#and in some life i was lukes rib bone hope this helps

[qjaiden]

i love getting to know people because i always feel like in another universe we were something else, you know? in another universe you were my best friend and i was your best man at your wedding, in another universe you weren't just my friend but maybe a lover, in another universe we were two cats of the same litter, in another universe you were the sun and i was a flower

#in another life me and amalia were little critters around a meadow who watched the stars together #in another life me and lacy were neighbors who stayed at each others place for hours #in another life me and thes are two old men who sit on a porch and bitch and complain #in another life me and clings were elementary school friends #in another life me and cyrus were probably mabel and dipper pines if ill be real #in another life areus and i were two saplings who were planted next to each other #and in some life i was lukes rib bone hope this helps #in another life me and sock were lil animals at da circus #trinketz trinket

[heliads]

How to Move On

Based on this request: “A ghost!Luke Patterson x alive!reader but she is older. Like in the 90s they were but then he died and she got older. An angst story please :)”

masterlist

When he was alive, Luke Patterson lived five houses down from one of the cutest girls he’d ever seen. It still surprises him that he has to tack on that first part to describe anything that happened in his life before, like if he shuts his eyes hard enough he’ll find himself back in the 90s, when he had a pulse and a heartbeat and people could see him if he walked out onto the street.

However, an unseen blade cuts a little too deep whenever he thinks about his current situation, so Luke allows himself to fall deeper into the memory instead of returning back to reality. She’d lived five houses down, right? Or was it four? Luke has hardly been brought back as a ghost for a few weeks before he’s started losing his grasp on the details that bound his life. They’re all slipping through his fingertips, gone now in recollection as well as his ability to return to them in person.

Yes, five houses down- he’s certain of it now. Whenever he wanted to sneak out of his house to go visit her, Luke had to climb out of his window and weave through two backyards before he could risk returning to the sidewalk for another three houses. Five houses down, that’s right. Luke curses himself mentally, not wanting to forget another detail. He’s already lost the girl, he doesn’t want to lose the few figments of her in his memory. A ghost of her for the ghost he already is.

If he managed to sneak out of his house and make it down five houses, as he so often did, Luke could then toss small pebbles at one moonlit window. It usually only took two or three of these interactions before the window would be hurriedly unlatched, a beaming face peering out at him. Luke would allow himself a second of staring, admiring the way the moonlight cast the girl in a bone-white halo, then haul himself up into the room.

From the second his feet touched down on the bedroom floor, Luke would be in safe territory. He still took precautions, of course, keeping his voice down and his movements quiet. However, Y/N L/N always seemed to have a secret oasis in the form of her room, and he was never once caught. They both made sure of it, and if he and Y/N worked together, they could achieve any goal so long as it was worth it.

Y/N L/N. She was the one he’d left behind, one of the aches that hurt the most. He’d been lucky enough to win her love, either through some complete misunderstanding or maybe the fact that he’d finally done something right in his life, but he had her nonetheless. Or, he’d had her until the day he’d died, leaving behind nothing in his wake but grieving parents and the girl he’d sworn to stay with for the rest of his life. Well, his promise had come true in one sense, although Luke can’t help but wish there was another way around it.

To be completely honest, even as Luke dreads forgetting any detail of his past girl, he might fear thinking about her even more. It’s not that he wants to lose the picture of her smile in his head, or the way she’d reach for him when she was cold, it’s just that to think of her in any sense is like a knife stabbing him through the ribs, reminding him that he’ll never get her back. If he tries to push her from his mind, he won’t remember the way she’ll never be with him again. Isn’t that better?

Luke already knows the answer: no, not at all. Even this one slip in his memory, the faltering knowledge of how far apart their houses were, sends a jolt of worry spiking through him. Luke wouldn’t consider himself forgetful, maybe just a little absentminded, but the fact that he’s already starting to forget his past life worries him. However, to keep Y/N’s picture cherished in his mind means reminding himself of everything that he’d lost, of finally confronting all the memories he’s been holding back for so long.

Eventually, Luke finds himself in the studio, searching through the boxes and crates of stuff that had eventually made its way into dusty corners and spiderwebbed cracks of the room. Julie’s mom had been kind enough to keep at least some of Sunset Curve’s possessions, and so Luke ransacks these sparse belongings now. At last, his hand emerges triumphant, carrying with it an old photo album. It’s thin, spine scarcely thicker than a small paperback, but for the way he looks at it its pages could be lined with gold.

Luke pauses a second, steeling himself before flipping open the front cover. Instantly, he’s hit with a wave of memories. These first few photos had been taken a year or so before he died, when he had first started dating Y/N and everything seemed like he was living a dream. There are Polaroids from their first few dates, snapshots of festivals and boardwalks and everything a couple of teenagers could afford when they were young and stupidly in love.

Luke studies these, then the next couple of pages, and then the next. He must have been more distracted than he’d first thought, because he doesn’t notice Julie Molina enter the studio until she’s practically standing on top of him. Julie clears his throat, and he startles, doing his best to quickly close the album. For some reason, it doesn’t feel quite right to so openly share his memories of Y/N to anyone within eyesight.

“Sorry, didn’t see you there. Are we practicing?” Luke asks. Julie laughs, her smile a tad incredulous. “Not yet, but I’m a little worried as to why you were so quick to hide that book. What, are you trying to keep secrets from me?” Her eyes assure him that this question is purely an excuse to tease him, but Luke can’t find it within himself to smile back. Instead, he sits back down on the floor of the studio, gesturing listlessly to the empty space next to him.

“Not entirely. It’s just- well, I found this old photo album, and it’s kind of hard to not regret leaving everything behind. The current day is good, don’t get me wrong, and I love the band, but-” Julie picks up on his train of thought even as Luke’s voice trails off. “It’s not what you’re used to, and you feel bad about everything you could have had. I get it. I’m surprised you’ve adjusted so well, to be honest. It can’t be easy to leave your entire life behind.”

Luke lets out a quiet sigh. “Exactly.” After a moment’s consideration, he picks up the photo album again, opening the cover and passing it to Julie. She accepts it, glancing at him one last time to make sure he’s alright with baring his soul to her. A soft smile traces its way onto her face as she sees the photos of him and Y/N, grins so bright they could practically light up the world. “Who is this?”

Her finger lingers over a photo Luke had taken of Y/N. She had been wearing a Sunset Curve shirt, one of their first attempts at a logo. They’d long since changed the design, but she had said something about how her boys were so official and taken the first draft t-shirt nonetheless. Y/N had worn it to many shows since then, until the design faded into nothingness and she’d been forced to get a new one. Luke’s voice softens. “That’s Y/N. She is- she was my girlfriend. Back in the 90s, at least.”

Luke hates the way he has to say that, like she’s died instead of him. She was his girlfriend, they had known each other, they are each utterly different now and there is no getting back what they’d once had. Julie glances over at him, sympathy radiating from her gaze, but then she turns back to the photo, frowning over it in something that almost looks like recognition. “Wait, you said her name was Y/N? Like Y/N L/N?”

Luke sits bolt upright, melancholy thoughts completely forgotten. “Yes! How did you know that? Do you know her?” Julie’s excitement starts to bleed away from her, as if she knows something that ruins the dream she had been so thrilled to share. “Well, yes, but she’s not Y/N L/N anymore. She has a different last name now.” Luke picks up on what Julie is unwilling to say, and his stomach sinks a little. She has a different last name because she’s married, because she’s moved on.

Even as he thinks this, Luke feels annoyed at himself. Of course she’s moved on- he died 25 years ago. There’s no reason she would never love again, and even if she did, Luke would never want that for her. She was so bright, so happy, that the thought of herself locked away in mournful grief like his parents seems so utterly wrong that if that happened she might as well have died with him. Still, Luke doesn’t like thinking that there’s someone else out there receiving her smiles, hearing her hopes and dreams late at night the way he had once listened to her.

Luke must have gone silent for too long, because Julie is looking over at him again, pity written in every line of her face. She thinks for a second longer, then stands up, holding out her hand to him. “She still lives near here, actually. A few streets down. Do you want to go see her?” Luke stares at her, then rushes to his feet. “You mean it? You know where she is?” Julie nods. “Only if you’re willing to see her.” She’s right to worry- seeing Y/N again will mean finally coming to terms with everything Luke had left behind when he’d died, a final piece of proof that Y/N will never be his again. Still, if he hides away from her again, Luke will spend the rest of his ghosthood wondering what she might have been like and who she may have become. So, he nods, and allows Julie to lead him from the studio and down the blocks to Y/N’s house.

Even without Julie’s directions, Luke would know their destination even before she points out Y/N’s front door. He sees her in every corner of the building, every flower and tree planted in the yard. She’d always wanted a brightly painted front door, tall trees in the backyard so she could have a little shade on the summer days. They’d once planned what their future houses would look like, always choosing one for the two of them. If Luke sees traces of his ideas in her house now, does that mean Y/N still thinks of him? Or that she’s already forgotten that it was his voice suggesting those changes and not her own, that he’s already faded into the last few corners of her memory?

His feet stall in the driveway, but at an encouraging look from Julie, Luke forces himself to walk up the final few feet to stop in front of the front door. He reaches forward and rings the doorbell himself, although he can do no more once the door swings open. This will be Julie’s part- Luke can do no more than watch the woman in front of him with wide eyes.

She still looks like her. Is that a strange thing to say? She’s taller now, her face more lined and weary as if she’s had a lifetime of problems to deal with ever since Luke left her days. It makes sense that she looks older- the last time Luke saw her was 25 years ago, so she’s probably in her forties now. Still, there are traces of the girl he’d known in every movement, every step. When she looks questioningly at Julie, Luke can see the way she’d looked at him to ask when and where Sunset Curve would be performing so she could make sure to arrive on time. The gesture is so truthfully her that it practically hurts to see.

Julie’s eyes dart to Luke, as if trying to gauge his reaction, then she focuses her gaze firmly on Y/N. “I, uh, was cleaning out my mom’s old studio. I found something from the band who used to practice there- they went by the name of Sunset Curve? Your name was on one of the photos.” It’s a duplicate photo strip from a photo booth on a long-since demolished boardwalk, an excuse for the visit. Still, it’s enough to make Y/N’s eyes widen, and she looks at Julie as if she’s punched a hole right through her chest.

She gestures for Julie to follow her inside. Luke drifts in after them, staring at the photos lining the walls, the backpacks flung in a corner of the room. So she has children, a family. How long had it taken her to move on from him? She smiles in every family portrait he sees, but did she ever think about the boy she’d left behind? Would it matter that much to him if she did?

Julie hands Y/N the photo strip now, and tears glisten in the woman’s eyes as she looks at herself and Luke, decades younger and what feels like centuries happier. Julie, thank everything, is unwilling to let Y/N leave without asking her about the boy she’d left behind. “Did you know him well? The boy in the photos?” Y/N glances up sharply at Julie, startling as if she’d forgotten there was a girl in front of her, too drowned in the memories of the past to remember reality. It’s a familiar feeling to Luke, and it stings to see it on this older Y/N too.

“Yes, I did. Very well, in fact. I loved him with all of my heart until he died along with his bandmates.” She laughs quietly, the sound broken through with utter misery. It twists Luke’s heart like a blade. “I almost didn’t make it through the funeral. I was sitting next to his parents, and we were sobbing like we’d never smile again. He was everything to me, and I had no idea what to do when he was gone. I wish you could have met him- he was always so quick to a smile or a laugh. I never told him how much I liked his smile. I wish I had.”

Luke stumbles as if he’s been punched. Tears are pricking at his eyes, and he swipes at them angrily with his shirt sleeve. Why should he have to cry now, mourn everything he’d lost? Hasn’t he been through enough? Y/N swallows harshly. “It’s easy to get lost in the past. I graduated high school without him, went to college without him. I didn’t think I’d ever have to live a day without him, and suddenly I had an entire future completely empty of anyone like him. There are days when I almost think I see him in a crowd, and days when it gets easier. In the end, I think he’d want me to move forward, even as hard as that may be.”

Julie glances over at Luke once more, scarcely a second away from tears herself. “Yeah, I think he’d want you to be happy. That above all else.” Y/N sighs, the sound cutting through Luke and almost sending him to the floor. “Thank you for the photos, Julie. You take care of yourself.” Julie smiles. “I will. Thank you too.” Luke, sensing the imminent goodbye, takes one last furtive glance around the house. What if he had been there, present in every family photo and every line in her journals? He wishes nothing more than to have that option, to be able to go back, but he can’t.

So, he allows himself to follow Julie back out into the sunshine of the afternoon, and when the door closes softly behind him, he doesn’t look back. Julie is silent on the walk back, as is he. Luke heads for the studio, and he stops before the photo album before glancing up at the walls around him. If he tries hard enough, Luke thinks he can see her in every corner of the studio. There she is on the couch, laughing as she pretends to smack him with a pillow. There she is next to him on the piano, listening to his latest song. There are hundreds of her in the studio, hundreds of memories. That’s all he has left of her. Just memories and nothing more.

Julie returns to find him later, and it doesn’t take long for her eyes to cut across the room, landing on the photo newly pinned to the wall. There are two figures in it, a boy and a girl grinning madly as they reach for each other in a dusky night. Both of them are long gone now, dead and aged even as their photo-selves smile on. If Luke looks back at the photo now, keeping that image burned into his mind, he never speaks of it again.

requested by @charliegillespiewife​

jatp tag list: someone who i would not leave behind if i died in the 90s @underc0vercryptid​

#luke patterson #luke patterson imagines #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson oneshot #jatp #jatp imagines #jatp oneshot #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms imagines #julie and the phantoms oneshot #jatp luke #jatp luke imagines #jatp luke x reader #jatp luke oneshot #julie and the phantoms luke #julie and the phantoms luke imagines #julie and the phantoms luke x reader #julie and the phantoms luke oneshot

[mxvladdy]

Lost Affections: Part 3

Ayyyyoooo. Here is the last part to @marymaryroo's request!

On to the next one :)

Magic is a beautiful and powerful thing. It permeates the Devildom like an eternal fog. For the residents, it is as common as breathing. From the strongest of their kind down to the lowest inhabitants, it is integral to their culture and daily life. Mistakes and accidents happen daily with young and old alike learning or experimenting. Magical rebounds and mishaps mean very little to them, especially the brothers. From the Celestial Realms down, they have seen it all.

Sometimes they forget that to you, magic can be a volatile and dangerous.

Beelzebub

Beel would never call himself accident-prone. He didn’t trip and stumble like Belphie when sleep deprived. He most certainly wasn’t as bad as Mammon when he was without his glasses or contacts. No, he would never say he was that bad. While not clumsy he knew he could be careless, especially when food was in the picture. He didn’t think twice about eating random things. It did hurt anyone, not physically. Sure, Luke and Satan got a little put out when he swiped something, but it didn’t hurt them.

He just forgets sometimes that you are different. You and he go together so well he forgets that you aren’t a demon. You don’t have the steel stomach or fast recovery time that he has. You make up for it. When you go out to eat you always research the place ahead of time. Does the place have non-enchanted food? Human grade options? If not, you make sure that Beel has his fill before taking him somewhere more appropriate for your stomach. Neither of you thinks about residual contaminants.

His life with you unravels with kisses. It is a slow, inconspicuous death. It builds over time with each brush of his lips to yours. Neither of you notices the taste of magic clinging to his mouth or tongue, neither of you thinks of the implications of all the weird potions and food he samples.

It starts small, you forget simple things about him. When his club activities ended, or what his favorite post-game drink was. He brushes it off, it’s trivial really. You are busy and these things can happen to the best of them. He keeps brushing off the nagging worry until he can’t.

It comes to a head one night at the door to your room. “Beel?” You yawn, pulling your robes closer around you. “What’s up?” You glance down at the box of snacks and pillows in his hands. “Did I miss something?”

“It’s date night.”

Your brows shoot up, facing heating. “What.” You sputter. Beel frowns, placing the box at his feet. With slow movements, he places his hand on your forehead. You were a little warm.

“Mmmmm.” His hearts flutter with nerves. Was his little human sick? He ignores the way you stiffen when he touches you. “Do you need a doctor?” He asks bending down to look you in the eye. He catches a whiff of something when you exhale. It is faint but clings to your breath, it’s sickly sweet and sharp to his nostrils. “You need a doctor.”

Without a second thought, he grabs your arm and drags you out of your room. His food forgotten in the hallway with your protests buzzing in his ears. “Beel...Beel!” You stumble after him. He ignores you each step he takes determined and picks up speed. Before you know it you are sitting next to Gluttony in Purgatory waiting for Solomon, beyond confused and anxious.

You fidget on the couch, peeking glances at the troubled look on the red-heads face. This wasn’t like him. He was a man of few words, sure, but this was new. Beel left you to your devices mostly, a few polite conversations here and there, but you two never hung out a lot. You zone out when he starts talking to Solomon. You were still half asleep from Beel waking you up. You had been sleeping so soundly beforehand. “Are you alright?” You jerk awake unaware that you started dozing again. Solomon crouches in front of you.

“I think so?” You had no idea what this was about. “I’m just tired.” The mage says nothing to you, instead turning to glance at Beel. He jerks his head to the door, a clear signal for the old demon to wait outside.

With one last pitiful glance, Beelzebub leaves the two humans to converse. “Now then.” Solomon rounds his piercing eyes back to you. “Tell me how's your stay in the Devildom?”

You tell him confused but willing to play along with his odd request, the sooner you wrap this up the sooner you can go back to bed. An odd feeling of missing something begins to grow as you tell him. Soon you began to fumble, the harder you try to recount something the harder it was to collect. You still were convinced anything was seriously wrong but the growing look of concern on Solomon’s face was making you think otherwise. “So,” You finish rubbing your knees with sweaty palms. “I’m I dying or something?”

He laughs dismissing the notion with a wave of a well-manicured hand. “No, no your soul is still firmly in place.” He rubs his chin. “But you have lost your memory, only when it comes to Beelzebub though. It is very peculiar. Have you ingested anything weird of late? Done any experiments with Satan?” You shake your head. To the best of your knowledge, you have been really careful with your food intake while down here. Devildom foods were delicious but had potential side effects for you and Solomon.

Solomon nods. He figured that. “Could I draw some blood? It sounds to me like you might have trace contamination of some kind. Diavolo and I discussed that this might happen but I wish to double-check.” Well, that’s worrisome, you nod and begin to roll up your sleeve. Solomon bustles collecting a few vials and a mouth swab for extra measure.

“Thank you.” He smiles looking at the samples with scientific glee. “I will let you know what I find. Until then, I guess just go about your regular day. Unless you feel ill, in that case, come to me immediately.” With that, he leaves you depositing you back with Beel.

The walk back to the House was more subdued, both of you were confused as to what to do next. “So,” You flounder. “We were-are an item?”

He shrugs looking down at you. “Yes. We’d hang out in your room on Saturdays, and get brunch on Sundays... do you still want to?”

You shrug feeling awkward. You felt nothing but platonic friendship to the large demon, though Solomon did fill you in on what you apparently have forgotten. “If you want to? I’m up now, and too nervous to sleep.” Beel grunts clenching his fists at his side.

“No,” He shakes his head. “You should rest, even if you can’t sleep. This is overwhelming. I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow?” You feel bad. He sounds so hopeful when he asks, like a good night’s sleep was all you needed to fix whatever this was.

You reach for his big hand and squeeze it. “Sure, Beelzebub. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He lets you go watching you head back into the house. Running on instinct he turns and heads into the dense forest surrounding the house. He needed to hunt for a bit.

That’s how his twin finds him, gorging himself on the fauna of the forest. Belphie’s socked feet pad loudly over the dried grass and scattered bones of the once lush lowlands. “You know Lucifer is going to be pissed. It takes forever for the wildlife to come back after one of your benders.” He tosses his oversized pillow onto the dead grass and lays down. Belphie doses for a moment, the sound of his brother’s many mouths and whistling of wings a white noise to him. Up until an obnoxious locus landed on his nose.

“Beel.” He flicks the bug off his face, shooting the swarm coating his brother’s skin a sour look. “What’s going on?”

Forgot. Me. One of his mouths rattles out, flecks of meat and vegetation falling from between crooked and jagged teeth. Another opens near his rib cage to speak. They. Don’t. Love. Me.

“I’ll kill them.” Already Belphie is back on his feet. He feels for his brother and his plight, but the thought that you betrayed him after you promised to never hurt Beel took precedence. The storm of bugs goes quiet, all the millions of eyes now turn to him. They jerk and twitch in unison before converging back on the mass of leathery gaunt skin of his brother. His human form takes shape slowly, shiny wings and many mandibled skulls melding together to create his flesh.

Beel grabs Belphie’s shoulders. His claws dig into the soft fabric of his nightshirt. “It’s not their fault.”

“Then who?” Beel chuckles weakly at his brother’s blood lust. He couldn’t deny that he felt it too, but he had no idea where to channel this anger.

So he ate. It calmed him a little. If he could get into the village and eat there...no. The last time he siphoned the emotions from the populous at large Lucifer got mad. The whole of the Devildom had to shut down for a good week to recover. He rubs his stomach a feeling of agitation growing in the pits of them. “Don’t know. Solomon is taking a look at it.” Belphie snorts a sneer growing on his lips. “He is helping, Belphie.”

“Sure-right. That boy meddles in all shorts of shit he shouldn’t. Careful he doesn’t try to bargain with your skin for this.” He eyes where your mark rests on his brother. It would be a perfect lure to entrap his twin in a pact.

Hmm.

No, none of this would do. Belphegor would rather die than let some human-like Solomon meddle anymore in his family’s affairs, and as far as he was concerned the moment you started seeing Beel you were as another sibling. “Come on. Let’s get you back to the house. I’ll bring dinner up to our room.”

After settling Beel under the covers of his massive bed Belphie went on the hunt for more food in the kitchen. He stops by your bedroom door picking up the box of goodies still left in front of it. He piles more things into the box when he reaches the kitchen. Swiping up snacks at random Belphie piles the box sky high. His hand stops over a few of your favorite human snacks. Should he? Honestly, it was a blind shot in the dark if it would comfort his brother or not. After a bit more debate Belphie puts the chocolates back, a different idea already turning in his head.

Back in their shared room, he listens to his brother run down the last week between huge bits of sweets. As he recounts every little thing that has gone down they both began to notice just how strange you have been. Both twins sit in the aftermath of Beel’s words, a wasteland of wrapper and silence stretching between them. “Think it will come back?” The twins lock eyes, Beel’s large and unsure but simmering with foolish hope.

“Possibly.” Belphie grits out, breaking their eye contact. He could never lie to his brother, at least not to his face. “Get some rest. I’m sure someone will have a plan in motion by tomorrow.” He’ll set his plans in motion tonight.

Lying in wait some hours later Belphie listens through the walls of the massive house for your quick little human heartbeat in your bedroom. He matches his shallow breaths with yours feeling yourself slip into slumber and his realm. Once you are completely under he drifts off himself.

He enters your dreams and scowls unused to stumbling inside of a dreamscape. Your dreams are muddled and clotted with stick webs of confusion and hazy memories. Odd bits and pieces of images drip around the edges of your mind. This place was a disgusting mess. With a deep sigh, Belphie begins trudging through the quagmire.

He peers around making note of the black holes in your mind like canvas ripped from their frames. Rotten magic assaults him from all sides. Stopping in front of a particularly deep gash in your mind he rolls up his oversized sleeves finding what he was looking for. He knew this memory was in it, just on the outskirts of the scene playing out. He could knit this rip back together easily, after that it should give him some clarity on the others he couldn’t place.

This was going to take a lot of energy. No one would notice if he stole some energy to get things started. Belphie smiles to himself already tapping into Lucifer's dreamscape, taking a bit more than he needed. You deserve only the best after all.

__________________

“Morning everyone.” You chirp plopping down in your chair. The brothers reply with groggy acknowledgments, completely unlike themselves. You look around at the bunch. “Are you all ok?” The group grunts collectively yawning or rubbing their weary eyes.

“Tough night.” Lucifer looks up from his newspaper. He was half-dead in his chair, a cup of coffee shaking in his hands. Asmo sits beside him looking on the verge of tears as he gently pokes his swollen cheeks and eyelids. The only two that seem to even be remotely coherent were the twins. The youngest of the two sleeping oblivious to the turmoil of his siblings while his brother stares at your every move. “Good morning Beel.” You nod feeling awkward in this shared space.

“Morning.” He smiles at you, a few crumbs clinging to the corner of his mouth. Something ticks in the back of your mind at his look. A foggy image comes to mind. It feels like a dream, but so real at the same time. It makes you nauseous, a weird sense of dejavu fighting its way to the forefront. “You ok?” He puts a hand on your shoulder.

You blink noticing the room at large turning their gaze to you. You nod, reaching across from him for some leftover food. The moment a bowl of cereal was in your hands Asmo swept you up in a conversation about his “fading” looks. You don’t think of Beel and your predicament for the rest of the day, not until Solomon invites you over to his hall for tea.

“You were poisoned.” He states simply over his sorry excuse of scones. You pause in the middle of trying to break a piece off on the table.

“I’m sorry?”

“Nothing to apologize for, unless you did it intentionally.” He laughs. “It appears to be through slow ingestion over a long period of time. The levels in your blood are staggering but not lethal. It looks like the magic took root in the temporal lobe-much like a tumor, really quite fascinating- and has been eating away at the memories of the person, or in this case, a demon that poisoned you.” Beel had been poisoning you? Solomon waves his hand at your look of concern. “I am quite positive that it was not intentional. Mind you he does find the most wondrous things to shovel down his gullet. The fact that it mixed perfectly into a potion instead of a lethal toxic is sheer dumb luck on your end.” You breathe a sigh of relief finally tossing the baked good away as a bad job. Well that's...something. At least you’d be alive to stumble around your apparent “forgotten boyfriend”.

“Any chance of fixing this?”

Solomon shrugs. “Possibly? I need more time to figure out exactly what components are involved in your test results. Then making a tonic to undo all the magic is another thing entirely.”He discusses a few other options with you for a few hours, going over in great detail the ins and outs of potion-making. Soon the windows of the sunroom grew dark, the glow of the lamps outside growing brighter so you could see the pathway back to the house.

“I better head back.” You stretch looking out into the pitch outside. Hmmm, if you remember correctly Levi should be off of work by now. He said to call when he was done to come to pick you up. As if on cue a sharp knock on the door disrupts you. Instead of a shock of blue hair, you are greeted with orange. “Oh-hey Beel.”

“Hey.” The corner of his mouth twitches in a facsimile of a friendly smile. “Ready to go?” He picks up your forgotten school bag and takes your sweater from the coat rack. With a well-practiced motion, he slings the bag over his shoulder and holds your sweater open for you. He obviously did this a lot before…

You stare back wide-eyed at Solomon who only smirks, nodding at you to hurry up.

Out the door and into the chilly night you sneak a peek at Beelzebub walking quietly beside you. He catches your look and raises a brow. “Sorry.” You feel your cheeks heat a little under his thoughtful gaze.

“About?”

“All of this.” You wave at yourself. “Please don’t feel obligated to hang out with me. Until we can get this settled. I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”

Beel grunts, stopping in his tracks by a low garden wall. “I was hurt-am still hurting.” He admits. “But this isn’t your fault, so what good does it do to blame you for it? Even if you don’t remember me as your partner, you still remember me as a friend...right?” A warm smile spreads across his face when you nod. “Then I’m ok with this. I haven’t lost you completely and even if you don’t ever feel the same way about me anymore, I think I will be ok.”

“I- thank you Beel. That means a lot.”

“Of course.” He hums. “Let’s head back. I think Asmo left some food out.”

You dream of Beel again, a weird amalgamation of scenes all tossed together in a great pile with you in the middle of it. You could do nothing but watch like a film as they rush by you in a blur. Some scenes didn’t line up right, bouncing around like a scratched vinyl, but it still made sense in a way only a dream could. You play out each dream like an actor, the script coming to you naturally with each little venette. You sit outside his locker room, a basket of food and drink in your lap, your heart fluttering in your chest. You and Beel were watching his brothers on the beach, his broad hands rubbing sunscreen into your skin. Beel walking you back to your room after a long night in the library holding your hand in his strong, sure grip. Saturday afternoons spent hopping from one cafe to the next sampling the sweets and drinks to both of your heart's content.

It grips your heart but slips away with the rise of the young morning moon.

When morning comes the night is nothing more than a few smudges in your mindscape. Yet, a light, sweet feeling stays with you. You found yourself smiling more around the redhead and gravitating to him during the day. He accepts you back with a friendly hug and a friendly ear.

He treats you no differently than you remember. It’s nice. Even if a part of your yearns to see how he treated you when you were more than friends.

You begin to get excited for when your head hits your pillow. The dreams become clearer and clearer each night. Some new pieces show up and fall into place as the weeks progress. You start seeing bits of your dreams in the day too. After-images of you hand in hand with him walking down the other side of the street. The taste of something sweet on your tongue or a familiar scent in your nose.

After one particularly vivid dream, you wake determined not to let the contents of this dream slip through your fingers. This time you dreamt of the kitchen, dirty bowls, and units scattered about the cluttered counters. You had been baking something, and failing miserably.

Sneaking down to the kitchens you pull out all the things you could remember. For some reason, this dream lit a fire in you, like it was the last piece of the puzzle to getting it all back. You don’t think, instead, you just let your body take control. You baked a cake.

Well, it was supposed to be a cake. The center was too spongy and collapsed inward while the sides were dark and cracked. The icing was badly blended and melting from the still-warm pastry. It was almost exactly like the one from your dream.

You stare at it waiting for some great revelation, but nothing comes. Great. Now what?

“I smell food.”

“Gods!” You jerk smacking your knee on your bar stool. Beel’s deep voice scaring you half to death. “Should put a bell on you.” You grin. Beel peeks his head through the door brows furrowed.

“This is familiar.” He walks in pulling up another chair to sit next to you.

“Ye?” You look back at him.

“Yes. This was our first kiss.” You drop your icing spoon. “You wanted to surprise me before a big game.” He put a finger through the thick black and purple icing and pops it in his mouth. “Ah- You forgot the bane extract...I had thought that perhaps you remembered.” The hope in his voice stung your chest.

Oh. You look down at the mess you made, whatever feelings of satisfaction are lost. “I thought I was forgetting something, but my dreams are all blurry.”

“Dreams?” Beel pauses reaching for a slice. “You dreamt of this?”

“Yes. Been dreaming about you a lot of late.” You flush. “Little things that are starting to build a bigger picture. I just had this dream of a cake and the urge to make one...so- here we are.” You wave your hand out over the messy kitchen. Sighing plopping your chin down on your palm. “Guess I can sleep on it a bit more huh?” You shoot him a quick wink and sad smile.

“Or just ask Belphie.” He shrugs, taking another large slice of the disaster. “Sounds like he’s been meddling.” That realization hits you like a ton of bricks. Damn, you could have slapped yourself. “I’m sure he meant well, but he shouldn’t force you if you don’t want to. I could tell him to stop.”

What! No! You shake your head. “No. I-I don’t mind it. Solomon has yet to figure anything out, and whatever your brother is doing seems to be helping a little.” Beelzebub said nothing to that and just continued to eat while you started the dishes.

