” she cried brokenly.

“But you did,” croaked the dead man beneath her. “You saved me.”

Rey froze, disbelieving, almost afraid to drop the barrier in front of her eyes. “Ben?”

“I’m sorry if I scared you, but I didn’t really have a choice,” he said ruefully, pulling her hands to his chest. “I’ve been looking for a way out of the First Order for months, but every alternative I could think of involved putting you at risk.”

“Then how…?” she started, searching his dark eyes.

“Hux was planning to poison my drink last night at dinner, so I let him believe that he’d succeeded,” Ben informed her. “My guards switched out the tainted wine before it ever reached the table.”

“But how did you find out about the plot?” Rey inquired, brows furrowing at the thought of someone trying to murder the man she loved in such an underhanded way.

“I read his mind,” Ben smirked. “Despite his bravado, he’s very weak-minded.”

“He does seem rather pretentious on the evening propaganda reel,” Rey laughed. “What happened next?”

“I went back to my quarters and meditated for hours and hours, communing so deeply with the Force that I fell into death-like state,” he explained. “Giving Hux exactly what he wanted was the only way that I could make it out of there alive,” he added.

“But how did you know that he’d deliver your body to the Resistance? What was stopping him from blowing you out the airlock?” she asked uneasily.

“Because it’s exactly what his father would have done,” Ben said simply. “Shoving the death of a child into an adversary’s face is ruthless, but effective. I can’t imagine my mother is handling my supposed demise well?” he said a little uncertainly.

“Of course not! Leia’s devastated!” Rey assured him. “We should call for her—"

“In a minute, there’s something I have to say,” he murmured, reaching up to caress her tearstained cheek. “The last thing I remember before waking up here, in your arms, was this overwhelming sense of belonging,” he said tenderly. “I’ve been so lost without you, Rey, and that feeling carried over into my trance. Even though I was doing it for you, for us, I couldn’t find my way back, not until you told me that you loved—mmph!”

Rey slammed her mouth down on his, stealing his breath away with a soul-searing kiss. I love you, I love you, I love, she chanted in his mind. Never leave me again.

Ben smiled against her lips, sensing that no further explanation was needed.

I love you too, sweetheart, and I‘m not going anywhere.

——————

Standing just outside the doorway, Finn observed the enthusiastic couple with a kind smile. Kylo Ren wasn’t the first person he would’ve picked for his best friend to fall in love with, but Rey had obviously made her choice, and he couldn’t be happier for her.

“Poe, you better get Leia up here quick,” Finn said into his comlink. “She’s going to want to see—” Finn’s eyebrows darted up as Rey started groping for the edge of Ben’s tunic. “On second thought, maybe give it a few minutes. Or twenty.”

-FIN-

——————

A/N: Ben Solo is my favorite Disney princess, so obviously this fic had to have a happy ending!! I hope you weren’t expecting anything different from me? :P Check out my other fics if you’d like to read more, I have a lot lol

#reylo #reylo fanfic #rey #kylo ren #ben solo #rated t #angst #death #true love's kiss #inspiration #grlie-girl #city and colour #music #my fanfiction #searching for the light #sushigirlali #one-shot #ily wifey #happy holidays

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taylorj8771 · 6 years

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The retirement fic, Part 9

Part 1 — which has the links to all other parts of this story because tumblr is being a dick and won’t allow me to link to multiple pages in a post anymore — Part 9, Part 10

—

Sidney kills the time between getting home from video review and his Skype call with Geno by obsessively changing the television channels for a while. The shows he usually enjoys all barely hold his attention between commercial breaks. At 2 pm, he makes himself a sandwich and eats three bites before he can’t stomach any more. He heads outside after he cleans up and takes a walk around his property but it doesn’t settle him. He feels like he’s coming apart at the seams, excitedly-anxious and dreading the Skype call all the same.

Finally, at 4 pm, he’s had enough. He sits on the couch in his living room and leans back against it. All day, his mind has been racing through the millions of ways this could play out. He tries to force the panic down by keeping track of his breathing, slow and even paced. His years of experience with taking naps through game-day jitters kicks in and he’s asleep between one ridiculous thought and the next.

He wakes when his cell phone vibrates against his thigh, the phone still tucked in his pants pocket. He snaps his head up, like waking from a nightmare. “Shit,” he hisses, catching the time on the cable box. He hurries to get his phone out of his pocket.

Know I’m late but you not on?

Sidney curses again and rushes to the den for his laptop. Sorry, he texts, getting himself situated at the desk while the computer turns on. Signing on now. Once he’s on, he double clicks Geno's name in the buddy panel and the black video screen pops up.

It only rings twice before Geno accepts the call. Sidney smiles instinctively once he sees Geno on his screen.

Geno just doesn't age, Sidney thinks; it’s the same thought he has every time they talk in real-time. They haven’t seen each other in person since they celebrated the ten year anniversary of the 2017 cup, two years ago now. It's always jarring for Sidney to realize that he looks exactly the same as he did ten years ago.

Sidney's only been retired for sixth months and he already has more wrinkles around his eyes and gray in his hair then he had when he played his last game.

Geno smiles back at him, bright and cheery-eyed. "Sid!” He calls, “How are you?"

"Hey G, I'm good.” He scoots his chair closer to the desk. “How's everything over there?"

"Is good. Go to bar with couple friends tonight. Have work in morning so can't talk long. Coaching Metallurg youth team this season."

The last Sidney knew, Geno didn’t have a job beyond volunteering at a local orphanage and using his celebrity for fundraising. He’s a little surprised but asks. "Yeah? You’re back in Magnitogorsk?”

“Just for season. Papa need surgery so I’m home for help Mama take care.”

“I hope everything’s okay.” Sidney says, worriedly.

“Is good,” Geno smiles comfortingly. “Rotator cuff replacement. He’s have surgery already and PT is good for him. Good recovery so far.”

“That’s good to hear,” Sidney smiles back. “I’m glad he’s doing well.

“Are you coaching any prodigies?”

Geno laughs, "They small kids, Sid. But one boy, I'm think he can go whole way. Skate better now than some of AHL guys."

"Bullshit." Sidney says.

"Is true." Geno smiles, his tongue poking out at the corner of his mouth. "How you do since retire?”

Sidney sighs and crosses his arms on the desk. He leans heavily into all the places where he’s touching the desk, trying to ground himself. The nerves have settled in a bit during their normal conversation but Sidney knows they’re just waiting for the right time to light up again. For now, he’s somber. “It’s been alright.” He replies. “The new coach named Olli captain.”

“I’m read that. Not answer how you doing though.”

“Yeah,” Sidney rubs his hand across the back of his neck a few times. “It’s been hard. I’m doing video review for the team now. It’s helpful, to be around the group still.”

Geno nods, commiserating.

“Olli’s doing a good job.”

Geno’s mouth twists. “Always know he would. But you generation captain, you know? Only one you and Mario.”

The compliment makes Sidney smile softly. “Thanks, G.”

“Is why you want Skype? Need me remind how good you are?” He teases.

“No,” he says. Everything starts to bubble inside him again; his skin prickles with goosebumps and butterflies swim in his stomach. Sidney clears his throat and Geno’s expression morphs to match his own. “I wanted to tell you that I’m looking into adopting."

Even though Sidney is still serious, Geno’s whole face changes to show his excitement. “Really?" He asks, his eyes sparkling with his smile. "Congrats, Sid!"

"Yeah, it's… it's going to be amazing.” Sidney smiles. He blinks and sees a lightning quick image of a nursery and himself standing next to a crib, looking down into it.

“I registered through an agency here in Pittsburgh so there's a little more red-tape with me not being American, intensive background checks and stuff.” He waits to see if Geno realizes on his own what Sidney means by that. He just keeps smiling at Sidney though, so Sidney takes a deep breath before he forces himself to say, “They, um… they found out about our marriage."

Geno’s whole face does some sort of thing and Sidney cringes a little in response. It only lasts for a second, but it leaves a radiating pain behind Sidney’s own ribs. “Call because you need divorce."

Sidney inhales sharply. “Well, that's one option–"

"Option?" Geno interrupts.

"The social worker that’s helping me. She said that we had a few options once I told her what this is." He gestures between them and watches the wave of motion in the corner of the screen. "The biggest issue is that, as is, they can't approve me to be an Adoption parent."

Geno tilts his head to the side and Sidney can feel the daggers of his glare even with the miles between them. “Why? What’s options?” He asks.

Sidney reaches up to rub at his eyes with both hands. He has to fight his body’s desire to curl in on itself. They need to have this conversation. Sidney needs to know how and if he’ll be able to have a child. "Option one is a divorced.” He drops both hands to the desk and meets Geno’s eyes on his screen. “We pray nothing comes out to the press and I can get approved to be a single-parent adoption home.

“Option two is I change the paperwork to say that we're separated. The odds of me getting a child if we divorce or if we are separated are the same. They just see it as a single-parent home. The problem with both is that neither one gives me a good chance of adopting a newborn. I want to give a good home to any child that needs one but God, G–” Sidney’s breath catches and he forces himself to look away from Geno. “I really want a baby…”

Sidney takes a deep breath and finishes the list. "Option three, is you move back here and we adopt. Together."

Geno’s expression has barely changed so Sidney keeps talking, unsure of what else he should do.

“Synia said that most women who put their baby up for adoption want it to go to a two-parent home. Mostly so that the baby can have something the mom isn’t capable of providing."

Geno rubs at his temples with one hand, covering most of his face with his palm. The parts of his face that Sidney can see are scrunched up in a grimace. Sidney takes that as his cue to stop talking. Geno takes his time to reply and really, Sidney would wait him out for days. “Conversation not go where I’m expect.”

Sidney blushes and ducks his head, sheepish.

“Is lots of stuff, Sidney. Need to think about it. Don’t know I can give answer you looking for.”

Sidney nods. He knows he’s asking a lot. And really, because the marriage was Sidney’s idea, he’s asking a lot more of Geno than Geno ever asked of him. Something like this wasn’t ever in the plan when they were a couple of twenty-somethings just looking for protection. “You don’t have to decide right now. I know it’s a lot to throw at you.”

Geno’s mouth twists and he nods his head at Sidney, “Which is option you want? So I’m know.”

He looks down, finding it easier to look at the keyboard than at Geno. “Option three.”

There’s a rush of air through Sidney’s speakers and he looks up. Geno looks tired all of a sudden. It makes Sidney’s insides crawl, knowing he’s the cause.

“I’m need some time, Sid. I’m–“

Sidney talks over whatever he says next. “Of course. Please, take all the time you need, Geno. I know it’s a lot.”

Geno nods, leaning forward and resting one arm against the desk and his head on the opposite hand. “Okay. I’m–I’m call you, couple of days. Okay?”

“Yeah, definitely, I–“ Sidney cuts himself off when the video feed of Geno goes black and the call-end dialogue box pops up.

He slumps down in the chair and rubs at his head with both hands. He’s still anxious, and the mix of it with his adrenaline and Geno ending the call makes Sidney want to cry. “I’m sorry.” He whispers.

#i did it!#i got this part done while it was still thursday!#its a late post but i hope youll take it #those of you that actually read this story #that is #fic stuff #my fics #the retirement fic #sidgeno #hockey rpf

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just-graysexual · 6 years

Note

So... *sigh* ...I know I'm gonna open a whole can of worms by asking this question. If you want to ignore it or say I'd rather not have this on my blog, you are more than welcome not to answer but... if you could point me in the right direction, I'd he forever grateful. I'm gray-ace. Exactly WHERE I'm still figuring it out, but I kinda like the label because it just sort of... takes the bits and pieces from all the identities that I fit into and mushes them into one big label. And I love (1/?)

(2/?) that about it. I honestly think that it’ll stay around for a while yet at least. Problem? Well… I’m a Christian. Which… doesn’t bring up any IMMEDIATE concerns. I mean, Priests are celibate, and nuns are celibate and so like… everything should be a-okay, right? *sigh* My romantic orientation is still in the works. I’m a very… “go where the wind takes me” type of person when it comes to love and… well… commitment is hard. Because I want to do it right, you know? So… as far

(3/?) as I know, I’m pan romantic. I could be biromantic. Or simply heteroromantic. I really don’t know. And… A lot of this… “compromise” (but I don’t really see it as a compromise???) in my beliefs is that… the whole BASIS of Christianity is founded upon Compassion, and love, and forgiveness. Yeah, you should love God but like… I don’t claim to know EVERYTHING about God. I don’t know why he made some people Transgender and others gay and some people asexual. In way, its like asking why

(4/?) God made someone black. Or have red hair. Or green eyes. Or have 3 freckles on their left cheek. I don’t know! He just… He wanted them that way. For a reason. And you’d have to be CRAZY to try and put words in God’s mouth. I mean, this is the same being that (at least I believe) created the stars in the sky. Why would I claim to know how He thinks? And here’s the craziest thing right: the LGBT+ sometimes seems a better practitioner of Christian values than a lot of Christians. The Ace

(5/?) Community has been so loving, and compassionate!! Like, it’s crazy!! And I mean, I just left heated from my church this past Sunday for DARING say that no sinner is worthy of love. Like… you entirely miss the point of love if you try and say that you are either worthy of it or not. Love is a GIFT. You give it to someone because… you care. They aren’t “worthy” or “unworthy.” “Deserving” or “undeserving.” It’s whether or not you decide to give it and that’s what makes love beautiful.

