#it's another black mercy au y'all

[sarafinamk]

Fallen Angel (Smiling Critters Space Riders AU Reader Insert) Part 1

Summary: You failed as the Prototype's "archangel," and this is your punishment; being left to die while at the mercy of your enemies.

(This is my contribution to the Smiling Critters Space Riders Au. Please check out the talented @onyxonline for more context. I hope y'all enjoy.)

TW: Blood, Injury, Near Death, Imprisonment, Trauma, Death Implications, War, Witchcraft, Religious Trauma, Religious Imagery and Symbolism, Religious Cults, Religious Worship, Slight cursing

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You had one job: lead your people to victory. You are a warrior, a healer, a messenger. You are an archangel that needs to spread the word of the Prototype by any means necessary. You need to do your part to save the souls tainted by the condemned ways of the heretics. That’s why you’re here in the first place. Instead, you failed…

It's hard to say how long your mind has been hazy for. All you know is that it burns so much. Fiery hot and raging cold sensations dance and mingle around your body especially where blood was pouring out. The feeling of liquid invading and burning your lungs worsens the more you try to gasp for air. Flashes of light won’t stop assaulting your eyes even as spots of darkness slowing dance their way into your vision. As you close your eyes and try to ignore the sharp tingling in your eyes, one thought stands out among the rest.

‘So, this is what damnation feels like…’

A blurry orange figure looms above you followed by a red and a blue one. They shield you from the harsh light, prompting you to slightly open your eyes. More figures loom around you. All the sounds echoing around you are drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears. You suppose that this is a fitting punishment. You failed your people, yourself, and the Prototype. And now they have come to take you away, to give you your just deserved judgement. The thought alone is enough to make you whimper as your body curls around itself protectively. You try so hard to ignore the inferno now growing where your wounds are. This proves to be futile as hands pin you down, preventing you from curling in on yourself. The sounds grow more urgent, louder even. You couldn’t resist their grips anyways. You should’ve known it was futile to fight the inevitable. As blackness conquers the last of your vision, you pray that you will be granted mercy. You pray that your sins will be forgiven. You pray that your dedication to your duties will lead you to the happiness you have been promised. You pray that you have done enough to grant you eternal happiness. And you pray that you will continue to do good in the next life you are given…

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The team has been waiting outside the operation room for hours. Bubba and Bobby wasted no time getting you into operation considering your critical condition. Dogday has been pacing nonstop since getting you onto their ship. He was the one who insisted on taking you with them despite the protests from his teammates. Memories, emotions, and questions spiraled around and around his head, never giving him a second to rest. You’ve caused a lot of damage to not only his team but other parts of the galaxy. Dogday, however, being the sunny, kind-hearted leader he is will be damned if he just left another victim of the Prototype to die. Given the state of your injuries, unfortunately, the chances of your surviving in the long run are slim to none. That was stated by Bubba himself. Regardless, they still had to try, at least.

The canine knew that part of it was wishful thinking from Bubba and a couple others. Dogday can’t say he blames them for disliking the idea of helping one of the Space Riders’ most dangerous enemies. Leaving you to suffer the consequences of your actions means one less enemy to worry about. No one knows how or why you became the Prototype’s archangel apart from your Divinity powers. And maybe Catnap is right about the fact that Dogday’s heart is too forgiving for his own good. It’s just that that thought of leaving you, lying down, alone, and bleeding on the battlefield doesn’t sit right with him. That is not what the Space Riders is supposed to represent. They’re meant to give victims of the Prototype a second chance at life.

If you survive… maybe he and his friends could give you that chance. He hopes, at least. You could help a lot of people and use your powers for good. The riders could have a powerful friend and ally by their side. You could protect them like how you always protected your troops and the Prototype in past battles. You could have people to turn to and not leave you to die alone in the battle the moment things spiral downhill.

Dogday isn’t entirely naïve, though. Even if you survive, and you do agree to change your ways, there will be a lot of obstacles in your path. The obvious one was getting backlash from the Commander and members of HQ. The riders would have to disclose that they are hospitalizing one the most wanted enemies in the galaxy sooner or later. Given everything you’ve done, people are going to demand justice. Some will want to draw blood in the name of vengeance. Dogday would rather not risk that possibility. Maybe he and Bubba could find a way to convince the Commander and the Council to let you serve your sentence here under the riders’ supervision while you are being treated.

Time was passing so agonizingly slowly compared to Dogday’s thoughts. He wishes he could get some news on your condition now. At the very least, a slow update would suffice. Anything would do to finally put his aching head to rest. As if the heavens finally decided to answer him, the doors finally opened. Everyone, asleep or otherwise perks up hearing Bobby approaching. Her eyes droop, but her small, satisfied smile told everyone what they needed to know. Dogday breathes out a sigh of relief. You still need to be monitored for the time being. The surgery may have been successful, but that doesn’t mean it will be a guaranteed smooth sailing recovery. There are still a lot of risks that need to be accounted for at this time. The Space Riders rescued you in time, and that thought is enough to finally put the canine’s whirlwind of thoughts to rest. Dogday can now focus on the next priority; figuring out a way to disclose the recent events to the people of HQ.

#smiling critters #dogday #poppy playtime #poppy playtime 3 #poppy playtime chapter 3 #poppy playtime dogday #poppy playtime smiling critters #poppy playtime catnap #catnap #poppy playtime au #space riders au #smiling critters au #onyxriders #hoppy hopscotch #picky piggy #craftycorn #bobby bearhug #bubba bubbaphant #kickinchicken #platonic #x reader #poppy playtime x reader #gn reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #angst #hurt/comfort #recovery #platonic relationships #platonic love

[lukaherehelp]

Playboyy EP1 - "Sex is about everyone"

PART 2

Grabbed a snack, let's continue:

Now is when my art student ass comes out: only three students is a joke. This type of sessions are normally focus towards all the art students at the school/academy/university. But let's think it as "is for this one classroom only"... okey, I'll let it pass but no department would pay for a model to pose for three students. NONE. Also, maybe is because I live in a cold weather place but can we bring one heather for this poor man, that sheet is only decoration. Enought rant from my part, sorry.

SIR, THIS IS A CLASSROOM, CAN'T YOU PUT THE BEDROOM EYES AWAY?! Like, I cannot blame Zouy for forgetting he's in a public space right now, those eyes would else make me act up.

I get him. I truly understand him. Bestie, I would also worship this man's body like my life depended on it. YOU ARE SO FUCKIN VALID.

THE SMIRK!! I'M FIGHTING THIS HOE, I'M BODY-SLAMMING HIM TO THAT FUCKIN COLD GROUND, SIR YOU ARE GOING TO CATCH THIS HANDS -

Knock, knock knock, snack walking in! And no, we ain't talking about the pizza...

all the english between this two is going to kill me. "Got a meal? Yeah, come get it." I'M ABOUT TO YEET MYSELF OUT OF THE WINDOW.

Sir, I politely ask you for 5ft of space TO BREATH.

This golden lighting looks so good on him... I'm a Kaowoat Supasin whore first, then human (mdl give me the cinematographer for this series, I must bake them a cake as a thank u)

STOP SMILING, WHAT ABOUT MY SANITY?! WHAT ABOUT IT?!?!

"The brush is here" I'M - Lord have mercy on me, I beg of you. This motherfucker is gonna end me.

Zouy, ma' baobei, you are adorable. I'll fight the world for you.

I truly wanna go forward but I just keep getting lost in his chest eyes, I'M SO SORRY -

Also, "you weren't drawing too well today, I can give you some private lessons". I know is an inuendo, but brother:

this is suppossed to be a sketch... YOU AIN'T TEACHING THIS VOICE NOTHING. He is giving you drawing classes, ma brother.

I'm not winning this fight. I'm not. I truly wanna focus but I'm as lost as Zouy right here. The grip on the neck tho...

First of all: First, the fact that you were able to fool your father about what you were watching. Another Nat 20 from the bl boys.

Second, all of you SoongFirst girlies... I get you. I start to understand you. I see y'all.

I feel like they are making Captain a huge red herring but this is only ep1 so I'm going to let them try to convince me that Captain is somehow at fault

" Hello, is this bad bitch number? Ah, no / I'm looking for a savage girl, ah, no " - this is the bgm for this moment 100%

The fact that none of this 4 bitches can tell this ain't Nant is so funny to me. Boy comes in, lights a cigarrete and reads y'alls asses and nothing feels odd???

low blow with the mother comment, Nont.

They are so White and Black coded, I love this for the not me girlies. This is the "what if Black was the inflitrated twin?" AU we deserved.

and of course his wallpaper is them together. He's going to fuck someone up and then fuck Prom

Chat you are adorable, idc what First's ends up being in the grand scheme of things in this series, he's done nothing wrong, look at this face:

an absolute angel.

They are also adorable, HELP.

I feel like that ring is worth this whole ordeal, That was today's payment.

Now, this whole bit with TeenaZouy has to go on mute because the fucking yaoi sounds bUT:

the chill music in the laptop, Zouy in his underwear painting, the oil painting... god, this is such a mood, add snacks and this was my days a few years back. I miss doing model work with my friends.

I'm. climbing. MY WALLS.

T for Troy Teena

FUCK, I'M AT THE 30 PIC LIMIT... Another part I guess.

#playboyy #playboyy the series #thai bl #thai drama #bl drama

[ilyamatic]

Oh How the Days Go By

Days Go By by SBTRKT & Toro y Moi

Art by Ace of Swords

But first a word from our sponsor:

Bonswa tout moun, it is I Abby, back with a pirate au!

"Abby," you are probably thinking. "Didn't you already have a pirate au?"

And the answer is yes, yes I did. A wonderful one too, all about vigilante justice against slavery and empires. The thing is... Researching information about the slave trade as a Black person is incredibly triggering LMAO. And some personal things happened as well that definitely would effect the story at large. So, it got scrapped.

But the idea of my OCs sailing the seas and being menaces to society wouldn't leave me. So here we are, another pirate au. This time sorta set in the Arcanaverse, with magic, mayhem, and a hell of a lot more romance. I hope y'all don't mind.

Time moved far too quickly. It felt like yesterday he was young and sprightly, holding his tiny daughter Alexei in his hands. Now his bones creak when he gets out of bed and his hair is thin. Now his tiny Alexei, the one he could hold in both his hands, is tiny no longer. She stood tall and proud, her face a mirror of his own, a mirror of his mother. A mirror reflected in Alexei’s own daughter, his precious Shoshanna. The light of his life, a joy to him in his old age…

“Zeyde!” Shoshanna said as she pulled him along to the den. “You promised me a story!”

… and a pain in his tuckus. 

“Shoshi,” Ilya complained. “I just walked in the door. Have mercy on an old man!”

“You weren’t old yesterday,” she countered.

“That was yesterday. A lot can happen overnight.”

He heard his daughter snort from her place at her desk, scripts and music sheets strewn about. How little things had changed in 30 years, ink stained fingers a permanent fixture as soon as she learned her letters.

Different, smaller ink stained fingers grasped his own, pulling him towards an overstuffed chair in front of the fire. Auburn coils and curls bouncing as Shoshanna stomped over to the seat. Ilya didn’t have to see it to know her lips were downturned into a determined little mou.

Soon Ilya found himself pushed into a chair with a lap full of an excited seven year old, dark eyes looking up at him expectantly. Oh, how little things have changed.

“Alright you little tyrant,” he said with a sigh. “What story would you like tonight? Shall I tell you about my childhood in my shtetl?” 

“No, Maman said you can’t tell those anymore. Too many bad ideas and too many bears.”

Ilya shot a look over his shoulder to Alexei who shot him an unimpressed look back. 

“Fine. What about my time traveling through the Empire?”

Shoshanna wrinkled her nose. “Maman said that you don’t tell the good ones.”

“How would she know?!”

“Because Zaza told me so,” Alexei replied smugly. 

He felt his eye twitch. Damn it Asra.

“Fine. How about I tell you… about the time I was a pirate.”

Shoshanna first looked intrigued, then skeptical. “You were a pirate? Don’t your ankles swell when you’re on a fishing boat for too long?”

“I was young once!” Ilya said indignantly. “And in my youth I sailed across the Seven Seas with the notorious crew of the Solanase and her captain, the Djab of the Turquoise Waters.”

That seemed to catch his granddaughter’s attention.

“Really? The Djab?” Shoshanna asked excitedly.

“The one and only," Ilya answered with a smile.

“Will there be action?”

“Of course!”

“And adventure?!”

“As sure as the sun rises!”

“And love?”

Ilya cracked a smile. “Yes shefele, there will be love. So much that the seas could not contain it.”