“Do you want to end tonight like we did before?” He asks sometime later, half of the dishes now drip drying in the rack. His long arms box you in on either side holding on to the lip of the sink. His head dips low, his chin resting on the top of your head. Deep down you knew that you could leave at any time. His grip was loose and easily breakable, considerate as ever to your comforts.

You turn to face him, a soft look crosses his face. “And how did it end?” He grins moving closer. You would have to thank Belphie for his interference. Just, perhaps later. You doubted he would want to be in your dreams tonight.

#obey me fan fic #obey me beel x mc #obey me beelzebub #fan fic requests #obey me fandom #obey me

[toosicktoocare]

so I Loved that ficlet with grogu calling friends when mando is sic and passed out, and immediately I imagined the same thing but What If,,, Grogu just, freaking, force calls Luke, and Luke recuses them? Idk just fun to think about great prompt and great work!

I’m going to twist this prompt just a little, but hi, yes, I love it a lot! Just let me have Luke and Din interactions, okay? 

Alone. 

It’s familiar and was once quietly normal, but now it’s cold and hollow, and Din’s starting to wonder if there’s still a man underneath his armor, of if he’s broken down to an empty husk. 

He could have stayed with Cara and Greef; he could have travelled with Boba, but, in a desperate attempt to find any semblance of dated normalcy, he left on his own. His task, one he willingly gave to himself, was fulfilled. He delivered Grogu over to a Jedi, and now, he’s grasping frayed strings to get back to his life before the child. 

He throws himself into work, stalking off on his own to fetch bounties for coin that once would brought a smile coated in saisfaction to his lips, but he can’t find the same enegry now. However, he still does it because he feels that’s what he’s supposed to do, but he can’t recapture his rhythm. And, without the Crest, he’s taken to hitching rides and travelling by foot. 

Everything’s taking longer without consistent transportation, leaving him with more time in his head, guard down. He still keeps his helmet on, still abides by the way of the Mandalore, even though he knows he can no longer shoulder that responsibility as he’s gone against his faith. He doesn’t regret it; though, he tried to at first. 

The days following Grogu’s departure, Din cursed himself endlessly for displaying such uncontrolled vulnerability, but though his mind was always running in a tight, hot circle of shame, at the end of each day, it always died down to a warm glow. Seeing Grogu’s eyes for the first time with his own, not through the lens of his visor, is something he knows he’ll hold so tightly to his heart that it will continuously toe the line of painful. 

It’s almost funny, he thinks, how he once considered his heart as nothing more than a necessary organ, but now he knows just how capable it is of feeling, of directing his entire being. 

He shakes his head, far too gone in his mind, until his surroundings build back into his present vision. He blinks slowly, neck craning up the mountain only a mile’s walk in front of him. He knew his current bounty was close, but...

In front of him is the same mountain he climbed with Grogu. His bounty was east; he should have turned east an hour ago, yet, he’s here, staring down memories square in the face. He knows he should turn around because that would be the right thing to do, the normal thing to do, but he presses forward, walking, climbing, slipping, and more climbing until he’s dropping down beside the dome-shaped stone, winded and faintly light-headed despite his heavy helmet. 

He wraps an arm around his waist, wincing. Because of his fleeting focus, he let last week’s bounty get in a few good hits that his armor should have sustained. Maybe because he was tired, still is, but every kick to the side of his armor, right above his ribs, hurt, his bones practically vibrating under the force. He’s had so much worse, and yet, his entire body is aching. Every inhale feels like a dagger slipping past his rib cage to his lungs, leaving his exhales worn and shaky. 

He slips his helmet off, hoping it will help ease the pressure in his chest, and leaves it on the ground beside him, one hand planted atop it while the other smooths across his plated chest. The air he breathes in slowly is cold, chilling his lungs. He tilts his head back, faintly frowning at the dipping sun that casts the sky in a splash of water colors that’s nothing more to Din than a signal that he needs to move before the light pinks and oranges give way to a merciless black. He’s exposed; he should move, protect himself, secure his bounty. Still, the mere thought of moving enhances the dull throb against his temples. 

Instead of leaving, he sighs around a hollow cough and gives in to the fatigue that’s edging sleep across his mind. 

He wakes what feels like only seconds later to a cold palm brushing his bangs back and cupping his forehead, and in a motion that could rival the quick speed of a blink, he slips his blaster from his belt and digs it into a firm yet clearly unarmored gut. Worried, blue eyes crowd his vision, and he jams the blaster harder into the person before him, hand steady, prepared.

“Din Djarin.”

The voice is passively soft and familiar, and Din frowns, hesitantly pulling his blaster back. “Jedi?” he croaks out, the word breaking under illness when it leaves his lips. He turns to cough, and the same hand, still pressed to his forehead, drops to his shoulder. 

“Easy, Din. You’re running quite the fever.” 

He ignores this, instead bringing blurring eyes back to the Jedi’s, frowning sharply. “Grogu?” The small, cheerful giggle that follows has Din shoving around the Jedi to see Grogu waddling toward him, dark, endless eyes meeting his glassy, drooping ones. 

The relief comes in the form of a sharp gasp that hits the pressure in Din’s chest, leaving him coughing more. He ignores this as well, instead struggling to stand, but then pain bursts white hot against his side, and he staggers, blindly reaching out until he’s clinging to the Jedi’s shoulder, breathing harsh around barking coughs. 

“You’re injured as well.”

Din wants to focus on the fact that the Jedi’s words were nothing short of a statement; he wants to prod his intrusive abilities, but neither holds a candle to what he does instead. He gathers himself with the Jedi’s grounded stance as support, makes it until he’s just before Grogu, and then he drops to his knees. He doesn’t move; he just watches, breath held tight in his lungs, and then Grogu shuffles toward him until his small hands are reaching out into what Din can only assume is a hug.

“Hey, kid.” Din breaks, his eyes stinging behind closed lids, and he hugs Grogu back with such gentle force. He’s shaking with he knows chills he can only pin on his apparent fever, his side’s a raging fire, and his chest is tight enough to suffocate him, and yet, Din feels nothing but light, blissful relief. 

They stay like this for an endless moment, two broken halves slowly stitchng back into some sort of whole, and then the Jedi clears his throat behind him, and Din looks back, frowning. 

“Why are you here?” 

“Grogu’s been very anxious over the last day, and he led me here to you.” 

Din looks back to see Grogu looking up at him, cooing lightly. He nods, and then the Jedi’s helping him to his feet, an arm going around his waist the moment he staggers under the heavy pain. 

“My ship isn’t far. Do you think you can make the walk?” 

Din nods, but only three minutes into their trek down the mountain, he blacks out, going slack against the Jedi, and when he wakes, he’s indoors and lying in a cot. His armor’s gone, leaving him only in his dark pants and long-sleeve, grey shirt. There’s a damp cloth draped over his forehead. It’s warm to the touch, and he yanks it off with a frown. 

“You’re awake.” 

Din sits up sharply, his arm immediately going to wrap around his waist at the tightend pain. 

“Your ribs have been wrapped,” the Jedi starts. “There isn’t much I can do for the fever, I’m afraid. You’ll have to wait it out. Grogu insisted he help with your ribs. They’ll still be quite sore, but the worst of the damage has been mended.” 

Din’s hand softens above his ribs, and very faintly, he can recall waking once in a cold, fevered haze to feel a strong, pulsing warmth spreading over his side. He smiles, small, but then, his frown returns, and his eyes shift to see Grogu sleeping in a small crib of sorts beside the Jedi. He knows how much Grogu’s powers take out of him. 

“Grogu... Is he-” Din starts, words fading as Grogu sits up, blinking slowly around a small coo, his smile widening when his eyes find Din’s. 

“His training is beginning to show,” the Jedi says as he helps Grogu out of the crib and into Din’s lap, where he sighs smally and snuggles his face into Din’s shirt. 

“He’s stronger,” Din finishes, more for himself, but the Jedi nods anyway. 

“He’s progressing quickly.” 

Din’s hand finds Grogu’s back, and he smiles, warm and very real. He wants to stay stuck in this moment forever, he decides- this comfortable feeling of complete rightness. Yet, he can’t hinder Grogu’s training, not after all he’s done to get him here. 

“I should go,” Din mutters to the Jedi once he’s sure Grogu’s fallen back asleep. The words are heavy on his tongue. 

“You should.” 

Din whips a sharp, side gaze to the Jedi, who’s busying himself with a large cloak. 

“However, your wellbeing is an apparent factor in Grogu’s training,” the Jedi starts, draping the cloak around Din’s shaking shoulders. 

Din hadn’t realized he started shaking, but now, with the added fabric bringing warmth, he shivers, and with his free hand, he tugs the cloak tighter around himself, draping some over Grogu. 

“As long as you’re in this condition, I fear Grogu won’t be able to concentrate.”

Din’s brows furrow. “What are you saying?” He coughs lightly, wincing at the pain in his chest. 

“It’s in everyone’s best interest if you stay until you’re well. I’m afraid I don’t have much to treat what appears to be a nasty chest infection quickly, so I think you’ll be confined to bed rest for at least a week.”

“I’m staying here for a week?” Din questions, his hazy mind struggling. 

“I won’t force you, but I think that would be the best,” the Jedi says, “for all of us. Will that be alright for you?” 

Din brings his gaze back down to Grogu curled up in his lap, and he smiles, exhausted and worn but mutely happier than he’s been in weeks. “Yes,” he mutters. “Thank you.” 

#the mandalorian #din djarin #grogu #star wars #sickfic #whump #whumpfic #luke skywalker #baby yoda #fanfic #mandaddy #look i genuienly can't remember if Luke introduced himself in the end of season 2 okay? #but i loved how Din was so cutely clueless about Jedi stuff #so i headcannon that he refers to Luke as only Jedi for a while #even after he learns his name #also i really don't know a whole lot about star wars so pls don't @me #but if anyone wants to request more Luke and Din #I'd be super down for that

[imaginedxlan]

Ghost of you Pt. 2 (Luke Patterson)

a/n: i pretty much set up the first one to have a part 2 so here it is! also sorry i haven’t posted in a while shawties, school just started and i’m taking 17 credits so i’ve been absolutely swamped. i’m going to try my best to post more often!

after julie receives a letter from a classmate concerning her new band mates, she immediately shares the message with them. Luke and the boys are forced to remember their lives before the accident and who they left behind.

y/l/n = your last name

part one

_________________

Y/d/n wasn’t quite sure why she had to find Julie Molina to give her the note you had given her, but after seeing the way you reacted to her video the day before she wasn’t about to argue. The next day at school, she found Julie and fought through the few people that were crowding around her so that she could fulfill her mother’s request.

“Julie!” She shouts, making the girl stop in her tracks. “My mom wanted me to give this to you, said it was important.”

After she hands Julie the piece of parchment with her mother’s writing on it. The first time Julie read the letter she didn’t know what to think. Someone who knew and loved Luke, Reggie and Alex while they were alive was reaching out to thank her. How could she tell someone who experienced their death that they aren’t alive but they’re here, with us? She read the letter three times before even thinking about bringing it to the garage. Holding the letter in her shaky hands she opens her garage door to see the three boys hanging around the piano.

“Julie Julie Julie!” Reggie repeats himself, making his way over to the girl. “Thank god you’re here.”

Luke turns around with his songbook in hand, face full of promise.

“We just came up with this killer chorus, you’ve got to hear this. It mixes the bands already epic sound with your voice it’ll be perfect!” He starts to get the boys hyped up next to him before seeing the look on Julie’s face. “What’s wrong Julie? Looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Reggie immediately snorts a laugh earning an elbow to the rib from Alex. Julie just shakes her head and hands the note to Luke before holding her arms in front of her chest. Luke’s eyes scan over the paper, his mouth widening more and more with each word. Once he’s finished he hands the letter to Reggie without a word, who then hands it to Alex. Julie patiently waits for them to respond but the boys all take a seat on the couch in front of her, all their words being ripped from their vocabulary.

“Julie,” Alex finally speaks up. It seems like he’s struggling to even get a word out, his knuckles turning white in the fists he’s formed. “Where did you get this?”

“A girl from school handed it to me today, said her mom wrote it and that it was important.” Julie explains, still waiting for some sort of reaction out of the boys. All she received was a pale group of teenage boys in front of her, Luke especially so. He looks like he’s going to barf any minute. Reggie has his hand on Luke’s back in support but it doesn’t look like it’s much help. “Luke who is she?”

Luke doesn’t answer, just rises to his feet and begins to pace around the room. He briefly stops, looking like he’s about to say something but then continues to pace around the room. “It can’t be her, do you have a picture of her Julie? Anything?”

Julie frantically shakes her head but pulls out her phone to pull up your daughter’s Instagram. She scrolls until she finds a post she made for your birthday featuring current and old photos of you and turns the phone to Luke. His eyes go wide and he continues to pace around the room. Eventually Alex gets up and starts to talk to him to calm him down but Luke is still panicking. “I want to see her, I need to see her.”

“Luke who is she?”

“Y/n was Luke’s girlfriend, up until we died.” Reggie replies for him. “She was our friend too, she came to all of our shows, every rehearsal. I can’t believe we didn’t ask for her sooner. Oh god she was there that night, guys. She was probably the first person to find out we were dead.”

Luke’s brain is immediately flooded with the last time he saw your angel face. The night at The Orpheum. He remembers thinking how pretty you looked, well you always looked pretty, but especially that night. He remembers how you were tucked into his side up until the very last moment before they left for sound check and pre-show street dogs. His heart aches at the thought of your face when you got the news. How you must have clutched onto Bobby for dear life so you didn’t just hit the floor. 

Not only that, but he recalls one of his favorite memories with you. The guilt begins to rise in him as he thinks of one of the most important days in his young life, how that day revolves around you, and now that he’s somehow back on earth he’s yet to ask about you.

April 17, 1995

You’re sat in that dingy garage as the boys strum out melodies around you, hoping one will stick. Reggie, Alex and Bobby are already frustrated with the fact that they can’t seem to write a song as good as their first four. How are they supposed to make it big with only one demo? The three boys eventually become tired of the process, leaving you to listen to Luke persist on his guitar.

“Luke,” You call out with a yawn. You look over to your boyfriends face, eyebrows furrowed, you think of all the wrinkles that will form when he gets older from all the looks of frustration he makes. “Baby, it’s late.”

“I know, I know,” He replies, not bothering to look up from his song book. He suddenly flips back to a page filled with writing and sits back in his chair. “Want to hear something I’ve been working on? A little break from watching me stare at a blank page.”

A smile forms on your face as you nod your head. He begins a chord progression and you sit back and close your eyes. First things first, we start the scene in reverse... It doesn’t take you long to realize he’s writing about his mother. You’ve never pried him on his relationship with her, knowing it’s a touchy subject, but based on his departure from his childhood home you know it’s strained. The more you listen to the words, the sharper the pain in your chest becomes. Luke’s always been stubborn, you’ll be the first to point it out to him, but the way he’s able to say what he’s always meant to say in his songs never fails to amaze you. After your first big fight, he wrote a long beautiful song about how he was sorry, words that don’t come easily from his mouth. His love language is song. 

Once he finishes, you open your eyes and just gaze at him in awe. He raises his eyebrows as to signal for you to share your thoughts on the song, but you just make your way over to chair where he’s sitting. You take a seat on his knee with your arms wrapped around his neck. “Luke, that is a really beautiful song.”

“You really think?”

“Of course I do.” You reply, Moving one hand to cup his cheek. “I know you miss her. I’m sorry for the way you left things, but she’s your mom, Luke. She’ll always want you back in her life. I think you need to show her.”

He just shakes his head, dropping his eyes down from yours to his lap. He begins to fidget with his hands like he always does when he’s nervous. “I-I don’t know y/n. I don’t want to go back until we’ve made it big, you know? I want to prove to them that this is all worth it.”

You just smile at him. His eyes still won’t meet yours and his hands continue to move in his lap. You take your index finger and press it under his chin, gently forcing his eyes to meet yours. Your thumb softly runs back and forth over his cheek bone. He gets so anxious, especially when it comes to talking about his parents, but you always make that anxiety melt away.

“You don’t have to go now, Luke, I know how hard this is for you. I’m really proud of you for writing how you feel, even more so for sharing it with me. That’s a huge step.” You coo, trying your best to ease his nerves. “I’ll be here every step of the way. I will never, and I mean never, let you go through this alone.”

A look flashes over Luke’s face, one you’d never seen before.  A mix of both relief but more anxiety. His hands move from his lap and reach for yours. He never breaks his eye contact with you, his breath beginning to stagger. You cock your head to the side, shooting him a confused look, just before he clears his throat.

“Y/n, I love you.” He finally says, making your mouth hang open for a second before you begin to process what he’s said. “I know we haven’t said it yet and you don’t have to say it back but I need you to know I do. I couldn’t live this life without you and I love you.”

You’re quiet for a minute, not because you’re scared or angry, because you want to say it back but don’t want him to think you’re only saying it because he just did. You squeeze his hand thats intertwined with yours and give him a soft smile.

“Don’t think I’m only saying this because you just said it, alright?” You begin. He nods in response. “I love you, Luke. With every part of my heart, I love you. In every language I know, I love you.”

His once almost unnoticeable grin turns into his award winning, bright smile which only makes you smile more. He moves his hand from yours and brings it to your cheek. Slowly leaning into you, your lips eventually meet. This kiss feels different than all your others, it sounds cliche, but you feel safer in his arms here than you ever have. He eventually pulls away from you but rests his forehead against yours before repeating, “I love you, I love you, I love you....”

On and on for hours.

Present Day

“Luke did you hear anything we just said?” Reggie asks, waving a hang in his face. “Hello? Earth to Luke?”

He shakes his head before blinking a few times. His head hurts after remembering a moment like that. You have a daughter, you’re probably married now, he thinks. He’s happy you moved on, how could he expect you not to.

“Luke what do you want to do?” Alex asks, bringing him out of his thoughts once again. “She was your girlfriend, man. Your call.”

So many options come to his mind. You were an adult now, a grown woman with a life, with a child. Luke is just the ghost of a teenage boy. Julie could go on pretending they’re just holograms, nothing more, make it easier for you to continue moving on. Selfishly, all Luke wants is to see you, no matter how old you may be, he wants you to know he’s okay. He wants to be able to perform for you again, to hear all about your life without him. He knows full when we he sees you that you’ll be a different person now, but he doesn’t care.

“I want to see her.” He responds, finally done panicking. “I want her to see us.”

Alex gives him a cautious looks. While it was only fair that Luke gets to decide what to do in this situation, he can see how this could turn out pretty bad for all involved. Overwhelming you with the fact that your dead boyfriend now plays with a ghost band, giving Luke a look into the future he never got to have with you. While Reggie is all on board with seeing you again, missing his friend, Alex just can’t wrap his head around it.

But they listen to Luke. You were the closest to him, you meant the most to him, he gets to decide. Julie comes into school the next day and finds your daughter. She tells her that she’d love to talk to you about Sunset Curve and see anything you have saved from the 90s. She extends an invite to you to come over to her studio and talk about the boys. You’re nervous, understandably. You haven’t talked about them in so long, it hurting too much to even think about your friends, but this is for Julie too.

When you get to Julie’s house, you recognize everything. She moved into the studio. Their garage was once the place where you spent hours after school listening to all the songs the boys would come up with and watching movies after shows all snuggled together on Luke’s tiny couch. While your heart is pounding, you force yourself to enter, your box of Sunset Curve memorabilia in hand. You greet Julie, thanking her again for bringing the boys back to life in her music.

You didn’t know, well actually you couldn’t see, that the boys are there. They watch as you come in and take a seat on the couch where you made hundreds of memories with them. You look tired, they all see it. You don’t look much different than you did when you knew them, just like a seventeen year old you had that aged twenty five years. You’re wearing a ring, Luke comments on it and Alex and Reggie don’t say anything about it. You show Julie all your t shirts and polaroid pictures, explaining the story behind every single one. Alex and Reggie laugh when you get to the photo of the three of you. You’re in the middle, Reggie’s cheek is smushed against yours as Alex has his lips pressed to your other cheek. Yours and Reggie’s eyes are closed with the biggest, cheesiest smiles on your faces, the picture oozing pure joy. Alex and Reggie just look at each other and Alex places his hand on Reggie’s shoulder.

“This is one of my favorites,” You say referring to the photo. Holding it out for Julie to take. “They were the best, I wish you could’ve met them. Reggie was just the goofiest, most energetic person I think I’ll ever meet. If I was sad I always knew where to come, he could have me smiling in thirty seconds tops. And Alex, gosh my sweet Alex. He was like the backbone of that band. He knew exactly what to do and say whenever we had an issue, I went to him with my problems more times than I could count. I would give just about anything to hold them like this again.”

You pull out the next one which was of Luke. He had on a backwards hat with a huge piece cotton candy in front of his mouth, one eye closed as he was posing for a bite. Your first date. You went to a carnival together and you couldn’t pass up taking a photo of him with such a comically large food in his hands. You smile down at it, Luke is smiling too.

“Luke and I hated each other at first,” You tell Julie, but the boys lightly chuckle, remembering how you two would argue for hours on end before you realized you both liked each other. “I was friends with Alex first, Reggie not too long after I started hanging out with the band, but Luke was always so opposed to having me around. We would fight about the stupidest things. God, he was so stubborn but I think that’s what made him so strong willed, you know? There was nothing else he wanted in this world more than seeing Sunset Curve succeed. I think their success was partially due to the fact that Luke wouldn’t take no for an answer from anyone. We got over hating each other, I was actually dating him until, well you know.”

Your chest aches to think of seventeen year old you having your heart torn out of your chest and torn into a million pieces with Luke’s death. Luke can see the tears form in your eyes, wanting so badly to hold you and tell you that he’s okay. 

“Mrs. Y/l/n-” Julie begins but you cut her off.

“Please, call me Y/n.” You beg. “You’ve done a lot for me Julie, with your holograms and everything, I think I owe you more than forcing you to call me Mrs.”

Julie smiles, her hands beginning to shake as she’s about to reveal the truth to you. It felt so much easier when she had to show Flynn, but this is different. It feels like there is more riding on this moment than when she showed her best friend. “Right, Y/n. There’s something I need to tell you. They’re, well they’re not really holograms.”

“What are you saying Julie?”

“This was my Mom’s studio. She passed away a while ago and when I was cleaning it out I played a CD that she had and...” She stops herself, she doesn’t want to sound crazy or seem like she’s being insensitive. You were the one that lost them all those years ago, she wants to respect that. “Out of nowhere these three boys just showed up, said they died the night before but I found out they died twenty five years ago. You can’t see them but they’re here. You can’t see them but you can hear them when they play, but when we play together for some reason they become visible. I know it sounds crazy but look around, there’s nothing that to project them in here, let me show you.”

You’re speechless. Part of you thinks she may be messing with you, but the other parts of you are praying that you may be able to see them play again. You start to look around the room, wondering if she’s right, that they’re actually here. Luke can see the emotions running through your face as your breath begins to quicken. He reaches for your hand but forgets that you can’t see or feel him. Julie gets behind her piano and begins to play. It’s been so long since you’ve heard music in this studio. You brace yourself for whatever will come next, not even know if you can handle a joke like this.

Out of nowhere, three boys seem to appear out of thin air, instruments in hand. Your mouth drops open as you see the faces of the three boys you lost in 1995. They look so real, they smile at you while they sing but you shake your head, thinking this is just some kind of dream. You went to every one of their performances, have seen them play hundreds of times but never this song, this can’t be a recording. Julie reaches out for your hand to pull you closer to the boys. Luke’s eyes haven’t left your face, wondering what could possibly be going on in your head. Tears start to fall down your cheeks as you watch them play, something you begged for in the months following their passing. You walk closer to Alex as Julie stops singing but they don’t stop playing.

“Alex...” You trails off, not being able to comprehend what is happening.

“Hi Y/n,” He replies with a smile, catching you off guard. You gasp as you reach for his shoulder but your hand moves right through him. “No holograms here, we’re ghosts now. Pretty weird right.”

“I just, I don’t understand.” You stutter on your words. You turn your head toward Reggie. “Why can I see you now?”

“We don’t know either,” Reggie replied, shrugging his shoulder. You just want to hug him like you used to but after your experience of shoving your hand through Alex’s body you stay away. “It’s good to see you, Y/n, you’ve grown up.”

You smile, tears still pouring down your cheeks as Reggie smiles right back at you. You take a deep breathe before turning around to Luke who is still strumming on his electric guitar. You hold your arms close to your chest and let out a quiet sob when you see his face. 

“Hi Luke.”

“Hi Y/n,” He replies. He refrains from calling you any of his many pet names he had for you years ago, knowing too much time has passed for him to ever expect you to react well to one of them. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, hot shot.” You tell him, wiping a tear from your cheek. It feels odd, talking to the boy in front of you, unaged for twenty five years. “I missed all of you. You have no idea how hard it was to lose you.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex speaks up. “I’m sorry we left, you shouldn’t have had to go through that alone.”

Before you can respond, Reggie butts in to say, “You may not be able to always see us, but we’re here. We’ll always be here.”

“See you real soon, y/n.” Luke says as their music starts to fade out. The suddenly evaporate just as quickly as they appeared. You clutch at your chest, unsure of how to feel after this. You look over to Julie who has a sympathetic look on her face. 

“How did that — What just — Did you”

“I was confused too, I still am,” Julie stops you, noticing the distraught and twisted look of your face. “You’re welcome to come back any time you like, I’m sure they’d love to see you — oh, yep they just told you to come back.”

As you leave the garage that you spend most of your formative years in, your heart and your heart cannot stop racing. Seeing Alex, Reggie and Luke, frozen in time, exactly where you left them that night at The Orpheum was something you can’t fathom. It all feels too weird, they were too real. It all feels like you’re wrapped in a dream that you cannot wake up from, one that started the day you buried your boys. While Julie had just told you to come back, to see them whenever you wished, that idea didn’t stay long in your thoughts. He isn’t the Luke you could love now, he is a 17 year old trapped in limbo. While you aged, he stayed the same, he is someone you uncomfortably recognize. You were supposed to grow old with him, but he was left behind. You don’t return to the garage, it hurts too much to see them like that again, so close to you. However, you watch their sets, you see them finally play The Orpheum like they had dreamed of 25 years ago and smile, your heart filled with pride.

They see you in the crowd but they don’t make any attempt to reach you. They understand, they know how overwhelming it must be to watch you supposedly dead friends speaking to you, playing shows, just existing. It took you a long time to process their death, but as weird and uncomfortable as it was to see them again in their 17 year old bodies, it gave you the sense of closure were never able to receive in the past 25 years. Knowing they weren’t in pain, watching them fulfill their dreams, it all mended your heart a little more every time you say them trending on YouTube or on the local news. All you needed was to watch them from afar, the ghost of them, to finally be able to heal.

a/n pt.2: this was a lot harder to write than i imagined. i’m so used to writing ~love stories~ and i can’t just have a 40 year old woman smooching a 17 year old ghost so i did the best i could sorry yall

#luke patterson imagine #luke jatp #luke patterson #jatp fanfic #jatp imagine #jatp netflix #julie and the phantoms imagine #julie molina #julie and the phantoms #alex mercer #reggie peters

[tessiete]

Yeah, yeah, yeah another prompt fill that came from DMs. And also was my fault. @treescape​ asked for prompts and I um, offered this, and immediately took it back, and didn’t even do a very good jobby on it so. *shrug*

Anyway! A vague continuation of The Punishment of Silence, post Order 66

THE HOPE OF ORPHANS, AND UNFATHERED FRUIT

He wakes to silence. There is nothing except the sound of his own breath being scraped from his lungs like wax under fingernails, the beating of his heart against his ribs, and the creak of his bones. There is nothing else. Even his cry of terror has died upon his lips, unfledged and unrealised in this void. He is all alone.

“We’ll be coming out of hyperspace soon.” 

He hardly recognises the voice, hardly hears the words as he reaches for the only source of warmth and light in space. Beside him, tucked securely between his chest and the wall, is a heavy bundle of coarse wool, and worn linen. Within it, the weakly struggling flesh of new life.

“Hush, Luke,” he whispers, and even his voice is absent.

But Luke...Luke is here. With him. Luke is golden. Luke is the sun, and he shines so brightly that for a moment, the absence of stars is obscured by the break of dawn, and he turns his face to meet it. Luke cries, his voice wet with the sorrow of Obi-Wan’s soul, and he weeps where Obi-Wan cannot.

“Master Kenobi?” The voice calls again. It is young, too, and threaded with uncertainty as it seeks a mooring in this black new world. “Master Kenobi, I need your help.”

He must answer it.

But he is wrung dry, having wasted it all in the desert of affection.

“They’re asking for a landing code,” the boy says. “They want to search the ship.”

“Let them,” he replies. “We’ve nothing for them to find.”

He adjusts the swaddling around the babe, pulling the folds up higher until the little face is barely visible, and drawing up his hood until his own face is shadowed and obscured.

The pilot fumbles for the comm, but hesitates before he makes the call.

“Master, we haven’t got the clearance,” he says. “I tried Republic codes but they’re all invalid, and I daren’t use a - a Jedi -”

“No.”

“Master, they’re waiting.”

Outside the viewport, Tatooine looms larger, and larger, round and golden, like the husk of a burnt out star. Just endless swathes of sand and stone. A barren rock. The twin suns watch, and Obi-Wan feels his hackles rise, as though he were prey under the baleful gaze of a predator in the night. 

“Tell them whatever you must,” he sighs. His shoulders slump, and his eyes close. He is weary.

He cannot see the way his pilot stares at him, hopeful, and waiting. He doesn’t want to. The weight of his need is punishment enough. Luke is light in his arms, and he rocks him gently.

“This is the pilot of  The Slip, Corellian class YT-1300 AUX requesting permission to land.”

“Airbase to  Slip , have you got those docking permits yet?”

A single, shimmering breath, and the pilot answers, “No. But we - I  can pay you.”

Obi-Wan does not object.

“What sort of payment we talking?”

“What do you care, so long as you get your money?”

“I don’t know,” replies the man. “You bargain like a pirate, but you sound like a kid. I ain’t convinced you got anything I want.”

He can feel his eyes upon him, but he cannot tear his own away from the babe. He is preoccupied with this one last precious thing. The pilot grits his teeth, and replies with all the arrogance of his past life. “Well, how about this - if you don’t like it, you can shoot me when I get there?”

There is silence on the other end, then the comm crackles back to life. The deck officer’s voice rasps with laughter. “Alright, kid,” he says. “You got a deal. Hope you ain’t got family to miss you. We’ll see you at Dock 3, on the south side.”

“Dock 3,” says pilot. “Copy that.”

“And kid? Don’t try anything stupid.”

 --

He takes the ship in with a steady hand, but as they get closer and closer Korkie feels his breath quicken in anticipation. They haven’t got anything to pay with. They have no credits, no valuables, nothing personal which might tie them back to the Core, or worse, to the Temple. He doesn’t worry so much for himself, having no particular training in the Force, nor any distinctly Jedi affectations. His borrowed robes he discarded on Polis Massa, but his father…

Obi-Wan is unmistakably a Jedi in his sand coloured tunics, and thick, wool cloak meant for all terrains but a blazing desert. However, there is one appurtenance which may work in their favour -

Everyone knows that Jedi have no children, and he will not relinquish Luke.