(6/?) Besides. That’s INSANE to say that a HUMAN BEING. Whether they be a child, or a broken adult, or some other lost soul in search of SOME form of companionship or forgiveness, doesn’t DESERVE LOVE. Like, we’re all human being. We all fuck up. But come ON NOW. That’s just CRAZY. And like… I don’t expect God (in whatever form you want to believe him in) ever thought we were going to get it 100% right. I mean, otherwise, why wouldn’t he just come down and rule the world himself? Fixes all

(7/?) all the bickering, right? And that’s where faith comes in. “We walk by faith, not by sight,” or whatever? But recently, I’ve basically been… well… barraged, to say the least, with both the LGBT+ and fellow Christians saying that I have to be one or the other. I have to be Gay or Christian. Otherwise, I compromise my beliefs. But I don’t see it that way? And like… being on the aspec yourself, I’m sure you understand how difficult it is to be torn between the Ace Community and the

Hey Anon,

These were the only messages I received. It looks like tumblr might have eaten anything else that you sent me and I am sorry for that. I hope you are feeling better though. Feel free to come and rant or vent anytime you need to. It looks like you really wanted to get this out there. And I’m glad you found a place to do it. Sometimes we are not always free to express our frustrations, so I am here if you ever need to.

You can be LGBTQ+ and religious! You can be Ace and religious! You don’t have to chose between one or the other. There is nothing wrong with being yourself and following your beliefs! There are many religious people who are LGBTQ+ and Ace; you are not alone. Many of us can relate to where you are coming from. I hate all this hostility between religious people and the LGBTQ+; not to mention the immense toxicity it has on religious LGBTQ+ members. It’s not easy being religious and LGBTQ+, but it is possible.

I completely underhand what you are growing through. I am Christian myself (Roman Catholic to be exact) and growing up non-heterosexual is extremely hard. To hear how my fellow “Christians” talked about people who were gay, especially my family members scarred me deeply. Ever since I was a little kid I knew that I was not heterosexual. I just knew, but there was not a lot of resources for me to look into and I didn’t know of any other orientations besides heterosexual and homosexual. And I was taught homosexual was wrong.

As time went on, I would literally drop on my hands in knees in prayer crying, tears pouring down my cheeks, to make me heterosexual. I begged and pleaded with God to help me and save me. I didn’t want to be bad. I didn’t want to be non-heterosexual. I didn’t want my own family members to hate me because I was non-heterosexual. I didn’t want God to hate me and send me to Hell for being non-heterosexual. I was scared, lost, and hurt. I never got an answer. So, I grew to hate God and religion. I turned my back God and despised religion and Christians who do nothing but preach love, but spread hate.

Separating myself from God and religion actually helped me in discovering myself. I immersed myself with the LGBTQ+ community. I tried various different labels and researched as much as I could, until I found asexuality and the ace spectrum. Since then, God has called me back. I am reworking on my faith and relationship with God. I have heard God’s voice…and y’know what he told me? “I am always with you.” I never felt anything so powerful and so loving in my life. I felt every single positive emotion that a person could feel. And I learned something. God loves me. Growing up I though God abounded me. I though God hated me. I learned, that that’s what other people told me He felt. But through God I learned that he loves me. And I think there is a reason I am not heterosexual, especially in such a religious family. I think me being graysexual definitely made my parents (mostly my Father) question themselves. My Father still has a lot of work to do, but my Mom is doing so great with accepting people and supporting me.

Reevaluating my faith and relearning my religion has made me more comfortable in my graysexuality, actually. Remember, God created you in his own image…and saw that it was good (Genesis). Remember what God told Moses? “Who gave man his mouth? Or makes him mute or deaf, sighted or blind? Is it not I?!” (Exodus). God knows you, “Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you. (Jeremiah). He knows who you are. He has plans for you. He wants you to be the person He is calling you to be: yourself.

And don’t forget Jesus. Remember all that Jesus taught us: LOVE. Jesus gives us the greatest commandments: Love your neighbor like yourself (Matthew). Love one another as I have loved you (John). And don’t forget this one, “Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love” (John). So, you are right. We are called to love and support one another. That’s what a good Christian is supposed to do. Be that example!

You are do nothing wrong by following your faith and being Ace. I don’t understand where your parish is coming from with the not loving sinners part. That doesn’t make sense to me. Because, we are all sinners! Again, remember what Jesus said, “let he who is without sin cast the first stone” (John). We are all sinners. Everyone of us. Sin does not recognize color, race, political party, or orientations. Sin is your actions, your thoughts, your words. You sin by doing, not by being.

It sounds like you need a little break from religion for awhile. Or at least to separate your orientation from your faith. It’s okay to take a break from your religion. Give yourself some time to work through what you are going through one-by-one. Work on your orientations, sexual and romantic. And find your way back to faith once you are more comfortable with yourself and who you are. Maybe you will learn to see things through different eyes. God will not abandon you and God will not stop loving you. Remember, the prodigal son parable (Luke). God will be waiting for you with open arms.

Don’t let what other people say get to you. You are right. Love and love one another. God made you from His own image, don’t create God into your own image. A lot of people do that nowadays. No one can say what God believes or thinks. No one can claim what God feels about you. No one can say what God has chose to do. Everyone deserves love and we are all sinners.

Keep doing your best. Be the example. Show the world it’s okay to be who you are and it’s okay to be religious. Many people, on both sides, don’t like the fact that I am religious and queer. It’s like a tug-o-war. Don’t let others force you to choose. You can be both. It’s not easy, but it’s possible. You are not alone. There are quite a few Queer Christian Communites:

https://www.qchristian.org

http://scmcanada.org/queer-resources/

https://www.believeoutloud.com/background/christianity-and-lgbt-equality

http://queergrace.com/communities/

And a few tumblr blogs:

https://acecatholic.tumblr.com

http://christianandqueer.tumblr.com

http://asexualchristian.tumblr.com

https://lgbt-christian-safe-haven.tumblr.com

You hang in there, Anon. It’s not easy being LGBTQ+ and religious, but it’s okay that you are. Both sides need to do some serious work. Christians need to take a step back and realize all the harm they are actually causing. They need to stand up and be Christians. Keep being yourself. Keep doing what is right, by the Lord. Help bridge this gap. I hate the hate, but I hope in time things do get better. You are loved. God loves you. God is there for you. God will not abandon you. It’s okay for you to be ace and Christian. That’s who you are. You are not hurting anyone by trying to be true to yourself. Don’t listen to anyone that causes you harm. Give yourself some time. Find yourself in your orientations first. Give yourself time to really understand your labels and identities. And come back to your faith in your own way, not how other people tell you to do it. Hang in there. If you ever need to talk, rant, or vent I am here feel free to message me anytime.

#ace religious #religious ace #religious queer #queer religious #christian and queer #ace:question

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violetosprey · 6 years

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You always do break downs of EP's characters really in-depth, and I know there's not much on MOB yet, but with your analysis of Jack from TDDUP what's your opinions on the new info we've gotten about him and his aide from Patreon?

Okay before I start, Iwanted to be polite and ask the creator what his thoughts were on discussinginformation that has only been revealed on his Patreon account at themoment. He answered on his blog herehow he felt about it. Basically, as longas no spoiler images are used and no full scripting/dialogue is repeated back(he’d prefer more vague alluding to), then it was alright.

However, since this isan anon ask, this an answer that has to be posted publicly. If @electricpuke at any point requests that I delete this post because it abuseshis rules, I WILL comply and delete what I’ve said.

If anyone would liketo see spoilers for any of the ElectricPuke’s games (current or upcoming), oryou just love his work, please consider supporting the creator on his Patreon:

Link: https://www.patreon.com/EPGames

I know this asker is already following Puke on Patreon basedon what they’ve said. I expect otherfollowers not currently following EP’s Patreon to be polite and never requestspoiler information on anything not already shared on Patreon (not like…anyonewould know what to specifically ask anyway :P)

With that settled minorPatreon spoilers (which ARE subject to change) below as well as connectionsbeing made to older Jack in TDDUPbelow

I’ll stop being stuffy now and say I’m actually very happy Igot this ask XD Let’s start with theinformation everyone knows at least for young Jack in Mark of Belial and hisassistant Ashton.

Young Jack is a lot meaner than older Jack and actuallycomes off as more sadistic than older Jack. Older Jack is a lot more mellow and appears strict but still sociable toeven his students at the university he teaches at. Older Jack is VERY dangerous though and oddlygoes about his… “hobbies” in an almost business-like manner. Young Jack I’d say is more likely to speakhis mind a little more (but still has his gears turning, calculating hismoves). We don’t know if he’s got a specificagenda while you’re working with him. He’llrely on his wit to give you biting remarks whenever he’s dissatisfied though(which is quite frequently honestly). Young Jack I’d guess is…not really the social type XD Someone asked me awhile back about mythoughts on young Jack when things were even earlier in development. You can find what I said here(be warned, there are TDDUP spoilers for older Jack, but you might be able tojust skip over that segment). In it, Iactually list a few questions that I was interested in seeing if they would beanswered in Mark of Belial. One of thequestions was, “Does young Jack have any friends?” Again, I don’t see him as the social type,and a highly intelligent person who’s hard to argue with when they belittle youis often too difficult for others to deal with. Now Ashton probably doesn’t count as a “friend,” but currently this isthe first person we’re seeing Jack in an amicable relationship with.

What everyone knows about Ashton from tumblr is things likehow he lacks self-confidence, likes horror, serial killer trivia, knives, andpsychology. Generally, he also soundsrather studious and not the type that talks a lot unless it’s a subject he’svery versed in. So right off the bat I’dsay it would make sense for this to be the type of person that young Jack wouldget along with. Similar interests, not alot of back-talk, and Jack probably appreciates an aid who keeps to themselvesand stays focused on their work. What Iwas a little puzzled by was why Ashton liked Jack of all people XD Sure, Jack’s not a loud or annoying person(the kind Ashton hates), but remember Jack is a generally unfriendlyperson. I would have even figured thatAshton would find Jack rather intimidating for his intellect and ability totear people down with words. However,this became answered quite easily on Patreon (which is where the spoiler comesin).

As long as I’m…hopefully not a total idiot and misreadinginto anything, it’s actually hinted that Ashton is trans. Jack is aware of this actually aggressivelydefends Ashton for who he is. So ofcourse Ashton appreciates and respects Jack because he does not judge him forhis gender identity.

Now, it’s not actually surprising to me that something likebiological sex, race, or gender identity has no real bearing to Jack. That seems to fit him honestly. I don’t really take Jack as the type ofperson to really put much emphasis on judging a person by anything other thanone’s mind and personality. He is apsychologist after all. He’s moreinterested in what people are thinking rather than what they look like. The rest probably just seems like details hehas to filter through (…but he can be forward if he DOES think you’rephysically attractive still :P). Also, Ifeel like most of EP’s characters come off as pansexual anyway (both possiblyto provide more representation…and because it actually makes it easier for thegames to work for EVERYONE- some people hate if they’re locked into a certaingender, or if they can’t choose between the straight or gay route).

What I AM surprised about is just how quick Jack is todefend Ashton, in a rather threatening manner no less. This isn’t just accepting Ashton, this isgoing out of his way to protect him. It’salmost a softer side of Jack I wasn’t expecting to see (at least not soearly). Older Jack is much better atbeing gentle. This could mean a lot ofthings. Jack may hold particular grudgesacting people with an unnecessary prejudice towards others for example. It could also be that Jack has more sympathytowards his JUNIORS, than to most people. Especially if said juniors seem a bit “troubled.” If you played TDDUP, you’ll know that olderJack has a student named Ellen who grew very attached to him. It’s hinted at that he helped her out a bitwhen she was in a bad spot (I don’t quite remember how the dialogue went forthis, and I don’t ever think it’s specifically mentioned what kind of troubleEllen was going through). And again, ifyou’ve played TDDUP, you’ll know that Ellen is…an intelligent and curious younglady but “not quite right.” Ashton isprobably a heck of a lot more sane than Ellen is, but being trans woulddefinitely imply that he’s troubled by his own feelings, prejudice from others,and just trying to live the way he wants to.

I’ve gone back and forth for a while on whether or not Jackis a sociopath. I’m still leaningtowards “yes.” Don’t be fooled…he doessome awful, AWFUL things. But at thesame time he’s capable of being gentle and holding back against hurting anyonehe cares about. It’s so hard to tellwhat he’s thinking at times. He’s veryinsightful and profound at times. Jack is an incredibly gray character.

Sorry that’s all I have to say for now, but we are still inthe early stages of the game development. They’ll be much more to speculate in the future I’m sure :)

Also, I don’t want to touch on this too much because I’malways paranoid about offending anyone in the LGBT community, but yes I do likewe’re possibly getting just a little trans representation in the game(remember, these things are subject to change though). It’s likely not going to be a huge deal, butit won’t be completely ignored either.

#answer #mark of belial #electricpuke #jack buchanan #ashton kinley #likethelastdayofsummer #game #murder mystery

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sweetmemories2606 · 6 years

Text

Fanfics

After a long time using this app I have finally decided to post my stories here. I don't really know why I didn't do that before, but I guess I didn't feel like tumblr was the ideal place for posting fan fiction. I usually post images, but now that's changed.

So I hope you'll enjoy this little one-shot and be sure to leave me with your thoughts. If there's a positive response to this story, I'll also post my multi-chapter one, which is already finished, by the way.

Thank you all for taking your time to read this. Enjoy!

Title: I Love You

Pairings: Gruvia. They're my favorite, so all my fics focus mainly on them. However, couples such as Jerza, Lyredy, GaLe, NaLu and ElfEver might also be included in future stories.

Summary: Danger. Loving him was dangerous. Loving her was liberating and he didn't want to miss the chance to show his true feelings. After his confession was rejected in an unexpected turn, Gray needed to convince her that they were meant to be together. But will his words reach her when the memory of his death keeps her heart and mind closed to him?