#the arcana #julian devorak #new pirate au #fan babies #abby's adventures in fic

[vintagelacerosette]

hey you! can you believe it’s the end of the year? 🥳✨🥂

to wrap up another fucking fantastic year of loving on ian & mickey & each other, please share:

your favorite thing you created this year

a fanfic that you can’t wait to reread

a piece of fan art you can’t stop thinking about

happy new year! cheers to another go around the sun! xx

Happy happy new year Bee 🥳🎉 This has been an amazing year for me engaging in fandom in a way i wish i had when i was younger and I couldn't be more thankful I was able to find you all 🥰 I love y'all & wishing so much abundance for the new year for all of us 💖

1. Favourite thing you created this year?

have to say I'm pretty proud of all the things I've been creating this year & having the courage to share them 🥰

My faves have been my good omens au, macy's GGE2022, holiday card & watercolour stargazing ✨️

And also a shout out to the birthday art I've made too! I loved making the crystals for you, gallacats & cow's for leah 💕

2. A fanfic you can't wait to reread?

There was sooo many amazing fics this year that I read 🥰

Anything by @goodkwuestion especially faffy & tipdig these fics strike my core & are sensational 💖

@captainjow l Let the bodies do the talkin' it's absolute 🔥🔥🔥

@annatrow My Nine Lovers is absolute thrill to read ❤️‍🔥

@jomilky fics are amazingly smutty 🌶

@celestialmickey yqhbr is an amazing fic & an authentic read on the tumblr experience. Adored making fanart for this 🥰

@look-i-love-u Flower u-up gives me heart flutters 💐

@suzy-queued These foolish games & my GGE2022 The birkenshire trials are such fantastic fics 🔫💖

@crazynadine the cauldron born series has amazing freaking lore & magical setting depth 🔮

@squidyyy23 Dancing after death is amazing! ⛓️

@crossmydna sizzling tension of That's a Wrap is spectacular id love more of them 🎥

@depressedstressedlemonzest I adore their fics & this build-a-bear fic had me melting 🐻

@whatthebodygraspsnot Sweetpea is brilliant got me seeing every black cat on tumblr as 'im 🐈‍⬛️

This is not a Fairytale by bluebirdeywrites is a pixie au treasure i didn't know i needed 🧚‍♀️

@lalazeewrites Of going home has immaculate world building of the superhero au 💪

@gallavichgeek Only fans series is fantastic 📹

@abundanceofnots Agents of undead chaos is a whimsical adventure 💭

@sunoficarus weaver of fate (to your will i won't fold) is a glorious fic ✨️

@beebabycastiel A Little Bit of Tender Mercy, these guys are so freakin cute i cant even 😆💘

an exception to the rule by you is an exquisite fic 😍

@howlinchickhowl Ristretto is a fic that gives me so much feels ☕️💕

@flamingbluepanda The Wonder of You cute soulmate fic that i had the pleasure to read before posting 😘

@notherenewjersey Love, guaranteed, love this fic just makes my heart full ⚖️

@ mmmichyyy The silence is all we have, god this is so wonderfully emotional & riveting ♥️

@very-sleepy-head Kinky advent calendar was delightful 🔥

3. Pieces of fanart you can't stop things about?

Buckle up bc we so blessed as a fandom 🥰

My breathtaking commissions made by the magnificent @darthvaders-wife here gave me everything I wanted & more 💙

This comic by @psychicskulldamage mick's booty in Ian's eyes? Instead of heart eyes it's peach eyes 😂 I need your art tattooed on me 😍

The tenderness of @heymrspatel in this piece just gives me the ✨️oh✨️ feeling all the time

Your art too Bee here pulls on my heart strings wow 🌅

@mishervellou s all of paola's are phenomenal & i simply adore dancing painted kiss art 💋

@adakechi art is holy wow & stunning 😭

@milkoviched sweater weather art had bubble butt & bubble bulge 🍑🍆💕

suzy-queued gallacrafts has my jaw on the floor every time like this one! Omg the craftsmanship 💖

@imikhailotakeyouian chibis bring me immense joy 💕

@ianandmickeygallavich i like em sweet craft was sooo creative i love it 🍬

@deathclassic such beautiful art here ✨️

@gallavichiscomfort absolutely precious chibi art i need stickers 😍

@mikhailoisbaby snuggle husbands 🌈

@ divine-gallavich pls take my money these pieces are phenomenal 🥹

@tsuga-of-mars gallacraft is soft, sensitive & magical! Just so them 💘

@creepkingin c incredible book binding 💚

@takeyourpillsbitchh artwork of one of my fave scene is amazing 🤚

@filorux art here with Ian's mesmerising eye & pocket mickey love!!! 😍

@y0itsbri tomato king ian 🍅

@grumpymickmilk gallavich picrew is sensational 👏

@ steorie comic is spectacular omg the details ❤️‍🔥

@mikcrymilkovich oh this art is beautifully tender 🧡

@clingymickey cute snuggling husbands in bed art 🌙

@friend-bear art has a beautifully intense colour scheme 🧡💜

@doodlevich family pride comic is the sweetest 🌈🥰

I'm loving on gif makers too bc they're damn artists too 😍

@mrsinistertype my first gifted gif set & it makes my heart burst ily 😘💘

@ gallavichsbitch gif set makes me all emotional i need some monumental instrumental music here 🥹

@sluttymickey this gif set has me in stitches omg 🤣

celestialmickey set here mesmerising with angel numbers 🥹💖

@gardenerian this set magical & heart melting 🥰

@7x10mickey big ole mo everybody 🌈

@mixkeymilkovich gif set mickey is all that & more 🥰

@sisitrip winter gif set so beautiful ❄️

@sickness-health-all-that-shi t have you ever seen so eyes so blue in this set 💙💙

@imikhailo beautiful rainbow set for beautiful rainbow boy 🌈

@themilkoviches text gif posts are hilarious omg i love 🖤

@usermikhailo this colour combo of this gif set is perfection 🧡💚

Also astounding video art by @southsidesadness gives me literal chills all the dang time 🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️

#darling starlight bee ✨️💛 #gallawitchxx #i feel like im missing some darn it 😫 #oops i think i made an rec list 😆 #ask #💌 #rec list

[assortedfruitsnacks212]

Index - Billy Hargrove

Fic Series

Lost Boy (post-S3 AU, angst, horror, found family, eventual Billy x El) - in progress

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

It's been over two months since the Battle of Starcourt. Billy Hargrove survived, but he's not sure he should have. Scarred in body and mind, he has no idea who he is anymore. He spends his days drinking and fighting until Neil, incensed by his son's behavior, throws him out of the house.

Hopper and El come to the rescue, taking Billy home to live with them. Their compassion is unnerving... and exactly what he needed. However, as he adjusts to his newfound "family," he realizes something isn't right. He still feels the Shadow's call, urging him to kill.

Little does he know the Shadow doesn't need him to obey. It has another piece on the board, waiting to strike.

Worship The Flame (post-S3 future AU, Billy x El angst, fluff, smut) - in progress

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

It's May 1989. After three years in California, Billy returns to Hawkins for Max's high school graduation. He thinks he'll find everything—and everyone—as he left them. Turns out time has moved on in Hawkins, too, and a certain "little girl" isn't so little anymore. Now that he's back, she's desperate to prove it to him.

Too bad he swore he'll never fall for her. And if he does, there's no way her police chief father won't find out.

Oneshots

Enemy Of My Enemy (Eddie & Billy as awkward allies, pre-S3)

Billy Hargrove's been one of Eddie's best customers all year. Today though, when he shows up to the clearing with a black eye and stitches, Eddie knows this drug deal's gonna be different.

Fuck ‘Em (Eddie & Billy friendship, short S4 fix-it)

In the aftermath of the battle against Vecna, Eddie has an awkward heart to heart with Billy Hargrove.

She Knows (Billy & El one-sided friendship, short post-S3 AU)

Eleven tries to talk to Billy after the events of S3. It doesn't go well. Alternatively: Billy is scared to death of a teenage girl.

Have Mercy (Billy in Russia AU)

He’s been in Kamchatka for weeks now. The Russians, it seems, find him endlessly fascinating. They’ve dragged him to that small underground arena so many times he’s lost count, setting forth challenge after challenge. Bend this. Break that. It’s getting repetitive and, honestly, pretty boring.

All of that changes when they issue a new challenge—one that tests his humanity instead of his strength.

Amerikanyetz (Hopper finds Billy in Russia AU)

In a secret bunker in Kamchatka, Hopper finds another American prisoner. Someone who shouldn't be alive.

To My Younger Self (Billy & Hopper friendship, post-S3 AU, short letter fic)

From an AU where Billy survives Starcourt with major PTSD.

After an especially difficult week, Billy finds something on the dash of his car: a plain envelope with the words "To Billy, from Hopper" scrawled on the outside.

My AO3

My Art On Etsy

strangerthings4theories (Billy-centric theory blog)

Bileven Meta

Why I ship Billy x El

Billy and El are mirror images of each other

The phone booth: El hears Billy’s call for help

El is coded autistic

I’m not a perv for shipping Bileven. You’re just an asshole

The way this fandom dehumanizes El really gets to me sometimes

"What does your 'strawberry ice cream' tag mean?"

Bileven Extras

This gifset from The Boys perfectly captures the Bileven dynamic

“El would love Billy like a sister!”—I'm about to start making fun of y'all 🙄 (thread fic)

A years-long fight (thread fic)

Top ten Bileven songs

Bileven playlists

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fanfic #bileven #billy x el #billy x eleven #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things 3 #stranger things 4 #eddie munson #jim hopper #el hopper

[from-a-reckless-writer]

The first tell was the body next to her. The second was the warmth. Her bed was never warm these days. The first two things had already clued her in that there was something off. Off was an understatement. She’s certain she passed out on her office floor clutching a bottle of alcohol and Jess was going to kill her in the morning. So, how the fuck-

The longer she stays there, eyes closed, feeling the breathing of a stranger, the more she’s convinced she’s suffered from amnesia. 

Beyond scared she opens her eyes, hoping, praying that she didn’t bring home some idiot from a cheap lesbian bar. Her eyes land on blonde hair and an all too familiar set of defined shoulders and Lena lets out a gasp of surprise. She sobers up, jerks upright. Jolting the pair of arms wrapped around her waist and making her companion wake abruptly. 

“Lena- Wha- Why’re you awake?”

“Kara-” That was all she was capable of as of the moment, because Kara was sitting up and flicking on the bedside lamp, letting Lena glimpse the small clock on the nightstand that read 4: 00 a.m. 

Kara’s voice was all raspy and sleep-laden and she was looking at Lena with concern. She was looking at Lena like they’ve done this all the time. And they did. 

Once. 

She remembers jerking awake screaming from nightmares and Kara holding her; remembers waking up to Kara’s screams and holding her. 

But this-

This wasn’t right. 

“Did you have a nightmare?” She asks, crinkle forming. And Lena just stares and stares and-

“Kara, this isn’t real.”

“What? Oh, baby, come here. That dream must’ve really done a number on you, huh?” Kara coos and she gathers Lena in her arms. Lena can do nothing but melt and follow Kara’s movements, her mind is still reeling. 

Trying to decipher the events that had led here. This wasn’t real. This-

A tremble shakes the bed. Lena’s heart rate ticks up, Kara seems to have heard because she’s tightening her embrace and more words come out of her lips, but Lena doesn’t hear a word of it.

“I’m here, you’re safe. I’m here.” 

Lena finally finds her voice and she slowly tries to extricate herself from Kara. She can feel her hesitating to let her go. 

“This isn’t real,” She repeats and Kara is ready to protest, “Please, Kara. Please listen to me?”

She nods. Kara was never one to deny Lena anything, anyway. Lena sighs a breath of relief. 

“Thank you. Uh- I think this isn’t real, Kara. I think I’m inside a Black Mercy induced dream.”

And as if it heard a cue, the bed and the rest of the room vibrates as if ashamed of being called-out so easily. 

“No, no, no. You aren’t. You’re real. I’m real, You-” Kara is scrambling for words, “Look- Here, feel this?” Kara frantically grabs her hand and presses it to her own chest, “Can you feel it? This is real. Don’t say it isn-”

Lena feels like sobbing, because it does feel real. The strong beats underneath her palm thundering through her very soul. It feels so so so fucking real. She’s never wanted something to be real as bad as this. She wants to believe, because Kara is looking at her with those baby blue eyes and she wants to say that ‘Yes, I believe it real. We’re real.’

She can’t.

“Kara, the bed is trembling. Can you feel it? This isn't real. You’re in my head.”

It was brutal. She watches Kara’s face fall. She retracts her hand back. 

“How are you so sure that this isn’t real?”

The question was asked with so much fear. 

“Because,” she starts shaky but certain, “I hurt you, Kara. And that is the one thing that I can never forget.”

It was true. She can never forget the way Kara crumpled to her feet. Can’t forget the way the Girl of Steel broke by Lena’s hands. Can’t forget the tear-stricken face. 

Can’t forget the pleas. 

“Don’t do this, Lena. Please, come on. Please, stay. Don’t leave. Not you, please I can’t-”

“Oh.”

The silence was deafening. She can’t look at Kara as she processes everything. So she takes the time to survey the room. And God, every inch of the room screams how much they’ve stitched their lives with the other. 

There were books haphazardly stacked in one corner, a painting easel in the other, Kara’s cape shining in the dim light of the lamp, Lena’s old MIT sweatshirt at the foot of the bed. 

A wedding portrait. They were married here. Fuck. 

Lena chances a glance at her left hand and not only does she find a ring but also a matching gold bracelet. A Kryptonian mating band. Now, she notices that Kara’s ring was worn on her neck next to her Mother’s necklace Lena supposes she wears it underneath the Super suit and a matching bracelet sitting on her left wrist. 

“I’m sorry,” Lena says ‘for everything.’ she wants to add but she remembers this isn’t her Kara. She doesn’t have a Kara. She doesn’t have any part of Kara. Not anymore.

“What are you sorry for? If anyone could figure out they were inside a parasite induced dream, it would be you.  You’re a genius but you’re dumb for apologizing. You should reject the fantasy now, Lena. You’ll die.”

Damn it, even here. 

Even here Lena is still hurting her and Kara still wants to save her. 

The tears finally fall. The sobs come next. 

“Oh, Lena. Come here. It’s okay. I’m here,”

“I- I know, I’ll die but God, Kara, I want to stay here. I- You’re my everything, you know?”

“I know, Lena. I’ve always known. You don’t have to die because I’ll always know. You need to get out of here now,” She whispers against Lena’s temple and Lena takes the time to breathe her in. God, even the scent smells real. 

“Y-you’re right. I should go, but-” Lena doesn’t know how to ask for what she wants. That was what her therapist had said the first time she booked an appointment.

“But what?”

“Tell me about our life here first?” At that Kara pulls away a bit to look into her eyes; gauging if this is really what Lena wants. 

It is, it’s what she wants but more than that it’s what she needs. The reassurance that somewhere out there, there was a world in which they made each other happy. That in a universe out there--whether real or not--the both of them had a taste of a happy ending.

“Okay, okay yeah. But first, promise me you’ll get out of here as fast as you can, once we’re done?” 

She was never one to deny Lena Luthor anything, remember? She was more than happy to recount the entirety of their love story to her.

“Thank you.” And Lena can’t help but press a soft kiss to Kara’s cheek. 

“Where do you want to start?”

“Do we have a dog?”

“Krypto,” Kara says with a shy smile as if she knows that Lena would laugh at the goofy sentimental name choice, “And a cat, Streaky Jr., you don’t allow pets in the bedroom so,”

“I’m impressed we have the time for pets,” Lena whispers as she shifts closer to Kara in the bed. Heart now beating in a steady calm rhythm, gone was the panic earlier, now replaced by a sense of security, no matter how false it is. 

“Well, you decided to distribute most of the workload to Jess--who you promoted to board member by the way, and to Sam. And since, Wednesday is my first day as Editor-in-Chief, my schedule’s not as busy as it was.”

It was nice to hear that. The way they have obviously chosen to grow into themselves together. She was glad that in her perfect world she hadn’t forgotten about Jess and Sam.