“Slip  to base: Docking clamps locked, and pressure restored to atmo baseline. Please advise.”

There is sweat beading upon his upper lip. Obi-Wan rocks Luke as he fusses, awakened by the sounds of noise outside. People are waiting for them.

“This is Squaddy Redsun. Lower your ramp, and prepare for immediate boarding.”

He looks to the Jedi, and gathers himself. There is nothing on the ship, and so there is nothing to pack or take as they leave, but still, he casts one last look at the cockpit. Then, he ushers his father forward, through the main hold, and to the head of the ramp. He presses the pair to the side, leaving them just out of plain sight, and so wrapped up in the folds of Obi-Wan’s cloak and each other as to be indistinguishable from shadow. He steps back. He strikes the button to lower the ramp with an open palm. Sunlight floods the hold, and he is left blinking and blind as a rough voice calls to him.

“You the captain, then, kid?”

“Yes, sir,” he replies, a hand up to shield his eyes from the glare. He can see a man clad in worn leathers, and decorated in the gleaming white bone of some fearsome beast. Beside him, two others with wrist guards, and pikes. He makes no attempt to resist as the guards approach, and does not fight as he is grabbed by the elbow and shoved down the ramp by the first.

But the second has discovered Obi-Wan, and grabs at him with the same barbarity. The Jedi flinches away, and curls around himself. One pale hand reaches back, and Korkie can feel the air turn electric. 

“No!” he cries, startling both the guard and Obi-Wan, the warning clear in the fraught timbre of his voice. “He has a child,” he says. “He’s harmless. But there’s a child. Please. I am the pilot. This is my ship.”

“And who is he then?” Redsun demands.

“No one,” says Korkie. “A refugee of - of Mandalore.”

“He don’t look like no hunter.”

Korkie shrugs, watching closely as Obi-Wan descends untouched, the guard at his elbow. “I don’t know that he has enough left to look like anything.”

“Ha,” chortles Redsun. His men laugh, too. “Then I suppose it’s you what has my payment. Docking codes don’t come cheap.”

“No, sir,” says Korkie. “I - I haven’t any credits.”

“That Republican dross is no good out here, any way,” Redsun spits. “Now, where’s my pay?”

The guards edge closer, and Luke chokes on a feeble cry.

“Hush, dear heart,” murmurs Obi-Wan. “Hush, sweet thing. And sleep.”

“The ship!” says Korkie. “You can take the ship. It’s in fine working order, and the hyperdrive is good for your smaller jumps. I -”

His neck snaps, his teeth snap together, and he can taste blood as a fist connects with his cheek. It leaves him staggering, and spitting into the sand. Luke begins to wail. The sound rings out around him, but he struggles to place its source. Nearby, he knows. They must still be beside him. He reaches out and catches the edge of heavy wool in his grip.

“None of that banthashit, boy!” shouts Redsun, and he is near as well. He can smell the man as he comes closer, still. “That ship ain’t worth half the trouble you’ve caused. What else you got?”

“Nothing,” he pleads, struggling upright again. The guard at his side restrains him. “Nothing. But take the ship, and I can - I can work for you. You can garnish my wages -”

“Garnish your wages? What kind of -” A blaster primes. He hears the pitch rise with the charge until it disappears. “Now, we had a deal,” says Redsun. “You pay me now, or I take it out of your hide. Right? You pay me, or I shoot you.”

“Yes, sir,” whispers Korkie.

The barrel presses against his forehead. 

“So you decide,” says Redsun. “Give me my money, or I kill you where you stand. You, and that screeching brat.”

Korkie tries to swallow, but all his tastes is the sour, metal tang of blood. It roils in his stomach. He feels faint. Luke screams, and screams but Obi-Wan only tries harder to sooth him, singing some sad lullaby. A Mandalorian lullaby. 

Korkie recognises it. His...his mother used to sing it to him. He clenches his hand into a fist, tracing his thumb over the ring he wears, as a reminder. And he remembers -

“My ring,” he says, slipping the jewelry from his hand. It is a simple band, but thick and completely unblemished by age or use. “I can give you this,” he insists, holding it so that the suns set it ablaze, glittering like fire in his hand. 

“And what’s that?”

“Pure beskar,” he says. 

Redsun lowers the blaster. Korkie can see his interest pique, and greed replace fury in his cold, black eyes.

“Beskar,” he says. “And how’d you be coming by that?”

He nods at one of the guards, who swaps his pike for a techscanner. The ring is plucked from Korkie’s fingers, and the green light of the machine washes over it.

“Like I said,” says Korkie. “Mandalorian refugees. 

The guard looks up. “It’s as he says, Squaddy. Beskar.”

Redsun regards him for a moment. He shifts his jaw, and rolls his tongue over his teeth. Korkie holds his gaze, even as blood drips from his chin. At last, Redsun gives the sign, and his man lets Korkie go. 

“I’ll be taking the ring,” he declares. “And your kriffing ship, for all the good I’ll make of it. And you get off with a warning.”

“Yes, sir,” says Korkie. “Thank you, sir.”

Korkie gathers Master Kenobi in his arms, and pushes him towards the exit. Through the wide, rusted blast doors, he can see where the dockyards end, and the streets beyond begin. Their escape is at hand, but Obi-Wan is slow to move, fearful of jostling Luke who has settled tentatively once more. The guards make no move to assist, but Korkie is determined. He keeps between Redsun and the Jedi, he keeps him moving forward, and they are hardly ten steps from freedom when blaster fire rings out across the docking bay.

There is a blaze of fire along his side, and Korkie falls in a heap of fine, yellow dust. Breathing hard, he presses a hand to the source of heat, and cries out as agony is awakened by his touch. His fingers come away bloody, but he sits up, then stands, then stumbles on towards the exit, leaning on Obi-Wan, urging him to go, to move, to keep pushing forward. Step by step. He can hear the guards and Redsun laughing behind them.

“Don’t you try playing games like that round these parts, son,” shouts the man. “Not everyone’s as kind as Squaddy Redsun.”

 --

The crowds are easy enough to get lost in, and soon Squaddy Redsun and the Mos Eisley docks are far behind them, but Korkie feels their ruin is closer than ever. His side aches, and bleeds sluggishly where the bolt hadn’t instantly cauterised the wound. He is hot. He is thirsty. But worst of all, he cannot speak or read a single word of Huttese. 

“Please,” he asks of a woman hustling by with an armful of black fruits. “Please, can you tell me where to find shelter? An inn?”

She cuts him a glare, and hurries on.

“Sir, if you could - I need to find a place to stay.” 

The man flicks his lekku, and shakes Korkie off.

He cannot tell if they’ve tried this street already, or not, all the architecture looks so similar to his unfamiliar eyes, and all the people are one massive murmuration of a society he is not part of. Then suddenly, a child stands before him. A little boy, with hair the colour of the sandstone walls of the city, and eyes like the sky reaches out a grubby hand.

“We need food,” says Korkie. “And a place to sleep. Please.”

The child nods, and Korkie takes his hand, fisting his other in the folds of Obi-Wan’s robe to be sure he doesn’t lose him in the crowds. They follow the child through innumerable streets, and darkened alleys before they are abandoned in front of a low building on the outskirts of town.

“Can we stay here?” Korkie asks. The child nods. The door slides open at his touch, and he is swallowed up in warm yellow light while Korkie hesitates on the threshold.

But it is getting dark, and he can think of no other alternatives. So he knocks.

“We’re all full up.” He hears the voice first, but it is soon matched by the scowling countenance of a woman worn old by the suns. The little boy clings to her skirts, now shy and retiring after his brazen rescue. She looks at Korkie and his charges from the doorway, and nearly turns away.

“Wait, wait, gedet'ye, jatne vod, vi linibar taap at nuhoy.” He’s slipping, and he only notices when her brow crinkles in confusion. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m just - please, we need a place to stay. Just for the night.”

“We don’t have any more rooms,” she says.

“We have a baby.”

He clutches at Obi-Wan’s arm, until he steps forward, and the light falls across Luke’s sleeping face. The woman sighs.

“It’s five wuipui,” she says. 

“I haven’t any money,” he says.

“Then I haven’t any beds,” she replies. He catches the door before it can slide shut. 

“Please,” he says. “Please.”

And at that moment, Luke wakes and begins to weep. The woman stills, and Korkie thanks the stars for timing.

“One bed,” she says. “I won’t have a babe die on my doorstep. Bad business. Bad bly is what it is. But I can only afford to take the one of you with it.”

“Him,” says Korkie, shoving Obi-Wan forward. “He’s his father.”

“And where’s the mother?”

“Dead,” says Korkie. “It’s only - they only have each other.”

The woman nods, and reaches out to pull Obi-Wan into the shelter of her home. The wool slips from his fingers, leaving them clammy and sticky in the rapidly cooling night air. 

“Thank you,” he says, and they disappear behind the door.

At once, the strange euphoria of a desperate flight deserts him, and he collapses in the sand against the wall. His side aches, though the bleeding has mostly stopped. He supposes that is the result of dehydration as much as anything. His lips are cracked. His tongue feels thick. His own blood sits uneasily in his stomach. The streets empty, the second sun slips below the horizon as he watches, and soon he begins to shiver. It’s difficult to stay awake, but after so many hours of preternatural vigilance it feels impossible that he should sleep. There is always some danger, now. They will always be hunted. He blinks, and sees three moons. Perhaps he is concussed, but then Coruscant had four moons, and Mandalore had two, so that is no measure of his injury.

He’d travelled once to Concordia, when he was a child. It was a beautiful place, and it felt, at the time, as though he’d been transported to some ancient world. There were trees. And grassland. There was water you could swim in, and could drink, and it ran freely over rock, and silt in unpredictable patterns, like the veins on the back of his hand. Though he’d been born in Sundari, there was something about Concordia that felt viscerally his. He recognized himself in the wildness of it all, as though it were a sort of mirror, as though if one were to pull up all the grasses and the plants they might pull up all his roots as well. The moons of Tatooine are white. They shine like stars, but there is no warmth to them. He doesn’t think he’ll ever see Concordia again.

Warm light illuminates the dark, turning the sand golden again.

“Alright, none of that. Can’t have Core soft boys dying on my stoop, either.”

“‘M not from the Core,” Korkie mumbles.

“That posh accent of your father’s could’ve fooled me,” she says. He feels her prop him up against the wall, and wonders when he’d laid down. She taps his face with her hand on the cheek that isn’t hurt. Water touches his lips, and he opens his eyes. “Drink up,” she says. “Heat’ll kill you faster than a blastoh will out here, lapti wermo.”

He drinks as quickly as she lets him, and until the vessel is empty. The clay cup is cool against his skin, and he presses his swollen eye against it, grateful for the relief.

“Now,” she says, taking it from his hand, and standing it upright in the sand. “Let’s see about that blaster wound.”

“It’s not bad,” he insists. She ignores him, and tugs his jacket down one shoulder, and slides his arm free. He hisses in pain, and she cuts him a look that says she has absolutely no confidence in his ability to self-diagnose. 

Blood stains his close-fitting sark, and she draws back. 

“I’m going to get some vibroshears,” she says. “I’ll need to cut this off.”

“No,” he protests. “Just lift it. I haven’t got anything else.”

“You haven’t got this , you stupa,” she grumbles. Korkie makes no reply, but leans forward and begins to tug at the hem of his shirt. In response, she leans forward to help him, and launches into a vehement stream of Huttese that makes no sense to Korkie. He comprehends the spirit of the words just the same. “Bolla rass tata, u beggybeggy brite lapti wermo.”

“On my world, we’d say ‘slanar nek gar shabuir’,” he says, grimacing as the shirt comes off. “Or something like.”

“Shabuir?” she says, letting the word bubble on her lips. “I like that one. I’ll keep it.”

“It’s yours.”

The fabric lifts away, heavy with dirt and grime. She is careful not to tear it further as she lays it flat to dry in the sand, and Korkie does appreciate that. Such a small measure of care, and yet already so coveted in this drought. 

“I’ve a poultice,” she offers, withdrawing from the darkness a little bowl of sludge. “It isn’t bacta, but it’s better than nowt.”

Her fingers are cold against his side, or the wound is hot, but either way, he finds her ministrations soothing, and it’s not long before he finds his eyes slipping closed again. He fights it, and thinks he wins, but when wakes to her carefully tucking the ends of his bandages, the moons are much higher than they were before.

“There now,” she says, brushing back his hair, and giving his cheek a kind caress. “Let’s get you inside. Give you some food. Put you to bed.”

“I thought you said you had none,” he mumbles.

She smiles, and throws his arm across her shoulders. “That was before I saw how pretty you were. Now, come on.”

He grins, though it hurts, and rises to his feet when she pulls him. He staggers to the door, his feet made clumsier with exhaustion more than injury this time, and doesn’t fight when she leads him to a room, and drops him on a bed, and urges him to rest his head upon a thin pillow of sand and dry grass. The light goes out, and the door slides shut behind her. In the dark, he cannot tell if his eyes are closed, or not. But he is not alone. There is a voice.

Someone is singing a lullaby nearby. A Mandalorian lullaby. It is an old call and response. He used to sing the answers with his mother when he was very young. He hasn’t heard it in years. But when the singer gets to the end of the verse, he joins in.

“A ner kar'ta cuyir gotal ciryc, bal ni kar'tayl gar darasuum nayc or'atu...O meg, o meg, kelir ni vaabir?”

The voice answers back on a sigh, though the words are different than they ever were before.

“O, ner Kiorkicek,” it sings. “Ni kelir ratiin yaimpar bal cuyir saanyc be gar.”

A baby sniffles in the dark. There is another bed. And he recognises the voice.

“Buir Kenobi,” he says, his voice hardly more than a thought. “Cuyir gar pirusti? Cuyir gar morut'yc.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan replies. “We are well. You have saved us. Now, sleep. We shall all begin again in the morning.”

There is a warm hand upon his brow, and the irresistible temptation of sleep, and Korkie drops off into dreams.

#my fic #prompt fill #star wars #obi-wan kenobi #luke skywalker #korkie kryze #korkie is a kenobi #gffa #tatooine #post-order 66 #idk #whatever friends

[phantom-curve]

find the strength, find the melody pt. 9

SURPRISE SHAWTY! I literally made a post yesterday about how this wouldn’t update until the weekend but then I drank some wine at noon and now HERE WE ARE. I love this chapter and I haven’t felt that about my writing in WEEKS. man, these middle of the night chapters are just absolutely my favorite thing. hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. (and yes, I did cry while writing Julie’s lil rant about Rose. what else is new?)

taglist: @blue-hat-girl, @lwhoscribbles, @bluefyoto94, @5sosmukefan, @moonlightxnder, @leahthewonder​, @kat-maybe-not​, @lukewearingbeanies, @imastrugglingartist​​

Julie should have expected this.

When the boys had left earlier, she had seen the telling glances between Alex and Reggie going back and forth from Luke to the studio and occasionally skipping over Julie herself when they thought she wasn’t looking. She had waved to them from the steps leading up to the house from the studio as they made their way to the van. She knew the moment she had been blocked from their view by the way they started playfully shoving Luke around, hooking thumbs behind them to point at the spot they didn’t know she was still lingering in. She watched Luke duck away from their teasing, opting to climb in the back of the van where the instruments would usually be stored. No one chose that spot in a band van willingly. It was clear he was trying to hide from Alex and Reggie. She caught a quick glimpse of that damn hand rising to the back of his neck before he was lost in the darkness of the van’s interior. The other boys exchanged a knowing look, twin grins stretched across their faces, before they piled in the van as well and took off down her street.

So, the boys knew he had spent the night before sleeping in her mom’s studio. Whatever. She trusted them not to spread it around the school or make it into a bigger deal than it was. Whether or not they cared about her reputation, they would want to protect Luke. Julie firmly believed they would keep that knowledge to themselves, unless they decided she was fair game for teasing as much as Luke was. The fact that they hadn’t brought it up during rehearsal or in front of her made her believe the worst of the ribbing would be reserved for Luke. She figured that would be the end of it. Luke would have some explanation to give them, and Julie had gotten pretty good at dodging conversations she didn’t want to have, so on the off chance they tried to talk to her about it she would simply deflect. No biggie.

What she had not expected was for Luke to reappear several hours later, caught red handed sneaking back into the studio. She probably should have expected it, but she had spent a few hours away from his overwhelming presence, and the quiet time had been enough for her to convince herself that all of those fluttery feelings passing between them earlier were simply in her imagination. So, when she climbed out of bed at midnight to jot some lyrics down and tuck them into her dream box, she had been surprised to see a small light on outside. Her first reaction was panic. That studio held every important memory Julie had of her mom. If someone had broken in or caused any damage to the space, she might not be able to survive the emotional fallout. Not to mention, she had promised the boys she would keep their instruments safe, and she wasn’t about to break that vow. Which was how she found herself standing in the open doorway in her fuzzy monster slippers and mismatched pajamas, the heavy cross from the dining room wall held in front of her like a weapon, jaw on the floor.

“Luke, what the hell?!”

Julie couldn’t stop the exclamation, even as she cringed away from the defensive look in his eyes. She dropped her arms immediately, the cross dangling limply at her side.

“Julie! I...uh...forgot my pick?”

His voice was rough, rising to a squeak on the last word, and Julie couldn’t help the way her eyebrow rose questioningly. He wasn’t even holding a pick. A fact he seemed to realize as he dropped his gaze to quickly scan the area they had left the instruments set up in. She didn’t even have to guess that his next move would be to reach for his neck. Without thinking about it, she took three quick steps forward to grasp his wrist with her free hand as it started to rise. He startled slightly, turning back to meet her eyes. Her breath caught in her throat at the raw vulnerability swimming in the stormy ocean depths of his eyes. There was a tinge of red around his irises, and she could just make out the sheen of drying tears on his cheeks in the low light.

“Are you...” She swallowed hard against the butterflies swirling in her gut. “Do you need a place to stay tonight?”

Julie kept her eyes locked on his, even as they flickered with some kind of internal conflict. She didn’t push farther than that, leaving him the space to decide for himself what it was he wanted out of this interaction. He had come here for a reason, even if he had originally intended to keep that reason a secret. She fought against the desire to pull him close for a hug. They hadn’t breached that barrier just yet. She did allow her fingers to slip from their hold on his wrist and travel down to entangle with his. That kind of comfort was safe, still tiptoeing the line of being just friends. His eyes searched her face for a moment before he squeezed her hand, pulling just enough that she had to step closer to him. Just like earlier, the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of them.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up. I can go...”

Julie tightened her hold before he could pull his hand away. Queen of deflection that she was, she saw right through what he was doing. He might want to give into her on a subconscious level, but there was a part of him that he was holding back. She thought back to the whole dinner debacle and his fears over disappointing her family. His fears over disappointing her. He was trying to reject himself before she got the chance to, not realizing that ship had long since sailed for her. She was firmly a passenger on the SS Luke now, having jumped ship mere hours ago in this very same garage. To reject him in this moment would be like rejecting a part of herself.

“Luke, no, please don’t leave. It’s okay. You can stay here.”

She made sure to keep her voice soft. Luke’s conflicted gaze flitted across her face, like he didn’t fully believe it would just be that easy. She gave a tug of her own, stepping backwards so he didn’t topple her as he moved forward. She placed the cross on the floor, moving around it with Luke’s hand still glued to hers until they were in front of the couch. He didn’t fight her, following her lead willingly even as he avoided the concerned look on her face. She dropped onto the couch, curling her legs underneath her and reaching out with her empty hand to wrap around the one that still held his. It wasn’t the hug she wanted to give him, but it was as close as she was willing to get at the moment. He glanced at their hands, a slight smile playing at the edges of his lips before letting out a bone deep sigh and sinking down into the space next to her.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Julie murmured, her fingers stroking over the bumps of his knuckles and the rough calluses on his fingertips, “but my mom always used to say that the studio was the one place where I didn’t have to hide. You don’t have to hide here either. It can be your safe space, too.”

She didn’t look up from where she was drawing patterns on the back of his hand. It still hurt, to think about her mom, to talk about her knowing that she would only exist in memories from now on. But something about Luke made it a little bit easier. Her mom would have liked him, she realized somewhat ruefully. It was a shame they wouldn’t ever get to meet, but maybe that was part of what made him that much more important to Julie. He helped her remember those bits and pieces of her mom that she would have otherwise locked away. They sat in silence for a long moment, but it was more comforting than awkward. Julie tried not to jump when she felt Luke’s head fall to rest on her shoulder. His breath ghosted along her collarbone, sending goosebumps rippling across her skin.

“What was she like?”

It wasn’t a question she had expected him to ask. She could tell by the way he said it, whispered into the chilled air on a soft exhale, that he wouldn’t ask again if she chose to pretend she hadn’t heard him. All at once, she wanted nothing more than to tell him everything.

“She was...she was everything.”

The pain that was always under the surface when it came to talking about Rose Molina threatened to choke her, but a stronger feeling of needing to share this with Luke overpowered it. Julie cleared the emotion from her throat and pushed on.

“She was like the sun and the moon and the stars all rolled into one. An entire universe in one single person. No one loved like she did. It was all-encompassing. My dad told me once that he knew from the first moment he saw her that she would change his life. I thought that was just for us for a long time, just for our family. But I was wrong. She was like that with everyone. I remember one time I asked him why we couldn’t ever go somewhere without Mom making a new friend and he looked at me with so much happiness and whispered like he was sharing the secret to life itself: ‘Everyone falls a little bit in love with your mom when they meet her, mija. She’s magic like that.’ And she was. She was absolute magic. She had the biggest heart and the sweetest smile, and she always knew exactly what to say. When we lost her, it felt like my world collapsed in on itself. It still feels like that sometimes. Like, how can I exist somewhere that she doesn’t? Sometimes it feels like it has to be a dream because a world without my mom? A world without the very light that created existence itself? That shouldn’t be possible.”

Julie didn’t realize she was crying until one of Luke’s rough fingers was brushing the tears from her cheeks. She finally looked up from where their hands were still clasped together. His eyes drilled into hers, silently communicating that he understood, and she couldn’t fight against the need to be close to him any longer. She launched herself into his lap, face curled into the pocket of warmth where his neck met his shoulder, hands twisting into the fabric of his cut up tank-top like he was the only thing anchoring her to the world right then. He caught her without question, strong arms locking around her waist and one hand rising to rest on the back of her head. Julie let the sob that had been building in her chest explode.

“I miss her so much. She was the best mom, and it’s not fucking fair that she isn’t here anymore.”

The words were muffled against Luke’s skin, but she knew by the way he tightened his hold that he had heard them just the same. Julie didn’t know how long they sat like that. Being with Luke made time feel meaningless. He didn’t say anything, just tangled his fingers into her curls and nuzzled his nose against her temple until the tears finally subsided. She could feel the wet stain she had left along his collar against her cheek. That same smell that had drifted off of his towel earlier tickled her nose, foreign and yet comfortingly familiar all at the same time. She inhaled deeply, letting it seep into her bones until she knew she would recognize it anywhere. He swallowed and she felt the way his neck flexed, but she didn’t move from the cocoon of his arms.

“You’re like that too, ya know.”

Luke’s voice was so gentle she thought she might start crying again. The hand that was wrapped low around her hip traced feather light swirls against the thin strip of skin exposed there. Julie released a shuddery breath, pulling away just enough that she could look at his face, their noses almost brushing at the movement.

“The sun and the moon and the stars? That’s you, too. You’re just as magical, just as all-encompassing. All the best parts of your mom live on in you, Julie.”

His voice dipped, eyes blazing as they lowered to her lips for a brief second before rising to meet hers again. Julie felt her mouth fall open slightly, allowed herself to drown in the clear blue-green sea of his gaze. She gulped and watched him track the movement before he spoke again.

“I think I know exactly how your dad felt. I think I’ve been a little bit in love with you for years.”

His cheeks blazed bright red on that final quiet declaration, Julie’s warming to match. Neither one of them broke their stare down, and Julie thought she could feel the physical shift in the universe that was the two of them snapping into place together. The final piece of her soul being righted after a year of feeling lost and alone. Luke shifted impossibly closer, closing the last few millimeters of space between them so every part of their bodies pressed against each other.

“I wish you could have met her.”

The confession was wrenched from the softest part of her heart, meant only for Luke’s ears in this quiet moment that felt both infinite and precious.

“I do, too. But I’d like to think that a part of me did get to meet her. When I used to listen to you two play together, sometimes I would pretend I was right there with you, practicing scales and vocal warm-ups. You mom loved you so much, and I could hear it every time you guys were out here. I read that song so many times that even though I knew it was yours, it felt a little bit like mine, too. She might not be here physically, but her spirit is. I know you can feel it out here, and I can too. Nowhere else has ever felt as safe and loving as being here does.”

Luke’s voice had trailed off until it was nothing more than a breathy whisper on the last few lines. Julie felt her chest squeeze and burn, a fire lit within her soul for Luke and Luke alone. He was so right, and it was almost scary that he seemed to understand her so deeply after just a few days. And yet, at the same time, nothing else had ever felt so right.

Julie had never really believed in signs from the beyond before. She had begged for even a scrap of something to prove that her mom was still around for a year and had never received anything. But that had changed since the day Luke quite literally knocked her off of her feet. Now it was like everywhere she looked she could see the little parts of her mom that still lingered all around. Here, in the middle of the night, surrounded by the same four walls that her mom had infused with so much love, Julie felt like Luke was the ultimate sign. He had been the catalyst that led to her finding herself again, and all of that came down to her mom’s song. The song that Luke had rescued and protected for a year. The song that was the last love letter from her mom was also the first love letter from Luke. Everything had fallen back into place when he entered her life, and Julie couldn’t help but think that was her mom’s doing.

“Will you stay? The whole night? I meant it when I said this can be your safe space. She would have liked that.”

It wasn’t quite the same as Luke almost declaration of love, but Julie knew that he saw it for the serious gesture that it was. The way his pupils dilated and his hand flexed against her waist told her that he was reading in between her words, seeing everything she was leaving unsaid because it felt a little too big just then. He felt it just as strongly as she did, this thing between them that seemed to grow stronger with every passing second.

“I’ll stay.”

Two simple words, one simple statement. But Julie heard what he really meant. This promise wasn’t just for the night, it was eternal. The weight of it pressed against her like the baby blanket she still sometimes curled up with at night, strong and secure and never ending in its comfort. Two words that were a stand in for the three he couldn’t say just yet. Fire burned low in her belly, licking a path up to her heart and searing across her chest. Their eyes locked, a million emotions they weren’t ready to express flowing back and forth between them like a river. Overwhelmed, Julie pulled his head close and pressed her lips against his for the briefest moment before leaping from the couch. Stunned by her own boldness, she raised her fingertips to her lips and caught Luke doing the same. Like they could each feel the lingering phantom of the other.

“Okay, so, uh...I’ll see you in the morning?” 

Julie’s voice cracked and she fought hard to steady it before continuing. 

“My dad will leave at the same time so just, uh, wait until you hear him go and then come up to the house? Okay, yeah, okay...goodnight!”

She made a beeline for the studio doors, taking full advantage of Luke’s shocked silence to escape before she could embarrass herself even more by kissing him again. The sound of his melodic voice stopped her before she could make it outside.

“Hey, Julie?”

She turned, cheeks burning red hot and heart on fire. He was looking at her like she hung the moon, eyes bright and face shining with unbridled joy. Some of the jittery nervousness leeched from her limbs at the sight of him looking so at her so softly. Not trusting herself to speak, she tilted her head and waited a beat for him to continue. A smile broke across his face like the dawning of a new day and Julie found herself momentarily blinded by his shine.

“Sweet dreams.”

It was a gentle hum, his way of sending her off to bed with the sweetest lullaby imaginable playing in her head. It took everything she had to resist the urge to fling herself into his arms again. Instead, she bit her lip with a smile, turned on her heel, and fled back inside to the relative safety of her room. It was an hour and an entire ballad composed later that she was finally able to close her eyes and sleep, the memory of the way Luke’s lips felt against hers playing out in every single dream she had that night.

#look I was gonna save the ending of this chapter for the showcase but then JULIE JUST FUCKIN WENT FOR IT #AND NOW THERE WILL BE SO MUCH WHAT DOES THIS MEAN ANGST FOR THE REST OF THIS FIC BECAUSE IT'S NOT HAPPENING AGAIN UNTIL THE VERY END #don't worry tho because the next one will be like the REAL one and it will have a lot more weight attached to it #<- enjoy that spoiler-y easter egg cause AO3 ain't gettin it #only tumblr #me?? projecting my high school self onto Julie?? couldn't be #I did have a thing about kissing and running tho so uhhhh yeah #GOD I FEEL SO SOFT OVER THIS HELP ME #it's really nice to like my writing again thanks for that brain #Mads writes #find the strength find the melody #julie and the phantoms #jatp #juke #julie x luke #luke x julie #palina #jatp fic #juke fic #jukebox #julie molina #luke patterson

[heartsywritesthethings]

Pick both

Movie Night leading up to Decision

“Why can’t I sit with both of you?” You ask, looking between the two demon brothers. Asmodeus opens his mouth to argue with you, but you nudge him. You can already hear his degrading comment about Mammon, but you won’t allow it to leave his lips. Honestly, Mammon deserves better. 

With your free hand, you pat a small spot next to you for him to sit. Mammon hesitates for a moment before squeezing into the space between you and the armrest.

“See? This is perfectly fine. Now I don’t have to worry about being cold during the movie!” You say, trying to keep things positive while the brothers glare daggers at each other. 

“Looks like someone is popular.” Satan comments as he walks into the room with Levi being pulled in by his ear. 

“Ow. Ow. Owwwww. Make him stop! I don’t want to watch the movie if it’s not one of the Seven Lords!�� Levi whines, but his cries land on deaf ears. 

“I just wanted some extra company. There’s plenty of room on the couch for the three of us anyways.” You say, shrugging a little bit and settling back into the couch against both of the brothers. Both of the grumble something under their breath, but you elbow them both.

“I’m guessing Mammon didn’t want someone else touching his prized human.” Levi says, rubbing his ear as Satan lets go of him.

“H-Hey! I just didn’t want them boning in the middle of the movie! It would be so gross!” Mammon says, his cheeks flushing slightly. How cute.

“Sure. ” Levi says, absolutely not believing him even though it is completely possible. He turns to you. “Just let me know if they start fighting so I can blog about it. For some reason, my fans really like hearing about my dysfunctional family along with my amazing commentary about manga.”

“They won’t be fighting. Thanks anyways, Levi.” You say with a shake of your head. Although they don’t have the best track record with keeping the peace, you will do your best to make it through this movie. Beelzebub walks in with six bowls balanced on his arms.

“Hey, Beelz! Any popcorn for us?” You ask, and everyone looks at you like you’re crazy. This is Beelzebub, the Avatar of Gluttony, he won’t share his food–

“Oh. For you, yeah.” He says and hands you a bowl.

–with anyone except you. You let him have your dessert for a few nights and he seems to think that means he owes you his life. That’s fine though, you were really craving popcorn anyways. Mammon’s bottom jaw drops as he watches you take a piece of popcorn and pop it into your mouth.