Timeline: This story should be placed after Gray's death in the episode "Sin and Sacriffice", more specifically in the episode "The Grand Banquet".

Warnings: Juvia and Gray might be a bit OOC here since I decided show their relationship from another perspective. (More like a reversed point of view)

Here's the link on fan fiction.net, for those who prefer to read it there: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12838645/1/I-Love-You

Word Count: 3500

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"I love you." Three simple words. Not so different from others, they held no special meaning by themselves, only the one they were given. Depending on the person who would receive them, they could also mean different things. In this case, they meant trouble. Danger. And she wished he had never said them.

It was the night of the Grand Magic Banquet, a week after Fairy Tail and other famous guilds had saved the world from the biggest threat since the Dragon War. Needless to say, everyone was immensely relieved that the fight was over, so they were more than glad to celebrate their victory.

It was supposed to be a night of happiness, joy, and bonding time. But not all were happy. She certainly wasn't. Specially now that he had said those three words she had dreamed of hearing for so long, yet could not accept. Not when she knew the consequences of it.

"You don't mean that." Juvia accused, quickly shaking her head and stepping away from him. Gray stared at her in confusion and disbelief. That was certainly not the reaction he had been expecting to his confession. He had been certain that she would be overjoyed, but she seemed anything but happy.

"Of course I do. I wouldn't lie to you, not about that." He firmly told her, thinking the reason for her unusual reaction was uncertainty about his words. After all, they came so suddenly and out of the blue, unlike how he had planned. But Gray Fullbuster had long since learned that things in life never go as planned.

"Why, Gray? Why now?" She asked, fearful blue eyes staring into his. She looked so sad and desperate all of sudden, which confused him.

"I'm sorry I took so long to realize it, but once I did, I knew I had to tell you." He whispered before taking a step towards her. They were in the middle of the room, right on the dance floor. For a few minutes they had danced until he couldn't take it anymore. The way he blurted out the words couldn't have been less romantic, but he didn't care. All that mattered was that she knew.

Or at least he thought that until her eyes widened and her expression turned from mildly happy to sadness. Her hands, which had settled on his chest, were quickly removed as she stared at him in shock.

"No." Juvia whispered before taking another step backwards, accidentally bumping onto a very unhappy Gajeel, who was unwillingly dancing with Levy.

"The hell?" The dragon slayer let out and he turned back to glare at her until he realized she was the one who had bumped into him. "What's wrong?" He saw her sorrowful face and stared between her and Gray suspiciously. The ice mage felt uneasy under his stare. "What the hell did you do?"

"I don't know." The ice mage exasperatedly replied to the dragon slayer's question and the water mage intervened before things got out of control.

"Everything's alright, Gajeel. We'll just go outside." She gave her friend a reassuring yet fake smile and he raised a brow, but said nothing. She started walking in the direction of the palace doors and Gray stood there, dumbfounded for a moment before following her.

Along the way, he encountered Natsu and Lucy, who had known about his confession and were concerned since Juvia was leaving. He told them he had no idea what was going on, but something was wrong. He didn't stick around to hear their theories about why his confession had been rejected.

Once outside of the castle, Gray assumed that she would go in the direction of the gardens, a more private place for them to talk, but she surprised him by going in the opposite direction, towards the castle gates. He followed her curiously and silently, understanding she was probably lost in thought and didn't want to talk until they reached their destination.

They walked for about 15 more minutes and as each of them went by, his heart beat faster with fear and nervousness. He was at a loss of words. Never in a million years would he assume that Juvia would react negatively to his confession. The worst case scenario he had pictured is that she would get so excited she would start announcing his feelings to all the participants of the ball, embarrassing him.

This was worse. Much worse. And her silence only made him feel more uneasy, she was not the type to stay silent for so long. She usually tried her best to keep the conversation going, unlike Gray, who preferred the quietness. Tonight, tough, it only made him feel more nervous and concerned. Something was definitely wrong.

He was broken from his thoughts when she suddenly stopped. It took a few seconds for him to realize where they were, but once he did, his heart clenched. Everything looked the same as it had that night, a week before. The fountain with the statue of a mermaid that was now headless, the ruins of a few houses that used to circulate the square. The spot on the ground where his lifeless body had lay for a few moments.

"Why are we here?" He spoke and she sighed. She was standing with her back to him, long blue hair flowing because of the wind.

He could see her bare back since her dress was backless. It was beautiful, he thought in the back of his mind. When she had entered the ballroom about 2 hours before, clad in that light blue dress that fit her perfectly, it had been hard for him to resist the urge to ask for her company. He didn't want to seem desperate, so he had waited 1 hour and a half before asking her to dance. Perhaps he should have waited more.

"This place is important. Special, even, though not for good reasons." Juvia's voice was small and he could hear her sniffs, making him feel even worse.

"Juvia, what…." She didn't let him finish the question.

"This is the place where you died." The words came out harshly and her sniff turned into a loud sob. Gray couldn't take it anymore, seeing her clearly in pain only made the knot in his heart tighten. He cautiously approached her and placed a hand on her shoulder. She shivered, but made allowed him to place it here.

"But I didn't. I'm right here with you." He gently told her and she slowly turned around. Her eyes were a bit red, tears streamed down her face, but in his eyes, she looked beautiful. She always did.

"You were gone. Because...of me." She said between sobs and his heart broke at the pain and sadness in her voice. The last thing he had ever wanted was to cause her pain, but he realized now just how much his death had affected her. "And I can't stop thinking about it." She continued, hands desperately trying to wipe off the never ending tears.

"I'm sorry. I had…I had no idea." He apologized and she only cried harder.

"I keep seeing it, every day." She told him brokenly and he had to avoid her eyes, unable take all the emotions in them. "I've tried to, but I can't stop the nightmares."

"You've been having nightmares about it?" His eyes widened. In truth, she wasn't the only one. The moment he had come so close to losing her, if it wasn't for his sacrifice, hadn't left his mind either. However, Gray had had enough nightmares over the course of his life to know exactly how to deal with them, so it hadn't bothered him as much as it clearly bothered her.

"Every night. I can't sleep anymore because I know I'll only be watching you die over and over again." She let out a loud sob and he wrapped his arms around her in what he hoped was a comforting hug. She didn't protest, but he could sense she wasn't feeling very comfortable in his embrace and that only hurt him more.

"Juvia, why didn't you tell me?" He questioned, starting to feel frustrated. If only she had told him about it, but she had been avoiding him for the past week. And, truthfully, Gray had avoided her too. He had decided after that night to keep his distance, knowing it was the only way to keep her safe.

However, after a conversation with Erza and, surprisingly, Jellal Fernandes, Gray had realized that his decision was stupid and would only cause him and Juvia to suffer. That's why he had decided to confess his feelings that night, hoping she would understand why he didn't before and accept his love. He would have never predicted this outcome.

"I couldn't, I had to stay away from you." Her words made his eyes widen as he considered the possibility that she had felt the same as he did. He pulled apart from their hug and stared deeply into her eyes.

"Why did you decide to stay away?" Her response confirmed his thought.

"Because this, whatever this is, it's dangerous. We can't be close to each other or else someone's going to get hurt." Her tone was serious, scared and Gray couldn't help but to laugh at the irony of the situation.

"I'm sorry, but this is just too ridiculous." She stared at him in confusion, probably assuming he was laughing at what she said.

"It's not!" Juvia argued and she started rambling before he could say anything. "I knew you wouldn't understand it and assume I'm just being crazy, just like Gajeel did when I told him. But I am not being paranoid. You DIED, Gray. Not just a close call, but you were actually gone. If Ultear hadn't…." She couldn't finish the sentence, the tears started falling once again and she broke down, hands covering her face as she sobbed uncontrollably. Gray gently removed one of them and tightly held onto it before leading her towards the fountain. They sat down and he tried his best not to lose it.

"Juvia, look at me!" He said after a few moments of awkward silence, with the exception of her sobs. "I understand what you said, completely." A surprised look crossed her face.

"You do?" She asked with a small voice and he nodded.

"It's incredible how similar we are, don't know how I missed it before." When she only stared at him in confusion, he quickly explained, taking one of her hands in his and holding it. "I thought the same thing, Juvia. I decided to stay away from you because I thought that if I let you get too close, I'd be putting you in danger."

"Then why did you confess? How exactly did you assume that would help in your plan?" Juvia questioned, feeling lost and frustrated. If only he had stayed away, they wouldn't be in the mess. She would continue avoiding him like she had planned and maybe, in time, it wouldn't be so hard. But his confession had ruined everything.

Who'd have ever thought that something she had wanted for so long could possibly hurt so much.

"I realized it was a very stupid plan." Gray admitted after a few moments and she raised a brow. "Staying away from you when I was so sure that I loved you was only hurting me. And I thought, it must be hurting you too. So, after I talked to Erza and she made me see it, I decided I had to tell you about my feelings."

"I wasn't…. Expecting this." She admitted, still unsure how to feel. His words were so alluring and she wanted so much to accept them, but as she once again replayed his death in her mind, she was reminded of why she had stayed away. Danger. This was dangerous. Being here with him was dangerous.

"Neither was I." Gray said before breaking out into a smile. "But I am glad for it. Falling for you has been… unlike anything I experienced before. I was terrified, still am, but now I know I can't stay away. I love you, Juvia." He said it for the third time that night and she took a deep breath. Her defenses were weakening. It was so tempting to just accept his love and allow herself to be happy like she knew she would if they were together. Why couldn't she just give in?

The memory of his body falling to the ground, unmoving, reminded her of the consequences.

"I can't." Juvia regrettably said before standing up, keeping her back to him. She had to stay strong, no matter how much it killed her inside.

"Yes, you can." He firmly said before also standing up and grabbing one of her hands, turning her around so she would be forced to look at him. She saw determination in his eyes and her treacherous heart was beating faster than ever.

"Gray, please. This is already hard enough." She tried to loosen his grip, but instead he brought her closer. She soon found herself pressed against him, their faces so close she could feel his cold breath. The alarm on her head went off and all she could hear was the word she had needed to repeat to herself for the past few days. Danger. Danger. Dangerous territory.

"Did you know that seeing you so reluctant to let me in has only made me fall for you even more?" Gray whispered, amused, and she tried to get out of his grasp, but his arms were locked around her frame. She sighed, giving up on struggling. All she had to do was find a way to resist him. But that was so hard and he was so close. Too close.

"Please." She begged for him to release her or fulfill both of their desires and kiss her; she didn't know.

"You are quite possibly the most infuriating woman I've ever met, Juvia Lockser. But that's just another reason why I fell for you." He whispered as one of his hands came to brush her hair back and her heart was beating so loudly she was sure he could hear it.

The moment she stared into his dark eyes and saw the determination in them, her resolve was lost.

"Gray…" She said his name quietly and he stared at her, looking curious and a bit nervous. A pale hand touched his cheek. "Kiss me." His smile returned before he complied to her wish. It was a passionate and desperate kiss. Her arms, which had been trapped by her side, went around his neck as she attempted to bring him even closer to her.

In the back of her mind, Juvia could hear her conscience cursing her for being so weak, but she didn't care. All she knew is that she never wanted to stay apart from him ever again, it had hurt too much. Now that she knew he returned her feelings, she wanted nothing more than to build a life with him, to be happy.

They pulled apart a few moments later, both breathless and his smile was wider than she had ever seen. As she breathed into the fresh air, Juvia's eyes widened once she realized what she had just done. She had given in. "Oh, no." He stared at her in confusion. "You shouldn't have done that!" She accused and he raised an eyebrow.

"You asked me to." Gray replied bluntly and she pulled away, shaking her head.

"No, no, no." She repeated, eyes widened in horror. "We can't do this, it's dangerous." He rolled his eyes.

"You're being way too stubborn." He told her before his eyes softened. "Look, I know how it feels, okay? I've spent my entire life building up walls and not letting people get close to my heart because I was so afraid to lose them." He paused and took a deep breath. "But then you came along and slowly, you melted those walls. You showed me that it's okay to let go once in a while and allow yourself to feel."

"But..." Juvia tried to protest, but he interrupted her.

"We can't keep making ourselves suffer only because of our fears, Juvia. I know you're afraid of losing me again and I can't promise that I won't leave, because that's not really up to me." He paused once more and she remained silent, much to his surprise. "What I can promise you is I'll be careful, that I will live. For you."

"You died for me, only a week ago." She pointed out and he sighed.

"I know. But I have changed since then. Now I understand that I can't keep living in constant fear that something terrible will happen if I allow myself to be with you." He stared deeply into her eyes and she was overwhelmed by the adoration in them. He loved her. Gray Fullbuster actually loved her.

As she listened to his words, she understood them. Understood how stupid she had been, for believing that staying away from him was the right answer. How could it be when it had only caused them both to suffer? It was in that moment, as Gray stared into her eyes intensely, that his death stopped being a warning and became what it truly was: a memory. A bad one, indeed, but only a memory.

And she realized the best way to prevent it from happening again was not to avoid him, but to protect him. And she would do that.

"Do you promise me that you'll never do something like that again?" Juvia asked after a few moments and he smiled once again.

"I do, as long as you promise the same." Gray replied and she nodded. She would keep him safe, not by staying away from him, but by always staying by his side.

"We have an agreement then. No more being reckless." He wanted to protest, but knew it was better not to. She needed his reassurance at the moment.

"No more being reckless." He repeated and this time her face broke into a smile before she threw herself in his arms. He was taken aback for a moment, but wasted no time in wrapping his own arms around her.