“Oh, and also you spend most of your days in our home lab with Jack anyway. So, the pets get plenty of love.”

“Jacky’s alive here?”

“Yeah, you reversed the nanotech matrix. You saved him.”

And the crying fest begins anew. 

“I miss him, so much.”

“I’m sorry.”

Lena doesn’t have to explain her reaction, Kara knows how to read her anyway.

At the reminder of Jack, Lena finds the courage to ask a question she’s never thought she would want to ask.

“What about Lex and Lillian?”

“Well, your brother’s probably drunk in an L-Corp gala somewhere and Lillian’s probably plotting about how she’s going to insult my next article-”

So, she still has her brother and it seems like Lillian’s not much of a xenophobe as she is in reality but she senses that she still is a bad mother with the way Kara talks.

“When did we get married?”

“Two years after we first met. We had two, actually.”

“I’m guessing I insisted on a Kryptonian wedding and you insisted on a human one?”

She knows that one, because she’s been thinking about it. Well, at least she was before everything went to shit. She wanted to give Kara a Kryptonian ceremony. She had wanted to show her that Lena would be honored to share everything Kara’s world had to offer.

“Are we-” she hesitated, “Are we happy, Kara?”

She wasted no time in answering, “The happiest. You make me the happiest soul alive in this universe and in any universe.”

Fresh tears fall down the side of her face and Kara wipes them away before speaking, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Well, I guess it’s only fair.” Lena sniffles and prepares her mind for what she knows will be an emotionally-charged exchange not that this has been an easy conversation thus far.

“Out there, are you happy?”

Lena’s air is stolen from her. Well, she doesn’t know how to answer that one. 

“Sometimes,” she whispers. She’s not happy most of the time but sometimes she is.

Sometimes, Ruby calls her to tell her about a science project or sometimes Nia sends her meme even though she hasn’t been to Game Nights for almost a year now, sometimes Brainy takes her out for a drink and she feels like she’s got a little brother to call her own. 

So yeah, sometimes. Because the thought of perpetual happiness without Kara in her life is impossible. 

“Only sometimes?” Kara asks, brow furrowing.

“Yeah, only sometimes. Not like it matters, anyway.”

“Well, of course it matters! Your happiness matters!” Kara exclaims, old habits die hard what can she say?

But then Kara takes a turn from defensive to curious again, “Am I happy? Out there? I mean?” 

“I- I have no idea.”

Lena waits for the answer to sink in to Kara. 

“What? What do you mean you have no idea?”

“Remember when I said I hurt you?” 

Kara gives her a nod.

“Well, I haven’t seen you for a long time. I’ve been avoiding you. Normally people tend to not seek out their exes, you know.” 

She’s trying to keep it lighthearted. She’s trying not to let this Kara see how much she craves her presence, how much she wishes she could see Kara again. Don’t get her wrong, Supergirl is plastered every minute on the news, but- 

That’s not who she wants to see. 

“She’s miserable,” Kara answers point-blank leaving no room for argument, “If you’ve been avoiding me, I’d be miserable.”

That has Lena speechless. 

Because miserable would be an understatement of how things had been ever since they ended things. 

Ever since Lena ended things. 

“I don’t like not being with you, you know?” Kara states as if Lena doesn’t feel the same.

“I- I don’t like that either.”

“I know.”

She has to go. Lena knows she has to go but Kara is looking at her so sincerely and she can feel the love and she knows this is nothing but an intricate trap formed by an alien parasite slowly killing her. She has to go but-

“Lena!” 

The both of them are startled and four eyes immediately land to-

Kara?! No, not Kara. Supergirl.

“Supergirl,” She says; surprise coloring her voice. She didn’t know Supergirl would go in and save her. Hell, she didn’t even know how she found her. But then again, she’s tried solving the puzzle that is Kara Zor-El but had never been able to piece it together. 

Supergirl takes a look at her doppelganger in bed with Lena; a scene so familiar to her. A scene she’s replayed again and again in her head. A scene that was once their reality then a memory and now an illusion. She takes a step closer.

“Lena, we have to go, please. Please believe me, this isnt-” 

“-real,” Lena finishes for her and Supegirl looks stunned, “I know, Supergirl. I know how to reject my own fantasy. I’ve had plenty of practice, after all.”

She aims for sarcasm, because fucking fucking hell, how the fuck does anybody expect her to function if there were two Kara’s in front of her?

That was asking for too much. 

Beside her, Kara had gone silent. It seems like she knows what comes next. She knows what Supergirl intends to do. They’re the same person after all. 

“It’s okay,” Lena hears Kara say and she breaks away from the hero’s gaze to find Kara looking at her with those eyes again.

“It’s okay, Lena,” She repeats, “It’s okay, Supergirl’s here. You’re gonna be safe. Stay safe for me, yeah?”

“Lena we have to go. Now,” Supergirl commands from the other side of the room. 

“Okay, yeah,” She whispers then she turns to Supergirl, “Just give me a chance to say goodbye, please?”

Supergirl stares at her for a moment then at Kara then she gives them both a nod and turns back to give them privacy.

“Last question?”

“Hit me.”

“What’s your surname?”

“Luthor.”

Fuck. She shouldn’t feel this surprised but damn, hearing Kara confirm it? Lena doesn’t know how to feel about that. She doesn’t know how to feel about all of this. 

“Just like you promised.”

“Just like I promised.” 

The words are echoed back to her and Lena hates the way she’s noticed how stiff Supergirl’s posture had become in her periphery. Ignores the fact that Supergirl has superhearing. 

“Thank you for indulging me, Kara.”

“Always.”

Goodbye, darling.”

And then everything fades to black.

author’s note: hiya lovely people send me an ask if i should write a follow-up for this.

#supercorp ficlet #supercorp ficlet of sorts ig? #it's another black mercy au y'all #it's very angsty #the reckless writer somewhat writes?? #the reckless writer writes #lena luthor #kara danvers #supercorp #rcklss writes

[elephart-hi]