“Uh…how about for me?” Mammon asks, looking up at his brother. Beelz just snorts and sits down on the loveseat by the couch, arranging the bowls on the cushion next to him for easy access. Levi snaps a picture of you with the popcorn bowl and then a picture of Beelzebub.

“This is historical. Beelzebub just shared his food, everyone mark your calendars. Sent.” Levi reads before posting his new update. He sits down in front of the coffee table, face still glued to his phone screen. 

“Alright, since we’re all here now, I hope we can all enjoy this movie sent to us by the Celestial Realm. The Chihuahua himself sent us this for us to watch and I think it would be rude to turn him down. ” Lucifer says, turning off the lights and turning on the movie. 

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want him tripping over his tail as he cries home to Simeon.” Mammon jokes. 

“This is called Christopher Robin, apparently a human saw Luke in the Human realm and mistook him for a toy bear.” Lucifer says as the movie begins.

“A bear? Not a dog?” Mammon asks and then looks at you. “You humans are weird.”

With that last statement, he pokes you in the side, causing you to jump towards Asmodeus. You hope that Mammon doesn’t put two and two together, but that evil grin on his face makes that hope die out pretty fast. Arms tighten around you and you glance up to see Asmodeus with the same devilish grin on his face as well. It seems that whatever argument they had before is gone and forgotten. As the Disney logo flashed across the screen, Mammon grabs your legs and swings them into his lap while Asmodeus takes firm hold of your wrists in one hand.. You’re about to comment to Asmodeus that he must have a lot of practice holding people down when Mammon slides a manicured finger up your left foot. Your giggle is only muffled by Asmodeus’ other hand which clamps over your mouth. 

Your eyes widen and you look up at Asmodeus. He catches your gaze and leans down.

“You’d better be quiet, human. Just because we have a pact with you doesn’t mean we have to show mercy.” Asmodeus whispers before planting a soft kiss on your forehead. Your eyes then dart to Mammon since begging to Asmodeus was a lost cause. You shake your head, but he just shrugs and starts to scribble his fingers across your bare feet.

You try to kick and squirm away from them, but their hold is firm and you know you aren’t going anywhere. It makes it worse that they both seem to also watch the movie while they torment you. Mammon regularly switches from harsh scribbles to light delicate tickles, both driving you equally crazy. It is only by pure miracle that you aren’t cackling up a storm with how much this tickles. Well, that and the hand clamped over your mouth to keep you quiet. 

“I want a turn,” Asmodeus whispers to his brother and finally the ticklish torment on your feet stops and the hand is removed from your mouth. You take quick gasping breaths, a little dizzy from the lack of air that was allowed in your human lungs. You hardly even register that the two demon brothers are just waiting for you to catch your breath before they can pounce again. 

“Don’t laugh” Asmodeus says to you before they both begin their assault. This time, there are four hands assaulting you. Mammon went for your sides and stomach, fingers scribbling wildly over your skin while Asmodeus uses his position to tickle under your arms. Honestly, his request was just too much to ask.

“AHAHAHAH! Wait! Wait STOP! STOHOHOHOHOP! PLEHEHEHEASE!” You laugh, flailing wildly under the ticklish assault. The lights get flipped back on, but the two brothers do not even slow.

“What is going on here?” Lucifer asks, watching from where he stood with his finger still resting on the light switch.

“MAHAHAHAKE THEM STOP! PLEHEHEHEASE! EEK!” You beg, squeaking as Mammon’s fingers drift over your belly button. 

“Humans are so incredibly sensitive. We were just having some fun.” Asmodeus says, his fingers flittering over your neck and your ears, making you squeal and scrunch up against him.

“Did you try her feet already?” Satan asks calmly from the loveseat, just watching, not at all helping.

“SAHTAN! PLEASE! AH NO!” You shriek. Mammon puts his index finger in your navel, making you screech and buck up against him.

“Wow, she’s worse than you, Mammon.” Lucifer says, and you swear you can see just the hint of a smile on his face. You can’t really get a good look since you’re in ticklish hell.

“I can look up some techniques so you guys don’t accidentally kill her.” Levi said, oh so helpfully from the floor. Was he taking pictures of this?!

“Just feel lucky that Beelz isn’t joining the fun.” Satan scoffs, shivering at just the thought.

“LUCKy?! AH! AHAHAHA I CAHAHAHAN’T BREEHEHEHEHEATHE! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH EEEE!” you continue. Great, Asmodeus found out just how ticklish your upper ribs are by your chest. Of course he would find that spot. 

Finally, the torment stops. It seems like it lasted for so long. Too long. You melt into giggles on Asmodeus’ lap and the couch. 

“I donno about y'all, but I like this a lot more than a movie night.” Mammon says, shooting you a wink. You just stick your tongue out at him. Asmodeus slowly rakes his fingers through your hair.

“Me too. Shall we make this a weekly event?” Asmo says, looking up at your brothers. All of them seem to be in agreement.

“Wait–” You begin.

“As long as everyone gets equal opportunity. It wouldn’t be fair otherwise.” Lucifer says with a small nod. You look at him in dismay. What betrayal.

“So, who wants to take bets? Fifty Grimms to whoever can get her to laugh the hardest!” Mammon calls out. This is going to be a long night.

#obey me #tickle fic #asmodeus #mammon #satan #lucifer #leviathan #beelzebub #ticklish mc #GA babe #submission

[frumfrumfroo]

I wrote a thing (Leia and Ben reunion angst)

.

Lamentations

Leia Organa hadn't really planned on getting old.

Not that she’d particularly expected to die young, either. The possibility (even probability) was certainly very real considering her tireless campaign to put herself in the thick of imminent danger, but logical reasoning about the likely outcome was never any match for her ambitions in life. Sheer bravado and the arrogance of youth had always been more than adequate to the task of pushing the reality of death from her mind. Even when fear or doubt got a grip, she had taken for granted that her rude good health and unshakeable self-assurance would continue in perpetuity as long as she managed to survive.

She hadn’t counted on a day dawning when she could no longer take matters into her own hands if need be. When tenacity might not be enough.

Now, hobbling down a corridor with the cane she hated but couldn’t yet do without no matter what her pride said, finding it slightly hard to catch her breath, she felt the years like anchors on every limb. She felt the weight of her choices pressing her shoulders down from their habitual imperious uprightness into an aged stoop. 

She was on her way to meet her own son for the first time as a grown man and the harm she had done him, her failures as a mother, trailed her like a colossal shadow. She sensed the cold presence of the past looming over her, its encroaching guilt nipping at her heels, and it made her feel more ancient than the deepest rivers of the Force. As if her bones were formed from brittle primordial rock, apt to shatter with a touch.

If Han were here he’d cut her down to size for thinking she was the one keeping the whole universe together, for trying to bear every burden, fight every good fight. He’d depreciate himself and distract her from her navel gazing, bounce her back into reality and remind her not everything depended on her. But small things did. Smaller things than she ever remembered to notice. He’d kiss her on the forehead and forgive her for her self-importance. Han had kept her human when single-minded, hotheaded determination threatened to turn her into some kind of overbearing political droid.

But he wasn’t here and never would be again.

When the girl, Rey, repeated her story of what had happened on Starkiller Base, this time after her sojourn on Ahch-to, and in much more detail than before… It was the first time Leia wondered if she ought to blame herself a lot more personally than she ever had, if it were her fears and hurts, her emotional retaining wall which created an opportunity for Snoke. Perhaps it wasn’t so inevitable, the enemy wasn’t so crafty, and she had simply abdicated her post as guardian. Every far-flung, bleeding heart responsibility she’d voluntarily taken on in her life- some she’d deliberately snatched out of other, more cautious hands- and she’d shunned the one which had the strongest, most natural claim on her. It was the one job she was worried she couldn’t do.

He’d been so small when she’d pulled his childish, clutching fingers away from the folds of her dress and pressed him firmly towards his uncle. He’d been only just as tall as her chest, gangly and skinny in the aftermath of his first growth spurt. His eyes had looked huge in his slim face, enormous and soulful pools of hazel gold and brown. Pleading. She remembered putting her hands on his shoulders and smoothing back his hair as she looked at him and tried not to notice the sheen of unshed tears, the trembling of his lower lip. She’d decided this was best for him and so she had turned a deaf ear to any potential entreaties, unwilling to be swayed from wisdom by sentiment. It had to be done. For his own good, she had to pretend this didn’t hurt. She couldn’t waver.

All her life she hadn’t had time for her sorrows, all her life she could ill-afford the luxury of indulging her feelings. When was it time? When had she fought for long enough?

When she won. That was always the answer. She’d rest, she’d have a life, when she had made a universe worth living in. When she’d made things right. What could be more important?

“There’s always some new crusade, though, isn’t there, sweetheart?”

Han’s voice, sharp on the endearment which he’d always used equally often in chastisement as in affection, laden with barely concealed hurt. She heard his pain, but she chose not to listen to it.

She’d thought there’d be time to make it up to him. She thought they would wait for her, her family, that her life would wait for her.

Her step faltered when she found herself standing outside the room in the med suite where Ben was recuperating. He was mobile now, his wounds were closed and his ribs were healing. He’d needed a lot of rest, more for mental and spiritual exhaustion than physical damage. He’d become a conduit in the Force the like of which was only heard of in legend and there had been some question if he would survive. She’d kept abreast of his condition since she’d been told of his arrival three days ago; he’d been in her every thought and breath and prayer, but she couldn’t visit. There was too much to do, too many people to oversee and decisions to make. She had plenty of excuses to keep avoiding the reckoning. 

Reportedly Rey hadn’t left his bedside once, never further from him than the fresher in the corner of the room. Poe said she was like a wild animal with a cub, hovering protectively over his prone body and questioning anyone who wanted to get near him. She’d maintained a death grip on his hand which only loosened slightly when she fell asleep in her chair at his side. Her own injuries were tended by a droid, under protest and without anaesthetic.

Leia leaned against the corridor wall and tried for what felt like the latest in several trillion attempts to come to terms with what Rey had told her about Luke. About Ben.

And she knew she deserved to blame herself. She knew. If he’d thought he could come home, he would have, and who had made him think he couldn’t? Han had fought for him and she’d have to tell him that no matter how painful it was to admit, she’d have to make sure he understood it wasn’t his father’s idea that Anakin’s blood flowed with latent corruption- not until she’d convinced him it did. Not until her secret festering fears clouded over the dawning love and hope they’d sacrificed so much to have.

The supreme necessity of forgiveness, of giving it and receiving it both, had become the hardest lesson she would ever learn. Her famously indomitable righteous anger had perished with a whimper, suffocated itself in weariness and despair; it was only fear that lived forever. It was fear which chained love, shackled hope, and bound the soul in darkness. And forgiveness drove out fear.

If Ben could forgive her, it seemed a mere pittance to forgive him.

When she rounded the corner the kids were silent but clearly communicating, the power of their connection like a subtle crackle in the Force which raised the hairs on the back of her neck. Rey was sitting on the edge of his cot, their heads very close together and her hands clasping both of his. Leia absorbed Rey’s mood first because it didn’t hurt nearly so much to look at Rey. The smile on her lips and the contentment in her eyes spoke of a peace the girl had never shown before. There was a confidence about her now, a knowingness. Leia had sensed she was searching for something from the moment she’d first seen her, noticed the void she was trying to fill. Leia had an eye for pressure points in people. She’d made use of Rey’s in hope that it would help her reach Luke. There might be an apology owed in that quarter too, but all thoughts of Rey vanished when Ben noticed her presence.

His head turned towards her and his face froze in an expression between horror and anguish, his pleading eyes just as she remembered them. He had a lot of his father in him, so much that it was striking, and a stab of agony lodged itself between her ribs that felt like her heart being pierced. But there was also so much of her in those eyes, in the slope of his jaw and the shape of his chin that she almost felt as if she were looking into a kaleidoscope reflection of her younger self. The certain, unshakable self she still half expected to see in the mirror before she turned on the vanity lights. He was a perfect marriage of her features and Han’s, with his broad cheekbones and regal profile, his full mouth and deep set eyes. 

It was probably because he seemed in that moment somehow both a mirror and the spitting image of her husband that it was the shame which hit her first. She couldn’t help but spin around and cover her mouth to try to swallow a cry.

There was a tiny gasping noise from behind her and then Rey’s voice murmuring something. She couldn’t focus on the words, couldn’t understand what was being said, but she knew the sound of pain was from Ben. He thought she couldn’t bear to look at him.

And she couldn’t, but not for the reasons he must be imagining.

She gathered her dignity and forced herself to look again. He was clutching his blankets where they pooled at his waist, his long black hair falling in soft waves which framed the drawn pallor of his face very starkly. He looked ill and frightened. Vulnerable, a child again.

“Ben,” she choked out. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, my darling boy. I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t know how long she’d been weeping into her hands when someone began to gently pry them away from her face, but her cheeks were wet and her eyes stung. She raised her gaze only to be confronted with a wide expanse of chest covered in the soft, oversized hospital smock which was standard issue for checked-in patients. She looked up, and up, and up to meet his eyes and couldn’t remember ever feeling so small in her life. 

Leia was a short woman and used to fighting to get the world on her level, but this was her baby. She’d carried him in her belly, held him in her hands, she’d last seen him when she still had to crouch to speak to him eye to eye. His once little fingers now dwarfed her entire arm where he was holding her wrist and he towered over her to such an extent that the top of her head barely reached the middle of his sternum. Her baby was grown up and she hadn’t seen him in person since he was ten. Since their heights had been the inverse of this tableau. He’d become a man and she’d been there for none of it. She’d chosen not to be.

Ben was leaning down, studying her with trepidatious concern, and she couldn’t help but reach up and touch his face. She put his hair behind his ear and cradled his cheek in her palm, feeling the living warmth of his skin and the tickling sensation of a hot tear which rolled down from the corner of his eye and under her thumb.

“Look how beautiful you are,” she said, almost without meaning to.

He ducked towards her hand, hiding behind his hair.

She wrapped her arms around him and he folded into her, dropping nearly to his knees so he could hug her back, so tightly that it almost hurt. He was very strong, the harsh conditioning of a footsoldier obvious in the broad muscles of his back beneath her hands, and it hurt to think how badly he must have needed to be, how much he’d needed to rely on himself and his ability to fight. How he’d never been safe anywhere from the moment he was born.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. He sobbed hard into her shoulder, as if the words had broken a dam inside him. Deep, wracking sobs that shook his whole body and made her hold him as close as she could and whisper to him the way she had when he was a fussing infant, when the nightmares she never dared to tell her brother about had gripped him in their malingering claws. When the fear of darkness which ended up swallowing their little family encroached too close. “Shhsh, shhsh, it’s all right now.”

His voice cracked when he finally managed to tell her, “It’s me- I'm sorry; it’s me, it’s me, it’s me. How can you stand it, how can you stand it?”

Leia suddenly found herself meeting Rey’s penetrating gaze over his head. If there was judgement there, it was less harsh than it justly could have been.

“I should have protected you. I didn’t protect you.”

“Mother,” he croaked with enormous difficulty, “I killed him.”

Her stomach rolled over and her vision blurred with fresh tears, but she held him with her, gripping the fabric of his shirt with white-knuckle intensity. “He loved you. I love you. I’m so sorry.”

His face collapsed like wet linen and he slid to the floor at her feet, burying his head in her skirts. There was a mantra of apologies and self-recriminations amongst the desperate sobs and she lowered a shaking hand to stroke his hair. 

“Ben, don’t. Please. Please don’t. Your father knew, he understood.”

Red eyes peeked up at her, his chin was trembling and those same fingers were clutching her skirts again and she wished she could go back to that day and tell herself her child needed her more than the galactic senate ever would. He needed honesty, his mother and his family, not a comfortable lie, a Jedi master or a carefully constrained destiny. She wished she’d seen him as clearly then as she did now, that she hadn’t been too afraid to look. She wished Han could be here to celebrate beating the odds one last time.

“If he could, he’d tell you this was the fairest trade he ever made.”

#basically a companion piece to my earlier fic #because fuck tros Leia didn't need to die and everyone killing her all the time is bullshit #this really isn't what I wanted? I don't know that the voice is right at all? idk angst because I'm mega depressed #is it cathartic at least? #fanfiction

[pinesprings]

Aetea: Chapter 1

(Just give me a reason, why is it so hard to find one)

Chapter Two

Summary: All hell breaks loose when JJ returns 'home' for the first time after John B's disappearance.. Luckily for him, Kiara would have never let him go in the mouth of the wolf alone

Notes: This had been chilling in my WIPs for some time now, figured I'd post for @jiaraweek . I only hope I'm not too late😅. Second chapter is almost done and on the way! (let me know if you'd like to be tagged)

Warnings: child abuse, blood and violence, head injury, injuries, panic attacks I guess. In one word, angst.

Reading time: 14 mins (1.7k words)

Or read here on ao3

***

Have you ever felt being buried alive in your brain? Your thoughts working tirelessly with your fear as a shovel, desperate to finish piling dirt over your bare body, drowning you with the mud of your deepest worries proving true.

In case you don't know how it feels to want to scream but no sound coming out, because your throat is clogged with the handfuls of panic and your trachea is crushed by the sheer brutality of your cries, you don't know how Kie felt in that moment. The undercurrent of anguish flowed through her veins instead of blood and she couldn't bring herself to hold back the muddy tears.

"Stop!! You're gonna kill him!!"

JJ landed hard on the corner of the small accent table with a sickening thud, the force of the impact knocking the wind out of his lungs, but as the father lunged forward to deliver another blow at the son, Kiara's heart ripping protest went to waste.

He laid where he fell, his body a mere mess of exerted limbs, when several cruel kicks shoved that mess to the side, coming down with brutal force, crushing his ribs, as they had done only so many times before.

Kiara averted her blurry gaze from the scene, hot tears streaming down her face as she broke into uncontrollable sobs.

"You piece of shit! You so naive, thinking I wouldn't find out? Yer even more useless than I thought you were! Ya hear me?!"

And he heard, the words just another dart aiming straight at his heart, only intensifying his physical pain. JJ glanced at Kiara, something akin to guilt dimming the light in his eyes and she shuddered, because it shouldn't have been there.

Before the boy could feel more guilty for the anguished expression on her face, the beast yanked his barely conscious son from the collar of his shirt and lifted him inches above the ground. He stared directly into his blue eyes, one bruised and swollen from the punches. Although, he shouldn't be called a beast, she was being too kind, too easy on him,, Kiara thought while her tears of despair mixed with her repulse for the... the monster.

The father's face contorted in a horrific display of his madness, shaking the boy who was desperately gasping for air. The strangled noise that escaped his torn lips broke Kie's heart and twisted her insides, making her cringe in pain.

She shouted at the monster to let go of JJ so loud that the words grazed her throat, or maybe she thought so because of the lump that had formed there since they first set foot in this house of nightmares.

"Stop.."

The monster did not stop.

"Please!"

The monster didn't hesitate, didn't hold the clenched fists back.

"You're supposed to love him!" she yelled, still crying, still trying to find a way to make him stop, to take his focus off the blonde boy. Oh, that blonde boy, so full of life and love, now surrendered before the injustice of the world. Another dagger was hurled towards her heart, from all the slashes oozing pain and tears.

She gathered all her courage and prayed it was enough to help her drop the bomb:

"No wonder why your wife left you!"

She made sure to highlight every word to provoke him, she was going to draw him like a magnet, away from JJ, because she decided she couldn't bear it anymore. She couldn't bear his pain. She was being too bold, but, frankly, she didn't care. She was going to take his pain, even if that meant she had to make it hers.

Luke Maybank stopped, though he was still grasping JJ in a chokehold. His movement paused however and he responded without clenching a muscle, without turning to look at her. He stayed so awfully still and somehow that made it all so much worse.

"What did you just say?"

The monster dropped his son to fall back on the ground in a heartbeat and whirled around with a jolt. He started marching menacingly towards Kiara, her tiny frame looking like a little toy compared to his bulky build.

Kiara gulped as she backed away, but eventually her back thudded against the concrete wall and the closest possible exit was awfully far out of her reach. The monster's fist slammed the wall just above her shoulder, the force of impact causing the cheap plaster to peel away and turn into nothing more but a stain on Kiara's luscious locks and litter the ground. She yelped in surprise and terror, recoiling into a small bundle of tanned skin and raising her arms protectively around her head.

JJ laid hopelessly on the ground, coughing furiously and spitting blood, leaning on his elbow as to not choke. However when Kiara's yell so much as reached his ears, his every cell shifted towards the horrific sound.

As he watched his father looming over her and daring to threaten her, at the prospect of him laying his filthy hands on Kie- on his Kie, something finally clicked inside of him.

There was only one piece of the puzzle left and it was a perfect fit. The words, the bruises, the feelings, the pain- all composing a perfect symphony, a complex mosaic that finally spelled it out for him, loud and clear.

It was all fucking wrong.

He had known before too, but now, he knew.

Infuriated beyond reason, he wasn't bound to give up. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, summoned by all the years of mutual hell carved into his brain with the claws of injustice.

"Hey, old man!"

He took a moment to recollect the broken pieces of his self as he struggled to get back on his feet before continuing.

"Tired already?" he snarled, his mouth was dripping poison, his senses only slightly swimming. His irises contracted with hate because no matter how much it hurt to , he despised the man his father was, loathed him with a every bruise and every cut- with every fiber of his being. Years and years of despair and sorrow concealed by his disconsolate need to justify the cruelty, to be guilty of something, to find reason in the lack of affection in his father's eyes.

No matter how hard he wished, he could never find a reason.

Because there was fucking none.

The monster smirked with amusement at the comment, a gesture that only made Kiara fee morel sick. He arched an eyebrow in fake astonishment as he hissed a reply.

"You up for more, chum?"

Before he could finish poisoning the air with his alcohol scented words he was tackled over the table by his son, the sudden and violent motion earning a sharp shout of pain from them both. Soon they were brawling across the narrow room, knocking furniture aside and crashing the more fragile objects with swift, unfocused movements.

"Kiara!", the blonde yelled, and it was almost a plea, "Get the hell out of here, now!"

JJ's fist found his father's face in a glorious moment, and the monster briefly stumbled backwards before finding his balance and jabbing an elbow to his son's sides, making him groan involuntarily.

"I- I'm not leaving you!" Kie stuttered and stating her defiance to get to safety only earned her a pained glance from JJ. It was a simple look and though it lasted for half a second, Kiara could easily interpret the meaning behind it. Carefully concealed in his silence but there, was an defeated why. Why bother. It made the fire in the veins of her neck flare up and one more blade to penetrate her skin. It made the unshed stars of glistening tears sting and burn with renewed passion.

Was he really even questioning it? Was he that oblivious?

"Because I love you."

It was less than a whisper, perhaps simply a breath of wind softly hummed between cerulean waves.

Softer than the mellow aftertaste of a tangerine and coral painted sky, dispersing into a star studded darkness of the night. The bittersweet smile of an end and a beginning. Still, JJ caught it and clung to the words, unblinking, and beautiful like a god sculpted out of aegean marble. Mouth agape, scrambling to grasp the meaning, to wrap his head around the endless possibilities behind a door previously locked being slammed open before his eyes, so suddenly and widely it feels like a fever dream. Kiara's breath hitched, either aghast at her own revelation, either in the aftermath of her subsiding weeping.

Half a second had passed, and still it was enough for the monster to regain his strength. He darted forward and pushed with all his might, and suddenly JJ was sent tumbling to the ground. Kiara jolted at his fall, her breathing growing ragged and shallow, her chest heaving desperately in search of air, to no avail.

With every punch Kiara was spiraling further down, further away, until she couldn't feel, and she couldn't hear, and she couldn't see through the wet and cloudy barricades oozing from her hollow eyes.

There's a scream, muffled and desperate. And there's blood accompanying the sharp crunch of bone. There's blood on knuckles and there's blood on face. There's blood on her vision, dragging her back to reality, anchoring her mind to the pain and her feet to the wooden planks a little too dirty to belong to an inhabited home.

But as Kiara stood rooted to the ground, her legs slowly being deprived of feeling as her whole body was shaking in loud sobs of despair, she felt something entirely different. Right there, in the pit of her stomach, was brewing something other than the sickness and nausea that overwhelmed her.

It was gaining ground. Winning.

Anger.

Rage that fueled up her courage, the intoxicating need to express itself started pulling her invisible strings.

In the haze of her madness she grabbed the very first thing she was able to reach with nervous and tense, although concentrated movements.

JJ's weak groans hadn't subsided until he drifted out of consciousness. The monster kept on hitting his son mercilessly. Devoured by his unquenchable desire for pain the monster didn't notice how that 'pathetic little bitch' that had come along with his disappointment of a son, towered over his unprotected back.

Steel determination adorned her still watery eyes. Only a shrieking cry reached the monster's ears, and even thay was hollowed out by his blood lust.

He turned around just in time to feel the cold glass shatter, and sink into his scalp.

#jiara july #jiara #jj maybank #kiara carrera #luke maybank #outer banks #obx netflix #jj obx #obx fic #kie obx #jj outer banks #jj x kiara #kiara outer banks #my fanfiction #my writing #my fic #tw: child abuse #tw swearing #tw panic attack #tw blood #tw violence #tw head injury

[sylvesterelle]

He’d endured pain in his life. More than his fair share.

But there was no pain like this.

When Palpatine tore the life force from their bond, it wasn’t just his pain he was feeling; a sensation all too familiar, one he’d trained himself to block out. It was also her pain. Her suffering, like a phantom limb, tearing through him with all the force in the world.

He could feel it searing through her joints, feel her teeth crack as her jaw clenched too tight. He felt every atom of her scream out in pain, and his, too.

What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? What happens when all the power of the dark side tries to break a pair that was never meant to be apart, a soul that was never made to be two?

Read on Ao3

He could feel the edges of his vision white out, but Ben Solo fought to hold on. He’d just found himself again, found her again. He didn’t want to let go. Not like this, not ever.

But how could he fight this? This was elemental. But so were they.

Before Ben could finish the thought, Palpatine released his hold on the pair and let them fall to the ground, puppets cut from their strings.

But there was still one tie left.

Ben could feel her, fainter than she’d ever been since that first day in the forest. His body was screaming at him, broken and bloodied on the stone ground. Movement seemed like a far off dream, and he could only catch a glimpse of her arm wraps, stained dark, and the curve of hand where it’d landed so close—but not close enough.

But behind it all, behind the pain, behind the fear, he could still feel her. A dual pulse in his blood, a gravity he’d long since stopped fighting.

Over the remnants of the bond, he heard her voice.

Ben.

He felt a spark in his chest, fighting against the pain.

 Rey.

Warmth bloomed across the bond, tinted as it was with pain and the near-separation that would have undone them both.

Gritting his teeth, Ben pulled on every last reserve of strength he had. Every bit of anger, every bit of pain, yes, but also the love. For his parents, for Rey, for the hope she’d given him when he thought all way lost.

He drew on it all, dug deeper into his very bones, and felt his fingers twitch.

An inch, maybe two. That’s all he needed.

If he died, he would die with his hand in hers. And, well, if somehow he survived this, it would be with her too.

He felt the dirt brush against the back of his hand, gravel digging into open wounds. Closer.

In the back of his head he heard Palpatine, saw a flash of lightening ripping into the sky.

It could wait. It would have to wait.

His fight was over. Only she remained. And he’d come to far to fail now.

Wish a last push, his fingers brushed against hers, and it was like a thousand suns dying at once.

Where there had once been visions, now he saw only light. It was like looking into the Force itself, the whole of it, all at once.

Her fingers tightened around his, and he heard her voice once more.

Be with me.

 I’m here.

He could feel her pulse of amusement, however improbable.

No, Ben. Not you.

She squeezed his hand weakly, just once.

And he understood.

With the last of his strength, Ben dropped his defenses, built from youth. Let all the noise of the world rush in, let the Force he saw pour through him, instead of trying to rip his way through as he had so often before.

It hurt, nearly as much as the bond. But it was a good hurt, a fire he welcomed—it cleansed as it burned. And there was Rey, guiding him through it as she once promised she would. Prompting him, gently.

Be with me, he called.

Her voice joined in.

 Be with me.

Their fingers gripped with renewed strength.

 Be with us.

Where there were two voices, more appeared. Dozens, then hundreds.

Be with us.

Some she recognized, he could tell through the bond. The stormtrooper, he thought. Finn. And the pilot.

The chorus grew.

 Be with us.

And these voices he knew.

His mother, her voice. He’d never thought he’d hear it again. He felt the spark within his chest grow as she lent him her strength.

There was Luke, too. And Obi-Wan, and Yoda--who he’d never met, but heard enough stories that they felt as familiar to him as the others.

They were all there, his family, past and present.

And one more.

 Ben.

The voice called out to him alone.

 You know what you must do.

Ben choked back a sob, the motion sending pain through his broken ribs.

All the years he’d spent praying to hear that voice. Screaming out for help, for guidance. For a voice in the dark to tell him he was on the right path.

 You can end this story, Ben.

 You know what you must do.

He nodded, a tear falling down his cheek.

He’d known the second he laid eyes on her. Whatever their fate, it would be tied together. Whatever the future of the force, they would be its herald.

 Yes, Grandfather.

From out of the dark came one last voice—more familiar than the rest.

 Go get ‘em, kid.

At once, he felt the voices combine into a single note, ringing louder than any sound in the galaxy. As it built to a frenzied crescendo he fought the urge to cover his ears, knowing it would do no good.

It was a living sound, and it burned brightly in the space between their interlocked fingers, growing until it encompassed their hands. All at once it burst, and he felt it flood through his body, the energy, the light. Felt Rey experience the same.

They knew what they had to do.

As one, they rose from the ground, hands still clasped.

Their lightsabers appeared in their opposite hands, where none had been a moment ago.

Together, they lit their weapons, the combined glow forcing back the shadows of Palpatine’s lightning.

Lightning he turned on them with a snarl, crackling through the cavern and leaving the scent of ozone in its wake.

Their blades hummed as they crossed in front of them, throwing off sparks in every direction. The vibration of the impact sent shudders down the wrist holding the blade, threatening to give out.

But he held on.

He felt more than heard Rey scream next to him—not in pain, but the battle cry he had memorized from that night in the woods.

He leaned forward, pushing all his weight against the lightening that threatened to overwhelm them.

Together, they took a step forward.

Turning the lightening back towards the Emperor, forcing him to endure the power he created.

They took another step.

And another.

Ben could feel the tide of power turning, overwhelming its master.

He heard his soul’s voice in his mind, her strength kindling through him.

 It’s time, Ben. Let’s end this.

With one final surge, they pushed back as one, against the man who had killed their families, threatened their friends, who would have them trapped in darkness, who would tear them apart as if they weren’t born to be together.

The light fractured as their sabers gave one last pulse, burning with power enough to collapse a planet, or end an Emperor. The cavern fractured above them, stones raining from the ceiling as the man who was once Palpatine exploded in the burst of light, his very being unmade by their power.

A life-force, he had called it.

To give, and to take away.

As darkness settled in the cavern, Ben and Rey Solo sunk to their knees. The lightsabers clattered to the floor, kyber crystals irrevocably damaged.

In the light of the burning star destroyers above, Ben could see nothing but her face. His love. His heart.