For a few minutes, they stayed in comfortably silence before she broke it.

"Can you say it again?" She pleaded and he raised an eyebrow, but quickly understood what she meant.

"I love you." He complied and her smile enlarged. He loved her. It felt like a dream, but it was so much better.

"I love you too." She told him before they leaned in for another breathtaking kiss.

In that moment, the words "I love you" no longer meant danger, death, or loss. They returned to their original meaning of happiness and joy and Juvia was relieved. Love was, after all, the best thing that happened in her life, and to have looked at it as something dangerous had been too hard. Then again, the meaning of "I love you" can change for each person or over time.

But Juvia knew that, as long as she and Gray were together, it would always mean happiness.

#fairy tail #fanfic #gruvia #gray's death

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summylise · 7 years

Text

The Scars That Don’t Heal

A/N: Hey guys! Still not off of my hiatus, sorry (tbh I’m kind of liking not being on tumblr a lot. I’m getting a lot done, for once). BUT I didn’t forget about Nalu Angst Week and BOY ARE YOU IN FOR A SHOW PHEW!! I can’t wait to unveil my entire story and yes, you heard right. For the rest of the week, I will be writing chapters that all take place in the same storyline and universe. It’s like a really small multi-chap. Figured I’d get my feet wet some more before continuing with Cataclysm (and I can’t WAIT to pick that up again!!). AAANYway...here is part one: The Scars That Don’t Heal

rating: T

words: 3216

pairings: nalu, duh

summary: He had given in, and she was too late. There was nothing she could do besides beg and plead for him to come back to her. She knew it was in vain, that the words would never reach him. But there was still a sliver of her that hoped he was still in there. In the end, her kindness gave her scars that would never let her forget when her happiness had slipped through her fingers.

There was a time where she was looked on with admiration and envy. She couldn’t walk down the street without getting catcalled or hear a woman scoff under her breath just because she wore something that made her feel confident, albeit a bit more immodest than some would like. . She’d be able to walk up to vendors and, if she played her cards right, she could land a pretty decent discount. It didn’t exactly work half the time, but that was beside the point. She even managed to land a pretty big following when she had posed for Sorcerer Weekly way back when and she hadn’t even tried for that one.

That seemed like years ago now

But now was different. Now she couldn’t walk down the street without hearing a gasp or a whistle as someone caught sight of her. She had tried to cover it up. Tried wearing her hair differently, buying hats, nothing worked. She hated the looks she got now. Many just stopped mid-step and turned a different direction. There were the spare few, however, that when she caught their eye, they’d give her that look. That terrible look one would give a beat up stray that seemed to say “I want to help but get away from me”.

Luckily, she hadn’t gotten to the moms-shielding-their-children-from-the-sight-of-her yet, but she had a feeling that if anything would happen next, it would be that. It had gotten to the point where she didn’t even bother looking people in the eye. She instead favored the various colored street signs or the cobblestone sidewalks or even the broken Aquarius key she wore around her neck. She tended to stay away from that one the most, lest she invite more unwanted memories back into her head.

She turned a corner and pushed on the glass door that released dozens of sweet aromas of pastries. She took a deep breath of the scent and stepped in. Erza’s favorite cake shop had grown on her in these last few months. It was tucked away in a little corner of Magnolia that allowed it to be just out of sight but not quite out of mind. Granted, that was probably not so good for business, but by the state of its colorful awnings, pristine black and white checkerboard flooring, and a bright grin on the baker’s face, she would been none the wiser. She took her place at her usual table hidden in the far corner of the shop, far enough away for regular customers to pay her no mind but close enough for her to see their faces and see reactions other than disgust or pity.

“Hey, Lucy,” said Karen, placing a pitcher of coffee on her small table. “How’re we doing today? Your footsteps seemed a bit heavy when you walked in. Anything you want to talk about?”

Lucy tried to smile, but the action didn’t quite reach her lips. She wrapped her fingers around the pink mug she had seemingly adopted and sighed. Karen, sensing her unease, took the seat opposite her and stared at something just past Lucy’s shoulder.

“Come on. You know you can’t hide anything from me.” She taps her cloudy eyes. “They say when you lose one sense, the others are amplified and I have a particularly good ability to tell when people are upset.”

Lucy giggled. “You know that’s not actually a sense, right?” She lifted the pitcher to her mug and poured.

Karen waved her off. “Pft. If it’s not a sense, then what is it?”

“I shrugged,” she said as her shoulders lifted.

“Ha! I could tell before you even-hey wait. Stop trying to change the subject.”

Lucy sighed again as she sipped the warm, hazelnut blend of this morning’s roast. Karen knew exactly what was wrong; the conversation would always go the same direction and end the same way: with Karen having steam coming out of her ears because of her inability to understand why people gave Lucy such dirty looks. Karen may have been blind, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew about Lucy’s scars, how they disfigured half her face, beginning above her eyebrow and ending somewhere around her shoulder. The thick, light almost-white lines scratched down her face like lightning over her eye and down her cheek, leaving large indents where there should have been regular, smooth skin. Where normal skin had been only a few months earlier.

“It’s just the usual gawkers, Karen. Don’t worry about it,” Lucy mumbled from within her cup.

Karen continued to stare at the place above Lucy’s shoulder though the girl could feel the heaviness anyway. After a moment, she sighed and leaned back in her chair.

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop,” Karen said, beside herself, but continued, “pestering you, that is. I won’t stop worrying about you until you’re out of this dark corner and out in the sun, for once.”

Lucy let out a breath and rolled her eyes but inevitably smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”

The old woman smiled that old lady smile where the corners of their eyes crinkle up, and you can practically see the sugar oozing from their pores. For all she knew, Karen was oozing sugar and mixing it in with the batter for the bakery’s signature cakes.

Her gaze followed the woman’s disappearing back as she slapped at the doorway to the back room with her walking stick and dissolved into darkness.

Lucy turned back to the throngs of people that frequented this shop on early Sunday mornings like this one. There were always so many, and all dressed like they were going to a funeral or something. They weren’t of course; it was just church, but to her, they might as well have been the same thing. Most of the time it was families that came in, wanting to sweeten up their weekend a bit with a little something extra. The children were always the funniest to watch; they’d get all excited at the sheer volume of sugary delights crammed into one, small establishment. They’d get that same, sparkling look in their eyes that always managed to drag a grin from Lucy.

A little boy ran up to the glass case where dozens of sweets stood at attention, waiting for their turn to shine. His hungry eyes swept over all of the different assortments of cookies and doughnuts and muffins. He turned to both parents and begged for more than one, despite the adults insisting for only one treat. His smile dropped a fraction as he turned back to the case. He lifted a finger to point, but every time he would figure out what he wanted, his eyes would catch on the frosting or fruit of another, and that finger would go slack. The baker laughed and reached into the display. He placed the filled bag in the child’s arms and smiled when the child’s face broke into an ear-to-ear grin. The boy practically leaped into the air with joy.

His toothy smile tugged on Lucy’s heart, and the image of pink hair and a scarf faded over the boy’s features.

Lucy’s own grin dropped, and she shook her head. Heart in her throat, she closed her eyes.

It wasn’t him.

It wasn’t going to be him. Her brain had to stop doing this to her.

She clenched her eyes shut and refused to open them until she heard the ringing of the front door and the sound of faded laughter. She squeezed her half empty mug and pushed her chair back. She passed the display case where the boy’s breath marks were still visible, her eyes glazing over. Her body automatically placed the mug on the small counter and reached into her purse. She wished that those memories would just go away, that they’d just leave her to whatever sorry corner of her life she resigned herself to. Granted, she’d still be alone, but at least she’d be in peace.

Gray had insisted that she not try and forget about the whole ordeal; that it was for the best and would be good in the long run. She had scoffed and argued about failing to see any good to have come of it. He was lucky. He got out of it virtually unscathed. He moved on. He grew from it and became a better wizard because of it but left her in the dust. Everyone else was able to keep going, but there was a certain finality to it all that kept her behind. She refused to accept it: that this was her life now, and in turn, she had stayed behind.

“Lucy?” the baker urged.

Lucy blinked and realized that he had probably been speaking to her for some time now. Lamely, she stared back, hoping he would repeat what he was going to say.

“I’m sorry. I’m fine. What’d you say?” she said, her voice thicker than she had hoped.

He merely smiled and repeated.

“I was just asking if you wanted to take Erza’s order back with you. I assumed you were going back to the guild hall after this?”

Lucy threw up the brightest smile she could muster, but even she could feel the fakeness of it.

“Sure thing! Did she actually pay this time or will you have to put it on her tab?”

The old man laughed, the sound resonating from his belly and creating a certain warmness that would have typically made her laugh as well.

“Nah,” he said, “She’s been pretty good these last few times. Anyway-“

He reached into the best lit part of the display case and slid out a cake roughly the size of a human head decorated with small strawberries that lined the edges of light, white frosting. It was complex yet simple in design: white buttercream draped over the sides like snowy curtains held up by small ruby weights. There was no fancy design, no elaborate scripture in the center. Just a crisp, clean white cake with strawberries being the only source of color. The dessert felt wrong in her hands. She stared at it with a particular disdain and jealousy even. Here was something coated in white that others looked at with delight whereas here she was in the same situation but looked upon with revulsion if they even looked at all. She knew it was just a cake and that it wasn’t even alive, but she couldn’t help but look at it with longing and envy.

“Make sure this one lasts more than a week this time?” he said, another smile playing on his lips.