Worthy of a Queen | Jurdan Canon Compliant AU

AU: Jude decided to take Cardan in small doses during The Wicked King. Lovers AU

Summary: Jude was a fool for try to best Cardan here. She may be a cunning spy and a swords master but the bedroom and lovemaking was his domain.

~~~

“Shall we continue?” he asked in a voice of innocence that certainly seemed akin to lying with how far innocence was from his intentions.

~~

Jude had underestimated Cardan. She got her prize, she had won the battle, but he was going to win the war. With that miserable thought in mind and her pride boiling with anger she spat out her response, “fuck you.”

Cardan’s chuckle was dark and dangerous as he said, “with pleasure.”

Rating: M is for mature and mad filthy (but ends sweetly) (I try to trick ya in the beginning bare with it)

AN: This is my first ever fic!!!! And of course, it's Jurdan and of course, it's smut. No one is surprised. Shout out to Amber and Hannah for being my beta readers and convincing me to post this. And shout out to @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 who's beautiful writing made me go fuck it and sit down and write something myself which I've always wanted to do, so thank you keep being wonderful.

Please let me know what y'all think! I have ideas for a whole fic for this so if you want that tell me.

Inspired by these sketches and this

set during the Wicked King

warnings: hair pulling, spanking, and light bondage

AO3

As she lay sprawled out on her hands and knees, dirty, sweaty, and out of breath, it was clear to Jude Duerte that pride was her hamartia. She could have everything that she needed if she would only concede but stubbornly she refused to. Her pride wouldn't allow it, no matter how desperate she was.

Instead of the glory, she assumed she would achieve that night she lay there pathetically at his mercy. Something she deeply detested. She detested it almost as much as the smirk she could practically hear on his full lips as an infuriatingly cocky laugh rumbled out from deep in his throat. A laugh that had her toes curling and her seeing red and seething. Just as most things that came from his lips did.

Jude gritted her teeth together as she futilely attempted once more to get him to relent but the ironclad grip on her hair did not loosen and she was met with another rumble of laughter followed by a resonating smack of skin against skin. Her cheek stung from the impact and the slap made her burn red hot. The blow would surely bruise.

She hated him for this. Absolutely loathed him for it. She could easily beat him in a fight, have him on his back with a knife to his throat in less than ten seconds if she wanted. He knew that as much as she did. He probably relished in the knowledge of it, of having her here like this when she could easily best him. But she couldn’t now. Not if she wanted what she came for. Tonight her only option of getting what she needed would be to play nice. Something she was not fond of nor good at. Something that she absolutely did not want to do. Jude wanted nothing more than to make him see red as she did at that moment.

In her anger and frustration, Jude let his name snarled from her lips, “Enough of your stupid games Cardan” she nearly spat the last syllable out.

She was met with another slap, its impact sent her reeling with a groan slipping from her mouth. She hated to give away that his blow affected her at all; that groan was a loss for her. He hummed at the sound she made. Satisfied that her patience was running thin. Happy that he was getting to her. He knew he was winning. He gripped her hair tighter, tugging her head back and her lips pulled into a sneer. She could hear that fucking smirk again as he murmured into her ear with the buttery voice of a lover, “What games do you speak of my darling Jude?”

She struggled again but to no avail. The ‘my darling’ getting to her just like he knew it would. Oh, it made her burn. “You know what I’m speaking of!”

All that he smugly replied with was “Do I?” a small quip from his devastating lips.

She knew he was toying with her. Responding with questions to avoid having to speak in truths. A common trick of the fae used to deceive those around them. But Jude was having none of it.

“Give me what I want, Cardan!” it was a vicious snarl from her lips. He stilled completely at it and she knew it had been a mistake to let her temper fly. She knew he would only give her what she craved if she played by his rules and losing this prize was not an option for her. She couldn’t afford it. Jude was absolutely desperate.

He leaned in close to her ear once more and in a hushed whisper that sent a shiver, not unlike a premonition, down her spine and said, “all you have to do is ask Jude. But make it pretty, befitting of the king of fairy,” his words were an infuriating echo of what he had said to her not so long ago at the summer tournament after she had bested him in the war games. He had gripped her hair like this then too. But Jude doubted she would best him tonight.

She hated it. She hated him for this.

“Go fuck yourself,” she spat at him. He gripped her hair painfully tight this time and slapped her ass harder than he had before. The combination left a series of moans spilling out of her.

He drank up her cries like it was the fine wine they had drunk from the bottle which sat empty next to their dinner on the discarded tray situated on his bed next to them. The gaudy fabric of the comforter cushioned both of their knees, his tucked under and between hers, forcing her legs to be spread wide for him.

“But then I’d have to stop fucking you, my sweet nightmare. And I know neither one of us would want that” he looked down to where he was buried to the hilt in her, still and unmoving. His free hand massaging her red and sore butt cheeks that were bruising from his earlier abuse.

“Especially not after you were dressed up so divinely for me tonight. That dress was just begging to come off wasn’t it?” He hummed as his free hand went from massaging her sore bum to teasing her right above the nub between her thighs. So close to where she desperately needed him to be but giving her no reprieve and only making her more desperate. Jude bit her lip, refusing to respond, her stubbornness digging its heels in, so Cardan continued on.

“I could tell how wound up you were when you showed up here. With a pretty blush already on your breasts and the sweet scent of your arousal coming from your skirts with every step you took towards me.” The dress in question laid discarded on the floor beside his own clothes. It had been raven-black to match his hair, hugged her curves and muscles like a second skin, and was dangerously low cut. Definitely not her usual attire, definitely wasn't subtle Jude realized with embarrassment. Both of their wardrobes had been removed in haste not far into their dinner. The buttons of Cardan’s ridiculous blouse scattered the tiles beneath the bed, having been ripped from the fabric as Jude rushed to undress him in her lustful frenzy.

“So unusually kind of you to bring dinner and wine for me, to ask to eat in my company. I know it was all just an act to get me to fuck you, Jude. The least you could do for me is beg for it,” he whispered dangerously, his voice thick with his arousal.

Jude flushed again, this time in shame from his words. That he truly thought it out of her character to be kind. It was true of course. Jude wasn’t a very kind person, not after what she had lived through. But for some reason that was beyond her, she wanted him to think highly of her. She wanted him to think she was kind. And most bizarre of all, she wanted to be kind to him. Perhaps fairyland was driving her mortal mind mad after all.

“It wasn’t just to get you to bed me Cardan,” Jude answered ashamed of how breathy it came out, ashamed of what she was about to say, “I did want to enjoy your company tonight. I brought you dinner and wine because I thought it would make you happy.”

Jude would be damned before she begged him or anyone for anything. But if he wanted sweet words from her she would give it to him at this point. His free hands had moved upwards from tracing around her clit and had gone to circle her breasts. From time to time he would give them a brutal squeeze. More taunting but no release. Jude was a bundle of nerves wound up painfully tight. She needed her prize and she would be getting it if it was the last thing she did. She just wouldn’t beg for it.

To her surprise, he landed another searing smack to her backside sending her sliding forward and had him pulling her back onto his cock by her hair. Jude’s toes curled on the mattress, more moans spilling from her lips. She was beyond keeping them in at this point, the wine they had drunk making her dizzy, or perhaps it was just him doing that. The lust fogged her brain more than the alcohol did. She tried to slide forward again so she could push back onto his delicious length, rock hard and throbbing within her, but he held her hair tight, keeping her in place. Still no release in sight.

“Dirty mortal liar” Cardan spat at her, not believing her wishes to make him happy. Landing another brutal blow on her bum. Cardan had confessed to Jude in the court of shadows that he was no killer, but that didn’t take away from his cruel nature. He wasn't being gentle with her. Jude didn’t want him to be.

The spanking was a mercy compared to the torture he had been forcing her to endure. The sharp slaps gave her friction and reprieve from his cold refusal to please her in the ways she craved. And now because of her earlier outbursts, he remained buried in her gut unmoving and wouldn't move an inch till she begged him to. Before at least he had been in motion albeit it being painfully slow. Sliding in and out of her aching core, still slick and throbbing from his earlier ministrations with his mouth. He had spent longer feasting on her than he had on his meal, now cold and forgotten. He had tortured her with his tongue, bringing her to the edge of precipice but never allowing her to tumble over the peak into blissful oblivion.

She thought he would finally give her release when he slid his gloriously thick length inside of her but still he only taunted her. Slowly he would slide in and out of her, mocking her with what she was desperate for. He would pull out to his tip, her hair locked in his ringed hand keeping her in place while he eased back into her wetness at a punishingly slow pace. All the while knowing she was desperate for more. Each strike to her ass had been a godsend, pumping red hot arousal to her system while his little endearments, ‘my Jude’, ‘my sweet nightmare’ spurred her on. Cardan knew she secretly loved to hear them. Knew she loved hearing him call her ‘his’. Knew it made her think of all the things he could do to claim her as his; with his hands, mouth, and cock.

But they were far too alike the two of them, Cardan as prideful and stubborn as she. Jude could feel him pulsing inside her. A pounding throb in time with his heartbeat. She knew it had to be painful at this point, he was torturing himself as much as he was her. But that was part of the thrill for him. He loved the powerplay, loved toying. He wanted to come out on top; Jude couldn’t let him.

“I may be a liar Cardan but I didn’t just then. I want to make you happy.” Jude was panting as she spoke. She would never live this down. She couldn’t bring herself to care though. It was the truth. She wanted it as much as she wanted him at that moment. She hadn’t been able to rid herself of the guilt of tricking him into the crown and chaining him to the throne as well as her command. She wanted to see a smile on his face rather than the sneer that lived there most days, as breathtaking as he was with either. Jude wanted Cardan to be happy and she wanted to be the one to make him feel that way. Especially after she was the source of his misery. Although it wasn’t as though he hadn’t been the source for much of hers in the past. That alone was the only thing that kept her from begging him to give her what she so desired. That she was horny enough to even consider begging him, if he was deserving of it, was something she didn't want to think too much about.

“If you wanted to make me happy Jude,” he said her name like a curse, his frustration with her stubbornness evident, ”you would beg for me.”

She felt a ghost of a touch tickle against her arm then flee away an instant later. She peeked down as much as she could with Cardan pulling her head back like he was. Below, his tail was coiling and uncoiling. Whipping back and forth sporadically. Like a cat’s would while it attacked its prey. Before, he had the laziness of a cat who had caught a mouse; a cat that was toying its food before devouring it. Now he was agitated and ready to strike. Jude could use that.

At her refusal to respond to him Cardan tisked and lamented “well if you have nothing to ask of me, my goddess of death, then I suppose we are done here.”

He started to pull out of her as though he meant to leave her there as a panting, aching, mess with no release in sight. Her prize to be lost. She felt his tail whisper next to her arm again, just as he slid his tip out, and with the desperation of a mouse fleeing its captor, Jude latched onto his tail and ripped him back, slamming his raging length deep into her. Hard. The cross between a groan and a whimper that escaped from his lips, and the toe-curling feeling of him slamming into her made her mad with desperation and giddy with power. Jude wasn't the mouse anymore. She was a lioness; she was going to feed.

“You’ll do well to remember who put that crown on your head, My King. Begging is out of the question and will be until you are worthy of it,” she purred at him. “As your sechel, I’d advise you to please me and do it well. But, and more importantly,” she said as sweet as the fruit of the everapple tree, “As the Queen of Shadows and master of your fate I demand you do it,” she finished with a smirk, using the word ‘demand’ instead of ‘command’, so there was no true magical power over him to do so.

“And Cardan,” She said glancing over her shoulder, his grip on her hair had gone slack enough for her to do so from his shock at her actions and words, “Do make it worthy of a Queen.”

Her bravo started to wear off as the giddiness faded. It was in that moment, staring into the Achingly beautiful face of the High King, whose midnight black orbs burned like fire threatening to consume her that Jude realized her mistake. From the look of the wickedly sinister grin on his sinful lips, Jude knew would be getting her prize after all… and then some. Cardan had been playing nice until now, in hopes she would be nice in turn to him. Now that he knew there would be no such thing he was more than willing to unleash himself on her relentlessly.

What a fool she had been to forget one of the first rules of fairyland: Be careful what you wish for.

Jude would be lucky to be able to sit down or move for the next week without being sore if their last row together was any indication of how the rest of the evening would play out.

Cardan’s grip on her hair tightened again and used his free hand to trace a single finger up the curve of her spine, sending goosebumps flying in its wake. He pulled her up against his chest by her hair. Her head resting on his shoulder now, breasts pushed out to the world and peeking from the chill in the room brought on by his change in mood. Being the High King gave Cardan control over the weather and such things; no more nice Cardan who gave her sweet endearment, this was the Cardan she was most familiar with, his face the picture of icy rage.

Her breath plumed in clouds from the frigid temperature and ruffled the raven black hair sticking to the sweat on his brow. She shivered from the cold. He was so devastatingly beautiful like this it made her head spin. The sneer on his face made her toes curl knowing she was the one who had put it there.

His voice was murderous as he murmured, “Give me back my tail.”

Her grip on the thing tightened as it tried to lash out of her grip. His tone only stoked the fire burning in her gut, the heat fighting the chill of the room.

She felt the giddiness bubble up in her again, the same feeling of fear mixed with excitement that she got when she taunted him at school. The feeling of taking a dare.

“Fuck me like you were told princeling and perhaps I will,” she referred to him by the same mocking title his late siblings would call him by, all of them being more than a hundred years his senior and already have established roles in the kingdom, while he was hardly 19 and had still been in school with no real power. She was deliberately placing him beneath her by calling herself a queen and him only a boy prince, despite him being two years her senior. She felt the smugness tugging her lips when she heard his breath come out ragged and slow. He was going to great lengths to keep his temper in check, still not wanting to let her win. But Jude could taste her victory, her toes curled and her gut tingled with sharp electricity boiling there. An almost hysterical laugh bubbled up her throat, knowing that her next words would send him over the edge.

“Or perhaps you don’t know how to please a woman, hmmm?? Were all those ballads about you being a good lover just pixie dust in the breeze? Maybe the musicians of the court were just flattering you so that the fine people of fairy would think that you were actually good for something.”

It was an obvious lie and they both knew it, Cardan has had her screaming his name, soaking the sheets, and has made her a blubbering mess, nothing more than putty in his arms, much to her own shame. But the lie was an insult to his manhood nonetheless. He would have to fuck her senseless now, his honor and pride would demand it.

His grip on her hair tightened as the room rapidly started to heat back up, getting hotter by the second. Cardan was pissed now. He used his free hand to trace the curves of her body following his hand with his deadly stare. He took in every inch of her, from the blush on her cheeks that burned so bright it went straight down her neck and chest and spotted across her full breasts which were heavy and aching from her arousal. He took in Jude’s toned stomach and muscular thighs appraising them as though they were one of the powders he frequently took as though he hadn't had a dose in far too long and was itching for it. There was a furious hunger in that gaze. The stare of a recovering alcoholic glaring at the bottle before he dived to the bottom of it. Furious for even wanting it, furious for going back to it, furious for having said no to it for so long when it felt so right. He was going to give into Jude even if she didn’t beg him for it. He was pissed about it.