Her eyes were wide, mouth parted as she panted for air. He could see the blood trailing from her eyebrow and couldn’t help but reach out to wipe it away, cradling her face in one broad palm.

“Ben,” she whispered, both in his ear and in his mind.

She wrapped her hand around his wrist, turning into his palm. She mirrored his gesture, endlessly gentle as she cupped her hand around his cheek, wiping away a stray tear he hadn’t realized was falling.

Her pulled her near, pressing their foreheads together as he closed his eyes, overwhelmed with feeling.

“I know, I know Ben,” she said, gripping tighter “I feel it too.”

He opened his eyes to see her staring up at him, and he didn’t have a name for what he saw there. Like he was hope. Like he was possibility. Like he was the answer to all the questions of family she’d ever dreamed to ask.

Like she wasn’t all that to him, and more.

His eyes flicked down to her lips, running a thumb across the cut that marred them. Characteristically impatient, Rey pushed forward, closing the gap between them that was never meant to exist.

And Ben didn’t see visions. He didn’t see Force.

He just saw her, burning with the brightness that had kept her alive all these years, that had led him to her, that he knew he would follow the rest of his days.

His twin flame, the savior of his soul.

Rey.

#ben solo #reylo #TROS fix it #tros #tros spoilers #bendemption

[cakesunflower]

Gold in the Clouds [Angel!Ashton AU] One Shot

A/N: this is my first Ashton piece and it’s like,,,14,000+ words long. i hope you enjoy it. also, it’s a companion piece to my Angel/Demon!Luke one shot Made of Gold. they aren’t connected plot wise too much, save for the characters, but if you wanna know who Tameera is then i suggest reading Made of Gold first! happy reading!!!

He wasn’t too fond of the severe scent of disinfectant that coated the walls of the hospital, pursing his lips together as the small heels of his boots tapped steadily against the linoleum floor. Ashton weaved his way through the hallway, making his way past doctors and nurses and anyone else as he looked for the appropriate room. Nobody really glanced at him twice, most likely having to do with the way he carried himself; confident, easy going, like he knew what he was doing, like he belonged. When in actuality, he was the one who different than every single person in the building than they could ever believe.

Eyes on the numbers next to the door, Ashton slowed down as he realized he was nearing the one he was meant to be at, stopping in front of room 4301 altogether. He couldn’t sense anyone inside, save for the only person he was looking for, and Ashton grabbed the handle before stepping inside, shutting the door behind him.

Turning around, his hazel eyes landed on the bed, throat working at the sight of the woman laying in it. He’s been around for centuries, but even now, the sight of a human being in pain, whether it be physical or emotional or mental, didn’t settle well with him. He was an angel. It was his job to protect humans, along with protecting Heaven, of course. Calum often jeered at him for having a weak stomach, for not being able to get used to the view of a damaged human. But Ashton fixed things. He fixed people. How was he to idly sit by and watch someone suffer, someone he could help with a snap of his fingers? He had these powers, so might as well put them to good use.

He tentatively approached the bed, eyes taking in the woman. She was unconscious, the only sound in the room being the steady beeping coming out of the heart monitor she was hooked up to, the only sign she was alive to humans while Ashton could sense her heart actually beating. There may be an oxygen mask helping her breathe and chemicals running through her system to bring her back from near death, but Ashton knew she was alive.

Most of her injuries were internal, he could feel as he gently placed his left palm on her forehead, fingers lighting grazing strands of red hair that were more natural, more ginger, than his. A broken rib had punctured her lung, cuts and scrapes were scattered around her skin, and her neck was placed in a brace. She suffered a number of other injuries as well, but it didn’t matter. Not when Ashton could heal them and make it so they never occurred in the first place.

He looked down at her, at the freckles dotting the tops of her cheeks and the bridge of her nose and the way the mask on her face fogged every now and then with the soft breaths she took. Then Ashton felt warm, familiarly so, as the recognizable zing pierced his ears and his eyes glowed an angelic icy blue, directing all of his power to the palm of his hand to transfer through to the woman laying unconscious in bed.

Ashton felt his energy being poured into her, watching as the cuts on her skin healed and disappeared from existence, sensing her injured bones and organs carefully healed and go back right where they belonged. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips once the process was done, taking his hand off of her and watching as the machine told him her oxygen levels were returning to normal. It was done. She was healed.

And she was opening her eyes.

A deep green pair of eyes met his hazel ones as Ashton kept his gaze on her, expression soft and smiling as he saw her slowly blink the wariness away. He could already see the instant confusion swimming in the green, probably wondering what happened, where she was, who the hell was he. Relief flooded through him as she showed positive signs of cognitive functions, just a visual confirmation that he actually did heal her, as if he had doubts. Actually seeing it was always rewarding, always a relief.

“You’re going to be okay, alright?” Ashton gently told her, bending down ever so slightly to maintain gaze. She remained still, looking up at him with wide, confused eyes. “A doctor will come take a look at you soon. You’re okay, Haley.”

He probably shouldn’t have said her name, but it just slipped past his lips before he could help it. She still gazed up at him as if she was trying to place him, wondering if she’s ever met him before, though Ashton knew the answer to that was no. They’d never met. They were only meeting now because Haley was in the car that collided with Tameera’s, his friend’s girl, and Ashton could not in his good conscious just leave Haley. He was well aware the doctors would try their best to help her, but he wanted to do his part. Healing her extensive injuries wasn’t just something he felt the need to do, but had wanted to do it. She deserved a second chance; it wasn’t her time, knowledge Ashton was privy to thanks to his status, so healing her wasn’t disrupting anything.

With the life she’s had, Ashton hoped he was helping her in offering her another go at it.

                                                                *****

Haley hadn’t been able to sleep for days. Which was fine. That was nothing new. She couldn’t remember the last time she’s had a full night’s sleep. But this time it was different. This time, instead of being haunted by a reality she wished she wasn’t living, she was thinking of the man she’d seen at the hospital. A man that apparently no one else knew of, who had apparently been a ghost in the halls of the hospital after he left her room. After he told her she was going to be okay, and she was.

For a moment, Haley wondered if she had gone crazy, because every doctor and nurse she asked about the tall, blood red haired man with the hazel eyes looked at her if there was a head injury she hadn’t healed from. No one had a clue as to who she was talking about, and it was frustrating. And then she was being told that she was perfectly fine, that her injuries weren’t serious and were ushering her out after she had signed the discharge papers. It had happened so fast and Haley genuinely wondered if they wanted her out just so they could have a bed space for a more deserving patient or if she actually was okay.

But she’d been in a car accident. Shouldn’t she at least be feeling dizzy or sore? It didn’t fucking add up.

What if she was finally going crazy? Many would say it was inevitable—herself included.

Still. Haley doubted she’d imagined that man. She couldn’t remember much of what happened before she woke up in the hospital; one minute she was in her car and the next, she was feeling a pleasurable warmth that was gently pulling her out of sleep, waking up to a pair of hazel eyes she’d never seen before.

Eyes she couldn’t seem to get out of her fucking head.

It was a wonder she didn’t get distracted easily, or she would’ve fucked up a haircut, working as a hairstylist at a salon to make a living for herself. She was good at her job, a surprise to even herself, and couldn’t afford screwing up and risk losing her only source of income. She made good money and needed every penny she earned.

Though, she did earn some time off. However, no one knew of her accident, and with her walking and talking as if it never happened, Haley figured she didn’t need unnecessary days off. Even though all she could think about was the fact that she should still be laying in a hospital bed.

So how was she okay? It didn’t add up, and Haley was giving herself a migraine trying to figure shit she couldn’t even remember out.

“You good?” Haley blinked herself out of her thoughts, looking up at the girl in front of her. Zoe, the salon’s eyebrow whiz, was looking down at her with eyebrows raised in concern. She was around Haley’s age, a year older at twenty-five, cute and just a bit shorter. “You look spaced.”

Haley forced a small smile, sitting on the salon chair where she worked on customers. She didn’t have an appointment for another forty minutes, so she was just relaxing after cleaning her station after the last customer left. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good.”

Zoe nodded before saying, “I was talking to Olive earlier and we were gonna get drinks later tonight and were wondering if you wanted to join? We haven’t gone out in a bit.”

Pressing her lips together, Haley considered the invitation for a moment, wondering if she should accept. She most definitely had shit going on, too consumed in her thoughts in trying to put two and two together in hopes of figuring out something she could barely remember. How was she supposed to focus on anything when she’d just been in an accident, when she should still be lying in a hospital bed recovering instead of walking and talking as if nothing even happened?

Honestly. She was driving herself insane trying to think of it. Maybe a drink or two would do her some good.

Probably not. But one could hope.

“Sure,” Haley answered, widening her smile a bit as she nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

                                                              *****

“I’m in love with the bartender,” Olive giggled happily, returning to the table with hers and Haley’s drinks as she sat down. “Her margaritas are so fucking good.”

Haley chuckled at her friend, gratefully accepting her drink as her eyes slid over Olive’s shoulder towards the bar. The server in question was a pretty girl, brown skin glowing under the colorful lights of the bar with dark hair and eyes to match. She had served Haley her first drink, all smiles, the grin still on her face as she chatted with her other customers. There were two other bartenders behind the long bar, but just by looking at her, Haley could tell she was probably more sociable than the other two.

Taking a sip of her drink, Haley had to agree—the margarita was delicious. She sipped through the thin black straw, green eyes looking around the bustling bar. The music was loud, there were people dancing and she could feel the occasional eyes taking in the sight of her, but Haley ignored them, completely uninterested.

Truthfully, Haley was trying to focus on having a good time. She’d been only thinking of what’s been happening—which, okay, was only one major event she couldn’t make sense of—but it wasn’t her fault she couldn’t stop thinking about it. It didn’t help that no one knew about her accident, either; she’d been in an Uber that crashed in another car, and Haley didn’t even know who was in the other car. The driver was okay, she knew, but Haley genuinely had no clue as to what happened to whoever was in the other car. She hoped they were okay.

At one point, Haley stood up and went to the bathroom, finishing her second margarita but not entirely feeling its effects quite yet. Washing her hands, Haley looked at herself in the reflection under the dim lights of the small bathroom. The music playing in the bar was only slightly muffled through the heavy door, the smell in the bathroom none too pleasant. But she was too busy gazing at herself.

No scratch, no bruise marred her skin under the makeup she wore. Nothing to commemorate the accident she’d experienced just a few days ago. Her throat worked, tasting the tequila, as she pulled her lips into her mouth, the lipstick she’d worn long gone at this point. Was she over thinking all of this? Driving herself crazy over something meant to be forgotten?

Most of her life didn’t make sense. It was something she had to come to terms with; a shit show after a shit show, barely ever catching a break. This was only another thing added onto a long list of things that just kept happening.

Exiting the bathroom, Haley walked down the small hall before emerging into the active area, about to make her way back to where her friends were sitting when her eyes happened to land on a familiar sight at the end of the bar near the doorway.

Haley froze, eyebrows furrowing together as she tried to look through the crowd of people swarming everywhere, her breath catching in her throat when recognition clicked in her mind. Because even from standing damn near on the other side of the room, she instantly recognized the bright red hair that made him stand out like a sore thumb even under the colorful lights of the bar.

He sat with his back facing the door, dressed in a red floral print shirt that went a bit too well with the color of his hair, sitting with his back facing the door next to a guy with curly blonde hair. But Haley’s green eyes remained on the red haired man, who sat grinning with dimples on his cheeks as he conversed with the blonde, and she felt the pit of her stomach clenching tightly at the sight of him.

He was right there. In the same place as her, after days of her wondering who the hell he was and what he was doing in her hospital room. The possibility of him being a doctor crossed her mind, but for some reason, Haley felt as thought that observation wasn’t accurate. There was something off about him, though whether that was a good or a bad thing, she couldn’t quite tell.

Slowly, she felt her feet moving on their own accord, pushing her past the people dancing and having a good time and moving towards the bar where the guy was. Haley kept her eyes on him, teeth pressed together as she felt the nerves clawing at her the closer she got. The guy was nursing a glass of beer while pointedly looking away when the bartender that had served Haley came over to them and leaned over to press a quick kiss to the blonde guy’s lips, the smile that came over blondie’s face contradicting the somewhat dark demeanor that surrounded him.

Just as quickly as it deterred, Haley’s attention was back on the other guy, throat growing tight as she neared him. She didn’t really have a plan, unsure of what to say, but she couldn’t just return to her seat when the one person she’d been thinking about for the past few days was in the same room as her. Her stomach was churning, like she was going to throw up, but Haley was determined to push through.

She was only a few feet away, about to move around a couple of people standing to get to him when her eyes met his and she saw his expression falter. Something flashed across his face and Haley watched as the guy pushed away from the bar, standing to his feet as he picked up his jacket from the back of the chair and swiftly turned away, walking towards the door. Haley blinked, a confused frown furrowing at her eyebrows before she quickened her pace, knowing that it probably wasn’t the best of ideas to follow a stranger outside of a bar but not entirely caring.

Her phone was in her hand, her purse on the couch with her friends, but that was the least of her worries right now. Honestly—what more did she have to lose?

Nothing, if she was being completely honest.

The slap of the wind on her skin was a harsh reminder of how cold it was outside, the short sleeves of her crop top not at all helping, her jacket still inside. But Haley’s eyes immediately found the retreating back of the familiar stranger, his red hair easily recognizable even under the dim lights of the street lamps as he walked away from the bar.

Ignoring the sounds of the few people lingering outside of the bar smoking, Haley followed after him, the three inch heels of her boots clicking against the pavement. It was a terrible idea, following some guy during the night, but she genuinely couldn’t help herself. How was she supposed to sit idly by when a guy who’d reassured her she would be okay while she was lying in a hospital bed—who most definitely was not—a doctor, was sitting right there?

Even after she’d woken up, the doctors and nurses that had supposedly treated her all said the same exact thing: you were lucky. They all said it with smiles on their faces that seemed almost mechanic, the words slipping out of their mouths like they’d practiced it a dozen times over. Nothing about their deliverance was normal, and when she’d seen the state of the Uber driver, Haley knew something was off. No one would tell her anything, discharging her after saying there was no reason for her to stay. It was so fucking confusing and she had to get to the bottom of it.

And right now, the red haired guy was her only lead.

Her heart jumped when he swiftly turned left, walking right into a suspicious alley that no girl would ever voluntarily walk into. Haley slowed her pace until she stopped just a few feet away, swallowing the nervous lump that had formed in her throat, stomach clenching queasily as she wondered if this was worth it. There was a very good chance he knew she was following her and had purposefully turned to see if she’d go through with it. There was the potential of Haley getting into some serious trouble and harm if she was dumb enough to follow him.

But maybe she was dumb. Because something about him didn’t entirely scream dangerous.

Then again, Ted Bundy had been charming enough to get the guards down of women he had killed.

Haley let out a deep breath. Nothing to lose, she’d reminded herself. It’s not like she would be missed, anyway.

She wasn’t sure if she could feel herself slightly trembling because of the cold temperature or because she was knowingly walking into a potentially dangerous situation. Possibly both. But as she turned to the dark alley, standing by the entrance, Haley blinked in confusion, green eyes flickering around.

There wasn’t much light, of course, but there also wasn’t anyone in there.

“What. . .” Her quiet voice trailed off breathily, the bewilderment thick in her tone as she absently took a few steps forward, obstructing herself from the view of anyone on the sidewalks as she fully entered the alley. It was a dead end on the other side, so it’s not like the guy could’ve gone out the other way, and it only served to further confuse Haley as she looked around, as if there was some place for him to hide.

But there was literally nowhere to go.

The buildings they stood between were tall and without fire escapes to climb onto. No dumpster to hide behind. What the fuck? He couldn’t have just disappeared.

Haley’s lips parted as she continued looking around, as if she’d find him blending in with the dark walls or something, puzzlement running thick in her veins and deepening the frown on her eyebrows as she ran her fingers through her wavy hair. Where the fu—

“Are you looking for me?”

Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach, body jerking forward and twisting around with a startled yell of, “Oh, my God!”

He stood in front of her, hands behind his back and a somewhat amused smile curling at his lips. How the fuck was he behind her? Why was he smiling like that? He offered a subtle shrug of his shoulders. “Not quite.” What? He narrowed his eyes curiously. “Why are you following me?”

Haley gaped at him, breathing somewhat heavily as she wished for her stunned surprise to wash off quickly. Though, the fact that he was standing in front of her, his six foot tall frame blocking the only way in and out of the alley, was making it difficult for her racing heart to calm down. He was standing just a few feet in front of her, the man Haley had been wondering about for days, and the sight of him mixed with how fucking cold it was only served to bring forth the goosebumps on her skin and the shivers to creep down her spine.

“You. . .” She trailed off, eyebrows twitching into a frown as she pulled the words together. “You were there. At the hospital. I remember you.”

He lifted his chin slightly, the dark of the night unable to hide the sharpness of his jaw as he gazed at her. He stood expressionless, but he didn’t appear unkind, strangely enough. Didn’t at all give Haley the vibe that she was in imminent danger like she would’ve felt if it was some other guy blocking her in an alley. Maybe she was going crazy if she didn’t feel like he was some kind of threat.

“I was,” he surprised her by confirming, his tone factual and light. She saw his eyes flicker over her, though Haley didn’t feel any creepy motive behind it. Like he was just looking at her to check on her instead of checking her out. “Good to see that you’re okay.”

Haley swallowed. “I don’t know how,” she responded, catching the way her words made him frown slightly. “It was a bad accident. I should either be dead or have serious injuries. But here I am.”

His frown smoothed out, taking a breath and giving a single nod, hands still behind his back as he echoed, “Here you are.”

Her throat worked. Every time she breathed she’d smell something putrid in the alley. There was probably a dead rat or something laying in the darkness, and yet all of her attention was on the mysterious man in front of her. “How?” Haley demanded, her voice not as strong as she would have liked, yet still thick with curiosity. She shook her head, silently pleading to understand. “How the hell did I walk away without a scratch when the driver is on crutches?”

“He’s not on crutches. Not anymore.” He was only serving to confuse Haley all the more, blinking at him with eyes widened in incredulous disbelief. He moved, walking towards her, and Haley felt her body tense as he walked around her, her body turning as he did so to keep her eyes on him. His back was towards her as he faced the wall at the end of the alley, Haley watching him skeptically. “I healed him, just like I healed you.”

What? “Healed?” she repeated with a shake of her head, her forehead beginning to actually strain from how hard she was frowning. “What do you mean, healed? Who are you?”

“I’m Ashton,” he finally introduced, giving himself a name. Then his lips curled into a small, almost friendly smile. It was unexpected, though not as much as his next few words were. “I’m an angel of the Lord.”

Despite the head spinning confusion and curiosity that had been clawing at Haley for days, this time, she wanted to laugh. She wanted to laugh until tears were streaming down her face and her lungs were aching for air, because that made no sense.

Haley gaped at him with narrowed eyes, lips that were parting turning upwards in a disbelieving smile while Ashton just looked at her. Was he playing some kind of joke on her? He didn’t seriously expect her to believe that, did he?

Especially because she didn’t believe. She grew up in a devout Catholic household and attending Catholic school, going to church every Sunday, the whole deal. But the more her parents tried to force religion down her throat, the more Haley wanted to spit it right back out. And when tragedy struck her family, taking away her seventeen year old brother four years ago, it had become easy for Haley to break away from religion and her family.

How could she worship a god who took away her brother so soon? Her parents hated that she would ever question their god, so she left. And they let her.

A god that took away her brother before his time wasn’t a god Haley wanted to worship.

And Ashton declaring he was some kind of angel seemed like a ridiculous joke.

Haley gave a shake of her head, scoffing dismissively through her nose as she denied, “There’s no such thi—”

She was unable to finish her statement, the words dying in her throat as a bright light practically blinded her.

Taking a step back, Haley brought her hand to shield her eyes, squinting through as she watched the scene in front of her, stomach dropping and heart beginning to race. Ashton was glowing; a bright white light as fierce as the sun, his pupils brightening into an icy blue. And as he did so, Haley caught sight of the wall behind him, caught sight of the shadowed wings protruding from Ashton’s back that spread along the brick walls, flinching slightly as a piercing ring cut through her ears, watching as the giant feathered wings spread like a shadow on the walls.

The ground crunched under Haley’s shoes as she took a few more steps away, her heart racing and eyes widening despite the burning brightness. She stared, stunned and terrified, as the ringing began to die down and the wings slowly began disappearing. There had been a warmth that spread upon the arrival of the light that blinded her, no longer feeling the cold air bite at her skin as she stared at the man—at the thing—in front of her. For a moment, Haley refused to accept what the hell she just witnessed.

She let herself think that it may have just been some kind of fancy special effects kind of think. That there was no way what she saw was real. But there was a tight knot forming in her stomach derived from dread and disbelief, telling her that it was no trick of the eye or something. That the person in front of him wasn’t, in fact, human. And Haley had no fucking clue as to what she should do with that information.

There was a numbing realization that was settling upon her as she gaped at Ashton, who looked back evenly, patiently. A realization that everything her parents tried to force on her had some truth behind that; that there was a god and his angels and if god was real then so was the devil. It was with a heaviness in her chest did Haley realize that there was so much more in existence than she could’ve ever imagined or thought, and the acknowledgement of that had her breath catching in her throat and head hurting from so much information being drilled into her out of nowhere.

Her lack of belief was slapping her in the face, and Haley was sure the sting would never lessen.

A flicker of concern washed over Ashton’s expression as he looked at her, the ground crunching under his boot as he took a step forward. “Are you okay?”

The sound of him making that step and his voice had Haley snapping back into reality, inhaling a sharp breath as she also took a step backwards, creating more distance between them. “Don’t come any closer,” she sounded, her steady and sharp voice surprising both of them. Ashton froze, doing as he was told. He didn’t want to scare her more than she already seemed to be. But it was unsettling, the way she was looking at him. As if he was some kind of monster. Haley held an arm out, as if it would help in keeping the distance between them, as she warned, “Stay away from me. Just st-stay away.”

Ashton’s expression formed into one of taken aback confusion, surprised at her words and how she was cautiously moving away from him. Her green eyes were wide under drawn together eyebrows, laser focused on him, as if she was expecting him to make some kind of sudden move. But Ashton remained put, frankly frozen slightly in the way she was looking at him.

And when she backed all the way away from him and towards the sidewalk, Haley disappeared around the corner, creating as much distance between her and Ashton as possible. And he stood, staring with a frown on his face and lips pursed, unaware of what in God’s name just happened.

                                                        *****

“Why’re you interested in her?” Michael questioned, glancing at Ashton over his shoulder before proceeding to pull out the drawer from the file cabinet. His fingers danced over the hundreds of files kept inside, looking the labels as he tried to find the one needed. “Thought she told you to stay away?”

Ashton pursed his lips, not too appreciative of the reminder. He remembered perfectly, Haley telling him to keep his distance, basically running away from him. There was no reason for Ashton to not to listen to her, no reason why he shouldn’t leave her alone. But there was something about her, something sad, that made Ashton curious. And so here he was, in the white walls of Heaven as Michael dug through the files of all the Haley Rochesters that lived in the world, before finally pulling out the one they were looking for.

Heaven and Hell ran like a business; with the former including files of all of those whose souls already resided there or just simply hadn’t died yet, while Hell got those who were already there or had made a deal and sold their soul. It kept everything in order, no matter how grim it may be to think of these humans’ deaths as some kind of business transaction. But that’s just how things worked.

Michael walked over, holding out the file, and right when Ashton went to grab it, the green eyed angel pulled it out of his reach at the last second and narrowed his eyes. “You’re not gonna use this information to stalk her, are you?”

Ashton blinked. “No. . ?” he responded, though it came out as more of an unsure question.

Rolling his eyes, Michael let out a defeated sigh and handed over the file with a shake of his head. “I’m going to just pretend you sounded more convincing than that.”

Shooting a quick smile at Michael, Ashton opened the file and looked through it, filled with information about Haley; her birth, her family, big events in her life, everything. Ashton didn’t have to read too far to catch a part that explained a tragedy that struck her family, lips pressing together and throat tightening when he read about her brother. Diagnosed with cancer at fifteen and passing away at seventeen. From what Ashton could tell through only the words written, Haley had been close with her brother, Niel, and the loss had been understandably devastating, even if they’d seen it coming.

Now, she didn’t talk to her parents. She didn’t believe.

Ashton frowned slightly, gaze averting from the file and staring at the white floor absently, a wave of realization washing over him. This wasn’t something he hadn’t seen before; many people lost their faith after a loss like the one Haley experienced. Add on the fact that her parents were strictly religious and trying to force religion on her was just a recipe to push Haley away. God created free will for a reason; just because Haley didn’t believe, didn’t make her a bad person. It didn’t condemn her to hell.

He understood, then, why she’d been so freaked out. Of course, anyone finding out angels existed would react the way she did; but Haley had lost faith, didn’t want to worship a god she blamed for the death of her brother. It was all too much for her, Ashton knew. He understood. And he feared for her state of mind, wondering if she was okay, after this revelation. Wondered if he’d made a mistake in telling her and considered going back and erasing her memory about the whole ordeal.

He pushed away that thought as soon as it scurried through his head. Ashton wasn’t privy to erasing people’s memories just for the fun of it; honestly, he shouldn’t have messed with the minds of the doctors and nurses that had been treating Haley at the hospital. But her injuries had been a bit severe and he’d healed them with his hand on her forehead—they would’ve definitely asked questions. He was just covering it up. But making Haley forget of his existence was something that didn’t settle well with him, selfishly. Ashton didn’t want her to not know of him, even if she’d told him to stay away.

He should stay away. But he couldn’t bring himself to, and that unnerved the angel.

And it seemed like his Lord was playing some kind of trick on him, because when Ashton returned to earth for his usual patrol later that night, his phone began ringing, eyebrows raising at Tameera’s name lighting up his screen. “What’s up?”

The music was loud on Tameera’s end, meaning that she was at work at the bar as her voice shouted over it, “The girl you were talking about—she’s here. And she’s completely wasted.”

A brief stinge of worry prickled through Ashton, eyebrows furrowing. He was at a park somewhere in Australia, but distance was never an issue. It was damp, the smell of rain one that he enjoyed, as he stood on the pathway people used to jog on. Ashton stepped to the side as a woman jogged past him, registering Tameera’s words. She had to be talking about Haley; after that night in the alley a few days ago, he’d gone back to where Tameera and Luke had been inside, letting them know of Haley. Tameera had been surprised to learn that Haley had been in the other car that crashed into hers, muttering something about it being a small world and that Tameera’s next drink would be on the house.

“I—Why’re you calling me?” he questioned cautiously with a furrow between his eyebrows. Ashton could feel some drops of water on the bridge of his nose, wondering if it was about to rain, only to realize when he glanced up that he was standing under a tree with dripping leaves.

His phone crackled as Tameera let out a breath, but the angel could pick up the hint of amusement in her voice even over the sound of the deafening music. “Because she keeps ranting about a red haired angel whose wings she wants to tear right off his back.”

Ashton blinked, lips parting in surprise as he stared at the expanse of the park in front of him, not entirely expecting that. He knew it wasn’t physically possible, but Ashton still felt a cringe curl at his muscles at Tameera’s—Haley’s—words, back twitching at the mere thought of his wings being ripped off. An angel’s wings being taken from them was one of the worst things that could happen to them, next to having their grace being taken. Neither of which Ashton ever wanted to experience.

He took a breath, squinting up at the clearing sky. Ashton knew that no one at the bar would actually believe whatever Haley was saying, either deeming her to be another drunk girl at the bar or being too drunk themselves to take her words seriously. But guilt was gnawing at Ashton’s chest and head, unable to stop himself from feeling and thinking that it was his fault Haley had gotten herself drunk enough to start raving about angels. Or, well, him specifically.

Glancing around, Ashton made sure no one could see him, picturing the alley he’d revealed his secret to Haley in before appearing there in the next moment. “I’ll be inside in a minute,” Ashton told Tameera before pocketing his phone, walking down the sidewalk lit up by the street lamps, the sky long having been dark as it was almost midnight.

Ashton entered the bar, the bouncer already knowing to let him inside, as he walked towards long bar. The colors were flashing as always and the music would’ve been deafening if he was human, but hardly had any effect on Ashton. He walked through the crowd of people, fluidly moving past them as his hazel eyes looked for the woman he’d come in here for. As he went, his eyes landed on Tameera working behind the bar, who noticed him easily. She nodded towards the opposite end of the bar, and once Ashton followed her gaze, he pursed her lips.

There she was, sitting on a stool and hunched over the bar, sipping on a drink as she talked to the few people around her. They were listening in drunk attentiveness, eyes glazed over as they nursed their own drinks, and Ashton knew he didn’t have to truly worry about anyone taking Haley seriously. Still, as he neared her, he could just hear in her voice that she’d had too much to drink.

“. . . I mean, I’m an atheist, for shit’s sake. And then all of a sudden this dude with 2010 Ariana Grande type red hair is showing off his fucking wings and telling me he’s an angel?” Haley was in the middle of ranting, left hand holding her glass while her right waved about with her words, snorting drunkenly. “I’m pretty sure I’ve had, like, hundred mental breakdowns this past week and it’s all because of him!”

Ashton took a breath at that, raising his eyebrows as he neared Haley. She didn’t stop there, continuing about how she stopped believing in God a long time ago and that the presence of a literal angel wouldn’t change any of her beliefs. To anyone else, these were just mindless ramblings of a drunken woman. But to Ashton—and Tameera, who was listening in every now and then—the seriousness behind her words could be picked up. Haley was basically shown that what she believed in was not true; that there was, in fact, God and his angels that existed in the universe and now she was beside herself because she was privy to that knowledge. Once again, Ashton felt guilty for telling her the truth, wondering if she’d be better off without it.

“Haley,” he spoke up after clearing his throat, coming up to stand beside her.

She looked up at the mention of her name, green eyes taking in the sight of the man next to her before they widened and a thrilled laugh escaped her. Grabbing at his arm with her right hand, Haley gave it a shake before gesturing towards him with her other. “See!” she exclaimed, looking at the group of people she’d been talking to, who were looking at Ashton through glazed eyes and tipsy smiles. “I told you! This man right here isn’t actually a man! He’s—He’s a fucking angel!”

Ashton’s lips pressed together and tilted upwards in a small, uncomfortable smile, but the group of people didn’t even react, which was fine with him. They were clearly too inebriated to find any truthfulness behind Haley’s words, and he looked down at her. “I think you’ve had enough to drink,” he remarked quietly, eyeing her emptying glass distastefully.

Haley scoffed, pushing away from him and swinging her stool around to face the bar once more. “Did God die and make you God to tell me what to do?” she snipped, hand raising to wave at him dismissively. “Go to hell.” Ashton watched as her shoulders squared before flashing him a drunken yet sarcastic smile. “Or heaven. Just go away.”

Ashton let out a deep breath, shoulders dropping as he tilted his head back and looked up at the ceiling in exasperation. Now that he was here, Ashton couldn’t just leave, not without making sure Haley got home safe. And from what he could tell, she was here alone, which made Ashton feel responsible for her being here in the first place. She was drinking because of him, drowning herself in alcohol after he opened her eyes to a world that she never would’ve thought existed—a world whose existence Haley had denounced long ago because of what it had done to her, by taking her brother. And he didn’t fault her for that. Not in the slightest.