Lucy nodded and watched as, just like everyone else in this damn town, his eyes involuntarily shifted to the white lines carved into her face. She had gotten used to the stomach drop and embarrassed flush in her cheeks, for the most part, but that didn’t stop this one from hurting any worse. Her eyes darted to the floor, and she pushed open the door, barely hearing the chiming bells as the ringing in her ears took over.

~~~

Her walk to Fairy Tail had generally been uneventful. Normally, she’d be able to handle them staring and watching her, their deep gazes always stirring something inside her that made her feel both out of place and itching to get out of her skin. Normally, she’d be able to blow off those feelings and hope that they’d just disappear. But for some reason, today just wasn’t letting her have it.

By the time she reached the large, wooden doors to the guild hall, she had been on the edge of tears and itching to scream and cry and be anywhere out of public eye. A few more minutes and she’d be able to do just that. She just had to brave them. The guild.

The guild always was the worst to come to. It was just like walking in the streets except they pitied her not only for the scars but who gave them. They had seen what she had gone through. Had been there when she had received her wounds. Had been there when her deepest and still open wound was created. Seeing them used to bring a smile to her face and make her finally feel like she belonged somewhere. Now, she had never been more out of place, like a puzzle piece that you had tried to squeeze into a position only to find out that it wasn’t even the right color, to begin with.

She silently crept to the table she knew Erza would be and placed the cake on the edge. The guild hall quieted at her appearance, and that only made her stomach drop further. She turned without another word and started back towards the entrance. She hated encounters like these, the ones where she couldn’t open her mouth or else she’d say something stupid or burst into tears. She couldn’t face them when they looked at her like that. Wood scraped against wood as Erza stood from her chair, mouth likely agape to say something but Lucy refused to turn and face her. Her now free hands lifted to squeeze her forearms. She trudged back to the doors, eyes never leaving the hardwood floor. She gritted her teeth and refused to cry in front of them, lest they pity her even more than they did now.

“Let her go, Erza,” a deep male voice said behind her.

“I can’t keep this up much longer. It’s been almost a year, Gray.”

The frustration and waver to her voice almost cost Lucy right then and there. She closed the thick doors behind her and almost slid down their forms, just as she did a few months ago.

“It’s different for her. He wasn’t just her friend.”

“Yes but she’s our friend and she’s hurting.”

“Exactly. We had to figure out how to cope on her own. You have to let her do the same.”

She tried not to hear the tail end of their conversation, but she couldn’t help it. Damn doors, despite their size and thickness, were somehow not sound proof. She broke off into a run to Strawberry Street. Unable to deal with any of this any longer. She ignored the staring, the noises of disgust and surprise when she raced past people on the road. She focused on the pounding of her feet on cobblestone, of her labored breathing, of the tears she gritted her teeth to keep in check.

She slammed the door to her apartment closed and leaned against it for a moment. If only she had never gotten these damn scars. If only people weren’t so quick to judge and didn’t feel so sorry for her.

She ripped her t-shirt over her head and flung it somewhere in the corner of her room. Her bra was next to follow. She stomped over to her full-length mirror and switched on her bedroom light. As she lifted its edges, she bared her teeth. The thick white scaring had only gotten worse as time went on. At least it was covered by bandages when she was first attacked. That way no one could see how bad it really was.

Her fists clenched. A rapid breath of hot air whistled through her teeth. Blood raced past her ears, and she narrowed her eyes on the carvings that dug into her skin like the claws of the creature who had given them to her. She wished that there was something that would get rid of it. Something to finally rid her of one last thing to remind her of when she lost a part of her heart.

The angry tears finally raced down her cheeks, and she screamed. Her fingers clawed at the marks, digging into her flesh and trying to rip the scars from her skin. She knew it was in vain. Magic didn’t work. Medicine didn’t work. Porlyusica exhausted her resources just to make sure she just survived rather than worry about her skin in the future. She scraped and clawed and scratched at the white marks. She tried to ignore the stinging pain that followed. Her fingers went numb and white became pink became red.

She continued to stare at the white veins, letting what little blood she could draw out dribble into the small crevices and crack in its form. She watched as they turned back from red to pink to white again and suppressed the urge to scream again at its stubborn resilience. Not only had it been able to recover like everyone else in her life but it also left a visible, permanent wound that mimicked the one she felt inside. The emptiness that accompanied her everywhere she went and left her feeling hollow and incomplete. She was a Rubik’s cube without color. A dull shell with no worth other than to take up space someone could otherwise use for something better.

A small rapping on her window drew her out of her reverie for all but a moment until she saw who it was at her window. A flying blue cat floated into her room and settled on her pillow silently. She secretly missed the way he would not stop talking about fish, about Carla, about anything. Now it was a chore to get him to say anything, let alone eat. He didn’t comment on her state of dress nor the disorganization of her usually pristine room nor the tracks of dried blood trailing down her scars. He only stared at her with wide eyes.

Lucy turned to her dresser and pulled out an old t-shirt that wasn’t hers and a scarf that wasn’t hers. She padded to her bed and pulled back the covers despite it only being one in the afternoon. Time hadn’t been relevant to her for quite a while now, and she wasn’t entirely sure it ever would.

Happy plopped down next to her and curled up inside the scaled scarf Lucy had loosely wrapped around herself. She tugged it up and over her nose, trying desperately to smell it again. The unique scent of sandalwood and smoke that used to inhabit every inch of his scarf and shirt but was now slipping through her fingers as he had. She tugged it further up her face and buried herself into it. She squeezed her eyes shut as a fresh wave of tears washed over her. These were the ones she hated the most. They often came to her at night when Happy would show up, and she’d have to get his things out. The tears that left no sound. No sobs, no hysterics. Just her and her sadness.

Her memories weren’t done with her tonight, though. Tonight they wanted her to relive every second, every moment that had changed her life. Tonight, they wanted her to suffer again. Maybe it was because of all the thought she had about it today. Maybe it was because of her inability to block out the stares today or maybe it was just because of that boy whose smile so much resembled his. Maybe it was a sign that she just needed to move on. Maybe. Or maybe it was her own sick way of making herself finally feel something. She just wished that it hadn’t been because of him.

#nalu angst week #nalu-angst-week #summer writes #nalu #nalu fanfic #angst #lucy heartfilia

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rufousnmacska · 7 years

Text

Child of Peace 21 - Endure

Manorian adventures post EoS

full work on ao3

chapter 20 with link to previous chapters on tumblr

The world had stopped existing for Dorian. The only thing he knew, the only thing he felt, was the collar.

He’d been unable to stop it. The instant he’d overcome his fear enough to act, the Matron had taken control of his magic with her own. And the instant he’d overpowered her hold on him, the Yellowlegs witch was clasping the collar around his neck. When it was joined, everything disappeared. He was back in the dank dungeons of his castle. Surrounded by wails and screams. Blood and death and pain.

A deep sigh rattled through his head. Then, something chuckled. “My but you are powerful.”

Dorian tried to hold on to his mind, his memories. But he shrank back inside himself, away from that voice. Away from the collar. Away from everything.

Dimming her magic for fear she’d be discovered, Annabee painstakingly crawled down through the boulders and rocks. She came out into the clearing where they’d landed. Where the two giant wyverns still encircled Abraxos, taking turns biting and clawing at him. Blood sprayed each time they struck and she winced at the sounds. Abraxos remained crouched between them, his wings tight against his body to protect them. And to give his vicious tail the freedom to land damaging blows of his own. His iron spikes were the only thing keeping them back.

He needed to get into the sky. Or, at least out from between the beasts. She hadn’t wanted to expose herself and her power so soon, but there was no way she’d leave him. After pausing to get a read on which wyvern was the biggest threat - the one with the poison-green skin - she crept forward.

Abraxos caught her movement and swung around to face her. Sensing an opening, the dark gray wyvern lunged at Abraxos��s neck. Without thinking, Annabee threw up her hands and released a shaft of blue flame towards it.

When it hit, the wyvern flew back and let out an earth-shattering scream. The fire didn’t catch on the outside of the creature though. While it thrashed and flopped on the ground, burning up from the inside out, Abraxos burst into the sky. And before she could take aim at the green wyvern, it shot up in pursuit. Abraxos was on his own now, but she’d given him a fighting chance.

Annabee started up the slope. As she ran, she could sense Dorian's magic. But it felt... wrong. Flickers of intensity, but otherwise, subdued and hazy. Like lightening in a storm.

When she reached the Ironteeth witches and saw the black band around Dorian’s neck, saw his sapphire eyes replaced by an empty darkness, Annabee slid to a stop. “Oh gods,” she muttered.

The Matron and Iskra turned to face her, neither one surprised by her presence.

With a sneer, the Matron said, “Take care of her Iskra, while we get the keys.” Dorian - no, Not Dorian, she thought - looked at her blankly, then turned to follow the Matron as she made her way to the temple.

Annabee’s attention slid back to Iskra, who approached slowly, pulling out her sword. But before the Yellowlegs witch even had it out of the scabbard, Annabee spun and kicked her in the face, sending her flying back onto her ass.

He followed the dark witch up the path to the temple, but his mind had caught on the young one who’d just appeared. That face... It looked vaguely familiar. He must know her. No. She looked like someone. Yes, someone else. Someone, but... the eyes were different. Not brown. No. Her eyes were brighter. He remembered staring into them. Remembered how he’d felt looking at them. How they’d made him stronger. Complete. A person made whole.

And just like that, they flashed briefly into his mind. He knew those eyes. And knew what they’d done for him. Knew they’d saved him.

So, while the thing inside him taunted and laughed, he stayed silent and ignored it.

He concentrated on her eyes. Manon’s eyes, he thought suddenly. The details were coming back to him. Gold. A gold so deep and lustrous that the pigment held a multitude of different shades and colors - yellows and browns, but underlying those, almost hidden, the tiniest flecks of reds and blues. The image of them began to solidify. They were fathomless, so intense in his memory that he wondered if he was somehow looking at the real thing. The surge of self-awareness, he felt was certainly real.

With her eyes as a focal point, Dorian felt for his magic. For a split second he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to use it. But the witch had lifted her hold on him, thinking the valg would be enough.

She’d thought wrong.

Manon knelt on the ground, letting her head fall into her hands. She’d been too late. Her magic was too late. She’d lost her Thirteen. Countless Crochans and Ironteeth allies. The battle was over. But it was too late.

She sat like that for a long time, sobbing, until she felt a hand on her back. Someone crouched beside her, repeating her name. She didn’t want to open her eyes, didn’t want to find out who else she may have lost today. When she heard a whispered Wing Leader, Manon slowly raised her head. Fallon. A bloody gash ran down the side of her face. But, she was alive.

And then Sorrel was kneeling before her, pulling Manon into a tight hug.

When Sorrel let her go, Manon stared in disbelief. “How?” Her voice was a croak, nothing left after all of her screaming.

Sorrel was shaking her head. “You shielded us. From the yielding. I don’t know how but... I saw it stop most of the blast.”

A few more of her Thirteen were walking towards them. Manon was waiting for them to disappear. She didn’t want to blink for fear they’d be gone when her eyes opened.

“You didn’t stop us from getting thrown to the ground. There were some bad landings. Plenty of injuries. Lechen managed to get me under a wing before we hit.” At the mention of his name, the wyvern growled softly. “The Thirteen will be fine. We lost some of the larger force, but less than we would have without you. And Petrah made it.” Sorrel pointed to the Blueblood heir who was seeing to the injured nearby.

Manon hugged Sorrel again. “I thought you were all dead,” she whispered. Sorrel only squeezed her tighter.

A group of Crochans approached, and Manon was glad to see Aneira with them. Releasing Sorrel, she got up and ran to meet them.

Before Manon could get the question out, Aven appeared from the back. Aside from mussed hair and an air of exhaustion, the little old witch looked fine. Manon ran to her and was swallowed up in a hug.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t use my magic sooner, “ Manon said into her grandmother’s ear. “I should have tried harder. Or done it differently. I could have saved them.”

She felt Aven shaking her head as she said, “Do not apologize Manon. You did save us. Without you, no one would have survived.” She rubbed Manon’s back, whispering soft words of consolation.

Manon pulled back and surveyed the various witches gathered around them. Several Crochan healers were treating the wounds and broken bones of the Thirteen and their allies. And a few were even seeing to the wyverns. When she looked back towards the shield, now gone, she saw more of the same. Healers tending to the injured, Crochans gathering their dead. The Matron’s Ironteeth witches were ignored, left for later.

The Matron. Manon whirled back to Aven. “Were any of the Matrons here?”

Aven looked across the battle field. “I did not sense them. But we won’t know for sure until the bodies are searched.”

The answer left Manon feeling uneasy. She’d hoped Aven or one of the other Crochans would have seen the Matron or felt her through their magic. And that made her wonder if her own magic would have sensed the Matron. If the witch would have appeared differently than her other enemies in the blinding white of her yielding.

“Do you know what happened? Did you know I could do that?”

“I thought you might have the ability to control the yielding. Though, that’s not terribly uncommon among Crochans. We control it enough to survive it, nothing more.” Aven narrowed her eyes and pulled Manon away from the others. “What did you do? What did you see?”

Manon described how she let her magic, her anger, consume her. Let it explode out of her. “I had no control at first. But when I... I’m not sure how to explain it. I accepted it. Let it become part of me...” She shook her head. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“No,” Aven said. “Don’t stop. Just tell me, in whatever way you can.”

“Once I knew it was... me... I could see them. Distinguish friend from enemy. And when that happened...” Manon’s voice grew stronger as she said, “I ended them.”

Aven's brow furrowed in thought. Manon recognized the expression and was not surprised when her grandmother mumbled, “Let me think on it,” as she wandered off in the direction of the Maze.

Dorian would have laughed at how Aven was stumbling away, lost in the mystery, talking to herself about magic and bonds. Now that the battle was over and she’d survived, Manon let herself think of him and Abraxos and Annabee. And with them in her heart and thoughts, she made her way to help the injured.

Iskra was up and lunging at Annabee in a heartbeat. Annabee ducked and swung around, reaching for one of the two daggers she had strapped to her thigh. Bad call dumping our weapons after we left, she thought, as Iskra whirled back to face her.

“Nice hair,” the witch drawled. “Rare though.” A nasty sneer slid across her face. “I seem to recall a Crochan moaning something about her white-haired daughter while I was torturing her. Wasn’t too long ago actually. Tell me, did I kill your father and-”

Annabee’s hand flew up, shooting blue flame at Iskra. But instead of hitting the witch, it blasted against a shield, fizzling into nothing.