His tracing hand slowly inched towards the numb of nerves between Jude’s thighs, her hair tugged back on his shoulder allowed him to hear the airy sigh that befell her lips, tickling his hair. Her airy moan sounded like one someone would heave when they stepped into a steaming bath after a long day of hard work, easing their aching muscles. That wouldn't do at all. There would be no easing for her. If she wanted to step in that tub then Cardan was going to shove her in and force her head under the water and keep it there till she was thrashing for air. If she wouldn't beg him to start, then she would have to beg him to stop.

Cardan leaned in and whispered to her ear, using all of his willpower to keep his temper in check, “Fitting for a Queen you said hmm,” the words sent shivers running down her spine, had her walls clenching around his cock that was still buried in her, to her great dismay still not in motion.

Cardan paused to take a breath and for a moment the whole room stilled as though his magic had quieted the very air around them, as if the whole kingdom was tingling in anticipation, silently waiting to see what happened next. Even the roaring fire that was crackling in its hearth just seconds prior didn’t dare to make a sound, lest it invokes the wrath of the wicked king. The only noise was Jude’s ragged breathing in eerie contrast.

Cardan’s words eased out in his exhale, resembling the sickening woop in the stomach one gets when falling from large heights, “How's this for fitting?”

Jude’s eyes were blown wide and then forced tightly shut as he unleashed himself onto her. The sounds of the room roaring back to life around them were completely lost to her as the brutally aching bliss filled her to the brim. The sensations were overpowering her, overwhelming her senses after being denied it for so long. The feeling of his length filling her to the brim combined with his sinful hands, one tugging her hair the other rubbing her nub; It was too much. Cardan’s hand was brutal in its attack on her clit, rubbing her relentlessly right where she wanted it, just the way she liked it.

The act alone was more than enough and already toying her towards the edge of release. Cardan knew Jude’s body far too well. He had spent plenty of time tracking all her tells, tracking every breath she took while she lay beneath him from the first moment she welcomed him into her bed. His dark hungry eyes always locked on her taking everything in. Cardan was a fantastic lover not just because he knew how to please any woman who passed his way, but because he went to lengths to perfect his craft for those who stayed.

Jude realized with no little shame that he had been saying something to her but she had missed it because of the roaring in her ear. Her cheeks went impossibly pinker when she realized it hadn't been roaring, but her own moaning. She hadn't even realized she was doing it so overcome by her arousal after being denied all night. She glanced up at him and all she could stupidly say was, “huh?”

He barked a laugh, his head thrown back; he loved making her like this. Knocking Ms. Know-it-all off her pedestal, making her dumb-founded and drooling. Such a sharp contrast to her usual stoic demeanor. He leaned down close to her face, slowly licked up the dribble of spit hanging from the corner of her mouth. Then with a wicked smirk on his sinful face, one that promised nothing but trouble, he went to her ear and snickered, “you’re as soaked for me as you were when I shoved you into that river mortal.”

As he said it he rubbed her just so, sending her shuddering relentlessly into an orgasm around his unmoving cock. The orgasm shattered her mind and made her see white, then instantly red from the fury his word sent her into. She hated that he made her come while he said that. Knew he had done it on purpose to piss her off. Knew it was the damning truth since no lie could fall from his fairy lips. Bliss, anger, and shame all swelled within her swirling together and muddling her mind in ways fairy fruit never could. Jude felt as though she might fade into the very magic of fairyland at that moment for surely if one could be magic itself, this would be how they always felt.

Jude couldn’t even get a word in back at him for what he said because he slammed his mouth against hers before she could recover enough to form a coherent sentence; licking and drinking up her moans like it was his only purpose in life. His other hand moved from restraining her hair and wrapped around her middle, pinning the arm holding his tail to her side in an ironclad hold and pinning her body against chest; his hand reaching up to attack her breasts. Switching back and forth between one and the other, he would alternate massaging and pinching her nipples with painful precision. His other hand was still working her clit sending her rolling from one orgasm into the next. The combination of it all was so overwhelming she cried out into his mouth as she squirted all over his hands, soaking their legs and the sheets beneath them. Jude was awash with shame and bliss, leaning her full weight on him to remain upright. He hadn’t even begun to fuck her properly yet, Cardan was still buried within her throbbing painfully from denying himself and she was already a stupid mess in his arms. The shit-eating smirk on his face told her that he was thinking the same thing.

Jude was a fool for try to best Cardan here. She may be a cunning spy and a swords master but the bedroom and lovemaking was his domain. Her legs quivered beneath her, hands limp at her side. Cardan released his hold on her, sending her falling ungracefully forward onto her chest and face. He laughed at her mockingly, “and now the sheets are nearly as soaked as your clothes were that day.”

Jude’s blood boiled and she wanted to turn around and slap him. But as she went to move she found herself unable to. While she hadn’t been looking, brain hazy from her orgasms, the roots from the tree atop the hill had curled their way down the bedposts and snaked their way across the sheets wrapping around her wrists binding her in place. Another display of his kingly magic. Jude tried to figure where she went wrong, one moment she was the one with power and now here she was again, completely at his mercy and more so than before. The answer to her question flicked back and forth in the periphery of her vision, his tail moving again like a lazy cat playing a game it knew it was going to win. He had made her come so hard she completely lost her senses and touched the stars and managed to release her one and only advantage.

“Thank you for returning my tail to me sweet Jude,” he said, noting her coming to this realization. His hand returned to her hair pulling her head back as much as he could while her hands were bound. He shifted, leaning forward shifting his body causing his cock to finally move within her once more; it was enough to make her lose a breathy moan. Oh! The frustration she felt with herself! She was a fool for him and it was humiliating. His other hand went back to massaging her bruised bum as he chuckled darkly behind her.

“Shall we continue?” he asked in a voice of innocence that certainly seemed akin to lying with how far innocence was from his intentions. Jude was still miserably horny, and not even the two earth-shattering orgasms he had given her were able to satiate her need after all the torture he had put her through earlier. She craved him desperately but her wounded pride couldn't bear to ask him to go on. She tried to shift her bum against his length again, the same attempts she had earlier, knowing it was just as futile now as it had been before. He laughed at her, slamming his palm hard against her ass just as he had done each time before.

“Excuse me, your majesty,” he purred, mocking her for calling herself a queen while pumping into her once, twice. Teasing her, making her nails dig into the bound palms of her hands in ecstasy, “I believe I asked you a question, my queen.”

Another endearment. Him calling her his. His queen. She squirmed again, willing him to please her but he held fast.

“Last chance Jude,” he murmured in her ear, leaning all the way forward so his cocked filled her completely, “Beg for mercy and I’ll give it to you,” the smirk was as present as ever in his infuriatingly sexy voice.

Jude had underestimated Cardan. She got her prize, she had won the battle, but he was going to win the war. With that miserable thought in mind and her pride boiling with anger she spat out her response, “fuck you.”

Cardan’s chuckle was dark and dangerous as he said, “with pleasure.”

He slammed into her unrelenting: brutal and hard. Jude was going to have to skip training tomorrow because of this, her body would be too sore. She hated missing training and it made her furious at him. Perhaps she just liked being made at him, she thought as he hit her spot over and over again making her see spots. She went to bury her moans and cries in the covers, still damp beneath them from when she squirted, but he pulled her hair back forcing her to cry out into the room for him to hear.

“Moan for me Queen Jude,” he gruffed out viciously, riled up and ravenous after having to wait so long himself to have her, “let me hear how worthy this fucking is of you hmm.. this is what you wanted wasn't it? A good fucking? It's what you came here for.”

He was relentless, Jude was biting her lip trying hard to not give him what he wanted. The wet sloppy sound of their bodies joining together echoed in the room in time with the slapping of his pelvis against her ass. It was debauched to hear how sinfully wet she was for him, the wet slapping making it painfully evident just how ‘worthy’ his fucking was. She groaned through her teeth and he yanked her hair hard forcing her mouth open. Her moans came spilling out, pitching each time he thrust his body into hers.

Cardan was groaning with her now. He was getting close if his sporadic thrusts were any indicator. The knowledge that he was getting off to her made her walls clench around him and her toes curl in pleasure, forcing a groan from deep in his throat to spill out. It was otherworldly, doing this with him, so many emotions, sensations, and feelings all swirling together in a messy lustful haze that left them rutting like savage dogs by the end of the night. They hated each other, didn't they? How could they keep coming back to each other like this? Why did this feel so right?

He pulled her hair back hard making her back bend almost painfully towards him, her wrists straining against the vines that bound her; training was definitely out of the question this week. She could see his face now, brows pinched, eyes dark, sweat dripping off of him while his mouth hung open. He was devastatingly gorgeous like this. He leaned down and kissed her as he landed three sharp blows to her ass with his other hand as he pounded into her relentlessly. She squirted again seeing stars as another orgasm ran through her. He smiled a brilliant smile down at her for it. So beautiful that she all but forgot her pride existed as she said breathily, “I didn’t come here just to fuck you Cardan, I swear it,” blush burning her cheeks at her confession, “I wanted to make you happy.”

She felt emotions shining on her face, ones she always buried but she didn’t mind it. Jude was mad with pleasure, drunk on his kiss, his scent, and sensations. Jude was drunk on him. Caution was lost to her.

Cardan’s eyes went wide at her words and he released her hair suddenly. A swear was a serious thing in Fairy especially one made to the high king. The vines receded from restraining her and he unsheathed himself from her aching core. She was met with a jolt of horror at what she had done, what she had said, in fear that she had upset him.

The panic was quickly replaced by confusion as he rolled her onto her back with tender hands and then leaned above her positioning himself between her legs with one arm bracing beside her head while his other hand came up to tenderly caressing her cheek. His cock was positioned right before her entrance, leaking with precum. He clearly had stopped right before his climax. What on earth compelled him to do such a thing?

“Is that the truth?” he said in a breathy whisper, chest still heaving from their wild fuckings, still trying to catch his breath.

All Jude could manage was a small nod.

His eyes searched hers, looking for something. Jude didn’t know if he found what he was looking for but after a moment he slowly slid into her again staring into her eyes. She wanted to look away, his gaze was too much as he slowly and sweetly slid their bodies together, again and again. He was being tender with not a rush in the world. A different kind of fire started building within her. Instead of a burning inferno like earlier, this one was the slow-burning of water set to boil. His dark gaze was searching, consuming. His beautiful face slack in awe as he looked at her.

“Beautiful,” he murmured like wonder spilling out of him. Jude snapped her eyes shut to it, to what she felt. She felt naked for the first time today despite having been freed of her clothing for the better part of two hours now. The way he was holding her, the way their bodies slid together, it terrified her, the emotions it stirred up. He cooed at her then, fingers caressing her cheek, “Jude,” he said sweetly, “look at me Jude, it's okay.”

She scrunched her eyes shut further at his words. He stilled, pulling away from her. He heaved a sigh, that sounded so much like hurt and disappointment. Quickly, shyly her hand reached out to the ringed one on her cheek just as it went to pull away. Softly Jude said, “Please-- Please don’t stop.”

Jude mustered all the courage she had, reached into the well of fearlessness she had obtained from living in fairyland, and opened her eyes. Dark pools the color of midnight stared back at her, full of swimming emotion. It was overwhelming, confusing. She wished she knew what he was thinking, wished she knew if this meant something. There was so much fear in her and she knew he could see it all on her face. She was so scared of this, “Please Cardan, keep going. Please. I-- I beg you.”

The smile that graced his shocked face was beautiful and hesitant like the one someone might make if they thought something was too good to be true. She shocked herself with the plea, she had never thought she could long for someone the way that she did at that moment. She wished she knew what he was thinking. She peeked to his tail in hope of gaining some insight, but it was wrapped around her calf, the furred tip seemed to be caressing her. She looked back up at him. Cardan was smirking, but it wasn't mocking, it seemed… endearing almost. But that couldn’t be. He clearly knew why Jude looked at his tail, knowing she liked keeping an eye on it because it made him easier to read. The crinkles beneath his eyes gave away happiness and his smirk tugged into a dazzling smile.

Jude’s heart was pounding so hard it almost hurt. He ran his hand down from her cheek to her chest, feeling how fast it was pounding. His smile only grew, as he leaned down and nuzzled his nose against hers. Jude let loose a breath she didn't know she had been holding, it came spilling out of her like an airy laugh, her lashes fluttering at his closeness. He was being so sweet, it threw her off guard. She peeked into his eyes once more, she didn't really know what she was looking for in them. But she knew what she did not find there: his arrogance, his cruelty, and his wickedness.

There in his dark eyes, she saw something she didn't understand yet. Saw something shining there that she knew reflected back in her own. Confusion mingled with an emotion she had never known before. She realized she didn't understand a lot of things, about life, fairyland, and him. From the look in his eyes, she realized she didn't need to understand everything. And with that realization, she wasn't afraid anymore. She peered into his eyes unabashedly now, Belkin’s words from in the Isle of the Forgotten rang in her head:

“to mortals, the feeling of falling in love is similar to the feeling of fear.”

But what do mortals feel when they stop falling. What happens when they were wholly in love.

Jude didn’t know, and she didn’t care to know. She didn’t need to understand everything, she didn’t need to understand what she felt. She needed to just feel it.

If nothing else, Jude felt safe here in Cardan’s arms. A feeling that she had long grown unaccustomed to thanks to the cruelty of her life. She looked at the man before her, so similar to yet so strikingly different from the boy he was under Belkin’s thumb. This was a man who she wanted to make happy. And despite his uncanny ability to frustrate her, he had the uncanny ability to make her happy as well. He made her forget her pride and she made him forget his own. Neither caring who came out on top anymore. Maybe it was just the sex, maybe it was something more. She didn’t know and somehow that was fine.

With those thoughts singing in her head, Jude Duerte leaned up and kissed Cardan Greenbriar soft and slow, allowing all the things she kept buried within her to come pouring out. Allowing all the things she didn’t understand to pour out with it because perhaps Cardan didn’t understand it either. Perhaps they could learn to understand it together.

So that night, Jude waved the white flag and she made love to the King of Fairy.

#ends in #fluff #pls tell me what u think I’ve never done this before #tfota fanfic #jude duarte #jurdan #cardan greenbriar #jurdan fanfic #the folk of the air #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #holly black #tcp #twk #tqn #qon #jude x cardan #my writing #tfota #queen jude #high king cardan #how the high king of elfhame learned to hate stories #WOAQ

[thechangeling]

Ok this is me trying to create a master list for my fanfiction. These aren't in chronological order and some of them are really old.

Helen Blackthorn:

I was the one who found him

Ty and Helen oneshot before the ending scene in LOS.

Be wise enough to wonder, be brave and let it go

Helen and Mark reflect on their childhoods.

Fire

Helen learns what Jace said in COHF and goes off.