Straightening his head, Ashton’s eyes met Tameera’s, who raised her eyebrows at him and Ashton let out a sigh before walking towards her, leaving Haley to her own devices. Tameera braced herself on the bar, looking at Ashton expectantly as he leaned forward on it with his arms. “She doesn’t want to talk to me.”

Tameera glanced Haley’s way, who was sipping at her rum and Coke. “Want me to cut her off?”

Ashton bowed his head to run his fingers through the red strands, nails scratching at the back of his head as he muttered, “Honestly, I’m thinking of just putting her to sleep and taking her back to her place.”

Blinking, Tameera leaned away as she looked at Ashton with raised eyebrows and a stunned expression. “Do you realize how creepy and predatory that sounds?” she retorted with a shake of her head.

He pressed his lips together, knowing his words were the best chosen to be strung together, though he couldn’t help but shoot Tameera an affronted look. “I would put her to bed and leave. You know that, Tameera,” Ashton rigidly responded, not appreciating the vile insinuation of him doing anything but.

She scoffed, jerking her head to move back a long lock of dark hair. “Just saying,” she responded lightly. With a tilt of her head, she asked, “Why are you interested in her, anyway?”

Ashton narrowed his eyes at the woman in front of him, her words the same ones Michael had uttered just earlier that day. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?” he frowned with a shake of his head. “I told her about me, Tameera, and now she’s drinking her way to the bottom of every bottle. I feel responsible.”

That much was true. But Ashton kept to himself that there was just something about Haley that drew her to him. He didn’t know what, exactly, but it was strong and pulling enough to make him stick around and keep an eye on her. It wasn’t every day that people were finding out about the existence of angels and demons and everything else, and Haley already didn’t seem to be taking it too well. Throw in the fact that she was a non-believer and Ashton didn’t even want to think of the turmoil her head and heart were probably going through. He felt guilty for making her question everything she believed.

There were a handful of seats separating him and Tameera with where Haley sat, the music loud rattling everyone’s bones, yet when the clock above the shelves of alcohol struck twelve, Ashton’s heightened ability to hear allowed him to pick up when Haley raised her glass and said to no one in particular, “This one’s for you, Niel. Happy twenty-first, kid.”

Ashton felt his muscles grow tense at her words, lips parting as he watched Haley down the rest of her drink before putting the glass down and bowing her head, face screwing up slightly as the beverage ran through her. There was an emptiness in Ashton, throat working as he remembered the date, realizing that it was Niel’s birthday. That he would, in fact, be twenty-one years old today if he was still alive and that drink she had taken was definitely in lieu of the first legal drink Niel would be taking.

Ashton had been on earth long enough to know what it felt like to have sympathy, to feel empathy for someone else. And in this moment, he could feel the heart of the body he’d taken over hundreds of years ago break just a little, watching this beautiful woman mourn the loss of her brother for the fourth year in a row. There was a heaviness settling in Ashton’s veins at the knowledge of her mourning Niel for the rest of her life.

Straightening, Ashton tightened his jaw as he watched Haley rest her elbows on the bar and brace her forehead against her hands. Through the colored lights splashing across her body, Ashton saw the way Haley’s face screwed up—and not in the way it did when she drank. He could pick up on the way her pursed lips were trembling, eyes clenched shut and her shoulders shaking as she pressed herself into her hands. Ashton’s throat worked, feeling completely powerless as he watched her cry amongst a group of strangers, wanting to make it better for her. But he couldn’t, that much he knew.

“Oh,” Tameera sounded, the sympathy clear in her voice as she caught sight of Haley. Licking her lips, she said to Ashton, “I’m gonna take her to the bathroom and I’m just—” Tameera paused, rubbing her hands down her jeans as she gazed at the angel in front of her. “Are you going to take her home?”

Ashton hesitated, not entirely sure anymore if that was a good idea. He honestly had no idea what to do. “I don’t—”

Tameera waved him off, already moving to walk around the bar. “We’ll figure it out,” she said quickly before walking away.

Ashton watched as Tameera approached Haley, her approach a lot gentler as she placed a hand on Haley’s shoulder. The redhead sniffled, looking up, and Ashton forced himself to give them their privacy and not listen in as Tameera said something to Haley, who nodded before getting up and letting Tameera guide her to the back of the bar where the bathrooms were.

He stood by the bar as they disappeared into the back, his muscles never relaxing as he waited to do something. Anything, to help Haley any way he could. His fingers tapped impatiently, alternating between rolling his lips into his mouth and chewing them, wondering if Haley was alright. Ashton’s lost people—many of his fellow angels, brothers and sisters he’s worked alongside. It never got easy, losing friends, but Ashton couldn’t imagine the pain Haley must be going through. Humans were fragile; it’s why angels protected them and it’s why they so easily got corrupted by demons.

Get in here—she keeps asking for you. Tameera’s voice ringing through Ashton’s head was louder than the music, a prayer she called for him from the back of the bar. Instantly, Ashton pushed away from the bar and headed further towards the back into the small hallway leading to the bathroom, shamelessly walking into the small two stall women’s bathroom. The weighted door fell shut behind him as his eyes landed on Haley, standing opposite of him as she leaned against the wall, head tilted back only to straighten when Ashton walked in.

Her eyes, red rimmed from either drinking or crying or both, narrowed at the sight of him, pushing herself off the wall and walking past Tameera, pointing an accusatory finger at Ashton as she exclaimed, “This is all your fault! I feel like I’m going fucking crazy and there’s no one to blame but you!”

Tameera stood back, watching with widened worry eyes as she looked at Haley, her hands shooting out when Haley stumbled a bit but caught her balance by gripping the sink. Ashton took a breath, poised in where he stood as he hoped to keep a cool composition against Haley’s glare. “I’m sorry,” he spoke, letting the genuine guilt he felt seep into his voice. “It was never my intention to—”

“To what?” Haley cocked her head to the side, eyes narrowed and daring and just a little bit sad. “To just completely turn my life upside down in a matter of minutes?” She scoffed humorlessly, leaning away from Ashton as the light of the bathroom caused the track of tears on her cheeks to glint against it. She shook her head at Ashton, shrugging half heartedly, “With all your stupid powers, you couldn’t have just erased my memories or something?”

Ashton noticed the way Tameera flinched behind Haley, understandably not liking the reminder of her own memories being wiped, though without her consent, as she hugged herself and looked away. Looking back at Haley, Ashton’s throat worked as he calmly asked, “Would you like me to erase your memories?”

Haley paused, blinking at him as if she hadn’t expected his words, as if she didn’t think he would actually follow through. Her green eyes flickered between his hazel, eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly, before she gave a jerking shake of her head. “Fuck, no, don’t you dare.”

Ashton blinked, helplessly confused as he looked at Tameera, who merely widened her eyes and shrugged, unsure of what to do, too. He shook his head at Haley, shoulders dropping as he exasperatedly breathed out, “Then what would you like for me to do? How can I make this better?”

Her jaw worked, her expression tightening once more. “You can’t.” Ashton bit his tongue, catching Tameera’s sympathetic expression as Haley brought her hands up to cover her face, her body slumping as her muffled voice spoke, “I just wanna go home.”

The tension between them was obvious, glorified by Haley’s glares towards the taller angel, who took them in stride. Still, Ashton couldn’t help the words that slipped. “I can take you home.”

Tameera’s eyebrows shot up, silently asking him if that was a good idea as Haley’s hands dropped from her face. Ashton half expected her to outright reject the offer as Haley scoffed. “What, do you have a car or something?”

Ashton twisted his lips to the side before opting to say, “Or something.” He offered her a suggesting shrug. “Free of charge.”

For a brief moment, Haley wanted to tell Ashton to fuck off with his free ride. But she had walked to the bar from work, since it wasn’t too far, and even in her drunken state she wasn’t entirely prepared to get into an Uber. The last time she was in one, she’d been in an accident which lead to some fucking angel healing the damage it had caused. The same angel that was offering her some kind of ride home.

She didn’t have any friends to call. Ubers were out of the question. No way was she walking home. Honestly, did she have another choice?

If she did, she didn’t really consider it.

She surprised all three of them by sighing, “Fine.”

Ashton recovered the quickest, not wanting to give Haley a moment to change her mind as he offered a goodbye nod to a stunned Tameera, before placing his hand respectively on a confused Haley’s shoulder and then, within half a second, they were standing in the middle of a somewhat dark loft with the only light coming from the kitchen.

Haley gasped, stumbling back and away from Ashton as she bumped right into the back of the couch that kept her upright, Ashton’s hand reached out to balance her in case she needed it. But Haley was looking around, as if she was someplace other than her loft, wondering if her drunk had caused her to slip from the grips of reality. Ashton watched as her widened eyes took in her surroundings, lips parted in startled wonder as she gripped the top of the couch.

“What the fuck,” she breathed tightly, her voice sounding a lot louder in the quiet of the loft than it was. Haley looked back at Ashton, half of her face shadowed by the dark of the room, blinking wide eyes at him as she demanded, “How the hell—”

“I can. . . Teleport,” Ashton informed her, pausing as he thought of the appropriate word. Teleport seemed to do, seeing as he quite honestly couldn’t figure out how else to describe it.

Haley stared at him for a moment, blankly, before snorting. “Right. Of course you can.” She pushed herself off the couch then, her body noticeably swaying ever so slightly as she waved him off. “You can teleport yourself out of here now.”

Ashton’s eyebrows furrowed at the way she stumbled, itching to give her a hand but not wanting to overstep more than he already had. He ran a quick hand through his red hair as she turned away, dropping it to the side as he hastily asked, “Are you alright by yourself? You seemed. . . Troubled at the bar.”

“Oh, I did, did I?” Haley mused sardonically, turning around to look at Ashton with a faux confused look, a finger against her lips as she pretend to think over his words. “Why do you think that is, huh? Maybe because I’m still tryna wrap my head around all of this angel bullshit?” Her green eyes flashed, something dark and angry and grieving as Ashton pressed his lips together. Her voice was heavily bitter as she finished, “Or maybe because today’s a reminder that your god decided my brother didn’t get to live anymore. You fucking decide.”

Her strawberry blonde hair flew like a fierce fire as she swiveled around once more, her back to Ashton, but he didn’t miss the way her eyes once again turned glassy. Didn’t miss the crack in her voice that ached something in his chest, stomach feeling like it was filled with lead. He wasn’t going to tell Haley that her brother’s death was inevitable—that the Lord had a plan for every single human being that entered this world, and everything they were given was according to him. Haley was already so distraught, and Ashton didn’t want to add salt to the bleeding wound. It was unfair, Ashton knew, but he didn’t have to tell Haley that.

As she walked away, her body a silhouette, Ashton spoke through a tightened throat, “I’m sorry about Niel.” His words had Haley halting in her steps, her hands clenching into fists. Ashton continued, his words truthful and honest, “It wasn’t fair, what happened to him and to your family. But he’s. . .” he trailed off, feeling a lump in his throat as his Adam’s apple bobbed. “He’s happy, in his heaven. I can promise you that.”

His words were followed by silence, seconds feeling like hours as he desperately waited for Haley to say something. He’d never felt so helpless before in all of the eons he’d been alive, yearning so badly for Haley to turn around and look at him. Ashton knew, logically, that he wasn’t in need of her forgiveness. He hadn’t done anything wrong, it wasn’t him that took away her brother. But there was still a sense of responsibility by association, still feeling the guilt of an inevitable act that he didn’t conduct but could practically feel Haley’s pain of. He knew what it was like to lose family, and while Haley seemed to keep herself together the majority of the time, she was still broken over her loss.

For all her wounds he healed, Ashton knew that one was permanent.

She didn’t look back at him, her voice hollow and tired as she returned, “He would’ve been happier here.”

                                                     *****

When Haley turned around to greet her two o’clock appointment, she hadn’t expected for it to be Tameera the bartender. The brunette offered a friendly smile, hands clutching the strap of her cross body bag as she greeted, “Hey, how are you?”

“Hi,” Haley returned, albeit a bit more cautiously, as she gripped the back of the salon chair. “I’m, uh, good. You?”

“I’m great,” Tameera grinned, pulling off her bag and settling on the chair, resting it on her lap as her brown eyes met Haley’s green through the reflection of the mirror. “Haven’t see you come by at the bar in a while.”

A week, it had been, since the last time Haley went to that specific bar where a specific angel had the habit of hanging around. She hadn’t been there since Niel’s birthday, that night weighing heavily on her heart. Ashton’s arrival had been unexpected, not more than her agreeing to let him take her home and her being completely floored when she was standing in the bathroom of the bar one second and then in her living room the next.

Sleep hadn’t come easily to her that night, tears and hiccups preventing her from slumbering as she thought of her little brother who would’ve been twenty-one had he been alive. There was a hole in Haley’s heart that was once occupied by Niel, constantly reminding her of the emptiness she felt every second of the day since he died, leaving her wondering if she’d ever feel whole again. She doubted she would, too lost in her grief. And it wasn’t like she could share it with anyone—she didn’t speak to her parents, not since Niel passed. She lost her brother and they lost both of their children. And Haley wasn’t sure if she wanted to fill the hole she may have left in their lives.

But it was a two way street. They could’ve reached out in the past four years. They didn’t, so neither did she.

She thought of Niel a lot, but nowadays Haley begrudgingly found her mind consisting of thoughts of the red haired angel. She thought of his cautious hazel eyes that she’d seen glow blue and sharp jaw and everything else. There was this air of purity surrounding Ashton, with the potential of being dangerous, which Haley wasn’t too surprised at. He was a celestial being, after all. Not at all human, no matter how much he looked it. She figured his angelic looks were a giveaway that no one could be that perfect.

Part of Haley wanted to argue that he wasn’t perfect—that she hated him. But did she? She hated what he stood for; that he was a personification for all that she didn’t want to believe, that there existed a higher power that could’ve let her keep her brother instead of killing him with cancer in his body. It was cruel to give a fifteen year old boy—to give anyone—cancer. How could Haley possibly believe in a god that did that? She didn’t—it had been easy not to believe.

And then entered Ashton, and everything she wanted to believe was thrown out the window. He was making her question everything, and Haley wasn’t okay with that.

“Been busy,” Haley responded to Tameera’s statement, placing the cover up over her and pressing the velcro together in place. She untucked her long brown hair, the strands soft between her fingers as she tried to keep her expression professional and neutral while looking at Tameera through the reflection. “You want it cut?”

She nodded. “Right to my collarbones.”

Haley’s eyebrows shot up, running her fingers through the hair. That was almost ten inches, give or take. “That’s a big change,” Haley observed, but still turned Tameera’s chair around so her back was to the mirror, adjusting the seat so Tameera was leaning back with her hair draped into the sink.

Tameera’s eyes met hers, glittering against the bright lights of the salon. “Change can be good.”

Haley remained silent as she turned on the faucet, expertly washing Tameera’s long brown locks. Music played through the salon, tuned to one of the local radio stations as Khalid’s voice rang in Haley’s ears. She tried to ignore Tameera’s words, feeling as though there was some underlying meaning in them, the thought confirmed when Haley finished washing and had Tameera sitting upright as she said, “Ashton’s worried about you, you know.”

Throat working, Haley unwrapped Tameera’s hair from the towel before muttering, “He’s got no business being worried about me.”

“He can’t help it,” Tameera responded as Haley combed through her wet hair, keeping her eyes on the stylist through the reflection. “He’s a good guy like that.”

Haley couldn’t help the scoff that escaped her, raising her eyebrows to herself as she continued working on Tameera’s hair. “He’s not a guy. He’s not even human.”

“Which means he’s already better than ninety-nine percent of the human male population,” Tameera returned easily, lips curling into a grin when she noticed Haley’s own twitched upwards, failing to hide the smile her words prompted. Gazing up at the stylist, Tameera was silent for a moment before softly asking, “Do you not want to see him because of what he is? Is it some kind of, like, religious thing. . ?”

Haley’s silent for a moment as she used it to think, absently reaching for the scissors. At first it had been—a religious thing. But the more Haley thought about it, the more she realized that it was just. . . A reality thing. It was the acknowledgment of some kind of higher power truly existing—it just wasn’t fucking settling in her mind. It was unreal and overwhelming. And, Haley supposed, she should be grateful to Ashton. He saved her life, definitely, healing all of those injuries after the accident. She was grateful, she realized. But it all came down to one matter: how could she believe in the definite existence of a God that took her brother from her so soon?

Haley knew that she couldn’t really blame Ashton for her brother’s death. Knew it wasn’t fair. But she was still so angry, so hurt, and he was the closest thing for blame.

When Haley was silent, Tameera sighed as she listened to her hair get snipped. “Ashton saved both of our lives. He’s good. And he cares about you.” Then, she cracked a smile, her eyes watching Haley as she joked, “Trust me—if I can fall in love with the King of Hell, then you can possibly befriend an angel.”

                                                           *****

It had been two months, maybe more, since Ashton last saw Haley—or so he assumed; time was a construct Ashton was no longer familiar with after being around for so long. He desperately tried to keep her off his mind, busy with assignments to keep himself occupied, wanting to give her the space he had no reason to invade. But he just couldn’t, and Ashton was had long since started becoming flustered, not understanding why this human woman wouldn’t leave his thoughts. He buried himself in his work, hoping to forget, overwhelmed that he just couldn’t.

It’s not like Ashton slept, so practically every moment since that night he took Haley to her home consisted of his thoughts wandering to her; to her strawberry blonde colored hair and fiery green eyes and the freckles that dotted like constellations on the bridge of her nose. He thought of her, and he could feel his body tense and throat dry and mind grow blank of any thoughts but her. And he didn’t understand it. Never in the centuries he’s been alive did Ashton feel this way. And now these emotions were hitting him hard and fast and he had no idea how to handle them.

“How ’bout you stop complainin’ and do somethin’ about it?” Calum huffed, growing tired of what he thought of as Ashton moping around. His voice was filled with bored annoyance, not unfamiliar, though Ashton had hoped the demon’s involvement with the woman he loves would make him friendlier towards others instead of just his girl. Apparently not. “You know where she lives—just show up and, I dunno, talk to her or some shit.”

Ashton shot Calum a flat look, hand wrapped around his pint of beer. Honestly, Ashton wasn’t sure why he even drank, seeing as alcohol had no affect on him. It was just something to do, he guessed, instead of just sitting in a bar with nothing in front of him. Though in moments like these, Ashton wished he was capable of getting drunk like humans could. “I can’t just pop into her home uninvited,” Ashton retorted, scoffing at Calum’s suggestion. “She’d hate me more than she already does.”

A smirk tugged at Calum’s lips, leaning back on the couch of the bar with his own hand holding his glass of bourbon. “What, angels can’t handle humans they’re meant to protect hating them?” He snorted, amused. “Tragic.”

Ashton bristled, not for the first time wanting to get rid of the demon. They may be friends, but when they were as opposite of the spectrum as Ashton and Calum were, there were times when they needed to keep their distance. “Don’t you ha—”

His sarcastic response was cut off, because suddenly, Haley’s voice was ringing through his head, causing the words to die right on Ashton’s tongue as he froze and stared ahead with startled, widened eyes.

I’m, uh, not sure how this works. I don’t even know if this is working? But, um, if you’re getting this then can we, like, talk? Haley’s hesitant, awkward voice echoed through Ashton’s head, just like anyone else’s would if they were praying to him. He was deaf to everything and everyone around him, only focusing on her familiar voice he hadn’t realized he’d been so desperate to hear. Fuck, this is weird. Okay, whatever. I’m just gonna assume if you don’t show up that this didn’t work. Tameera said it would but, I don’t know, maybe it won’t for me because I don’t. . . Believe? I don’t know. This shit is weird. Okay. Bye, I guess?

Her voice cut off, signaling the end of her prayer, and the breath was stilled in Ashton’s lungs as he remained frozen in his seat. Answering people’s prayers was not at all new to him, of course, but the last thing Ashton had expected was to hear Haley’s voice. Was to hear her asking him if they could talk after two months of silence after she’d made it clear that she didn’t want anything to do with him.

He moved absently, numb to everything around him as he didn’t bother saying goodbye to Calum before stepping outside of the bar. It was only six in the evening, the sun having not yet set, so Ashton walked to find a secluded corner before pinpointing Haley’s location.

Half a second later, he was standing in the middle of a cemetery.

Ashton looked around for a moment, eyebrows twitching together in confusion, before he caught sight of a familiar head of strawberry blonde hair sitting on the ground a little towards the right. Throat working, Ashton silently made his way towards Haley, the ground soft under his boots as he slowly approached her from behind, hazel eyes reading the tombstone she was sitting in front of, already knowing who it belonged to.

Niel Theodore Rochester.

Ashton stood behind Haley’s seated figure, a little to her left, with his hands buried in the pockets of his dark coat. It was eerily silent, the only sounds coming from the dry leaves being thrown around to the light breeze dancing through the air, along with cars honking in the distance. Those were the only sounds, until Haley spoke up.

“I stopped believing in God after Niel died because I. . . I never understood how He could just take a seventeen year old kid who deserved more than the life he had.” Her voice was quiet though she spoke as if she was recalling memories. She sat with her legs folded beneath her, hands on her lap and a small, fresh bouquet of orchids and lilies resting against the headstone. Ashton kept his gaze on it, jaw tight. “My parents always said God did everything for a reason and every time they said that after Niel’s death I just—I got so angry. Because there can never be a reason justifiable enough for it, and maybe they told themselves that to have some sort of comfort but it never worked for me.”

Haley sighed, giving a shake of her head, still not looking at Ashton who listened quietly. “Being angry got so tiring,” she continued, the last word coming out as a breathless and defeated laugh. “It was easier not believing in anything than being pissed off all the time. And that worked for a few years. Until I met you.”

Ashton’s gaze flickered as soon as Haley lifted her head, her green eyes meeting his hazel ones, and for the first time, Ashton didn’t see the usual resentment she would look at him with.

The angel inhaled a quiet breath, watching as Haley stood to her feet, the leaves and twigs crunching under her combat boots. She faced him, the top of her head reaching his chin, tilting her head slightly so her eyes could meet his. She was bare of any makeup, the lightest freckles splattered across her nose and pink lips looking soft. But Ashton remained focused on her words, not her undeniably gorgeous face. Haley was finally talking to him, and he was going to listen to every word she uttered.

But what she said, about her beliefs unwillingly being changed because she met him, twisted at his stomach. He hated that he was making things hard for her—that was never Ashton’s intention.

“You made me question what I thought I believed and it’s been driving me crazy. And I was a bitch to you because of it.”

Ashton’s lips parted, both startled at her words and because he didn’t want Haley calling herself such names. “I turned your world upside down,” he protested gently. “And I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be.” Haley gave a shake of her head, lips pursing while she also offered the briefest of close-mouthed smiles. She shoved her hands in the pockets of her bomber jacket, offering a shrug. “I spent the past couple of months thinking about everything and it’s. . . It’s definitely something to still get used to, but being angry with you isn’t going to make things any different. Niel’s still gone and. . . And you said he’s happy? In heaven, right?” she questioned, her tone taking a softer curious turn, the hesitation still evident in her voice as if she was hoping his answer would be the same.

Ashton offered a small, honest smile with a nod of his head. “He is. He’s at peace.”

Haley knew that when Ashton told her that the last time, she’d bitterly responded that Niel would’ve been happier alive. But the more she thought about it, the more she figured that her words wouldn’t be true. Because when Niel was alive, he was in pain. He was suffering, and it destroyed Haley every time when she saw him like that. At least now she knew, for certain, that her brother was okay. He was happy. He wasn’t hurting.

And with Ashton providing her knowledge like that, which almost everyone wasn’t privy to, how could Haley possibly hate him?

Maybe her emotions were getting the best of her. Maybe the acceptance and ease she felt at the fact that her brother was living it up in heaven spurred her actions. But Haley blinked back the burning sensation she suddenly felt in her eyes and didn’t think twice of her movements, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around Ashton’s waist as she pulled him into a hug.

He froze as he felt her body press against his, eyes widening in surprise as he glanced down at the top of Haley’s head. The way he felt his body melt into hers almost instantly was unnerving, his skin heating up as it would when he healed himself or someone else, hands still in the pockets of his coat as he was slow to register what was happening.

But then a breeze blew by and the floral and fruity scent Haley was engulfed in tickled Ashton’s nose and he was pulling his hands out, before proceeding to wrap his arms around her shorter frame. He was hesitant, movements slow as he brought his arms to her shoulders, pulling her close, not caring that she felt and heard his deep, relieving inhale of a breath as he closed his eyes. It wasn’t lost on Ashton, how nice and utterly perfect it felt to hold Haley like this, how this innocent embrace had a dizzying effect on him that he’d never experienced before. It also wasn’t lost on him that from this moment on, their relationship was finally taking a turn for the better, and he could only pray that things would be looking up from now.

Wanting to be a part of Haley’s life after he saved it wasn’t a part of Ashton’s plan—not that he really had one. But he hadn’t been able to walk away from her, even though he should’ve when she’d blatantly expressed it.

Thank God she changed her mind. Thank God, for once, he didn’t listen.

                                                   *****

The small seed of fear that had planted itself in the pit of Haley’s stomach had bloomed into a full grown leafless tree with sharp branches stabbing her from the inside. She hadn’t expected this kind of reaction from herself, but she couldn’t help it, not when Ashton was basically missing. He hadn’t popped in like he usually would over the past few months that he and Haley had actually become friends, starting after their tentative conciliation at the cemetery three months ago. His phone went unanswered, as did Haley’s prayers begging for him to check in.

At first she told herself that he was busy; he was an angel with assignments to be completed, after all. A soldier of heaven and all that. It had been nothing to worry about. But then a few days went by without so much as a text from Ashton, which was unusual in itself, and then when Haley met up with Tameera, Luke, Michael, Calum, and Calum’s girlfriend Mia—because apparently demons had girlfriends—they all informed one another that no one had heard from Ashton in a while and that’s when Haley’s worry had grown into panic.

It wasn’t like Ashton to not check in if he was on an assignment, especially to Michael, a fellow angel. Angel radio, which Haley had learned was what the angels called their way of communicating with each other, had been silent on Ashton’s end, which meant he was either purposefully not contacting anyone, or was unable to do so. Neither were comforting options, and as each day went by without a word from him, the more panicked she felt.

They’d become friends, over the course of the past few months, after Haley had accepted him and his entire existence and had to change her view on things. It was because of Ashton that Haley contacted her parents again, just a month ago, mending their broken relationship since Niel’s death. It’s what her brother would’ve wanted, Haley would remind herself, and Ashton would give her the gentle push to make things right, though careful never to overstep the boundary.

They were friends, but Haley could tell as she got to know Ashton that he would try to maintain some kind of distance with her. As if he didn’t want to push his luck, like he would say the wrong thing and she would go back to hating them. She desperately wanted to tell him that wasn’t the case. That even though her view of the world and her beliefs were completely changed, it didn’t mean it was a bad thing. The sudden confirmation of the existence of God, angels, demons, the devil, heaven, and hell didn’t make her feel scared or anything, though maybe it should. Instead, it gave her some kind of comfort, because there was some kind of balance in the world that existed. That maybe everything did happen for a reason.

But if Ashton didn’t show up soon, Haley was afraid her world was about to be skewed again.

She wanted to laugh. She’d gone from not wanting to be anywhere near him to desperately wishing for him to be right next to her.

The ding of her phone sounded shrill to Haley’s ears, pulling her out of her thoughts as she jumped in startlement. Her heart had been hammering, like it had been nonstop for the past few days, only to stop in her chest when she read Tameera’s text.

They found him. He’ll be on his way to you soon.

A gasp of relief escaped Haley as she read the words, shoulders dropping and eyes closing as she tilted her head back in solace. He was okay. He would be coming to her. Questions upon questions began running through Haley’s mind, wondering what the hell had happened and where he was and why he didn’t contact her, anger and worry and terror running through her veins more intensely now that she knew he was okay than it had been this entire week.

Haley never thought Ashton’s absence would have such an effect on her, but as each day had gone by without a word for him, she felt her heart sink lower and lower in her chest. He’d become someone she considered a good friend, a close friend—a friend that she found herself feeling more for, but she kept that to herself. Had kept it to herself for a while now.

But with him being gone and Haley having no idea where he was or if he was okay, she’d quickly realized that there was no way she’d be able to push those feelings away. Feelings she’d struggled with, because she’d gone from hating, to accepting, to befriending, and then to feeling something so much deeper for him all in a span of half a year that it was dizzying.

Except Ashton was wonderful. He was kind and made Haley smile more than she thought he was capable of, and could go from being gentle to having an air of authority around him in a blink of an eye. He was an angel, in every sense of the word. Fuck. She’d been so stubborn before, but after getting to know him, how could Haley not fall for him?

“Heard you were asking for me.”

A gasp got caught in Haley’s throat as she immediately turned on her heel, lips parting and eyes widening at the man standing in the middle of her loft. Ashton stood tall, perfectly woundless with not a scratch on his beautiful features, but the same couldn’t be said for his clothes; the yellow button down was wrinkled and torn up, splattered with blood and showing his unmarked skin through the rips, darker red spots on his grey pants that told Haley the clothing hadn’t been spared the spray, either. His red hair, usually either gelled back or in its natural curls, was unruly atop his head. He looked like he’d just healed himself up quickly and got here, not bothering to fix his clothes.

There were no scratches or bruises on Ashton’s skin, but it was obvious something had happened to him, and the thought of that twisted Haley’s stomach painfully.

“What happened to you?” she breathed out, phone dropping on the couch as she passed it, making her way towards him. The worry was etched on her face as her green eyes took him in, as if she was committing him to memory. She stopped in front of him, hands itching to reach for him though she kept them at her sides.

Ashton offered her a smile, sweet and dimpled, and Haley knew he was only trying to calm her down from the visible concern she was displaying. “Couple of demons who’ve defected from hell decided to pick a fight while I was on assignment,” he informed her casually, as if he didn’t want her to worry more than she already was. “I took care of a few of them but Luke’s going to handle the others. But I’m fine, Haley.” He widened his smile, dimples deepening and hazel eyes glinting under the lights of her loft. “It would take more than just a couple of demons to put me out.”

“That’s not the point,” Haley responded, her voice thick due to the lump that had formed in her throat and had yet to disappear. Even with Ashton standing in front of her, the fear was still present in her veins. It was similar to the kind of fear she’d felt constantly, for two years, when Niel had first been diagnosed with cancer. A fear of not knowing when her last day with her brother would be her last. It was how Haley felt, she realized, with Ashton being missing, unsure if she’d see him again and if the last time she’d seen him had, in fact, been the last time. She shook her head, eyebrows drawing together in a distressed frown. “I didn’t know if you were okay and that just—you weren’t—” She cut herself off, squeezing her eyes shut and willing for her pounding heart to calm down as she finally breathed out, “I was scared that you were gone.”

Her words wiped the smile off of Ashton’s face, expression falling into one of realization as Haley opened her glassy green eyes to peer up at him. A heaviness settled in Ashton’s chest as he realized just how much his absence had worried Haley, how genuinely frightened she looked at the thought of him never coming back to her. It was a fear he knew she’d experienced before, with her brother, and Ashton had no intention of making her suffer through something like that again. Loss wasn’t something anyone was, or should be, used to, and Ashton was more than ready and willing to do his part in making sure Haley didn’t have to feel something as heartbreaking as that again.