With a vicious laugh, Iskra said, “Did you think you were the only ones with magic? I’m afraid your bad day is about to get a lot worse.”

A screech sounded from overhead and Annabee glanced skyward. Abraxos zoomed by, followed closely by the large, green wyvern. They’d moved too fast for her to take out Abraxos’s pursuer.

Her attention flew back to Iskra as she sensed the witch gathering her store of magic. Annabee knew she was more powerful than the Yellowlegs witch. But, despite all of her bravado and talk, she had never been in a real fight outside of the training ring. She strengthened her shield and sheathed the dagger. It wouldn’t help her now, and she needed both hands free for her magic.

Iskra smiled and said, “If I were honorable, I’d say we could settle this with iron.” Her teeth slid out at the same time as her nails. “But I don’t really give a shit about honor.”

A loud BOOM sounded behind Annabee. She turned her head and had just enough time to catch a glimpse of a green tail as she was sent flying into a boulder.

When they reached the mouth of the temple, the Blackbeak Matron motioned for Dorian to go in first.

It was Dorian now, though she didn’t know that. He had enough control over the valg to maintain the dark, evil stare. He had control over the movement of his body. But he hadn’t yet pooled enough magic to force the thing out. He just needed a little more time.

He passed her and stopped. Using the voice of the valg, he said, “Will you join me? The wards do not begin for some distance. Or so this human thinks.”

“No. I am aware of the spells protecting this site.” She eyed him suspiciously. “Is he playing with you Lord Valg? Perhaps the Havilliard spawn has grown too strong for one collar.” She smiled, revealing her rusty, fetid, iron teeth. “I can fetch the other one I brought. I’d so hoped to return with two pets for Erawan. A matching set. Once I have the keys I will collect Manon from the Crochans.”

At the mention of her name, Dorian’s power surged. He would blow this mountain to pieces before he let this bitch near Manon.

The magic swelled inside him until it was roiling just beneath his skin. His eyes must have returned to their normal brilliant blue because the Matron was staring at them. Her own eyes grew wider and she took several steps back.

Altering something he’d learned from Aven, Dorian took hold of his fire magic and focused one part of it. Not outside of himself. But inside, at the valg who now huddled in terror within a corner of his mind. At the same time, he gathered the remaining magic and let loose the same destructive power he’d used to kill his father. Joining it with fire, he sent it out through him, reaching for the collar around his neck.

He had a fleeting worry that he might actually burn out his magic. But the fire made quick work of the valg. Powerful indeed, Dorian thought. And once the thing was expelled and no more than an afterthought, he pushed everything into the collar. At the first crack, Dorian sent more. As the stone shattered, his magic exploded from him. The Matron flew back and disappeared in a cloud of fire and earth.

Annabee rolled over and cried out. Blood ran down her arm from a long, ragged gash. Her whole body hurt. But when she heard Iskra’s laugh carry across the rocks, she gritted her teeth and pushed herself to her feet. The witch stood next to the green wyvern.

Oh gods. Where is Abraxos?

Unable to put all her weight on her left leg, she was forced to lean against the boulder she’d hit. Iskra was saying something but Annabee wasn’t listening. She felt a huge spike in Dorian’s magic. He must be trying to break free from the collar. And seconds later, something like a thunderclap shook the mountain, sending debris rolling down the slope. Iskra smirked and continued with her taunts, unaware that the power behind that blast had come from Dorian.

Annabee poked at the witch’s shield with her magic. Not hard enough to be noticed. She’s too damn busy gloating she wouldn’t feel it anyway, Annabee thought. No, it was only to see how far it extended. And... there... Just as she’d thought, the wyvern was too large to be covered. With a flick of her hand, she shot her blue flame towards the beast’s tail. And, just as she’d thought, Iskra was too slow, or not strong enough, to extend her shield in time.

The flame caught the end of the wyvern’s tail, which was all it needed. The beast roared and Iskra jumped back from it, expecting the thing to catch fire. It did. Just nowhere visible.

Annabee blasted pulses of magic at Iskra’s shield. It held, but she could tell it was weakening. The Yellowlegs growled and sprinted towards her, her old, craggy face belying her true speed.

She was closing in when Annabee’s magic stuttered. She was losing too much blood. Her iron teeth and nails slid out. With a snarl, Annabee crouched, preparing for the blow.

Iskra hit her like a battering ram. She landed on gravel that dug into the cut in her arm and she screamed. She could just barely make out the wyvern rolling and screeching in pain behind them.

“You’re even more pathetic than your mother,” Iskra said, straddling her, pinning her arms against the ground. The witch reached back for one of Annabee’s daggers, bringing it up to rest against her cheek. “She begged at the end. Will you do the same?”

A dark shape behind Iskra caught Annabee’s eye. She blinked. Abraxos. He landed on the dying wyvern and with one bite, tore its throat out. He was covered in cuts and bites. But the blood was not all his. She saw him turn to her, a feral expression on his face.

Iskra hadn’t heard him land over the cries of the other wyvern, and had no idea the little wyvern was stalking towards her. Annabee smiled. Summoning all of her remaining physical strength, she shot up and headbutted Iskra, sending her flying back to the waiting wyvern.

Abraxos spun and swung his tail at the Yellowlegs witch. She went sprawling across the rocky path. By the time she was struggling to her feet, Abraxos had hopped over to her. A flick of his wing sent her down again, landing on her back. And again, he was there before she could get up. He brought his foot down on top of her, knife sharp talons on either side of her neck. Then, ducking his head low, he roared into her bloodied face.

When he drew back, Iskra tried to squirm but he held her too tightly. She spat at him and screamed, “You fucking runt!”

Annabee rose slowly, pain shooting throughout her body. Iskra’s sword had landed nearby. She picked it up and made her way over to where Abraxos held the witch down. She hefted the sword as high as her injured arm allowed.

“You know something? You talk too fucking much.”

She let the blade fall. With so little strength, it only cut through about half of Iskra’s neck. But it was enough. She didn’t deserve a clean kill.

Annabee dragged the sword slowly back and looked at Abraxos. “She’s all yours.”

He bared his iron teeth, already dripping with blood and gore from the green wyvern. And a second later, Abraxos ripped Iskra’s head from her body and flung it out across the rocky slope.

When Dorian’s eyes opened, all he could see was smoke and settling dust. He reached up and stopped, his shaking fingers a hairsbreadth away from his neck. When he forced them to move, and felt bare skin there... He almost dropped to his knees in relief.

As the air cleared, he surveyed the area. Tiny shards of wyrdstone lay scattered around him in a circle. Rubble and debris were spread out in a similar pattern, with him standing in the center on bare dirt.

His head jerked down the slope towards a loud, vicious roar. It had sounded like Abraxos, but Dorian couldn’t be sure. He stumbled as he turned to go down, his legs feeling heavy in the aftermath of using so much magic. But a sound from behind made him stop.

Out of nowhere, a large boulder came right at him. He lurched to the side, just enough to avoid the brunt of the attack. Landing hard, he cursed his stupidity and threw a shield around himself. He started to rise but he was pushed back down by a blow of magic.

“I’m not leaving without the keys.”

On all fours, Dorian looked behind him and watched the Matron descend the path to stand next to him.

“I must confess I’m rather disappointed.”

She circled him, her hand stretched out, forcing him down. His shield was protecting him, but not enough to hold off the terrible weight of her magic. And, he could feel his power beginning to drain.

“Manon must not have told you much about me, if you think that collar is the only way I can control you.”

“Don’t you speak her name.” His voice was a deep, guttural sound, unlike anything he’d ever heard before. Dorian’s jaw clenched tight as he worked to draw up more magic from within. The Matron only laughed, slowly making her way around him.

His thoughts turned to Annabee. Abraxos. He wondered where they were, if they were still alive. Reaching out with his magic, he could sense the witchling nearby. But just barely. She’d expended most of her magic. And might be injured.

The breath he was holding blew out in a rush when he felt Abraxos near her. Dorian couldn’t tell if the wyvern was hurt or not, but the simple fact that he was alive gave him hope.

The Matron suddenly stopped and bent down to look him in the eye. “This is getting tedious. Perhaps I should just be done with you and use the Crochan witchling. Her magic is gone.”

Dorian shut his eyes, cursing himself for thinking she wouldn’t be able to suss out others’ magic as he could.

“Or I could use her to make you give me the keys. That might be fun. Though, Manon would have been the better choice.”

With as much concentration as he could muster, Dorian silently shouted Abraxos take Annabee and go. They each shared a special bond with Manon, and he prayed that would be enough for the wyvern to get his message.

The Matron sneered with disgust. “How you reek of gallantry. So desperate to save them. Save anyone.”

Over and over again, he sent the command to Abraxos as the Matron’s power pushed on his shield. A cry from nearby and he glanced up. Gravity weighed his head down, but he was just able to see Abraxos gliding low, away from them.

“And as usual, you’ve failed.” The Matron turned and with a flip of her hand, sent the wyvern flailing, as if he was being tossed in a storm. Abraxos quickly lost control and went down.

“Now,” she snarled as she turned back to face him. “Let’s see how long it takes you to break.”

Dorian’s head dropped as his shield shuddered and then disappeared. The magic she used to eat away at it finally hit him. His scream rang across the mountainside as he collapsed in pain.

It would take the rest of the day to get the wounded back to the Maze. The Crochan and allied dead were laid together. Word spread that they would be cremated and sent on to the Darkness tomorrow night. The Council had yet to decide what to do with the enemy’s remains. There was disagreement between letting them to rot or burning them, without the normal ceremonial rites.

Manon was conflicted about the Blackbeaks who had died. She had no regrets fighting them, killing them. Not if it meant protecting her people, both Crochan and Ironteeth. But she was reluctant to forego the usual funerary rites. She’d known some of them, albeit distantly. She knew many had only been following the lies fed to them by the Matron.

She made her feelings known to both Aven and Aneira and asked them to relay it to the Council. But only if the Council seemed receptive to Manon’s opinions. She wanted to tread lightly, victory or not.

Both Aven and Aneira agreed to do all they could, then turned to head underground.

Manon left with some of her coven to meet with Petrah, check on her Bluebloods, and hear about how they’d come to join forces with the Thirteen.

Out of nowhere, pain slashed through Manon and she doubled over. Sorrel and Kaya lunged for her while the others reacted, forming a barrier and looking for the source of attack.

But there was no attack. The enemy was dead. And Manon had suffered no lasting injuries.

Another wave of pain and she was on her hands and knees. Aven rushed back over as Sorrel kept asking Manon what was wrong.

Aven knelt and took Manon’s face in her hands. Her voice was shaky. “Manon. Tell me what is happening.”

Another wave. And another. Manon fell onto her side, rolling up into a fetal position. She kept herself from screaming, but tears were running freely from her eyes.

“Manon.” A command.

She looked up into Aven’s face and saw confirmation. Her grandmother knew what was happening. Knew what this was.

“Dorian,” Manon sobbed. “The bond. I can feel...” Pain choked off her words and this time, she did scream.

The Matron had merely been playing with him earlier. When he’d actually thought he stood a chance.

The pain of her magic was like nothing he’d ever felt before. In between the bolts of agony he had a fleeting thought that her magic must truly represent her soul. Only someone as hateful as her could conjure this kind of agony.

From where he lay, face down on rocks and dirt, he could feel her still walking around him. He thought about rising but... that seemed like too much work. Especially since he’d just get thrown to the ground again.

His power was almost gone. Everything he had left went into healing. It was keeping him alive just to withstand more.

So, Dorian didn’t move. Burst after burst of torturous pain hit him. He tried not to scream, but he knew was, even if he could no longer hear it. And as he wavered in and out of consciousness, he held a single image in his mind. Her shimmering golden eyes, a long white braid filled with flowers, her smile...

Manon writhed on the ground as the others stood by, helpless. She had to get to Dorian. But there was no way she could get there quickly, let alone stay on a wyvern. Aven knelt beside her, tears streaming down her round cheeks.

She wasn’t sure if she could die from what was happening to her, to him, but Aven’s face belied the gravity of the situation. Her eyes were pools of grief. She’d lost so many already - her mother and sisters, husband, son, and granddaughter. And though Manon was not afraid to die, she didn’t want her grandmother to suffer another loss.

During a brief respite from pain, Manon's head cleared and for some reason, she thought of her great-grandmother, Queen Rhiannon. The Crochan Queen’s blood flowed through Manon. Her power too. She shared the strength of so many great witches within herself. At the realization, she felt her magic bubble to life. It had not disappeared, or been depleted. But the pain, the sheer terror at the knowledge that it was coming from Dorian through the cariad bond... She’d forgotten about it. Forgotten what she might be capable of.

Another bout of pain left Manon curled up. But she focused on the magic growing inside her. Focused on Dorian. Focused on the bond connecting them. She didn’t know what she was doing. Only knew she had to do it. She had to get to him. And with a sudden surge of her power, she fell into darkness.

It felt like falling through a storm. Wind raged around her in a funnel and she couldn’t tell which way was up. But within seconds, her feet hit ground, the force of the impact making her knees buckle. She rose quickly to a crouch, unsheathing a dagger from her hip. The scene before her overrode all the questions she had about what she’d just done.

Dorian was flat on the ground. Breathing. Alive. The Matron leaned over him. When she turned to see Manon mere feet away, her face dissolved into utter shock.

Manon felt the forge of her power flare. She took a step forward and growled, ”Get the fuck away from him.”

To be continued...

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mdelpin · 5 years

Text

The Red Dragon - Chapter 17

AO3 | FF.Net | Tumblr: Ch1 | Ch16

Chapter 17

It was Lyon who had gotten Gray to finally leave the field. Wisely avoiding the Guard headquarters, he’d led them to their shared apartment. Gray had collapsed on their sofa, crying more than he could ever remember doing since his parents’ death. The fear that this was it, the moment where he finally lost everything created a weight on his chest so massive, it felt like it would crush him.

Lyon did his best to soothe him, to let him know that they were brothers and he was still there for him, that he would lend him his strength until Gray felt up to standing on his own once more, but it all sounded so distant. The image of Natsu and the others flying away on that beast wasn’t something he could let go of yet. And just as Lyon had predicted, Gray was horrified by how he’d acted.

He’d been so caught up in himself that he’d refused to acknowledge the fear that had been written all over Natsu’s face or his plea for Gray to forgive him, to understand he couldn’t stay. Even worse, he’d ignored Natsu’s feelings which had been quite clearly broadcast to him through their shared bond.

Natsu had needed to be held, to be comforted, to feel loved by Gray, but that wasn’t what he’d given him at all, and that knowledge was eating away at him. Even now, he was wearing Natsu’s most prized possession around his neck, his smell providing Gray some level of comfort. What did Natsu get from him?

Gray had yelled at him, pushed him away, and refused to listen to anything he had to say. He’d berated him, even questioned his love. Gods, what had he —

“Natsu’s going to be fine, Gray. They’re all going to be fine,” Lyon interrupted his thoughts, continuing to murmur his encouragement, not knowing what else to do for the boy he’d accepted as a brother so many years before.