Haline:

I'm at your mercy

R-rated haline post-date fic.

Don't let the basterds get you down

Helen is having a bad day, luckily Aline is there for her.

Kierarktina:

I don't care if I'm forgiven

A continuation of the Kiertina infirmary scene.

The lucky ones

Kierarktina proposal fic.

You have found two

Cristina breaks down and Tessa knows exactly what to say to comfort her. Polyam pride y'all.

And maybe one day I'll get around to fixing myself too

An exploration of enneagram Two Cristina Mendoza Rosales.

Six of crows:

I feel safe in the 5 am light

Six of crows Kanej fic.

Kit character peices:

For better or worse, I am alive

Kit struggles with depression.

Say my name or I won't survive

Kit comes out to Jessa as nonbinary.

Shame

Kit reflects on his life and his sexual orientation

She burns like rum on a fire

Kit deals with abuse

What's in your head

5 times Kit didn't realize he had ADHD.

Part 2

...and the one time he did.

According to you

Kit struggling with undiagnosed ADHD. Ft. Janessa.

Kitty fics:

When no one's watching part 1

When Kit gets seriously injured, Ty comes to see him.

Part 2

Kit wakes up.

The day the earth stood still

Kitty's first meeting from Ty's pov.

Eutony in a whisper

Genderbent kitty

There's nothing to be afraid of

The first fic I ever wrote when I was 18! Set before QOAAD, Kit goes to see Magnus for help.

The Game: A ten things I hate about you Au.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

The one thing you can never do

Kitty reunion on the roof.

Kitty fluff

Just some sweet morning kitty fluff.

Kitty snippet

Just a snippet, not a full fic.

Out of our heads. Out of our minds.

Ty misses Kit, but he's seeing Anush. Terrible decisions are made.

Ty's letter to Kit

Ty writes to Kit during TWP.

Lost and Found

Kit and Ty reunion. Only Ty gets to say his peice.

No one's gonna take you away from me

Kit and Ty are being adorable, happy and in love, until Julian walks in.

Power

In a world full of chaos, Ty attempts to remain in control. Featuring sex favorable Kit Herondale.

Tell me a story

Ty doesn't believe in fate

But you like her better: Part 1 Part 2

Kit has a new girlfriend. Ty might be jealous.

If I keep my eyes closed: Chapter 1

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6: FINAL CHAPTER!

5 times people saw Ty wearing the Herondale necklace and thought Kit and Ty were dating, and the one time they were actually right.

I will pull you so close

Kitty being adorable and stargazing together. Based on Venus by SAL.

Pitch black, pale blue

Kit's internal struggle as he deals with his feelings for Ty, based on Neptune by SAL.

My armour falls apart

Ty is determined to protect Kit. No matter what.

All I wanted

Kit and Livvy's kiss from Ty's pov.

Terrified with the lights out: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Ty is dying from his connection to Livvy's ghost. But Kit is determined to save him, whatever the cost.

I wash my mouth out, but still taste you

Fwb kitty. These dumbasses do not know how to communicate.

Ty character peices:

The Box

Ty dealing with trauma, disassociation and ableism. Features my OC Alyssa.

Love

Ty deals with some dark shit.

Ty's vows

Ty's wedding vows to Kit. I honestly think this is the best fic I've ever written.

Enough

Ty needs to get his mind off of Kit. Features my OC Alyssa.

I used to say that there was no such thing as we

Ty meets another autistic person at the scholomance and they bond.

The island of misfit toys

Christmas at the Scholomance.

The Changeling

Ty and Kieran talk about identity

Tell me I'm wrong

Ty breaks down in front of Livvy

Five

Christopher Lightwood leaves a letter that Ty finds, and quickly realizes it was meant for him.

Not the only freak

Ty has worries. Alyssa eases his mind.

Seven days

Ty's log of his attempts at sobriety.

The wall

Ty learns that he is autistic.

Oh love, I'm sorry if I smothered you

After seeing Kit at Blackthorn hall, Ty breaks down.

OC POVS:

Little Girl

Character exploration fic about my OC Alyssa.

Who we've been dying to become

A fic about Alyssa and Kit being enneagram fours and bonding over it.

Me and I are not friends

A character peice on my OC Lizzie

Your heartbeat is disguised as mine

One shot about my OC Janessa and her friendship with Kit.

Friend make sense of me

On her way to meet up with Ty, Alyssa meets Jaime Rosales...

I remember the minute

Janessa opens up to Kit about her past

Loveless

Alyssa teaches Ty to dance and lets herself love again.

Not gonna write you a love song

Future generation:

Alyssa Reyes is lonely. But not for the reasons people think.

I'll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror

Alyssa seeks out Kieran in her time of need.

Aimless

A story about aged up Mina Carstairs.

Despair

Part 2 of Aimless

The Fall

One shot about my OC Gianna, the eldest Kierarktina child.

Thanessa:

Nightblooming

A oneshot between my OC Janessa and Thaís Pedroso. Janessa and Thaís go on their first date.

Only love

Thais confesses her feelings to Janessa.

The price of this so called perfection

Rule following, self-policing Thaís learns how to stand up for themself. Ft. Nonbinary, enneagram one Thaís.

Thaís' list

Thaís has a lot of things they can't stand about Janessa....

TLH:

Unbreak the broken

Alastair goes for a late night walk and tries to calm his chaotic mind. Ft. Autistic Alastair.

Wake up

Thomas decides to finally be honest with Alastair, and himself. Enneagram Nine Thomas.

Enneagram fics:

And maybe one day I'll get around to fixing myself too

An exploration of enneagram Two Cristina Mendoza Rosales.

Five

Christopher Lightwood leaves a letter that Ty finds, and quickly realizes it was meant for him.

Who we've been dying to become

A fic about Alyssa and Kit being enneagram fours and bonding over it.

The price of this so called perfection

Rule following, self-policing Thaís learns how to stand up for themself. Ft. Nonbinary, enneagram one Thaís.

I remember the minute

Janessa opens up to Kit about her past.

Wake up

Thomas decides to finally be honest with Alastair, and himself. Enneagram Nine Thomas.

#Fae's masterlist #fanfic

[glacecakes]

Alchemy Lullaby (16/?)

Of all the changes that came with living in the castle, becoming a father was not one he anticipated. When Eugene encounters a small child suffering like he did, he gives them the opportunity to grow up the way he never did… helping them both heal. (AU where Varian is 4 and gets adopted by Eugene)

The worst child custody fight you’ve ever seen.

Read the rest on AO3

Y'all I am so nervous I really hope this delivers! I spent a good 5 days just agonizing over how to get my idea across, editing, redoing, this was a monster to make. The biggest goddamn shoutouts to Scar server, coloring_the_banner, @aj-reblogs, and @space--butterflies for ideas and inspiration, and @finnoky for being my partner in this whole mess, as well as the amazingly talented artist for this chapter. SIMP FOR FINN OR DIE BY MY BLADE Oh also, I had to retcon the last sentence from the previous chapter you shall see why.

Quirin and Ulla, glaring one another down.

A flask in Ulla’s hands, a sword in Quirin’s. 

Varian whimpered from the doorway. Rapunzel and Eugene were so close, he could feel it! As each second ticked by, another rock reacted to her warmth, heating up his soul, his heart. He just had to hang on a little longer, and he could go home! Right? 

Quirin stared Ulla down. His back was turned away from their son in the doorway, and he didn’t intend for Ulla to step any farther. 

“Quirin,” she says, exasperated. “This is what you wanted, is it not?” She swirled the small vial around in her hand. “You wanted the moonstone, the rocks taken care of! This will do that!” To demonstrate, she let a single drop fall onto a nearby rock. Amber creeped up the surface, swallowing the rock wholly until it crumbled away, leaving only the amber behind. “If we give this to Varian, it’ll eject the moonstone from him!” 

“I want the moonstone destroyed, and I want Varian safe,” Quirin hissed. “You were the best option; I didn’t want to kill him!” 

Ulla raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “I thought you were all about duty? ‘No matter the cost’?”

“Not at the expense of a child!” 

“Oh, relax. This won’t kill him. Probably. I’m actually not sure.” She shrugged, and Quirin’s anger grew. How could she be ok with killing a child, her own son? The whole reason he was here was to satisfy his morals and duty, and yet her solution was not feasible. 

He’d let Ulla manipulate him for far too long. She knew how he felt about her, and she’d used it against him this whole time! She preyed on his desire for a son, for a family, and he’d totally bought into it. The man had told himself he was doing this out of duty, but he never was. 

“If you cannot guarantee his safety, then I won’t let you hurt him.” He said, and Ulla’s face fell. “I only put up with those experiments in the hopes of a solution, and yet all that’s come from this is pain. I…” He looked back at Varian. “I stole a child from his father in the hopes that you could end this.”

“And I can,” Ulla insisted. She thrust an arm out, reaching for Varian. “If you would just trust me!” 

“What a fool I am,” He sighed. “To ever think I could trust you.”

Her eyes narrowed, face morphing into a scowl. Quirin brandished his sword, but alas she was prepared. From her apron she pulled a small vial and threw it at Quirin’s feet. It exploded into goo, trapping him in place. 

With him out of the way, Ulla’s attention fell solely to the boy. Her hair practically floated in midair, more and more chunks falling out her bun as she stalked forward. “Oh, Varian,” She sang, gaze trained solely on her son. “Come to momma, moondrop. Let momma fix you.” 

Quirin struggled desperately to escape from the goo trap, but the alchemy held strong. “Varian, run!” he cried. 

The child backed up in fear, shaking his head. “Punzel’s gonna be here! She’s coming for me!” He insisted. Just a little longer, he just had to wait a little longer…! 

His momma laughed in agreement. “Yes, stay. It doesn’t matter, Varian. Just take your medicine, and all our problems will go away…” Now that Ulla was closer, her scowl morphed into a cheshire grin. She ran a hand through her hair, leaving a large piece hanging like a curtain over one eye. 

Varian’s mind reeled as tears streamed down his face. Think, think! Eugene always told him to come find him when he was in danger, but he knew where Eugene was! He was coming! Why wasn’t he here yet?

He glanced around wildly, looking at anything aside from his momma and the glowing vial in her hand. From Quirin, who struggled to free himself, to the moon shining through the window…

Wait, that’s it! The incantation! The one Quirin said to only use in danger! This surely counted as danger, right? 

“Wither and decay…” He mumbled, and Ulla’s face lost all color. “End this dest-destiny…” He didn’t really know what the words meant, did that matter? He hoped not. 

“Don’t you dare,” Ulla growled, grabbing Varian’s arm roughly. “Don’t you dare you brat! You worthless child!” She pushed the vial into his face. “DRINK IT!”

BANG!

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!”

Eugene stood front and center at the lab’s entrance, chest heaving as he stared at the scene in anger. His baby boy, backed into a corner and at a madwoman’s mercy! Righteous justice bubbled in his chest, a desire to grab Varian and cause just as much pain to this lady as she had caused their family. Rapunzel at his side readied her frying pan while her braid shone like the sun. Cassandra stood by as well, sword drawn and ready to fight Quirin, though she lowered it slightly when she saw he was no threat. 

The alchemist snarled, throwing down Varian’s arm and reaching for her alchemy. “Honestly, if you all had just waited five minutes, I would’ve gladly handed him back…!” Why did none of them see her way? She just wanted to extract the moonstone from a baby who had no use for it, nor a proper grip on his powers. She wanted the rocks to vanish, just like the rest of them! Ulla charged at the trio, throwing a smoke bomb to distract them. The room filled with smoke, hiding Varian from sight.

“Varian!” Rapunzel called. “Hang on, honey! We’ll save you!” 

Ulla’s voice rang out loud and clear from behind. “I’m trying to save us all, you morons!” Rapunzel brought up her frying pan to bat away another bomb now that she could see Ulla through the smoke. “If I had the moonstone, I could retract all the rocks!”

“What makes you so sure you can control them if Varian can’t?” She barked. The only response she got was a goo bomb trapping her pan to her hand. “Ugh, seriously?” Ulla smirked, throwing another bomb she knew Rapunzel couldn’t dodge. The princess braced for impact, only for Cassandra to push her to the floor just in time. 

“Eugene!” Cassandra called through the smoke. “Go find Varian!” 

Eugene held up his shirt to help his breathing through the smoke, though it was slowly beginning to dissipate. He could barely make out Quirin’s form, trapped under Ulla’s alchemy. While part of him still hated the man’s guts, seeing that he was not on Ulla’s side (anymore) was enough to push that down for now. “Quirin,” He rasped. “Varian. Is he ok? I swear if you hurt a hair on his head-”

“He’s fine, I tried to stop Ulla from using that chemical. I’m so sorry,” That got Eugene to blink in shock. A truce, a common enemy, that would’ve been expected, but an apology? “I should never have taken him, I was just trying to do my duty, I never wanted him to be hurt-!”

Eugene cut him off. “Yea, we can hash that out later. Varian?” That made Quirin blink a few times in shock. He was just ignored, just like that? Well, he couldn’t blame Eugene, it was his son after all. But still, ow. He pointed his sword in the direction of the boy.

“Varian, bud, you there?” Eugene said, and the smoke finally cleared enough that he could see his son still in the corner. “Oh thank god-” He trailed off at his son’s appearance. “Varian…?”

Pitch black eyes stared back. His baby’s lovely hair, raven black with a streak of moonlight, was now dark as the rocks he controlled, with teal flowing through his head. A large shadow loomed behind Varian, creeping and slowly swallowing the room in darkness.

“Break these earthly chains… and set the spirit free.”

The floor beneath him cracked, and the air turned stale, blowing away any remaining smoke.

“Wh-” Cassandra tried to speak, but broke into violent coughs. Like sand in an hourglass, energy sapped away from the adults in the room, redirected towards the toddler. With each heartbeat Eugene felt himself weaken, but still he staggered forward, dropping down onto his knees in front of his son. 

The past few days have been wrought with anxiety, but now, seeing Varian in front of him, so close yet so far… that was worst of all. Eugene’s boy was dressed in rags similar to when he was first found (Where was his suit? His suit that he adored and made Varian look like himself?). Oh how Eugene wanted to scoop Varian up. To run away, to the ends of the earth. But that would make him no better than Ulla. To think just a few days ago, nothing was wrong, their only problem had been Varian’s jealousy towards Rapunzel. How had it all gone so wrong? Did that make Eugene a bad parent? If he had fought harder, would Varian be in this position? Or would this destined to happen, the forces inside his son doomed to swallow them all whole?

He reached out, hands shaking, and pulled Varian into his arms. His clothes sizzled slightly under Varian’s touch, but he didn’t care. He rocked Varian back and forth, just how he liked it. “Varian?” Eugene whispered. “Varian, can you hear me?”

“...Wither and decay,” Varian murmured, another tear falling.  

Distantly, Eugene could hear the others struggling. He heard a thump as someone collapsed, the distressed cries of Rapunzel. He glanced up, and… was it just him or was her hair flashing? Like a candle on the verge of going out, Rapunzel’s hair flickered between blonde and brown. She grasped at her chest, clawing at it as if something was trying to burst out. From under her fingertips a faint gold glowed. 

“....Thief…” Ulla’s voice rasped. She lay on her stomach and rolled a vial over to Eugene. “U...use that on him! Make him drink it! Otherwise we’ll all die…!” Her eyes turned desperate, a silent call for a truce. 

His arms were now burning where Varian touched. He rested his chin on Varian’s normally soft hair, only for it to feel hotter than a thousand suns. But none of that mattered. All that mattered was the boy he had in his arms. His baby, his darling, finally back where he belonged.

Eugene held the golden chemical, ready to move it to Varian’s lips…

And faltered.

No.

He wasn’t going to risk Varian’s life for his own. 

He tossed the vial aside and placed a kiss to the top of Varian’s head, ignoring the searing pain it caused his face. Though it might have just burned his stubble off. “Bluebird,” He whispered. “Dad’s here. You’re ok now. Come on, Varian, come back to me.” 

“End... this destiny…” Varian faltered ever so slightly. 

From where she had collapsed, Rapunzel sat up shakily. “Varian, you mean so much to us. Please…” While his vision was blurred, Eugene could tell he was right; her hair was brown again. A golden stone pulsed on her chest, giving her the strength to stumble towards them. Upon reaching her love and son, she collapsed once more, placing shaking hands on Varian’s shoulders. Miraculously, she didn’t burn. 

“Sweetie,” She whispered. “We’re here, we need you.”

A single tear trailed down Eugene’s cheek. “We love you,” he said.

There was silence. 

Tiny hands squeezed at Eugene’s arm. It didn’t burn.

“Daddy…? Mommy…?”

Varian blinked once, twice, eyes no longer tar, but rather the same electric blue as always. His hair was back to normal too, and the burns slowly began to fade to a general ache instead of searing. Even breathing felt easier. Eugene let out a wet laugh, placing a kiss to the crown of Varian’s head once more. 

“Yea bud, daddy and mommy,” he choked out, and Varian sighed, content. They sat there for a moment, the three of them, Rapunzel wrapping both of them into a hug. Finally, after days of agony, they were together again. 