“Haley,” Ashton quietly spoke, throat working as his large hands found her cheeks, thumbs brushing along her cheekbones gently. Part of him had been afraid that she’d pull away from his touch, that he was crossing a line, but she seemed to relax in his touch and that was enough to ease Ashton. He ducked his head a bit, feeling some of his curls brush across his forehead, but his focus was the woman in front of him. “I have no intention of ever leaving you. I’m sorry I worried you, but trust me when I say that I was fighting like hell to come back to you.”

He saw the tension in her neck as her eyes widened ever so slightly, gaze briefly flickering to his lips before meeting his eyes once more, making Ashton’s breath stall for a second. A quiet had settled upon them, the two of them in a bubble of their own with no one else from earth or heaven or hell intruding. “Really?”

His lips tugged upwards into a smile, finding comfort in the newfound closeness they were in. “Of course,” Ashton answered truthfully, a soft chuckle escaping him. “I heard your prayers, while I was gone. Answering them was all I could think about.”

Haley blinked a couple of times at his words, taking in a soft breath at the honesty in them. He may have been tortured by a handful of demons, nothing he couldn’t handle, but every time Haley’s desperate, worried voice rang in his ears, it strengthened Ashton’s resolve to fight and get back to her. It was powerful, her call to him, stronger than any prayer he’s ever heard before, wanting nothing more to answer her. It took him a while, but he did.

For Haley, he was willing to fight a whole army of demons.

Ashton felt her hands wrap around his wrists, her lips curling into a gentle smile, one he would never tire of seeing because, God, it was such a beautiful change from the scowls she’d shower him with. Her voice was soft, earnest, and full of delight that had Ashton’s head spinning. “Thank you for coming back to me.”

And then she was leaning up on her toes and Ashton was never one to ignore a call, ducking his head to meet her lips just as eagerly. He felt something in his chest lighten, felt a warmth spread through him that was stronger and exciting and relieving than anything else he’d felt before as Haley’s arms wrapped around his waist to be as close to him as possible as the softness of her lips had Ashton melting into her. And as he kissed her, pouring every emotion he felt since the moment he met Haley into her, sensing the way her heart picked up its speed excitedly at the first touch of their lips, Ashton realized that this is what it must feel like to have someone answer his prayers.

tags: @crownedbyluke @irwinkitten @astroashtonio @softforcal @glitterprincelu @valentinelrh @hotmessmichael @meetashthere @hereforlukescruff @c-sainthood @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @sugarcoated-pain @babygirlcashton @soulmatecashton @wrappedaroundcal @fucking5sos @ohhmuke @calumculture @cxddlyash @inlovehoodx @akacalciumhood @paqueretteash @5secondssofssummer @calumh-excess @flannelpunkcalum @poppedpins @bloodlinecal @sublimehood @empathycth @calntynes @calumsmermaid @rosecolouredash @xhaileyreneex @calistheloml @cal-pal-cuddles @hearts-to-the-sky @babyloncalm @5sos-stan4lyfe @old-zeppelin-shirt @slimthicccal @all-i-want-is2b-loved-by-you @asht0ns-world @cliffordcntrl @grittyisathot @biwriting @singt0mecalum @cathartichaoss @ashtonandcalslefthand @rosecoloredash 

#ashton irwin #ashton irwin one shot #ashton irwin imagine #ashton irwin imagines #ashton irwin blurb #ashton irwin blurbs #ashton irwin fanfic #ashton irwin fic #5sos #5 seconds of summer #calum hood #michael clifford #luke hemmings #5sos one shot #5sos blurbs #5sos blurb #5sos imagine #5sos imagines #5sos fanfic #calum hood one shot #luke hemmings one shot #michael clifford one shot #calum hood blurb #luke hemmings blurb #michael clifford blurb #5 seconds of summer fic #ashton fic #ashton irwin fanfiction #5sos fanfiction #5sos fic

[post-itpenny]

The Squad

In which Magpie gains a little help.

It was late at night and the moon was nearly full, shining down on the garden that surrounded what was Magpie’s home.

The new elder had just returned home from a few days at what once was Blackwood’s planet. She could not say it was a place she was sad to leave. Magpie’s original intention had been to actually dismantle the place entirely, sending all who had been trapped there back to wherever they had come from. However as work began Magpie realized a rather unfortunate snag that there were several inhabitants who either had no desire to leave, or who had been there so long that leaving the planet was impossible. Which led to the second unpleasant discovery: Blackwood had set up a barrier that could not only switch off the powers of other deadlights (something her friend’s had learned when they came to rescue her) but actually stop the aging process of all who stayed here. A discovery that was severely unfortunate for the person who had taken one step outside the barrier and immediately aged until only bone fragments and dust were left.

Magpie had decided then to remodel the planet. No one would be stolen away to the place ever again, those who were left would become the only population. As the inhabitants came out from whatever influence Blackwood had on them Magpie could only hope they would gain some level of self-sufficiency.

Magie leaned back into the wicker chair she was reclined in with a heavy sigh. Looking up at the moonlit sky with a cup of earl grey perched precariously on her stomach. She had spent the week running around with Cecilia and Rigsby in tow, trying to manage every little detail about the remodeling and whatever other small emergencies had sprung up. Magie learned that the former elder had been one for micro-managing… unsurprisingly. But it was only in the tasks he felt like doing. Blackwood had left a careless mess of half-finished projects and destruction throughout various pockets of the universe in his wake. But it was the little things too. Magpie could sense them. A nudge of musical inspiration here, a need for a new species of plant life there. Magpie came home from to find the gnawing edge of her desire to create or indulge the creativity of others… and it left her feeling exhausted.

“It can’t be all up to me,” she mumbled as she took a sip of luke-warm tea. “Surely the universe sorts itself all the time with this kind of thing.”

Yes, the answer came to her, but she was a guiding tool.

This answer caused her to sit up. Was that not what the elders did? Manage already present forces? So how did they do it?

Magpie leaned back again, pondering this new question. Hatter seemed to have an assortment of wonderland’s residents to help him. Adeline had once explained that she regularly took on apprentices to train up and send out to their own clinics. Magpie knew the only current being who could act as an apprentice to her was baby Phoebe, and she had little desire to force the girl to do anything she did not wish to when she was older. It would be the same if she had children of her own realy…

“That's it!” Magpie shouted as she jumped to her feet, tea cup and saucer shattering on the cobbled ground beneath her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the next evening and the moon was full. Some part of Magpie, some instinct deep within her, knew that all the extra steps she had taken really were not necessary however they felt important to her. Magpie always had a soft-spot for magic, and the happier moments of her childhood had been spent chasing the little earth spirits humans called fairies across the countryside of her home.

Magpie laid out the various flowers, leaves, and other items she had spent the day collecting from the garden. She grinned, rubbing her fingers together until they glowed with the sparks of her inner light. Magpie grabbed a flower with soft pink petals, setting herself to the delicate task of creating her own set of helpers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later she would compare the experience akin to seeing together a set of dolls. That’s what they were really, but they were hers.

Magpie had created four little beings, each about a foot high with a set of wings allowing them to hover about.

“More tea Miss?”

Magpie looked up at the tiny creature in a dress made of soft pink petals, her tiny hands somehow able to hold the handle of a full teapot.

Magpie smiled and held up her cup, “why thank you Peasblosom.”

CRASH!

Peasblossom nearly dropped the teapot she was holding. A panicked Trouble came running, being chased by three other creatures similar in size and shape to her.

“Get back here!” One shouted, “I wasn’t gonna-“

“Cobweb!” Magpie shouted as she scooped up the startled dachshund, “what the stars are you doing?”

Cobweb stumbled to a halt, “nuthin.” He answered with his hands behind his back.

Magpie set her dog down, hands on her hips as she tapped her foot. The three little creatures lining up in front of her with guilty looks. One with curly yellow hair looked up at her, “s-sorry Miss. We were just playing.”

Magpie’s frown softened, it was hard to stay mad at someone as sweet as Mustardseed, afterall she made him that way. “You cannot play with Trouble so roughly my dearest.”

“Yes Miss,” answered Mustardseed.

“Sorry Miss,” apologized Moth who stood next to him.

Cobweb stood with his arms crossed and a pout on his little face. Peasblosom fluttering to the ground next to him and nudging her fellow helper in the ribs. “Ouch! Ok, ok, sorry Miss. It’s not like we woulda hurt him. Trouble’s part of The Squad.”

Magpie tilted her head in confusion, “the… squad?”

“The Squad!”

“Squad!”

“Squad!”

“Squad!”

Magpie was bewildered as her four helpers chanted “The Squad” over and over in their excitement. “What squad?”

Cobweb giggled, “ya know. Your crew, your people!”

“People?” Magpie sat down with her head in her hands in confusion, how was it possible that something she made had a better understanding of slang terms than her? Goodness, where did they even learn it?”

#I love them all already X3 #magpie the clown magician #Magpie's helpers

[leahgrcy]

It's never any different. At least, that's all Leah can figure out from piecing together memories that are barely there, tethered to the high rising moon that she's always found some sense of awe in until it existed purely to pick an illness in her stomach and an ache against her spine. Never any different, because even now, seven months after the fire, Leah already feels darkened familiarity seep into her bones. A familiarity that she doesn't want, as it paves the way for nothing but pain, and truly; she'd rather be shocked by it than note the way it curls around her limbs and tightens as if to suck every ounce of life from her first, the first few drops of rain before a downpour. “Lukas, stop.” The titillated groan that surpasses grit teeth as she catches the root of a tree with a rather defiant kick is guttural, one that most definitely catches further discomfort deep within her spine, “Aren’t we far enough out yet?” Not nearly the complaint she wanted to make, but there were truly only a handful of times she could stomach even hearing herself say she couldn’t do this again. “No.” It’s rough and harsh, reminds her far too much of their father and like the creep of spiders' legs, she feels the prickle across her chest that feels something akin to guilt. 

They wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her. Here, being relative and not necessarily pinpointing Lukas and Leah, traipsing through the heavily wooded area in some effort to beat out their bodies splitting in two. Here, being, the sullen look in her mother’s eyes whenever Leah moved too quickly and broke something she sure as hell didn’t intend to. Or, the way her father’s adams apple would bobble as he swallowed back the blame she knew he felt in never accepting the idea of allowing their daughter to grow up more aware of the consequences of any choice she might make --- choices, like running into a burning building after someone who was surely, already dead. They wouldn’t be here, with Lukas casting a wary glance over his shoulder, uncertain of how much longer Leah would be able to keep her own feet before she collapsed beneath the shatter of bone and tried like hell to fight it like she had every other month. 

“Come on, Leah. We’re not there yet.” Muttered far too quietly beneath his breath to truly be intended for her ears as he cast blackened hues ahead. Sixteen years had given him as much of an edge on shifting as one could ever hope to find, a momentary familiarity that didn’t allow the venom of pain seep into bones until absolutely necessary, something only noted in the clench of his jaw and the ever-present curl of knuckles. “It’s just a little ---.” Truly, if he hadn’t been so accustomed to the snap of bone, or absolutely certain he’d just seen what looked like a shadow of another person up ahead, he might have easily written the resounding crack off as something akin to the final protest of a branch in the hefty wind. Though, when it created a cavern for the pitching scream to echo so hauntingly, even that felt impossible as he rounded just in time to see Leah’s knees buckle beneath her as her spine shifted far more dramatically than he’d expected it to so soon. 

“Leah?” His head tipped to the sky as he backtracked, the blackened abyss above barely peeking through the canopy enough for him to see how high the moon rested above. Calloused hands gripped her shoulders to keep her from the ground and Leah only saw shapes beyond the boiling beneath her skin. “You’re fine, you’re still here.” A void in time, nestled beneath her collarbone and tore the air that barely existed within her lungs with each bone that snapped beneath the pressure of balled up hands. Her own fingernails tearing the palm of her hand open to spill crimson into the air. A lengthy heave had her reaching for him and conscious thought only told her that she wished she could be six years old again. Six years old and none the wiser of how much weight the prospect of death held. “I don’t want..--” Teeth caught her lip and broke through far too quickly for her own blood to not fill her throat with a startling cough. “N-not again. I..-- I can’t. -- I don’t wanna’ do this again..” Wheezed out through the myriad of ribs that shattered under pressure, the harrowing screaming no doubt fulfilling any living rumor of a haunted forest. “Luke, make it... Make--.” It stop. +

Maybe, if she’d been listening closely enough, she might have heard the remnants of her brother's heart shatter against her plea. The living knowledge that there wasn’t a damn fucking thing he could do to help her far too heavy for one man. “Leah, listen to me,” He swallowed back, feeling the stringent burning between his shoulder blades. Time was always running out for them. “Stop fighting it, please... Just..-- give in. The more you fight it the worse it’s gonna’ be.” But, he already knew his sister, and the defiant shake of her head that buckled within the resounding sharp edges of her crying might have almost made him laugh at how utterly stubborn she could be. “Same as always, okay? When you wake up, you stay where you are. Whether I’m with you or not, do not move until I find you.” His hands lift from her shoulders to cup her face, but she’s looking through him and he knows it. There’s nothing there, the blackened state of her eyes ripping the once animated depth of her usual mahogany hues feels like losing her entirely, but he knows, with the burning up of her cheeks beneath his hands, he hasn’t yet. “Give in to it, Leah. It’ll be okay.”

+ She wished it was quicker. Though, maybe it was simply a difference of perception because she never remembers time passing so slowly. There’s a lot of things she doesn’t remember from each and every passing shift she’s suffered with. Firstly, she doesn’t remember the ice like feeling that slips across the back of her neck. Needle-like, and seeking something within the contorting stretch of bone within. Usually, everything was just, fire. Just fire. Her entire world being pulled into the flames of Alice’s home all over again as it tears at her side and rips her inside out and maybe that’s what always seemed to make it feel all the more difficult. Leah never felt the break of her bones -- the pain, of course, she never missed. But the literal snap of limbs truly never painted itself as just that. Instead, every twist and bend her body was never intended to make, simply felt as if the flames that engulfed the Miller’s front door, the fallen beam, the staircase, found more in her than the home it intended to destroy. And maybe that was simply how it’d always be; fire found a place within her bones and burnt even when she didn’t want it to because that’s what fire did. Secondly, she doesn’t remember ever hearing that voice with the exception of one awfully vivid memory. A voice that filters in and out of existence so quickly and so quietly that Leah can’t truly be sure whether it’s in her head or not. A voice that speaks her name in the same way she says it herself, and it’s enough to convince her that it’s little more than her subconscious trying to push further unwanted thoughts to light. That it’s whatever piece of her is still fighting against her body’s need to quite literally tear itself apart, begging to draw her back to the light.The wager pitches towards it being in her head, until the shifting of shadows, a man moving between the trees beyond her brother catch the final slip of lucid thought before everything in this world, and the next, goes black. 

+

The bitter taste on his tongue is something he knows he’ll never forget. Death poised on the edge of razor-sharp teeth and he knew the taste well. It seemed, the closer he came to finding his sister, the weakened scent that he could pinpoint her with his eyes closed slipping through the trees with a creeping uncertainty clipped to his shoulders, the further such a taste seeped into his system. The thick and acrid, metallic echo of blood was beyond comforting, the blackened state of memory as empty and abysmal as it ever was on the tail end of a shift. Lukas had once learned to accept it, the slope of damning things all control is lost to the second he feels the shifting of his spine, but it’s never, truly, made it any easier to swallow back the uncertainty of the damage inflicted at his own teeth. It lives in the permeated edges of everything he simply won’t ever forget, there’s just something about picking skin, grime, and blood from beneath his fingertips that simply stains. It’s the same bitter taste beneath his tongue, that tells Lukas, that no --- they weren’t far enough out, or close enough to alone, as he’d hoped they would have been. 

Knowledge of the taste alone leaves him a little dazed, picking apart what he knew with a further pressing discomfort in knowing the blood he could smell was quite literally on his own hands and somehow still, mottled with the ever familiar scent of his sister. It turned his stomach, or he thought it did. What it did, was in fact nothing short of a simple twist in his gut when the trees ahead parted and Lukas was caught on the precipice of something else entirely as his eyes adjusted to the lowly glimmer of flame. The hitch of breath that wedged itself against the near-immediate lump in his throat felt akin to a desolate plane and despite whatever desperation might have itched to claw at the rough of his palms, Lukas knew he’d choke on it before finding a way to dislodge it. + She knows this place, the space between sleep and awake that doesn’t really seem real and maybe she’s still dreaming, but she doesn’t remember her dreams and sometimes she’s convinced that she simply doesn’t. That the lull in her conscious seeps deeper than even that and has since obliterated any sense of safe haven in her own mind, created to draw her from the newly bitten horrors of her own life. She knows this place, only, never has she found herself suspended so precariously on the tipping edge of pain, and the strike of panic that carves its way through her chest curled within the realization, that she can’t move. 

Leah feels everything. Figuratively, most days. While her mother’s rather icy exterior found reflection in her daughter, Aeron Grey has never shied away from the idea that their youngest child was always something of a bleeding heart. Once the precipice of frozen and sharp icicles snapped away to reveal the cavernous pit that housed the rising tide of everything she truly felt, it was impossible to forget. The tepid tingle in her fingertips as they extend from the fists that once grew numb, the ache that presses against the cage of her ribs and every muscular shift that leaves her wincing in the comedown every shift offers her in those few passing moments. None of it shocks her, and like waking from a disturbed slumber, the groan that settles in the thick of her throat never makes it out alive, as her hands pull to press palms to her face and never once budge. But she feels it, everything, and nothing all at once as uncertainty and everything that comes with it swells in her throat; something’s wrong. There’s no rope, no chains —- not a single tether holding her in place, yet still, any want for movement proves helpless.

There’s no real decisive moment when she can figure out what she feels next — the unwanted burn of flame far too close to her face, or the heavy scent of blood that feels so thick beneath her nose she can taste it and when doe hues finally pry themselves open despite the blinding wave of heat, she’s not sure there’s a lump big enough that might have successfully sought to block the scream that splits the coming hours of dawn so vividly, so broken and piercing that time surely shifted with it. Color drains from her face and she pitches backward, kicking heels in the dirt to no avail as she remains strung up by some phantom force. “Luke!..--- Lukas!” Immediate panic settles in her bones, within the petrified edges of each cry that splits the air and the only thing she knows, is her brother is out there, she can feel him looking for her and before her, sinking in ash and darkness, it’s near impossible to mistake what she finds herself knelt before. Protruding limbs and faces, empty and lifeless, torn from their place and piled atop one another, cast aside and discarded as if any ounce of life were ripped from them purely for the sake of it —— like wolves.

There’s some weight to the passing thought that might have arisen had she even a moment to breathe, that panic had recently moved in and made itself right at home in the cavern of her chest, bringing fear with it, but the turning of her stomach is violent. The pungent smell that has long since found itself entwined with death settles within her nose and makes her head spin. The blank faces eerie in the firelight painting her world into the darkest depths of shadows, Leah’s only thought before she cast hues away and doubles with the heaving in her lungs as everything within her stomach came up, that she couldn’t do this —- nothing could have prepared her for what lay before her, even less so the mottled edges of implication that carved their way through her throat and buried itself within her chest. 

Her eyes stung against the burning, the volatile hammering of a singular thought against the forefront of her mind, painful beyond any snapping of bone. And the estranged cry that slipped between the cracks echoed so loudly in her own head, she completely missed the oncoming footsteps beyond the fire. Death was not something she knew much of -- not something she’d found a way to stomach, the pressing notion that the thing that lived within her held no ounce of the bleeding heart Leah had. It knew no mercy and offered no freedom from it. Pressure built around her wrists and tugged forcefully until Leah finds it near impossible not to look up through her own daze, the gilded wince that draws hues upwards across the bright light until the faces staring back at her sear themselves permanent into the inside of her eyelids. Haunted — red with anger, and distraught with something bruised against their soul. She’d never seen anyone look at her like that before, with all the hatred one could manage, and then some but with every gaping hole in her memory, the feverish heat that pressed against her chest, heavy and suffocating the longer it lived, Leah sought frantically to piece something together. “Please, I.. —-” A dark-haired man stepped forward, his arm shot out as he wretched the air from her lungs and curled sharp fingertips around her jaw to press so forcefully she could have otherwise sworn he could tear it right from its place. Pressure watered in doe hues and she buckled slightly beneath his hold, struggling as her lungs objected with an imminent grapple for air, nails digging into the palms of her hands in hopes it might steady the oncoming blur in her vision. “Fucking wolves.” And something spat in a language she didn't know fell across her face like acid and it jarred Leah to piece what she knew together as she looked between the strewn bodies of two boys, only a few years older than her and those stood around the firelight, falling to the reputation of words she didn't know just yet. A strange tongue she’d only ever heard her father speak in, tore the silence of the crackling fire in half. Hues widened and she struggled with invisible constraints, "No... No I didn't…" Had she done it? She could always lie through her teeth, it'd become somewhat a talent after so many years, but now… now she didn't know what existed as the truth and what she could twist to her own betterment. The painful realization that it likely didn’t matter what she did, or didn’t do useless, as far too many years had passed since her father's kind thought to discredit any sense of humanity with her own to let a passable hatred slip between myth and legend. Allowing it to become all too clear that far too many of those with magic at the tips of their fingers, only saw the animal in them, and rarity lay within those willing to accept a werewolf for everything they couldn’t control. "I didn't know. I swear I --  I didn't know!" A cold brush of air slid in against her back, the frozen press of touch gliding across the back of her neck attached to the shiver down her spine, familiar at best as her name carried across the ghost-like whisper. Far too difficult to forget the pitching details that seared like scars into the memory of one single night seven months ago. The shift of shadow beyond those chanting drew her attention and Leah dug her knees into the ground beneath, stones and twigs biting into her flesh without apology as she made some attempt to leer forward. Such familiarity jarred the organ within her chest and cast the piercing glow of the moon above as a light to lead her, only, she’d never really managed to pluck luck from the sky so easily as desperation filled her lungs in the form of words and intention that even she considered the breach of insanity. “Please..--” Russet hues pinned the flickering shadow, and she’s not even sure it's real --- but she knows there’s something in it. “I know you’re... You’ve been watching me..” The chanting grew louder and something twisted in the depth of her shoulder so sharply she cringed, “Whoever you are, you were there... In the house..-” Teeth dug into the dry, cracked spread of her lesser lip, her own blood spilling into her mouth as she bit back the trying whimper of her skin boiling. “M..--make them stop.” The same voice that carried her name across haunting winds, reverberating against the inside of her skull in a growing echo of laughter and she thought, there was nothing that could feel closer to death than that. 

Only, she’s been wrong far more times than she’s ever been right and the heat that once built within the amber flame before her dies out. Fire still flickers in the eerie glow of the moon above and a wind rips up everything until even the hollow recess of sound itself seems suspended in the haunting curvature of her screaming beyond the chanting that grows louder; as if people stood all around her now. The weight of her heated breath visible in the lowly puff of air she barely manages in the now ice like pitch in temperature, Leah finds it hard to believe that any of this is real, that this isn’t just a blindingly convincing nightmare that she can’t wake herself up from. Shadow shifts, falling to pieces in wisps of smoke and it’s all she can do to keep herself from buckling beneath the weight that she didn’t want to be alone as she pulls against invisible restraints again. Not alone, not here. “No..-- No, don’t... Don’t leave me here, don’t…---” Her voice suspends itself in her throat, caught against something she can’t dislodge and for a second, she’s certain she’s choking. Oxygen burns up replaced by flame and the idea of suffocating on little more than thin air doesn’t seem so bad anymore as everything within the petite frame of the young wolf implodes and tears the skin from bone. A reflective making of every wound left upon the flesh of those strewn before her. 

+

Certain sounds can never be unheard, never be forgotten and exist years later to echo the shifting change of time and space unlike any memory can hold for too long. Lukas is sure he’ll never live long enough to draw the shrill scream that tears through the forest so violently he’s certain it’s formed a physical presence and ripped through the canopy above to leave its mark on everything it touches. But he can’t move. He can’t will his legs to do what he knows they’re perfectly capable of to draw him into the light as he watches, frozen; petrified in the wake of his sister's torture. Dark matter shifts from its place among the dead at his sister's feet in trails of mist, slipping through every well-worn curvature of spell work that he has no idea how to circumvent until it disappears beneath Leah’s skin and bleeds black from every wound that slowly tears at her body. He knows what guilt tastes like. It’s metallic, thick, acrid, and bleeds crimson into his mouth. There’s no doubting what he’s done --- and there’s even less doubt suspended in knowing his baby sister doesn’t have reason to be caught at the tip of his own consequence. Though, perhaps, the cruel makings of the world they knew had painted such consequences in the most torturous manner as the impossibility of Leah’s survival dawns on him as her bones snap and shift. He knows illness, but nothing like the turning in his stomach, as the raging war of successfully shifting a second time in less than three hours becomes all the more improbable in the torment of the small circle of witches far more powerful than he was on his own. The pitching sound of his name ripping through the air as black blood slips like tears from the corners of Leah’s eyes, cracks, morphing into the guttural growling as human becomes animal. It’s unlike anything he’s ever seen as her body contorts in a splatter of black liquid that burns up in the flames and he stumbles back into the uneven makeshift path and struggles to find enough air to fill his lungs. He knows what guilt tastes like. It’s metallic, thick, acrid and paints his hands red for the two boys he could still taste on his tongue. It’s black as night, poisonous, and pools at his sister’s feet. The strings of his greatest mistake tie a noose around his throat. He knows he can’t stay -- can’t face their world knowing this is his fault, and that he can’t stop it. 

 +

She always thought agony was that feeling in her chest, the hollow in that cavernous hole that followed her everywhere she went once the flames of the Miller home had long since died. Smoke still rose from the wreckage and the world seemed to spin regardless. She thought it existed as something almost, figurative. It couldn’t be touched, wasn’t tangible enough to tear it from her own chest, neither palpable enough to taste, but she knows she’s wrong before she even opens her eyes. The gentle touch of cool hands that trace the raw red markings around her wrist draw her closer. Her mother’s weeping, she’s angry and Leah can feel it against her skin like wildfire, it’s hot and dull in the same breath and she can feel the unforgiving split of her lip that spills blood against her chin, even as the welcoming feel of cold hands lift her head from it’s hanging place. “Lu..” Her voice is ash, nothing but ash as she rasps out something barely coherent. “It’s okay baby,” Her father’s voice --- strong, present, and undoubtedly shaking despite the careful and steady shift of his hands as he breaks the metal chains that hold her now. Arms encircle her and she whimpers beneath the agony her body burns in as she’s suddenly all too aware of how heavy everything feels. “We’ve got you, you’re okay. -- Anna, take her for me.” 

Careful hands draw her in, carrying the weight of wounds visible and hidden, the permanence of every ache she felt grew in the socket of her shoulder as it popped back into place and ricocheted throughout her frame as her mother lay her down against her lap. The steady tremor of uneasy breath and tears that made no sound spilled across Anna’s jean-clad thigh, lithe fingertips smoothing matted hair out with the lowly soothing sound that carried with her mother’s heartbeat. “Lukas... Where..--” Barely managed as brittle and barely pieced together fingers curled into the dirt below. “He’s gone, sweetie. He’s..” Annaliese Grey was always hard. Like worn marble, a sight that was almost far too noble and yet didn’t often crack beneath the weight of the world, but she felt it now. “He’s gone, baby.” It’s heavy, and somehow Leah knows what she means; he’s not gone. Not lost. Part of her knows that perhaps, she might have felt that far more violently but then again, she’s not entirely sure if anything could truly pierce her anymore. It’s heavy, and it doesn’t hurt yet, but it presses tightly within her throat and the whimper that finds her is a resounding scream for what she knows now. She hadn’t been alone, she’d felt him. She’d never put much weight in the idea that they could do that, feel each other when they were around, but it’s unmistakable now. She’d felt him, needed him --- and he’d left her. 

Nothing within the anger of her father’s power as it tears at what’s left of the building and brick by brick casts it aside until he can pick apart the echoes and tether a curse of its own to what remains of it. The familial power that burns up in the palms of his hands an eternal promise to the lineage of those that thought to harm what was his that they’d never rest again, not until he found them. But there was no stopping it as the ache within her chest grows cavernous again and the dirt caught within her hand doesn’t tether her to this form as well as she might have hoped it would. The warmth of her parents permeating the air around her with more stability than she thought she could swallow back. He was here, and he left me alone. It spins, screams and etches itself permanently to the inside of her skull, pierces tired, doe hues with a splitting headache that traverses across the back of her neck like a needle and leaves her with trembling lips as her grip tightens around her mother. The jagged edge of that which broke within her drawing her closer to the newly forced inevitability. “Dad..” She choked out, the objection within the sound that builds in her throat is unforgiving, and in that moment, she’d rather burn in flame than boil from the inside out. “It’s happen--..” It’s hidden within the twist of her heart and buried beneath her father’s anger as ribs already aching and bruised snap again and she almost lurches forward to vomit the pain out. “-- happening again.” She didn’t know how many times it had happened since they’d left her there. How many times she’d ripped herself apart beneath the weight of every cataclysmic emotion that stirred within her as the dark carried her screams to no avail. Too weak to grasp at any sense of distance between herself and her mother, Leah clung tighter as the heaving of her chest tethered to the crack her brother had left behind within the cage of her ribs split open a little more. Aeron’s voice stilled, his fury caught within the thick of his throat as watched the inhuman tremor beneath Leah’s collarbone. Already so weak, there was no running from this, no turning away from the inevitable as every echo left behind told him of what’d been done to her as he sank to his knees beside them. “Aeron,” her mother’s voice fell quiet, far sturdier than her heart beating within her chest, “--- the chains.” she started, shifting slightly to pull Leah from her lap, “Pass me the chains and stand back.” It’s within the crack -- the one her brother created that she feels it. Ice and fire, entwined as if they belonged together. Existing purely to satisfy one singular purpose as it swept to rattle itself against every brittle and already broken bone she held. Deep, within the recesses, left behind like a sharpened blade forgotten on the ledge of a countertop as the sound of chains tore across the dirt and a pained and begging whimper drew across the trembling of her lesser lip. This won’t ever end.

#Arc 0 #origins

[butsomeofusarelookingatthestars]

Classified: Part 15

Luke is still adjusting to life in the BAU when a familiar face from the past joins the team as their Communications Liaison. Last time he saw her they were in the Iraqi desert on a highly confidential mission. Some ghosts are meant to stay buried…

Masterlist (x)

So here we are, the final part of Classified. I just want to say a massive thank you to everyone who has read and supported this story. It’s been the most difficult challenge I’ve ever had to overcome, although writing it for you lovely people has been an absolute pleasure. I know some of you will be disappointed as we’ve reached the end of this story. But, please don’t worry I’ll be making a very special bonus chapter for you all (maybe even for NSFW Sunday). I’ve fallen a bit in love with these characters and I can only hope I’ve done them and you all justice in this final (extended) part. Please enjoy!