Gray nodded listlessly, tensing up as he heard loud knocking and Erza yelling at their front door. Lyon left him on the sofa to go deal with her. Gray listened as Lyon tried to stop Erza from coming inside, but the sound of her steps growing closer was testament enough to his failure. He heard the door close softly, and the familiar sound of Lyon’s footsteps returning.

“Where is everyone? Why aren’t you at your posts? Just because Natsu left doesn’t give everyone the right to take off. I have dozens of recruits waiting and no one to train them, “Erza stormed into their living room, coming face to face with the sorry state Gray was in.

Seeing that Gray was in no condition to give her any of the information she needed, she looked back at Lyon, who had just walked into the room, “What’s the matter with him?”

Lyon grabbed the blanket they usually hung over the back of their couch and draped it over Gray, pushing him down slightly to get him to rest. He wasn’t really surprised by the lack of resistance. Once he’d settled his brother down, he grabbed his keys and motioned for Erza to follow. “Let’s talk outside.”

Lyon closed the door quietly behind him and began to walk back to the Village Guard headquarters. “It wasn’t just Natsu that left, although that is what has Gray so upset. They all did, Erza. Sting, Rogue, Gajeel, and Wendy, they left too. They all climbed atop a flaming dragon and took off.”

“I should have realized,” Erza muttered, visibly deflating at his words before peering at him, her eyes widening slowly as she processed the rest of his words.

“Gray saw Natsu’s dragon?” Erza covered her mouth with her hand, but Lyon could still see the distress reflected in her eyes.

“It was a little more than that, I think. By the time Natsu and I got there, the dragon slayers had managed to subdue him but... Yeah, he’s had a rough day,” Lyon sighed, running his fingers through his hair as he tried to think of how to explain.

“Ever since I’ve known him, Gray has kept people at a distance, it took him years to warm up to me, but with Natsu, it’s always been different. I think having him leave was bad enough, but to have it be on a dragon that was just like the one that destroyed his village...it was too much for Gray to handle.”

“It was kind of Natsu to leave Gray his scarf, he must have realized how his absence would affect him,” Erza’s voice was full of pride at Natsu’s actions.

Lyon nodded but remained silent. He hated to lie to Erza about Natsu and Gray, but until he heard from Gray that it was okay to tell people about their relationship, he would honor their request for privacy.

Erza squeezed Lyon’s shoulder gently even as she avoided his eyes, “You should return to him, at a time like this, it’s important to have family nearby. Don’t worry about work for today, I’ll run some basic drills with the recruits and put a basic schedule together for those that remain. Those five won’t be easy to replace, but I suppose we’ll have to make do with the new recruits.”

“I’m sorry, I know this must be hard for you as well,” Lyon commented, remembering the dragon slayers were her childhood friends. Erza waved his concern away in a way that was meant to show the matter held no importance to her but instead only managed to scream of her vulnerability.

“I have to go,” Erza remarked abruptly, appearing uncomfortable with Lyon’s attention. She started to walk away, but after managing only a few steps she stopped, and without turning called out, “I’ll be back to check on the two of you later, I’ll bring some food.”

Satisfied with her words, she walked off in the direction of their headquarters.

Watching her retreating figure, Lyon realized that perhaps Gray might not be the only one who was going to need him. Lyon vowed to watch out for Erza as well.

O-o

Three months later

No matter the weather, Gray never left his house without first wrapping Natsu’s scarf around his neck, even though his scent had faded away after the first few days. The warmth it provided was a constant reminder of Natsu and his promise that he would return.

In the time since the dragon slayers had left, Gray’s stripping habit had miraculously disappeared. His anxiety became so great he felt nothing but cold all the time.

The days dragged on, each one seeming longer than the one before it. Gray’s life was an endless blur of getting up, going to work, forcing food into his body, and going to sleep. Wash, rinse, repeat.

Night times were the worst. For the first few weeks after the dragon slayers left, he’d been plagued with nightmares of Deliora. He’d awaken only to find Lyon standing over his bed staring down at him, his forehead furrowed in concern.

Eventually, his nightmares gave way to frequent dreams of Natsu as his heart tried to give him what he yearned for, and those were almost more painful because the moment he woke he would experience the despair of finding himself alone once more.

About the only thing he was thankful for was that Erza had asked Lyon to take over the training of the magical recruits, thus limiting Juvia’s attempts to get Gray’s attention to his off-hours. If she could catch him, that was.

He’d disappear as soon as his shifts were over, which no one, except maybe Juvia, gave him a hard time about as this had been his usual custom. Gray would trudge over to the field where they used to spend so much of their time.

At first, it had been hard for him not to associate it with the dragon that had taken his friends away, but he and Natsu had made way too many memories there for him to let go of it without a fight.

He settled comfortably on the spot where he used to watch Natsu sleep and wondered when if ever he was going to see his mate again.

I will always come for you when you need me...

Gray could still hear those words echoing in his head, except now, instead of bringing him comfort as Natsu had intended, they felt like a slap to the face. The truth was he needed Natsu right now, but the dragon slayer was nowhere to be found.

He focused on their bond, trying desperately to glean any information he could from it but like every other day, all Gray felt was a distant hum, and it made him wonder, if the worst happened, would he even know?

He shook his head in an attempt to dispel his gloomy thoughts and tried to remember Natsu the ways he loved him best — with a challenge in his eyes and an annoyingly confident grin at the ready or soft and flustered as they kissed.

Gray closed his eyes, letting himself pretend he was only waiting for Natsu to wake from one of his naps. He imagined him blinking awake slowly as he used to, his eyes sleepy, but his smile radiant. Gray felt his heart flutter in his chest at the sight, but when he opened his eyes, there was nothing but the empty field.

Natsu, when are you coming home?

“That’s enough of that,” Lyon’s voice brought him back to the present and noticing his brother’s outstretched hand. Gray grabbed it and let himself be pulled up.

Gray examined Lyon’s face, searching for any hint of disapproval, but Lyon only rolled his eyes at him.

“Let’s go do something,” Lyon suggested calmly, “How about we go to the lake? We haven’t done that in a while.”

Gray nodded and followed his brother. They remained quiet for a few minutes, but Gray could feel Lyon struggling with something. He wasn’t surprised when his brother stopped just before the village.

“Things will get better, Gray, but you have to help them along. You’ve been keeping yourself isolated all this time, Nat-,” Lyon thought better of what he’d been about to say, “well, he wouldn’t like to see you like this. He promised you he will return, and that is exactly what the stubborn bastard will do.”

Gray managed a chuckle, even as his brain screamed But when? But the small sound seemed to reassure Lyon that Gray was at least considering his words.

“I know you’re right. Natsu would absolutely kick my ass if he saw me pining over him, but I can’t help it,” Gray was surprised to hear himself confiding in Lyon, “I miss him, Lyon. My whole body misses him, it’s this ache inside me that nothing can quiet.”

“Uhm, that’s a little too much information,” Lyon replied, looking uncomfortable.

“No! That hasn’t happened yet!” Gray was quick to assure him, his cheeks burning as he realized what Lyon thought he’d said and he tried to explain his feelings better, “Natsu and I have this sort of spiritual connection, uhm, it’s like with him gone half of me is missing.”

“Then you have to keep this half strong for when it reunites with…,” to his credit Lyon was trying to be comforting, but he was utterly at a loss, and it showed. He stopped himself before he made a fool of himself, “I have no fucking clue what I’m saying, but just try to snap out of it a little? Cause I miss you too.”

“I —,” Gray had never stopped to consider how his actions might affect anyone else. Once again, he felt a bit childish, and he promised himself he would try to do better, “I’ll try.”

Lyon beamed at his reply, and they headed home to change into swim trunks and grab some supplies. They were discussing some of the newer guard members on their way to the lake when they happened upon Erza sitting by the shore, her expression unguarded for the first time they could remember.

They glanced at each other briefly and with a shrug approached her, sitting on either side of her. Erza snapped out of her reverie, looking surprised to see them but giving no indication that she was bothered by their presence.

“Come to swim?” she asked them, wiping away at her face although they hadn’t noticed any tears.

“Are you okay?” Lyon asked, and the care Gray heard in his voice made him wish he hadn’t just agreed to be more social. He was well aware of how Lyon felt about Erza, and he was beginning to worry that Lyon was using him as an excuse to not make a move on the girl he loved.

“Yes, of course,” Erza waved his concern away, looking off into the distance at the rippling waters of the lake, “I’ve always loved it here, it’s so peaceful.”

She turned to look at Gray, her eyes lingering on the scarf that was never absent from his neck. She rewarded him with a sympathetic smile, “It also brings back memories of when we all used to come here to play. Sting and Natsu would always start these ridiculous splash wars until they managed to get everyone drenched and then it was a free for all,” Erza wiped at her eyes again, “My mother would be so upset when I got home.”

Gray tensed up at the mention of Natsu’s name, but he managed to calm himself down by remembering when he and Natsu had played much the same way. It still hurt, but at least it was a memory he held dear.

“How come you lived at the orphanage with the others if your mom was around?” Gray asked curiously, having always been puzzled by that fact.

“I didn’t live in the orphanage. My mother and I lived with Anna,” Erza explained, her cheeks blazing for a reason Gray didn’t understand, “When my mom left I stayed with Anna until I got my own place.”

“Sometimes it feels like everyone I care about leaves me behind,” Erza sighed once again causing Gray to stare at Lyon pointedly, but to his frustration, his brother seemed determined not to make a move.

“Would it be alright if Juvia joined you?”

The three friends looked up to find Juvia standing behind them looking uncertain, an umbrella clutched in her arms as always, and before Gray or Lyon could say anything, Erza answered for them, gesturing for Juvia to join them. “Of course, we were just talking about old friends.”

Juvia immediately took a seat next to Gray, who tried his best to be polite even though he felt uncomfortable in her presence, “You must enjoy coming here.”

“Yes, Juvia always feels untroubled around her element,” she peeked at Gray shyly, “Juvia wonders why Gray-sama always wears a scarf, even when it’s hot out?”

“It belongs to a friend, one I would like to see return soon,” Gray responded, deciding not to bother correcting her on the way she referred to him, knowing from experience it was pointless. Erza grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

“We all would. They may be reckless fools, but we have to trust they’ll be okay, it’s all we can do. Besides, my mother is with them,” Erza reminded him.

Erza went on to tell them stories about growing up with Sting, Rogue, Natsu, Gajeel, and Wendy and Gray found it reassuring to know he wasn’t alone in his vigil, that Erza was waiting just as he was. Lyon finally made his move, slowly placing his arm around Erza’s shoulders, somehow managing not to freak out when she rested her head on his shoulder.

O-o

Six months since Natsu left...

Deliora had not been sighted for some time, and this made everyone uneasy. Atlas was sure the hellfire dragon was up to something, but Igneel didn’t seem to care, more concerned with trying to find an end to the war to worry about anything else.

Acnologia and the other renegades, on the other hand, had been even more active than usual and although most of their kills had belonged to the opposition, no one rejoiced at their deaths.

It hadn’t been that long ago that dragons had numbered in the tens of thousands, but in the course of the long drawn out war, their numbers had dwindled drastically until it was now believed there were not more than a thousand left and more than half of those resided in the cave hidden inside the mountain.

Since it was common knowledge that Igneel was one of Acnologia’s targets, it had been decided that he should remain at headquarters for his own safety. With Igneel protected by so many dragons, it made Natsu wonder why he was even there in the first place, but seeing how stressed Atlas was all the time it made him glad to at least be able to help him out somewhat.

This relative freedom was both a blessing and a curse. It did allow Natsu to keep track of his friends and when possible, spend more time with them, but it also put him in Belserion’s sights, and his father’s advisor had no trouble finding things to keep Natsu occupied. Some were extremely dangerous, and Natsu could only assume Igneel was blissfully ignorant of those missions. Others, however, were mind-numbingly boring.

The worst of these was when Belserion would parade him around the cave, showing him the areas where all the different dragon races lived, making a point of introducing him to every dragon they came across as Igneel’s son.

About the only good thing Natsu could say about these excursions was that it was amazing to see so many different types of dragons living together in one lair, but it was also mildly irritating to have every dragon immediately treating him with deference.

The dragon slayers, however, were still not permitted in the dragons living areas. Wendy was the only exception due to her young age and her importance as a healer. She was allowed to stay with Grandine in her quarters, and Natsu saw her regularly as they were both training to improve their healing magic with Grandine and Atlas.

He had decided to try to boost his healing magic in the hopes it might let him revert any of the physical changes that Atlas had hinted at. It was an ability he’d always had, but it had never been anywhere near as powerful as his dragon magic, and it usually took a lot of out him when he used it on others. He’d begun working on mastering more complex spells and increasing his endurance. Figuring even if it didn’t help him with his problem it could at the very least take some of the pressure off the other healers.

Metalicana, who was about as old as Igneel, had not suffered as much injury at Acnologia’s hands as Weisslogia and Skiadrum who were significantly younger. He was often out leading attacks with Gajeel riding on his back belting out orders, and Natsu was often called upon to be a part of these missions.

Rogue and Skiadrum were part of the Shadow Dragon unit. They acted as escorts and intelligence gatherers, their shadow magic allowing them to often hide in plain sight. They were currently tasked with finding out Deliora’s location so that Igneel might attempt to propose a temporary truce once again.

Weisslogia had been injured the worst out of all their dragons, having sacrificed himself to protect his mate Skiadrum from Acnologia’s attack. He could no longer fly for long distances, so he spent most of the time roaming around the headquarters, trying to find ways he could be of use.

Natsu had been paired with Sting, Gajeel, and Rogue at one time or another, but it was usually Sting who was assigned to him. They had managed to recover some of their closeness, especially considering he was the only one of Natsu’s friends that had any idea of what was happening to him.

Out of all the duties he was given, Natsu enjoyed acting as a lookout the best. It was peaceful for the most part. He could sit alone with his thoughts, away from the din of the massive cave.

Natsu flew to the top of their mountain hideout and looked around, extending all his senses to try to detect any oncoming threat. Not finding any he gazed up at the night sky and the stars that twinkled down at him.

As always, the color reminded him of Gray’s eyes, and it made him feel closer to his mate than anything else in this new environment. Somewhere in Talos, Gray might be looking at the same sky and thinking of him. He smiled at the thought, and even though it caused him some pain, it was a pain he welcomed.

Atlas was convinced the best way to keep his dragon instincts from taking over his mind was to strengthen it, so while Natsu sat and patiently continued to watch for any signs of enemy dragons he worked on his meditation exercises.