Slowly, steadily, Cassandra stood up, leaning against her sword. She couldn’t help but feel a little awkward, but nonetheless glad to see Varian back to normal. Quirin, who had finally managed to free himself from the goo, also seemed at peace. They stood in place, watching the family with smiles on their faces.

For a moment, all was calm. 

A hand snatched Varian’s shirt collar, retching him from his parent’s grasp with a cry. Eugene barely had any time to react before Ulla was forcing the amber solution down Varian’s mouth. 

“No!” He yelled as his son began to cough and sputter, writhing in Ulla’s grasp so much that she almost dropped him. With hungry eyes she watched as Varian curled in on himself and screamed, his pain causing a flurry of rocks to sprout all over the lab and weaken the already damaged structure. Not only that, but creeping tendrils of amber engulfed each new rock, reaching claws out to try and ensnare anything that ventured too close. 

Cassandra tried to strike one with her sword, but it shattered on impact. Shit, this stuff was just as strong as the rocks!

“How is this better than the moonstone!?” She hissed at Quirin. The knight didn’t respond, instead shielding her when a nearby rock exploded from the force of the amber. A war of yellow and black raged, ravaging the room.

“Varian!” Eugene screamed, horrified as the child seized on the floor. Much like Rapunzel moments ago, a bright glow centered on his heart grew. This one was cyan, and as it got brighter, his hairstripe grew dimmer. 

Ulla’s hand dug into the boy’s chest, seizing what grew. He let out a final scream, and the room exploded in a bright light. 

Rapunzel’s own breast glowed briefly, reigniting her hair long enough for it to wrap protectively around her boyfriend. Quirin and Cassandra huddled together to brace for impact. Wind howled around them, so loud that it was all they could hear, and dust blew directly into their faces. 

When Rapunzel’s hair parted, and Cassandra and Quirin opened their eyes, the house was destroyed. 

Shattered support beams lay strewn across the landscape, some impaled by black rocks that were beginning to move. A loud groan echoed, haunting as the rocks of Old Corona shifted directions until all of them faced towards the ruined lab. 

At the epicenter, where all the rocks pointed, lay a very still boy. 

Too still. 

“No no no!” Eugene lurched forward, coughing violently as the debris that coated his lungs made itself known. But that didn’t stop him, dragging across the ruins until he was at Varian’s side. “Varian!” He begged, shaking arms picking up his son. He cradled him close to his chest, hoping, no, praying, that Varian was ok. 

He was quickly joined by Cassandra and Rapunzel, who's searching hands checked Varian for signs of life. Cassandra placed a finger on his neck, and let out a massive breath. “He’s alive,” she whispered. “Just unconscious.” 

“What on earth was that…?” Rapunzel asked, fear clouding her emerald eyes. 

In all honesty, Eugene had no clue. He glanced at his sunshine, with her once again brown hair, and Cassandra, with her broken sword and shattered look, and sighed. 

Suddenly, the rocks lit up blue around them. It started off their usual hue, glowing brighter and brighter, even more so than when Rapunzel’s hair reacted to them. The air hummed with electricity, and sparks jumped from rock to rock with loud cracks. 

“Finally…”

The trio whipped their heads around. Eugene’s heart leapt into his throat as he clutched Varian tighter.

Ulla stood off to the side, previously silent, now admiring her new form. Her hair was set free from its bun, ending at her waist and a bright teal, more saturated than Varian’s hairstripe. Gone was her alchemy apron and goggles, replaced by a black, capped sleeve dress. Dark blue spikes covered her lower arms. 

The moonstone spritzed with power on her chest. 

“After 5 agonizing years…” Ulla’s voice was haunting, almost melodic. She spread her fingers out, beckoning a rock to her command. It creeped up from the earth until she rested her palm on its surface. The power was addictive, filling Ulla’s veins with refracted sunlight. No wonder Varian put up such a fight, she’d rather die than be without this power ever again!

Her euphoric haze faded at the sight of the trio. In the thief’s arms was her son, the boy who had given her so much grief for all these years. It was laughable, how easy the solution had been in retrospect. But oh well, live and learn. 

Rapunzel glared down the other woman, clutching Eugene’s bicep in support. Like hell they would let this woman get away with what she did. So what if she had an indestructible body armor and ultimate power? She hurt their kid, and they’d kick her ass. 

Ulla’s grin turned wicked sharp. “I can make the world as it should be,” she raised her arm, and the spike she’d summoned grew. Then another joined it, and another, and suddenly a ring of obsidian rose around her. Their points all faced the family, preparing to spring forward.

“Starting with you.” 

Without warning, the rocks formed a trail, several jutting closer and closer, snaking through the earth preparing to meet flesh. They braced for impact-

CRUNCH.

Ulla gaped at the piece of rock that jutted out of her chest. 

Panting, Quirin drove the point further into her. 

She fell to her knees.

Then her side.

Her eyes stared forward, unblinking, gazing at the son she never loved.

#varian #tangled the series #tts #tts varian #eugene fitzherbert #tangled eugene #tts eugene #team awesome

[magma-cjay]

https://www.heroforge.com/load_config%3D14357897/

https://www.heroforge.com/load_config%3D14358082/

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(note: omg guys I love all your contributions to the AU! I like seeing how y'all add your own stuff with references to minor characters to help flesh it out more ❤)

The commotion on the harpies’ island did not go unheard, neither in the sky – or in the sea. For beneath the ocean merely a few miles from their home, lay the undersea domain of Jotaro, prince of the Joestars, and next in line to the throne after his grandfather King Joseph, for his father Sadao was nowhere to be found.

He took his duties as ruler-to-be with earnest loyalty, and was willing to defend his home if need be. And so, when word reached his kingdom that a battle between harpies and merfolk had taken place, he knew it was serious business.

“Koichi, you are the most reliable and trustworthy of my aides,” he told his small, green-tailed assistant. “I would have preferred to check on this problem myself, but this kingdom needs my guidance, and I have faith in you to be able to learn more about the situation. Take care, Koichi.”

“You can count on me, Prince Kujo,” he said earnestly but with a hint of mild reluctance. He was willing to be of Jotaro’s aid…but he’d also heard terrifying tales about harpies, some even from Jotaro himself, and he knew that they could be dangerous.

“There is one of the sky-folk that I’d like you to find,” Jotaro added. “His name is Giorno…and he is particularly important as he has ties to our family.”

“I’ll do my best,” Koichi replied, as he swam off. Behind him, Jotaro grumbled to himself in exasperation, as there was never a shortage of responsibilities being a leader-in-training, and this fiasco with the harpies was yet another unwelcome addition to his list.

“Yare yare, give me a break,” he sighed.

It was late afternoon when Koichi arrived to the island after a long, long day of swimming. He searched out a river to head upstream, and soon found a route that let him go deeper into the island. "Hello…? Anyone there?“ Koichi called out toward the trees uneasily as he swam upstream. "I’m looking for the one called Giorno…hello? Anyb–”

His calls were suddenly interrupted by a shadowy figure that dropped from the sky, and Koichi had barely any time to respond before he felt poweful arms seize his tail and lifted him screaming out of the water.

“WHO ARE YOU, FISH BOY?” Abbacchio growled, grabbing the panicked merman by his tail and holding him up like a prize catch. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE ON OUR ISLAND?”

“I DIDN’T MEAN ANYTHING BAD!” he wailed in panic as he struggled in Abba’s grasp. “I’m just here looking for the one they call…Giorno!”

“Let the child go, Abbacchio,” said a voice from behind. Abba turned around and saw Giorno, who had landed behind him with scarcely a sound, and Bruno, whose wing had just recently recovered, alighting on a branch overhead.

“Please don’t hurt me,” Koichi pleaded to the trio of harpies. “I’m not here to hurt anyone, I’m just here to look for the one called Giorno. Prince Jotaro sent me. Also…I’m not a child, I’m just very small,” he added in a complaining tone.

“Giorno? Oh, that’s me,” Giorno replied. “Put him down, Abba, I believe this one is a friend. I’ve heard of the Joestars before.”

Abba complied with an angry grumble and dropped Koichi back into the water, before flying off and perching on a branch to join Bruno above, and noticed the absence of a bandage on the other harpy’s wing.  “How’s your wing, Bruno?” Abba asked his companion.

“It’s healed very nicely, though I haven’t tried flying much lately,” Bruno replied with a smile. “Ris doesn’t want me tiring myself out too much.”

Abba laughed dryly. “I guess we’re both stuck with a fish then,” he mumbled, knowing the feeling all too well from Prosciutto and his enthusiastic admiration.

Below in the water, Koichi resurfaced with a relieved gasp. “You’ve heard of the Joestars before?”

“Indeed,” Giorno replied. “As strange and unlikely as it may seem…one of my two fathers was a Joestar as well.”

Koichi scoffed in confusion. “Wait, two fathers? Also, the Joestars are merfolk, Giorno? From what I’d heard, our races couldn’t interbreed! We’re completely different species!” he explained.

“Yes, but my other father was a harpy like me, and a magic-user like myself. However, he’d used his power for darker deeds, and made a powerful rival with the first king of the Joestar clan…and through black magic beyond even my comprehension, I was born of both their blood. And though I took after my feathered father…I was born with this.” He pulled down his sash, exposing the back of his neck, revealing a distinctive star-shaped mark on his skin.

Koichi gasped in amazement. “The Joestar mark…on a harpy? It…can’t be!”

In the meantime, further off into the forest, Zucchero strained angrily at the bamboo bars of his cage. He’d given Bruno’s flock what they wanted, but much to his anger the three young ones had refused to release him, and kept him as some sort of plaything. The nerve, how dare they kept a right-hand servant of the Crimson King himself, locked up as some sort of pet? He seethed at the very thought.

His anger subsided as he noticed a splintered bamboo shaft on the flooring of his cage. He grinned maliciously to himself as he realized his opportunity.

Pounding on the broken shaft, it wasn’t long before he broke open the bottom of the cage, struggling his way out as though if he was hatching a second time. Soon he was free, and he stretched his wings eagerly after having been cooped up for days.

He knew he couldn’t just return, though. No harpy was foolish enough to confront the Crimson King after a failure, unless they wanted to get all their feathers painfully plucked out and tossed into the sea to drown…Zucchero shuddered at the prospect. Perhaps he could offer him some sort of gift, in consolation?

He glanced down at Giorno��s hut and rubbed his hands wickedly. What better gift could he give, than something of the healer’s spells, which Diavolo greatly coveted?

He flew downward to the hut, looking out for any of the flock, should they return. Tiptoeing his way into the healer’s clinic, he rummaged about searching for something of value, until his eyes laid a glance upon Giorno’s book of spells, which lay on one end of the table…perfect. All the knowledge it contained within…

“Hey, who’s there?” stirred Formaggio as he woke up from his cup of water, which rested on the table on the other end. He scarcely had enough time to react when the intruder turned to leave, and in his rush, knocked over Formaggio’s cup with his wing, sending the tiny merman falling onto the floor.

Gasping frantically, he saw the green-winged harpy, clutching the spellbook as he departed, but he was unable to intervene as his water was draining away on the floor fast, as he helplessly flopped about in the shrinking puddle. He was too small to reach the tub, the only other source of water in the hut…

Zucchero took no mind of him and his struggles, and promptly sailed out the door, soaring away clutching his prize. There was no trace of the rest of the flock in sight, and he knew right where to go.

Gliding off to the stone pillars as quickly as he could, he saw Diavolo perched on the tallest pillar, who was gazing out to sea while eating a small fruit, and quickly alighted eagerly before his king.

“Greetings, my lord,” he said, with an exaggeratedly sycophantic tone. “I, your humble servant, have returned after the failure of my two incompetent companions–” Behind him, on a nearby stone pillar, Sale and Luca shot him a dirty glare. “–and here I come bearing you the greatest treasure of all!”

“Ahhh, Zucchero, you’ve returned at last.” Diavolo crooned. “I was expecting that you worthless cowardly fool would come back pleading for mercy, and I was just preparing to…dispose of you, if you dared return…” He crushed the fruit in his grasp, and Zucchero gulped uneasily, imagining how the fruit could easily have been his neck.

“But it seems that I still have use of you yet, after all!” Diavolo added, as he seized the spellbook from Zucchero’s hands. “Excellent, Zucchero! You’ve proven yourself with this ultimate prize…one whose knowledge shall make me Giovanna’s equal in magic– or even greater…”

In the meantime, oblivious of the thievery, Giorno and Koichi conversed in the river, discussing the mystery of Giorno’s heritage. “So this would mean that you’re a hybrid of a harpy and a mer, something we all thought was impossible…” Koichi pondered. “And yet you don’t look it one bit…”

“Perhaps there’s a deeper mystery to it,” Giorno suggested. “My spellbook holds ancient knowledge, perhaps it may have some answers. Hold on there for a while, Koichi. I’ll go back to my hut and get the book.”

“It’s dangerous out here,” Bruno interjected. “Koichi won’t be safe if we leave him out on the river on his own. Perhaps we should take him over at our place, we’ve got a small pool nearby." 

Giorno nodded and flew off back toward his hut, gliding over the river as he followed it back towards his house. Landing on the soft sand path, he headed towards it on foot, but at immediate glance, he noticed the door was ajar, and he felt right away that something was not right. 

His heart racing, he barged his way in, and to his horror, he saw that the place had been ransacked. His home was a mess, and the spellbook– which he had left on the table– had vanished.

"Help…me…” cried a small voice, and he glanced down to see Formaggio laying on the floor, his tiny chest heaving rapidly as he gasped for breath. “Water….”

“Formaggio, no! What happened?” Giorno said in a panic, scooping up the tiny merman in his hands and dropping him into Ghiaccio’s now-unoccupied tub. Ghia was out at sea practicing swimming again, once his tail was healed, but Formaggio had stayed behind to watch the place, and it was fortunate –or for him, perhaps not– that he did.

Giorno waited for a few tense moments before the tiny merman surfaced again, breathing heavily. “Whoa, thanks a lot there, bird boy,” he sighed. “Another moment without water and I’d have been a goner. So about that: remember the guy who Narancia and the others caught? Seems he’s broken out and stolen your book!” Formaggio pointed at the table, where a telltale green feather lay ominously where the book once was.

“This is bad,” Giorno groaned. “Weren’t you able to do anything? I thought you could use magic as well?” he said half-scolding to Formaggio.

“I need to be immersed in water for my magic to work, and he knocked me out of my cup!” Formaggio defensively explained. “And yeah, I know size-shifting is all I can do, but I could’ve tried and stopped him if I was bigger. Anyway, about that, if I’m gonna have to be on land for a while…”

He dove back under the surface and rubbed his hands on the gem he kept on a necklace that he wore. Formaggio clapped his hands together and snapped his fingers, and in a flash he increased tenfold in size, growing as big as Ghiaccio was and filling up the tub entirely.

Giorno stumbled back at the sight of the now-large Formaggio, surprised.

“This is how big I usually am, bird boy,” Formaggio explained, crossly. “I can survive out of water much longer at normal size, and perhaps even more if I had one of those scarf things Riz and Pros have…But we’ve got not time! We need to warn the others!”

Formaggio hauled himself out of the tub and fell to the floor with a crash.

“Owww…” he complained. “I’d forgotten how heavy I am at this size.” He looked up awkwardly at Giorno. “Er…I hope you don’t mind giving some help?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Sure.. I could" Giorno helps him into a more comfterble position and sighs, "I'll help bring you out to the others" "Hurry!!" The two manage to flee the robbed home and reach the others, "Bucciarati! Bucciarati!"

"Giorno?" Bruno and Abbacchio look back at him, "what's wrong?" "Something bad has happened hasn't it twerp?" Abba groans and steps toward Giorno.

"My room! It's been destroyed by that bird we had captured! He took my book!" The others gasp in shock- well this certainly wasn't how they wanted this to go- "The book!? No! That has all of your spells!" "And now the King most likely has his hands on it.. damnit" Abba grits his teeth, "how the hell did those two idiots let him escape!?"

"I don't know, but now we have to be on extra precaution. Who knows what the king could send out next... especially with the magic he has now at his fingertips"

#yes!!! thank you! #this has been so fun! #I'm glad you guys love it #merharpyau #submission

[ccyans]

Kfjdjdnndndjdj what were you acually gonna do in flowers in my footsteps. I was very surprised at first that you were the one who wrote it bec I read it a few years ago,,,, and,,, bec my girl rin o' course needs some love y'all and i was so into fics with alive!rin back then haha! And god, you really did evolve as a writer. Howd you do that? I am completely junk at being descriptive/creative in writing, and I might not do any justice when I get to write characters + their interactions