“It’s a shame you didn’t last longer. I would have liked to-”

The rest of his words were lost as Luke’s outrage spilled out into punches, the cracking of his knuckles against Michael’s bones causing you to grimace. The fury in Luke’s expression was truly terrifying. You had never seen him like this, not in all the time you had known each other.

But, it was as if he were a man possessed as he continued to pummel Michael against the wall…and you couldn’t stand it.

“Luke…” You croaked, your voice straining under the pressure. But, he didn’t hear you. He was too far gone. “Luke, please…” You coughed, wheezing slightly as an agonising burn shot through your ribs. “Don’t do this…”

You woke up with a start, clutching your thundering heart in shock as you frantically glanced around the darkened room. The metallic scent of blood stung your nostrils and the sound of grunts of pain echoed through the air.

It was almost as if you could feel the agonising sting of your bleeding wounds, your chest heaving as you desperately gasped for breath. But, as you felt the fluffy blanket beneath you and stared at the empty room, you realised that it was all in your imagination. You weren’t back in the warehouse. You were at home.

Safe.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you collapsed back into the sofa, the softness of the cushions eagerly greeting your exhausted body. Six months had passed since your return to work, yet the scars of the past were never too far away.

Of course, you had made progress. Discovering that Michael and Omar would spend the rest of their lives imprisoned had brought you an immense sense of peace that you desperately craved. The news instilling you with the belief that you could finally begin to move on from the past.

The BAU and its demanding workload had also allowed you to start to feel like yourself again. Being an FBI agent was part of who you were and being able to help others meant more to you than anything else ever could.

The team had gone out of their way to aid your recovery – with dinner parties at Rossi’s and wine nights with the girls becoming more frequent. Prentiss had even introduced a weekly late-night catch up to help you share any concerns you may have and Matt was always inviting you around to spend time with his adorable family.

Whether it was Spencer’s well-intentioned offers to lend you his book collection or Garcia’s thoughtful unicorn toys left on your desk, you just hoped that they all realised just how much they and their gestures meant to you.

Time was a great healer, but the support of your friends was an even better one.

With your confidence slowly rebuilt, you finally allowed yourself to believe in the impossible. You could make it through. As Luke had promised, you would be fine. He had always been true to his word.

That’s why it didn’t make any sense that the nightmares were coming back to haunt you now. Most confusing of all, why was Luke suddenly at the centre of them. You could understand why Michael and Omar would plague your mind. The horrors they had inflicted always would.

But, the thought of Luke being a part of it made you feel sick.

He was the person you turned to when you needed comfort. The man who had always been there for you. You couldn’t ever allow your memories of him to be tainted like that.

Things were finally getting back on track between the two of you. You finally had a chance to…

Your eyes fluttered shut in frustration as you tried to compose your thoughts. The history and the connection you shared was almost too deep, too powerful.

Truthfully, you didn’t know what you and Luke were…or what you could be.

He didn’t say a word as he stood silently beside you, only slowly lifting his hand to trace the outline of your lips. His eyes shone with intensity as you eagerly leant into his touch.

“The heat’s got to me.” You whispered quietly, a playful smile curving onto your lips as you met his gaze. “My lips are chapped.”

Luke chuckled softly, delicately running his finger across your lips as you desperately tried to resist the urge to pull him closer. You were hidden away from prying eyes, but after everything that had happened it didn’t feel right to share this moment here.

A loud knock on the door pulled you from your daydream.

“It’s me.”

Your breath hitched in your throat at the sound of Luke’s voice. It wasn’t exactly uncommon for him to drop by some nights to check up on you, but his arrival tonight was unexpected. Yet, despite your surprise, you couldn’t ignore the excited fluttering in your heart as you opened the door to reveal his charming grin.

“I figured you could use some company.” He told you cheerfully, a wide grin spreading across his face as he noticed the slight blush creeping across your cheeks.

Luckily, a loud bark announcing the presence of Roxy gave you an excuse to avoid his piercing gaze.

You quickly ducked down, allowing your hair to fall across your face to hide your flustered appearance as you lovingly petted the adorable dog.

“Hey Rox…” You cooed quietly, laughing softly as she greeted you with an affectionate lick. It had been a long time since you had last seen her and clearly, she had noticed your absence. “I’ve missed you sweetie.”

“She’s missed you too.” Luke’s warm chuckle made your heart flutter excitedly, your head instinctively lifting up to meet his gaze. “She’s not the only one…” The tenderness in his voice caught you off guard, the heat flaring in your cheeks as his brown eyes swept over your face.

“I- I wasn’t expecting you tonight.” You explained, stuttering slightly as you tried to compose yourself. Luke always seemed to have a way of disarming you. Finding him on your doorstep unannounced on a day off was guaranteed to make you flustered.

It seemed as if it had been a spare of the moment decision on his part, given his faded sweatshirt and ruffled curls. The dark stubble on his cheeks perfectly outlining his strong jawline…

“I thought I’d surprise you.”

Luke’s words made you jump slightly in surprise as he stepped into the apartment, ushering Roxy inside. You coughed quietly, attempting to pull yourself together as you gently closed the door behind him.

“Rough night?” Luke asked softly as his gaze landed upon the crumpled blanket on the couch and darkened room.

You nodded, pursing your lips as the unshed tears began to sting your eyes. A part of you hated still being affected by what had happened, by what had been done to you. But you had to come to realise, with Luke’s help, that there was nothing to feel ashamed about. You weren’t weak.

You were a survivor.

“The nightmares- they come back sometimes.” You whispered, twisting your hands anxiously as Luke slowly turned around to face you.

A moment of silence passed before he nodded towards the sofa, gesturing for you to sit down. You took a deep breath as he sat down beside you. Your heart pounded in your chest as his leg brushed lightly against yours, his arm gently wrapping around your waist as you leant eagerly into his hold.

It was where you felt safe.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked quietly, his fingers dancing delicately across your skin as his warm breath tickled your hair.

The low, deep rumbling in his chest was comforting as you nestled deeper into his body, the familiar scent clinging to his shirt instantly soothing.

“It was about that night. You and Michael…fighting.” You murmured quietly, entangling your fingers in the soft fabric of his shirt.

You felt Luke tense under your touch, prompting you to look up in surprise. His clenched jawline and the dark frown crossing his features making you falter slightly.

“Luke I-”

However, the arrival of Roxy interrupted your question. Apparently, she had sense her owner’s inner turmoil and your responding apprehension.

A quiet chuckle escaped your lips as she pattered over to place her head in your lap. “Roxy’s the sweetest.” You told him, entangling your fingers in her soft fur as she whined quietly, enjoying the attention. “It’s like she can tell.”

Luke chuckled softly, outstretching his hand to allow Roxy to affectionately lick his palm. “She’s helped me through everything. I wouldn’t be here without her.”

You glanced up to meet his gaze, your breath hitching in your throat as his arm ever so slightly tightened around your waist. As you observed the soft tenderness in his eyes, you hoped that the tense moment from before had been forgotten.

“You’ve always been like that.”

“Like what?” You asked curiously, genuinely intrigued about the meaning behind Luke’s seemingly ambiguous words. A slight blush spread across your cheeks as Luke froze in his tracks to fix you with an admiring gaze. The intensity in the depths of his warm brown eyes caused your breath to hitch in your throat.

“Hopeful.”

Your heart fluttered nervously as Luke lifted his hand to gently trace your lips. The tender moment reminding you of all the others you had shared in the past.

But, this wasn’t like it was in Iraq or even afterwards as you were first reunited at the BAU. Your duties had always come first.

But, this time it was different.

Emboldened by your realisation, you leant in closer, your lips hovering inches from Luke’s. You could feel the warmth radiating from his caramel skin as your fingers gently caressed his cheek. You dipped your head, slowly closing the distance between your bodies.

But, then Luke swiftly turned his head, abruptly pulling away from your body. You frowned in confusion at his action, startled by the sudden change in atmosphere.

“Luke, what-”

“Sorry Y/N, I have to get home.”

“Well, look at what the cat’s dragged in…”

You rolled your eyes playfully at the teasing comment, beaming happily as you entered the bright room. “It’s nice to see you too Phil.”

Luke chuckled warmly behind you, the heat of his breath making you shiver as he leant against the doorframe. “Did you not know he goes by a new name now?”

Phil grinned cheekily, shaking his head in mock dismay at Luke’s comment. “I’m telling you man, “The Brick” is a nickname that will never catch on.”

Laughter echoed around the room as the three of you enjoyed the feeling of being reunited once more. It was a scene you never thought you would get to see. But, following the capture of Omar and the revelation of Michael as the traitor, your classified mission had finally been completed.

There would be no more secrets.

Phil had always been a source of joy for you, constantly cracking jokes and making teasing comments. Even in the middle of a warzone, he had been able to make you smile and to see that bright grin once again was something you truly treasured.

After Luke had told you about his injuries all those months ago, the thought of Phil struggling through his recovery killed you inside. Following your own ordeal, you found yourself possessing an empathy for him that was stronger than ever.

You had been only too happy to learn that Luke had decided to get him a companion to help him through it. The fact that it was an adorable puppy who could even challenge Roxy for her title of ‘sweetest dog’ was just a bonus.

“So, you’re only just getting around to visiting me Y/N? I’m offended.” Phil teased, clutching his heart in mock hurt as he flashed you a mischievous grin.

You scoffed playfully, folding your arms across your chest. “As if I’m here to see you Brooks. I’m only here for Lou.”

Phil roared with laughter at your witty response, clapping his hands together as he whistled for his canine companion to join the group. His laughter only grew louder as he watched your reaction to the stumbling puppy, a gasp escaping your throat as you crouched down to greet Lou.

“He’s just about the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” You cooed delightedly, scooping him up in your arms as he gave you an affectionate lick on the cheek.

“Cuter than me? I’m offended.” Phil chuckled, flashing a knowing grin at Luke as he watched the former ranger frown at his words.

The two of you shared a playful element in your friendship which could perhaps be mistaken as flirtatious by some. He had always suspected it irritated Luke to some degree, but now so many years later it was more evident than ever.

“He loves the flowers outside, if you fancy taking him for a walk?” Phil asked, smirking at the enthusiastic response he immediately received from you as you nodded quickly in agreement.

“Definitely.” You told him, lovingly cradling Lou to your chest as you made your way out to the garden.

Not only would you get to spend time with the adorable puppy, but it would also give you an excuse to avoid Luke. Despite your joy at being reunited with Phil, there was still a sense of awkwardness between you and Luke following the events of last night.

You felt deeply embarrassed about the situation. After all, it was painfully evident that you had every intention of going in for a kiss and even more agonisingly clear that he had rejected your advances. You just didn’t know why.

Surely, you couldn’t have misread the signs over all these years?

Despite your discomfort, you refused to cancel your planned visit today – deciding that seeing Phil was more important than your own pride. But, it hadn’t made it any less awkward when Luke had picked you up this morning – his eyes refusing to meet yours as he held the door open for you, the entire car ride filled by an uneasy silence.

You could have sworn he felt the same. So why was he avoiding you now?

“Man, you’ve got it bad.”

Luke frowned in confusion, flashing his friend a bewildered glance. “I’m sorry. What are you-”

Phil interrupted his question with a loud scoff, shaking his head in dismay at Luke’s apparent idiocy. “I’m not blind Luke. You love Y/N.”

The bluntness of his sentence made Luke freeze in shock. It felt strange to finally hear the words out loud…especially from someone else’s mouth. From the person who had been through hell with him, who was like a brother to him.  

Phil chuckled loudly, bemused by Luke’s startled silence. He almost couldn’t believe that his friend had denied his feelings for all this time.

“You’re in love with her. You always have been.” Phil said softly, flashing Luke a supportive smile as his friend glanced at him in surprise.

“I- I can’t…” Luke stuttered shakily, his usual calm composure slipping as he rubbed his face anxiously. “She needs…I’m not what she needs right now.”

A disbelieving scoff ripped from Phil’s lips.

“How can you deny it? I saw it back in Iraq Luke.” Phil’s frustrated sigh echoed around the room as he gazed at his friend, the distress etched across his features told him that there was more to Luke’s denial. “Why not?”

Luke’s hands twisted in his hair, pulling at his short dark curls in anguish as he struggled to answer the question. It was too hard to put into words how he felt about you. What you meant to him.

“She’s still recovering. Phil, I have to protect her. After everything I owe her that.”

His voice shook towards the end of his sentence. There it was...the guilt that continued to plague him. You had been hurt and he hadn’t been able to protect you. The last thing he wanted was for you to make a mistake now with him, fuelled by emotion and pain.

He never wanted you to regret the two of them.

Phil sighed heavily, fixing Luke with a piercing gaze. “After all this time, you finally have the chance to be with her. You can’t pass it up.”

Luke groaned quietly, biting his lip as he turned his head towards the glass doors that led outside to the garden…to you.

“Are you seriously telling me Y/N’s not the one for you?” Phil asked him exasperatedly.

Luke slowly shook his head, his eyes softening as they fell upon you playing with Lou outside - the tiny puppy bounding through the flowers to chase the ball you had thrown. His soft murmur was barely audible.

“She’s always been it.”

A frustrated sigh escaped your lips as you sank back into your chair, the cool leather strangely comforting as you gazed at the pile of case folders sat on your desk. The BAU had been almost unbearably hectic over the past week, the demanding caseload consuming most of your time.

It should have been a welcome distraction to the problems of your personal life. However, watching Luke evade you at every turn, was increasingly painful. Even when you had tried to approach his desk with an evidence file, he had managed to make his excuses – dashing off to the archive rooms.

The growing distance between the two of you left you confused and hurt.

Worst of all, there was a deep fear inside of you that told you that it was because he didn’t trust you anymore, that all your lies had taken their toll on your relationship. Of course, he had been for you after your ordeal - Luke had always been kind and caring. But, perhaps now that you had recovered, he was slowly realising that things could never go back to as they once were.

What if he never forgave you?

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice Prentiss entering your office.

“You’re here late.”

You looked up, slightly startled by her sudden appearance. “Sorry, I should have been working…” You gestured dejectedly towards the pile of case files.

Prentiss laughed softly, shaking her head as she took a step towards your desk. “Don’t apologise Y/N. You’ve done more than enough this week.”

You flashed her a weak smile, attempting to graciously thank her for her kindness. But, Emily didn’t have to be a profiler to know something was wrong.

“Are you just tired? Or is this something more?” She asked quietly, taking a seat opposite you as she fixed you with her concerned gaze. “Something to do with Luke maybe?”

The sound of his name stung your heart, your eyes softening and immediately betraying your emotions. There was no point in trying to hide the truth from her.

“He’s avoiding me.” You whispered, the confession excruciatingly painful to voice out loud. “I don’t think he’s ever going to trust me again. Not after everything…”

A moment of silence passed before you heard Prentiss chuckle quietly. You gaped in disbelief at her as she burst into soft laughter, truly astounded by her apparent lack of sympathy.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She cried, attempting to hold back her amusement as she shook her head. “It’s just-“ She sighed heavily, fixing you with a piercing gaze. “Have you seen the way he looks at you?”

You froze in shock, her words rendering you silent. What did she-

“He loves you Y/N. You just need to realise it.”

It was late when Luke heard a soft knock on his front door, a confused frown playing on his lips as he wandered over to investigate the disturbance. As he slowly pulled it open, he was stunned by the sight that greeted him.

“It’s you Luke. It always been you.”

Your voice made his heart flutter in excitement. The breath hitched in his throat as his eyes met yours in a heated gaze, the intensity shining in their depths leaving him breathless.

He had been waiting years to hear those words slip from your lips.

“I-”

But, you swiftly cut him off, boldly stepping inside his apartment in order to interrupt his feeble protest before he could even make any excuses.

“I know why you’re scared. It’s never been the right moment for us.” You told him, outstretching a hand to gently entwine your fingers together. “Between warzones and bombs, classified missions and nosy profilers…”

Luke chuckled softly at your joke, biting his lip as glanced down at your joined hands. It was almost as if he were still trying to convince himself that this was truly happening. He had waited so long for this moment that he had to make sure it was real.

“I don’t blame you for being worried.” You whispered softly, squeezing his hand gently to get him to finally meet your gaze. The warmth radiating from his brown depths almost rendering you speechless. “But, the truth is that I choose you Luke. I have and always will choose you.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as his hand slowly drifted up to caress your face, his thumb tenderly stroking your cheek. A moment of silence passed before his murmured response brushed against your ear.

“It’s always been you Y/N.”

You weren’t sure who moved first. In a heartbeat your fingers had entangled in his short curls, desperately pulling him closer as his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. His eyes darkened in desire as your warmth pressed against his body, his hot breath tickling your face as he uttered his confession.

“I love you.”

You didn’t even process his words, your echoed response escaping your lips almost automatically. It was cathartic, releasing the pent-up emotions you had hidden for all this time and casting away the secrets.

“I love you.”

He slowly dipped his head, hungrily swallowing the words as he captured your lips in a passionate kiss.

A soft moan escaped your mouth as your tongues clashed together, his hands eagerly roaming the expanse of your body. A strong arm wrapped around your waist protectively, clutching you to his chest as your fingers tugged on his short dark curls.

The caress of his lips was both soft and urgent as his touch ignited a raging fire. One that you had been waiting a lifetime to experience.

“Welcome to the Sandbox Agent Y/L/N.” “You aren’t what I was expecting.” “You’re one of us now.” “Do you have a thing for the new girl…newbie?” “Ranger up Alvez.” “After Iraq, I needed someone to live for.”   “I can help others.” “I trust you too Luke.” “You survived. You’re here.” “I love you.”

And, after everything you had been through over all these years, all the pain and suffering, all the laughs and smiles, every single tear that had been shed and lingering touch that had been shared - it had all been worth it for this one moment.

You had always been worth it.

The truth was that your past was and always would be classified. But, your future was free…

A future together.

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#criminal minds #luke alvez #spencer reid #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #tara lewis #matt simmons #david rossi #criminal minds imagine #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez imagine #classified #miniseries

[dumbledearme]

chapter fifteen—in both worlds

read Child of Land and Sea here

Act II — Heart Of The Ocean

Part VII — So don’t just sit there slack-jawed, buggy-eyed, I’m here to answer all your mid-day prayers

On the shore of Miami, they all collapsed exhausted.

“We’re alive,” said Grover. “I can’t believe this.”

“How did you know the ‘Nobody’ thing would get to him?” Andy asked Anthony who was still clutching the Fleece.

“Oh, that,” he laughed. “Odysseus did that to him centuries ago. Poked him in the eye with a large hot stick. I figured he’d still have a grudge.”

“Genius,” Andy complimented him.

“Oh, get a room, you two,” Clarisse said getting up. She marched away and when she returned she had a newspaper in her hands. “It’s been ten days,” she informed them.

“What? That’s impossible.”

“Thalia’s tree must be almost dead,” Anthony assumed. “We have to get the Fleece back tonight.”

“Now that’s impossible,” Clarisse complained. “This is all your fault, Jackson. If you hadn’t interfered-”

“Her fault?” Anthony boasted. “You’ve been doing everything wrong ever since-”

“She couldn’t even kill the goddamn monster!”

“Hey,” Andy interrupted them. “I think you’re right, Clarisse.”

“I am?”

“She is?”

“I’m sorry I ruined your quest,” Andy apologized. “And I’m sorry I couldn’t kill Polyphemus. But… But what exactly did the Oracle say to you?”

She recited, “You shall sail the iron ship with warriors of bone. You shall find what you seek and make it your own. But despair for your life entombed within stone. And fail without friends, to fly home alone.”

“Bad,” Grover mumbled, but Andy smiled having her thoughts confirmed.

“Does anybody have any cash?” she asked. Tyson pulled out a bag full of money that Hermes had included in their supplies. “How-?”

“I thought it was a feed bag for Rainbow,” he shrugged.

Andy handed Clarisse the cash. “Go to the airport. Take the Fleece home. Save the camp.” Anthony and Clarisse looked stunned as Andy took the Fleece from one and gave it to the other.

“You’d let me—”

“It’s your quest! Besides, I can’t fly. Zeus would kill me. And you heard the prophecy, you must take it home alone.”

Clarisse nodded, decided. “You can count on me. I won’t fail,” she said before turning to find a cab.

“Andy,” Anthony said, “that was so-”

“Generous?” offered Grover.

“Dumb,” Anthony finished. “You’re betting all our lives that Clarisse will get the Fleece safely back tonight?”

“It is her quest,” Andy said. “Everybody deserves a chance.”

“Andy is nice,” Tyson said.

“Andy is too nice,” Anthony grumbled, but Andy saw that deep down he was a little impressed.

Then there was a sword at Andy’s throat.

“Hello, beautiful,” greeted Luke. His bear-man thugs appeared, one grabbed Anthony and Grover, the other went for Tyson who knocked him down. “Tell the thing to back off, Andy,” Luke said. “Or Oreius will bash your friends’ heads together.”

“I thought they were your friends,” she commented signaling for Tyson to stand down.

“Things change.”

“People, on the other hand, not so much. What do you want, Luke?”

“Why, beautiful, I want to extend my hospitality, of course.”

Back on the Princess Andromeda, the bear twins threw them on the aft deck in front of a swimming pool.

“The Fleece,” Luke mused. “Where is it?”

And then Andy started to laugh.

“What’s so amusing, Andy?”

“You’re so stupid, that’s what,” she pointed out, chuckling. “We sent it on ahead of us!”

Luke’s eyes narrowed. “You’re lying. You couldn’t have..” His face reddened. “Clarisse?”

Andy nodded.

“You trusted- You gave-”

“You didn’t see that coming, did you, beautiful?”

Luke almost threw a fit. “Agrius!”

The bear giant flinched. “Y-yes?”

“Prepare my steed. I need to fly to the Miami Airport, fast!” The bear man gulped and lumbered down the stairs. “You’ve messed up, everything, Andy,” he said. “It really makes me want to kill you.”

Andy thought she could use his anger to her advantage. She searched her pocket where she knew she’d find her last golden drachma. “You’re funny,” she told him. “Also, a traitor!” And she threw the drachma at him. He dodged like she’d expected him to do. The coin sailed into the spray of rainbow colored water. So far so good.

Andy made a silent prayer and hoped the goddess was listening. “You betrayed everyone you know. Even Dionysus at Camp Half-Blood!”

Behind Luke, the fountain began to shimmer. Andy uncapped Riptide to hold everyone’s attention. Luke sneered. “Please, Andy. I’m already fighting the urge to murder you. Drop your little sword.”

“Oooo,” she mocked him. “I’m terrified.”

Luke grinned.

“Who poisoned Thalia’s tree?” she demanded.

“I’ve already admitted to that.”

“Chiron had nothing to do with it?”

“Like he would ever do that. The fool wouldn’t have the guts.”

“Tell me, Luke, how much guts does one need to poison whatever’s left of the girl one loves?”

This time, his stared was truly terrifying. He raised his sword and came toward her. “You don’t understand the half of it. I was going to let you take the Fleece…” he said softly, “once I was done with it.”

That surprised her but Andy couldn’t afford to lose his attention. “Right. But before that, you were going to heal Kronos.”

“This sort of magic would’ve sped his mending process by tenfold, yes. What’s your point?”

“Just making sure, baby. So you poisoned the tree, you betrayed Thalia, you set us up – all to help Kronos destroy the gods.”

Luke gritted his teeth. “You know that. Why do you keep asking?”

Andy grinned wickedly. “Because I want everybody in the audience to hear you.”

“What audience?” His eyes narrowed and he looked behind him. The Iris-message showed Dionysus, Tantalus, and the whole camp in the pavilion.

“Some unplanned dinner entertainment,” said the god of wine. “It appears I shall have to reinstate Chiron as activities director. I suppose I do miss the old horse’s pinochle games. We are no longer in need of your services, Tantalus,” he announced. “You may return to the Underworld. You are dismissed.”

Luke bellowed with rage and slashed his sword through the fountain dissolving the message. Then he turned his murderous look to Andy. “I will kill you now,” he warned.

“Wait-” Anthony started, but Luke lunged, his sword going under Andy’s arm, slashing through her shirt and grazing her ribs. She jumped back and slammed her blade with Luke’s. She was bleeding, she realized.

“My, Andy. You’re out of practice.”

He came at her again with a swipe to the head. She parried, returned with a thrust. He sidestepped easily. Luke gave her a kick in the stomach and Andy fell backwards into the swimming pool. She felt the surge of strength only water could give her. She blasted out of the deep end, straight at Luke’s face. The force of the water knocked him down, but before she could strike, he was on his feet again. He attacked again and cut her leg right above the knee. Andy collapsed in a pool of her own blood.

Grover bleated.

Andy crawled away from Luke trying not to pass out. Her blood created interesting shapes on the water, she noticed. Then he was on top of her, his knee pressing her down, his sword about to strike.

“Don’t you dare, Luke!” Anthony said.

Luke smiled above her face. And all hell broke loose.

The centaurs came from nowhere and arrows sprouted from everywhere. Chiron was among the crowd and he kicked Luke in the chest, freeing Andy. Everyone was fighting each other and the world around Andy was spinning uncontrollably. She blacked out as one of the centaurs grabbed her.

She woke up back at Camp Half-Blood with both Anthony and Chiron by her bed. “Ugh, not again.”

Chiron chuckled. “Oh, my dear, girl. It is good to see you.”

“You saved us,” she could barely recall.

“I couldn’t very well let you die, especially when you’ve cleared my name.” He turned serious. “Tony and I were just talking. About the prophecy.”

“I made him tell me,” she rushed. “It’s not his fault at all. He can resist my charms.”

Chiron and Anthony exchanged a glance. “I will wait outside,” Anthony said. “Or her charms might overwhelm me.”

“See?” Andy said as he left.

Chiron remained serious. “I did not expect to keep this from you forever,” he said.

“I… I’m just a girl, Chiron,” she told him apologetically. “What good is one lousy hero against something like Kronos?”

“Your sword,” he said mysteriously. “Celestial bronze. An immortal weapon. What would happen if you shot it at a human?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s right. Humans don’t exist on the same level as the immortals. But you, Andy, you live in both worlds. And you can be harmed by both. And you can affect both. That’s what makes heroes so special. You carry the hopes of humanity into the realm of the eternal. You fight the battles humanity must win, every generation, in order to stay human. Whether or not the prophecy is about you, Kronos thinks it is. And he wants you in his side. If you make clear there is no possible way you’ll turn, he will dispose of you immediately.”

“You talk as if you know him.”

Chiron pursed his lips. “He is my father.”

Her jaw fell to the ground.

All the campers looked weary and battered as they crowded around Thalia’s tree. The moment Clarisse draped the Golden Fleece over the lowest bough, the moonlight seemed to brighten, turning from gray to silver. Gradually, the needles on the pine tree started turning from brown to green. Everybody cheered. Clarisse was carried on her cabin mates’ shoulders and nobody gave Andy or Anthony a second look. So they headed to the beach, to their favorite spot.

Hermes was there, waiting for Andy. “You did good,” he told her.

She looked down. “I’m sorry. I… Luke…”

“You were not able to talk sense into him?”

“Well, he was trying to kill me and, I must say, succeeding, so…”

“I see. You tried the diplomatic approach.”

“I’m sorry. You helped us so much and there was just nothing… And when I mentioned you, he flipped. He thinks you abandoned him.”

She thought Hermes would get really angry, but he just sighed. “Do you ever feel your father abandoned you, Andy?”

She raised her eyes. “A few hundred times a day.”

Hermes smiled. “The hardest part about being a god is that you must often act indirectly, especially when it comes to your own children. If we were to intervene every time our children had a problem… well, that would only create more problems and more resentment. But I believe if you give it some thought, you will see that Poseidon has been paying attention. At least he’s answered all your prayers. I can only hope that some day, Luke may realize the same about me. Whether you feel like you succeeded or not, you reminded Luke who he was. You spoke to him.”

“I wish…” her voice faltered. “I wish I could get through to him.”

Hermes shrugged. “Maybe you will. Families are messy. Immortal families are eternally messy. Sometimes the best we can do is remind each other that we’re related, that we’re not alone. Now, I really must go. I only came to make a delivery.” Hermes handed her a sea-blue envelope and disappeared.

Anthony smiled encouragingly. “Well, open it, Seaweed Brain.” Andy hesitated. “You want me to go? I can leave you alone-”

“No. It’s fine.” She opened the envelope and unfolded the paper. Two simple words were written in the middle of the page – Brace Yourself.

Anthony took her hand and they sat together on the sand. Tyson and Grover came to join them. Grover told them he could dissolve the empathy link, but Andy asked him not to.

“If I get into trouble-”

“I’ll go save you, you silly goat.”

Then Tyson handed her a wristwatch. “I made this for you,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said glancing at him.

“I realized,” he told her, “that Poseidon cared for me after all.” Anthony and Andy looked at each other, confused. “He sent you. Just what I asked for.”

Andy blinked. “You asked… for me?”

“For a friend,” he explained. “Young Cyclops grow alone in the streets learning to survive.”

“Isn’t that kind of… cruel?”

“That makes us appreciate blessings,” he said. “But I got scared. Monsters chased me, clawed me… I prayed for help. I asked him for help. And then the people of Meriwether found me and I met you. Biggest blessing ever.”

Andy laughed and cried at the same time. “Oh, you adorable Cyclops!” She hugged him.

“He spoke to me,” Tyson added. “He wants me to visit.”

“What?”

“He wants me to go underwater to learn how to work the Cyclops forge.”

“When would you leave?”

“Now.”

“Now? Like now now?”

“Now,” he agreed. “Hard to leave you. But I want to make things. Weapons for the camp. You’ll need it.”

Unfortunately, Andy knew he was right. She hugged him once more. “You’ll make the best weapons. And, Tyson, you ARE my brother. Don’t you ever forget it.”

He patted her on the back. Then went toward the sea, called his Hippocampus and they both left under the sea.

“Well,” said Anthony getting up. “Time for dinner, Seaweed Brain.”

Andy was ready to follow him when there was a scream. Loud and desperate. Anthony and Andy glanced at each other and ran toward Half-Blood Hill. Word was spreading. Something huge had happened.

Chiron appeared. “Curse the Titan Lord!” he shouted. “He’s tricked us again, given himself another chance to control the prophecy.”

“What do you mean?” asked Anthony.

“The Fleece, Tony,” Chiron said. “Did its work too well.”

They reached the hill that was packed with campers, but they moved out of the way for them to pass. Anthony froze and his eyes widened. Andy kept moving until she saw the girl on the ground. She had short black hair and freckles across her nose.

Grover gasped behind her. “I can’t believe it…”

Nobody else approached the girl. They seemed afraid to touch her. So Andy knelt alone beside her and put a hand on her forehead. Her skin was cold. Andy lifted her by the shoulders. “I need help carrying her,” she said. “Anthony?” But he didn’t move. His mouth was hanging open.

The girl took a shaky breath. She coughed and opened her eyes. Her irises were electric blue. She stared at Andy in bewilderment. “Who-”

“I’m Andy. Don’t worry. You’re safe, now.”

“I had the strangest dream-”

“It’s alright.”

“Dying.”

“No,” Andy assured her. “You’re fine. Can you remember your name?” And then, as soon as she said the words, Andy understood what the quest had been about. The poisoning of the tree. Another chance to control the prophecy…

“I’m Thalia,” the girl whispered.

End of Act II

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