If he couldn’t change into a human while he was here the next best thing he could do was to become more aware of his mind. Recognize his thoughts and feelings so that he could continue to remain as much Natsu as possible. In this way, he hoped to be able to recognize the onset of his dragon instincts and isolate them. It was the best defense he had at the moment, and he hoped it would allow him to stop himself from losing control again.

Natsu had been involved in more fights than he could count by this point, his kill count had quickly risen, causing him to be in a constant battle against his instincts. About the only good thing to be said was that he had not enjoyed any of them like he had the wood dragon, which gave him hope that his attempts over the last three months were having some effect.

Before he could get started, he needed to relax his mind and body, so he spent about thirty minutes each evening breathing profoundly and reminding himself of all the things that made him want to remain human.

His first thoughts were always of Gray, for most of all he wanted to stay human for him, but he also thought of Anna and Erza and even the other dragon slayers. Once he had achieved a sort of calm state, he would begin to meditate, a process that made him hyper-aware of his mind and body.

Sometimes Sting would sneak out and join him for a while, eager to get away from the hostility he experienced daily. This allowed Natsu to focus better as Sting would keep an eye out for him. They rarely saw other dragons at night, with talks of a potential truce in the works no one wanted to be the one to destroy an opportunity at peace.

That night proved different, to his surprise Sting, Atlas, Belserion, and Weisslogia all came up to see him.

Natsu immediately came out of his meditative state to look at them worriedly, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, we’re going for a ride,” Sting said emphasizing we and grinning in a way that Natsu hadn’t seen in a few months.

“What are you up to?” Natsu asked not knowing how to respond to Sting’s obvious glee.

Instead of answering Atlas growled, “We need to do some scouting and Sting volunteered to be your rider, Weisslogia will act as a lookout tonight.”

“Okay, but where are we going?”

“Don’t worry about it, let’s go,” Atlas and Belserion took off, and Natsu let Sting get atop him before following his uncle.

Natsu didn’t understand what was going on, but it was obvious that both Sting and Atlas were excited about it, although Belserion maintained his usual impassive stare. Natsu tried to be patient, fighting off the agitation he felt, knowing the others would tell him soon enough.

“I think we’re far enough,” Atlas announced before landing atop a sizeable snow-covered mountain many miles away from their headquarters.

Sting got off Natsu and was positively brimming with excitement as he asked Natsu to change back into his human form. Natsu peered at Atlas who only nodded. He gawked at the two of them nervously until Atlas nudged him with his head.

“We don’t have all night,” Belserion reminded him, and Natsu nodded, closing his eyes slowly and calling to his magic. When nothing happened, his heart began to race in panic. Was it already too late?

“Calm down, I can hear your heart beating from over here,” Atlas snapped, looking bored, “you’re just scared because it’s the first time you’ve done it since we left and now you’re worried you might not be able to. Do the centering thing you’ve been practicing and try again.”

Natsu did as he was told, breathing deeply and focusing on his sense of self before once again calling to his magic. This time he could feel some resistance, but he was able to overpower it, and he soon found himself back in his human form.

Sting immediately hug tackled him to the ground, “I’m so happy to see you!”

Natsu could only grin in response, laying still and looking at the sky in relief.

He’d done it!

Natsu did a quick examination of the parts of his body he could observe but couldn’t detect any visible changes. He peered at the others, but none of them were looking at him strangely, and he was filled with a profound sense of relief. He was still okay!

“First things first, Deliora has finally shown himself, he has requested a meeting. It is to take place in exactly one week,” Atlas informed Natsu, barely giving his transformation any importance as he launched into what he wanted to discuss with his nephew.

“He wants both Igneel and I there, claims I’m the only one he trusts. He didn’t ask for you, which makes me think he hasn’t heard about your presence yet. I would like to use that to our advantage.”

“What are you talking about?” Natsu wasn’t sure what was going on, but his dragon instincts were going into overdrive at the mere mention of Deliora, immediately hissing curses at the dragon that had dared hurt his mate.

With a growing sense of dismay, Natsu realized that even in this form, his instincts were just as loud. That was new. He tried not to worry too much about it as they had always been vocal when it came to the concept of his mate.

Atlas regarded him with an irritated expression, “Look, I don’t trust Deliora, the only reason to want the two of us there is to try to ambush us and get rid of the last of the royals. He believes if Igneel and I fall, there will be no one left to stop him from trying to take over what’s left of the dragons.”

Sting and Natsu both studied Atlas with interest. There was something in his words that nagged at Natsu, but he promptly ignored it. He wasn’t interested in any of the politics, he was just there to keep his family safe and get back to his mate as quickly as possible, “So why would Deliora say he trusts you?”

Belserion interceded, “He doesn’t, this is clearly a trap, but if we can take Deliora out that might go a long way towards reaching our goal of ending the war. Igneel means well, but the time for diplomatic gestures is over. There are too few dragons left for us to be playing these games.”

Atlas nodded in agreement, “Natsu, Belserion and I have been talking it over, we feel the best course of action is for both of you to follow us to the meeting place. If Deliora’s intentions are treacherous, then the two of you can provide backup and help us take him out. If by some miracle he is sincere you can hold back, and he’ll be none the wiser. But you must remember, once he smells you, he’ll know who you are. Which brings us to something else we wanted to talk to you about.”

“Me?” Natsu gaped, not really understanding why they needed him to be involved in all of this.

“Yes, you. You are a royal, Natsu. One of the few left, which means certain responsibilities are expected of you regardless of whether you want them or not,” Belserion replied sternly, peering down at him with a somber expression.

“Igneel and Atlas have their own tasks they must accomplish so this one must fall to you. It does carry the added benefit that you can do it while in your human form, which Atlas has mentioned would be beneficial to you.”

Natsu didn’t know how to respond to Belserion’s words. The idea that he would be able to remain in his human form even if only for short periods could only help him retain his humanity! When he realized that Belserion was waiting on him, he nodded at him to continue.

“Even if we manage to end the animosity between the dragons, we’ll still have the threat of the renegades to contend with. We’ll need to scout for a safe place to relocate the remaining dragons that will be difficult for the renegades to follow. Preferably an unpopulated island of some sort, with some natural barriers to protect it and abundant food sources nearby. This might be the only way we can save the dragons from extinction. When possible, you will come with me while Sting and Weisslogia take over your lookout duties.”

“Once we’ve found an appropriate location, we will need to start moving dragons there, and then we’ll have to start our own war. The dragons that are capable of performing Atlas’ counterspell will need to stay behind and hunt the remaining renegades down and remove their magic.”

“Did you finish your spell?” Natsu knew that Atlas had been working day and night on his counterspell, but he hadn’t heard of a significant breakthrough.

Atlas shook his head, “Not yet, but I think I’m close.”

“If we think Deliora is truly up to something,” Sting spoke up, “Shouldn’t you get more dragons involved?”

“Enough creatures have met an untimely death because of Deliora, we’d rather not add any more to that list. He is a problem the red dragons created, it’s up to us to rectify our mistake.”

“I understand that, but all due respect, the red dragons are some of the strongest dragons we have fighting on our side. If any of you are severely injured, it will be a huge loss to our forces. Shouldn’t you at least have a backup plan that includes the rest of us? If this turns out to be the thing that turns the tide, it might be good for morale to include others in your plan.”

Belserion closed his eyes and remained quiet for a few minutes, his forehead furrowing as he considered Sting’s words, “I suppose it wouldn’t be a bad idea to protect our territory… I’ll give it some thought.”

Atlas and Belserion continued to talk amongst themselves and Sting took the opportunity to glance over at Natsu who kept looking at his body in amazement.

“So, how do you feel?”

“Relieved, I guess. Part of me had been worried I couldn’t do it any longer.”

“Not gonna lie, I was worried too,” Sting admitted, and when he noticed Natsu continue to examine his body intently he tried to reassure him, “You don’t look any different, I mean I can’t see any areas Gray might be privy to but —”

Natsu’s face instantly turned bright red at Sting’s comment, and his friend couldn’t contain himself from dissolving into giggles before turning serious again as he noticed some of the scars that hadn’t been there when they’d arrived all those months earlier. “You have a lot more scars now. Can you heal them with what you’ve learned?”

Natsu shook his head, “They’re not so bad.”

“I know, I have some too, I’d just prefer to have no visible reminder of our time here.”

“Are you sorry you came?’

“I don’t know, I’d rather be home, even if Erza is as scary as her mother,” Sting laughed, but it was hollow, and even as Natsu joined in he couldn’t help but worry.

The first snowball caught Natsu by surprise, but he melted it quickly enough and proceeded to pummel Sting with snowball after snowball, giving him no chance to make new ones. “You forget, I was trained by an ice mage!”

And for once thinking of Gray didn’t hurt, he smiled, remembering Gray harping on him about how to make a perfect snowball and he used that knowledge to nefarious effect. He chased after Sting who finally sat down in exhaustion and cried uncle. Natsu joined him biting his lip as he debated whether to ask him what he had been weighing on his mind.

“Hey, Sting?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s going on with you and Rogue?” He’d been trying to get the nerve up to ask for a while, for as much as he loved hanging around with Sting, Natsu found it incredibly strange that he seemed to be spending so little time with Rogue. He was counting on Sting feeling more comfortable talking to him in his human guise.

But no matter how much Natu pushed, Sting refused to answer him. Although the frustrated look on his face was answer enough, and they remained in uncomfortable silence until the red dragons told them it was time to go back. Natsu made a note to try to talk to Rogue when he got the chance.

O-o

A week later...

Atlas waited for Belserion to give him a confident nod before setting off with Igneel to the agreed meeting spot.

“So what do you think he’s going to pull, ambush?” Atlas asked curious of Igneel’s thoughts.

It had been a while since his brother had left their headquarters, and Atlas could tell he was happy to be outside once more. He looked almost too relaxed, considering where they were headed.

“Must you always be so suspicious?” Igneel complained, “We’re all tired of this, I imagine Deliora is no different, he did call this meeting after all.”

Atlas snorted but didn’t say anything more, it had been too long since he’d been able to do anything with Igneel and there was no point in worrying about what lay ahead of them. Things had already been set in motion, and all he could do now was to protect Igneel as he’d always done and trust that the contingency plans he and Belserion had put in place would be enough to counteract Deliora’s treachery.

“What did Natsu say when you told him of the scouting missions?” Igneel asked, that effort needed to remain secret and should not be discussed within the walls of their headquarters.

“He was pleased, he had some trouble transforming at first, but he was able to do it. He and Belserion have gone out twice now,” Atlas commented, “I’m just glad we were able to come up with a small way to help him.”

Igneel nodded, looking around at his surroundings as they flew, smelling the edges of the territory they had claimed as theirs.

“I, for one, will be glad to return home when all this is over. This land is beautiful, but it doesn’t compare to the lake and mountains that surround Talos.”

Atlas silently agreed, he had become attached to their home, there wasn’t a day that he didn’t miss his room, full of his scrolls, magical items, and ingredients that were hard to come by in this area. He extended his senses as far out as he could manage, searching for Deliora’s familiar scent, knowing he should be able to smell it by now.

He began to make it out a few miles later, and by the way Igneel stiffened next to him knew his brother had sensed it as well. Atlas continued his search, chuckling to himself when he detected additional smells. So it was an ambush as he’d expected. Deliora was nothing if not predictable.

O-o

Natsu waited impatiently for Belserion to finish discussing their plans with Irene. Atlas and Igneel had left for their meeting some five minutes earlier, and Natsu didn’t like them being so far ahead.

Five minutes was an incredibly long time in a fight, he’d learned that very quickly. Most battles were over much faster than that, even if the aftereffects could last for a lifetime. So far he’d been lucky, he’d bled a lot and had suffered some wounds but none that could be considered life-threatening.

Sting, Rogue, and Gajeel were standing silently around him, each placing a hand on him as they waited for the operation to begin.

“It’s gonna be fine guys, Atlas and Igneel are both strong, and with Belserion and I there to back them up we should all be just fine,” Natsu growled softly, not liking the worried expressions on their faces.

“We know,” Rogue replied, “and we’ll also be there to help if you need it. I guess we’re just all hoping this will be it.”

Sting and Gajeel grunted their assent. “We’ll be right behind the territory line, Runt, remember that. You don’t have to be a hero on this one.”

Natsu nodded only half-listening to their words. He was antsy, having had a bad dream the night before and he urged Belserion to hurry up in his mind, knowing better than to utter the words out loud.

After what felt like an eternity, Belserion finally motioned him to follow. Natsu bolted out of the cave opening without even a word of goodbye to his friends. And just like that, they were off. They remained quiet even as they flew faster than usual, both of them wanting to get close enough to see if they were needed.

A few minutes after they passed their territory line they smelled it, there were many more scents than the three they had been hoping for, and without even a word between them, both dragons added an extra burst of speed. Their worst fears had come to pass.

O-o

The wind shifted and with it came a smell that froze Atlas’ blood, the last time he had been up against this particular foe he’d almost lost his brother.

Atlas glared at the hellfire dragon he had once considered a friend, “Just when I think you couldn’t be any dumber you go and do something like this…”

Deliora gave no indication he’d heard Atlas, his gaze falling greedily on Igneel, the dragon who had humiliated him and then banished him from his home. Except that hadn’t really been their home, Desierto had been their home, and Igneel had moved them all away from it to go on some fool’s errand.

The red dragons were mighty and powerful. They should never have gotten involved in this pointless conflict, and if Deliora had had his way they never would have, but here they were, and he’d be damned if he didn’t come out on top this time.

He would make Igneel pay for his sins and make Atlas watch as his precious brother was killed in front of him. Not by him, of course, he had worked extra hard and sacrificed countless of his own dragons to make this happen. And as he watched his current ally move away from where he had been hiding and into the open, Deliora couldn’t help but rejoice at the looks of dismay on both Atlas an Igneel’s faces.

“Well, well, well, I can’t believe you were right, “Acnologia smiled easily, the hunger in his eyes unmistakable, “the last two remaining royals right here for the reaping. I am going to enjoy tearing you apart limb from limb.”

Acnologia’s wink was sickening, and as he changed into his dragon form, Atlas prepared to fight. He could only thank the stars that they had anticipated something going wrong.

A/N: Posting a day early cause I’m going to a con tomorrow! Enjoy!

#fairy tail #gratsu #ftlgbtales #fairy tail big bang 2018 #update

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