OH MY GOD. FLOWERS. FLOWERS.

I always MEAN to come back to that fic. It’s not like In The Company Of (another naruto fic) which needs a complete rewrite – I only have 2k up for Flowers and though it was written so long ago I’m pretty okay with it, barring some descriptionary fixes. I have 3 drafts for Chapter 2 in my drives but it just keeps on getting derailed because I can’t figure out Konoha’s STUPID ASS ninja infrastructure system.

SPOILERS!!

Some Kakashi POV written in my notes. Not sure if this was supposed to make it into the actual story, but the background knowledge is necessary.(was Flowers dual POV? Single POV? it’s been so long.)

*

So there are a lot of places Kakashi should be on February tenth but aren’t, and there are a lot places he shouldn’t be but still is. Namely, for the former, his hospital room. He limped back from an A-rank two days ago (tracking and destroying another one of Orochimaru’s hidden laboratories at the edge of Grass) and he’s spent the time after sleeping off chakra exhaustion, a case of black manba poisoning, and getting the blown out nerves in his hand fixed again. Technically, he hasn’t been discharged (and his regular attending is getting so fucking sick of seeing his stupid masked face, why the fuck are you here again, Hatake) but February 10th is Obito’s birthday. Kakashi has a duty. Kakashi has been grimly terrible at most of of his assigned duties so far, all the important ones at least but they do exist. On bad days he imagines the little boxed dates on the calender (ObitoRinSenseiKushina) so small and so heavy with all that unrealized potential, and Kakashi is hit with a wave of terror strong enough to make him want to drag himself back to ANBU Barracks and get another misison, any mission, but–

Birthdays are important. Death dates are important. Some days Kakashi feels like his blood is boiling in the hours leading up to the morning, but he goes. He always goes. February tenth is Obito’s birthday, and Kakashi owes him that at least.

Which brings us to where Kakashi isn’t supposed to be: the Memorial stone.There is a tiny, tiny little girl at the Memorial stone.

Her hair is very pink, tugged up into pigtails, and she’s swaddled in a scarf and a woolen coat and boots. She doesn’t look older than five. The memorial is a public monument–a public ninja monument, but still public–so it’s not exactly strange to see her there. She might have dead relatives on the stone. Most people do.

What is strange is the lack of parents. He thinks maybe there should be an adult figure nearby. That is likely the normal expectation. Kakashi does not know anything about kids, not even when he was a kid, and these days the closest interaction he has with people under ten are when he’s in the middle of killing them (Rebelling Lord’s children for examples and dead-eyed experiments for mercy) but he thinks, normally, parents are involved.

There aren’t any

The kid is just sitting there, seiza. Incense smoke curls off the bright red sticks. There’s food laid out, untouched. It smells of oolong and fruit and hamburger steak and crisp winter. The girl smells a little of trepidition and a little grief and a lot of pomegranate. 

Um. Children. No.

Kakashi waits in a tree. It’s a cold day. She’ll have to leave, preferably sometime soon.

His ankle throbs. Dodgy joint. 

Except the little girl does not leave. The little girl does not even move. She sits there, after the tea has long cooled and the food is probably frozen, head bowed and chakra a loose, tiny curl and Kakashi is beginning to think she’s fallen asleep with how uniformly even her breaths have been coming. 

He doesn’t know if that’s a normal thing. He really doesn’t. 

He finally gets off his tree (in like, an hour) because, you know, it’s been an hour and Obito is probably rolling his other eye at him from beyond the grave. It’s just a little girl Bakashi. Genius my ass. He makes sure to make noise as he moves. Withered brown leaves crunch under the heel of his sandals. Kakashi is not very sure about children, but generally, all living things have decent enough survival instincts (which didn’t apparently apply to any if Kakashi’s Genin team, but well), and he’s a ninja still wearing the remainders of his bloodied and burned ANBU uniform.

The girl shakes her head out from her scarf. She sneezes, then stands up, and her legs wobble, likely because she’s been sitting there for an hour. She blinks huge green eyes at him. 

They stare at one another for a while.

Then, contrary to expectation, she doesn’t shriek or apologize or leave or even continue with the silence. She smiles at him, one edge hiked just a little higher than the other. She has an expression on her face that makes Kakashi automatically tense up, alarms blaring: it is familliar and nostalgic and she looks at him the way people look at soft, precious, delicate things. People looked at him like that once. Not many–but. They’re dead now.

All of them are dead now. She has no reason or right to look at him like that.Then she says: “Hello, Kakashi,” in a tone that is tired and all too relieved, and Kakashi’s first thought, two days fresh from burning another one of the Snake’s base is: Orochimaru. 

But that’s quickly discarded; it makes no sense, Orochimaru has no reason to sound like that, even if he is the foremost enemy that would take over a little girl’s body, and his second is: infiltrator, but he can’t think of any village that would call him Kakashi, they would call him Hatake or Sharingan or White Fang’s hier. 

Unless this is a psyche tactic. Very likely it is.

He grips the hilt of the kunai in his pocket. 

He wonders if it’s even a little girl. He’s been sitting on that tree for an awfully long time, and his reflexes are not in that great shape after the hospital. Subtly, he weaves a quick genjutsu, a tiny one, (which wouldn’t work against Orochimaru, but nothing Kakashi does is likely to work against Orochimaru, so) and opens Obito’s eye. 

The world lights up in colour. Hazy chakra. The tendrils of the earth, green gold. The little girl, pine-lit in earthern shades. The oil green of summer leaves. The bottle green of a wine glass. Her chakra is calm, no insidious threads wrapped around in a henge or genjutsu or some other obscure technique. He can read the tremble of her muscles, every micro-expression in beautiful, perfect stillness. No apprehension, but tension, something fine and delicate in her shoulders. 

The little girl tilts her head. Kakashi catches every strand of pink hair that goes into her eyes, past and present and almost-future.

Then she bends down, turns her back towards him, and begins to tidy her lunch boxes. She slings everything into a violently yellow knapsack, puts it over her shoulder, and then turns back at him. She smiles that same strange smile.

“Walk with me, Kakashi” she says. 

His eyes narrow, and then physically relaxes, a thin veneer of uncaring. “Mah, why I should I?”

The girl’s eyebrow raises; the smile doesn’t go away. It itches like hives down his back, another warning of danger. “Because we’re going to the place you’re already probably thinking of sending me.” Her child voice is fond. “Come on. I have an appointment with a Yamanaka at Interrogation.”

*

The confirmation of Rin’s identity is something she already set up (she knows a) Kakashi, and b) ninjas well enough to know they’ll want like, a BRAIN SCOUR to make sure she’s not a hidden plant.) So there’s the Yamanaka, and then the Hokage, and then Kakashi who comes up of Sarutobi’s office with the completely..????? knowledge of: yes that tiny child out there IS the dead team-mate/best-friend whom he promised (his other dead best friend) to protect and then killed and have had nightmares about for the past 5 years because the sharingan gives you beautiful photographic memory. ;)

ANYWAYS: The plot of Flowers is basically soft and focuses a lot on recovery (Kakashi’s). It goes into deph about Kakashi and Rin’s former friendship, which I think both canon and fanon glosses over a lot, (I explored it in the platonic soulmate AU, this is the longer version) and their current… ??? friendship, because currently Rin is a 4 year old from a civilian family who has no idea about her previous incarnation and Kakashi is this giant mess of issues dressed in ANBU armour. 

Flowers is basically Rin trying to address Kakashi’s giant ridiculous mess of issues and trying to help him through it. Even if he tries to basically shove everything into the closet. I think it’s important for it to be Rin, because she’s one of the… like… 3 people he was ever emotionally close AND transparent with, which means that unlike everyone currently alive she already has a way into his stupid spiky apathetic shell. 

Anyways a lot of this fic is conversation and Kakashi not saying things and Rin just READING INBETWEEN THE LINES DO YOU THINK THAT SINCE YOU GREW 5 INCHES I FORGOT HOW DO THAT?? And the the hilarious Outsider view (mainly Tenzo) of watching this tiny cheerful no-nonsense civilian pink haired girl hanging out in Kakashi’s space and bullying Kakashi into eating things that aren’t ration bars, and doing normal people things like decorating his apartment, and STAYING IN THE HOSPITAL KAKASHI I CAN SMELL THE DISNFECTANT. And Kakashi lets her, which is the STRANGEST THING to everyone who’s ever known Kakashi. They also have like 90 inside jokes and Kakashi-senpei can joke?????? Yeah. 

#cyan ficstuff #naruto #flowers in my footsteps #ask

[artificialqueens]

I Remember You Differently (Trixya) - Chapter 4 - goth

One more high school lesbian AU for the good people of this blog. It’s the end of senior year, prom season, and Trixie thought she was finally over her crush on Katya from freshman year drama class. She was wrong. Kim is over it before it even starts.

A/N: Purely Trixya interaction, for the most part. Y'all deserve it.

Katya’s perched on the handrail leading to the restaurant, knees jutting out and legs tucked in, black jellies on the lower railing. Her fingers jitter against the metal, like she’s missing something. Trixie wants to hold her restless hands. She wants to kiss them. She wants them jittering across her skin.

Trixie doesn’t tell Katya this. Not in words, but in body language. Arms crossed tight across her chest, weight shifting foot to foot. She’s standing in front of Katya, about a foot away. It feels both like a mile and an inch apart.

She’s had girls before, and a handful of boys. It’s not virginal shyness holding her under. She thinks her problem might be its cousin: intermediately-experienced timidness. Trixie feels clueless around Katya, so fucking inept.

She pulls her arms around herself tighter.

Tonight marks the longest they’ve been around each other in years. Trixie breathes in the warm night air, steadying herself. They’re alone, in regards to other people. Cars are parked on the other side of the street, and an endless supply of cars drive past them. Trixie assumes they’re driving to other restaurants, and bars as well. It’s that time of night.

The last time she stood outside in the dark with Katya was their first date. It’s a lot to process, not adding-on and last date anymore. Prom night is going to end her.

To clear the air, it wasn’t entirely a date.

They were sophomores, then. Katya had left their high school after freshman year, enrolled in home schooling. Trixie thought that was that. She’d never talk to Katya again. She was so convinced, one night in the middle of the year, Trixie called Kim and begged she come over.

Trixie had a bit of a meltdown.

Kim saved her ass, quietly listening to her explain every interaction they had in drama class, nodding along. They sat still for a moment, on Trixie’s bedspread, before Kim flicked Trixie’s forehead. ‘She likes you, dummy,’ Kim said, rather matter-of-factly. ‘Ask her to go see a movie tomorrow.’

Again. Not entirely a date.

But she texted Katya fully intending it to be a date. After Katya said yes, Trixie danced in her room. She twirled and jumped around like an idiot. On the night of, when Trixie got back home, she threw herself across her bed, bubbling over with happiness.

Trixie remembers grinning into her pillow. They didn’t kiss or hold hands, Katya didn’t let Trixie pay for both of their popcorns, nor did either of them confess any pent-up feelings from the year before. Not quite the one of the love stories she had read in Cosmo.

Instead, they laughed like maniacs. An old married couple a few rows back even shushed them. The girls didn’t quiet down any, only laughed harder, slid further down their scratchy pleather seats. From there they talked over the movie neither of them were watching. Talked about topics like family drama, likes and dislikes, how things had changed since last year, and dreams for the future.

Katya said she wanted to design costumes. Trixie wanted to write plays. They joked about working together one day, loud mouths full of popcorn. Trixie thought it was magical. Better than any of the love stories she had read in Cosmo.

There were cues Trixie picked up. Things she noticed, one by one, when she glanced over at Katya throughout the movie:

Katya’s arm pressing against hers on the armrests; bony wrists digging into ample counterpart. Katya curled up in her seat, inclined towards her left, intruding upon Trixie’s space. Hair spilling over and mixing with Trixie’s own. Cologne mixing with Trixie’s perfume — Katya never wore cologne freshman year.

It was all needless, and Trixie’s stomach had churned at the possible implications of need. She felt a desperate tension between her and Katya that entire night. It’s building again. She can feel it. She’s been feeling it since Katya decided to reappear in her life.

Trixie doesn’t want to write plays anymore. She wonders what new dreams Katya has for herself.

Neither of the girls have said a word since Katya escorted Trixie out. It’s only been a minute or two, but time stretches out so much longer in silence. As much silence as there can be, anyway, on a busy night. A siren goes off a few streets away, but Trixie’s lost in a daze.

“P.F. Chang’s puts giant stone horses outside their restaurants in small towns.” Katya states, breaking the silence, pulling Trixie out of her stream of consciousness. “Can you imagine those here?”

Trixie takes the offering, runs with it, giggling at the imaginary scene. “I can imagine the pissed off Chicagoans. Petitioning for them to be taken down.”

Katya’s hands curl around the railing, supporting her slow bend forward. Trixie can smell the peppermint on Katya’s breath again. She can practically taste it. Trixie’s eyes trail up and down the length of Katya’s fingers, then up to the smirk on her lips.

“I’d want to mount one.”

That voice in Trixie’s head whimpers. Suggesting she say, ‘I want you to mount me.’

She’s on sensory overload: Katya’s curls, frizzing in the heat. Her red lips crooking up in one corner. Her green eyes, clear and bright under the artificial lighting. The colors make Trixie’s head swirl. Katya is like Christmas.

Trixie shrugs. “Of course you like lifeless things under your legs.” She plays with the hem of her dress, ignoring Katya’s instantaneous cackling, for her own sake. Trixie tries not to catalogue how the girl alternates between wheezes and squawks. The little breaths in-between.

She fails miserably; it’ll be what keeps her awake when she tries to sleep tonight. Trixie’s never heard a more ridiculous sound in her life.

Katya reaches out to tap Trixie’s shoulder, still laughing, and Trixie looks up. With each tap, her hand moves down goose-bump-covered skin, giggles heightening. Katya takes a breath to speak. She stole it from Trixie.

“Will you be free, Trixie? When you’re deceased?” The end of her sentence drops off. Trixie’s holding Katya’s hand. She didn’t mean to. It just felt natural, the way Katya’s was progressing towards hers.

Katya’s face is red. Again, past memories stir up within Trixie; she wants to scream. Moments ago, Katya alluded to sex with a stone horse, and here she is. Blushing, like how Trixie must be.

Trixie’s mind goes back even further. Minutes ago, Katya pressed her hand against Trixie’s lower back, guiding her, as if that’s how they’ve always been. Trixie realizes she’s holding that very hand, tips of her fingers brushing over veins. The skin is sweaty, but so is her own.

Trixie blames it all on the heat of the night.

One car drives by especially fast — how timely — giving a much needed breeze. Trixie’s free hand has to hold down her dress, and she shuts her eyes when Katya’s flick down to the movement. When she opens them, Trixie fixates on the blinking streetlamp up ahead.

She’s ready to let go, Katya’s skin is burning her alive, but Katya’s fingers squeeze down hard. Not enough to hurt — Trixie can feel the restraint. Katya could crush Trixie’s hand with ease. If desired.

She’s wet again.

Trixie holds back a whine, but she doesn’t hold back from mimicking Katya’s gesture. She’ll have to ask her friends about Katya’s metamorphosis from gangly pubescent virgin to whatever the hell she is now.

Katya clears her throat and cocks her head towards the restaurant entrance. “You said your friends wanted to meet—“ She doesn’t get to finish her sentence. Both of their heads whip around to the sound of the doors bursting open, and the sight of Adore ambling towards them.

If Trixie wasn’t aware of the short distance from Katya and her hand in her own, she would be hyper-aware, now. Katya’s grip keeps Trixie locked in place. Trixie would’ve had to fight the instinct to jump back, if not for that. The instinct of a closeted fourteen year old she’s finding herself reverting to.

Katya straightens up. It’s a merciful act, to pull back and taking the peppermint and cologne scents with her. Trixie cranes her head up to the murky black sky, saying a silent thanks.

As Adore comes closer, Katya’s jaw sets and her brow tightens. Trixie looks for a distraction and finds one in Katya’s legs gently swinging back and forth. The voice in her head screams at the contrasting image.

Adore’s soon standing next to Trixie but looks up at Katya. They look somewhat nervous, but mostly blazed out of their mind. Trixie spies a plastic baggie sticking out of their overalls. “The girls need to speak with you.”

“I’m talking to Trixie right now.” Trixie suspects Katya’s tone would be significantly cooler if the little freshman was replaced by a different friend of hers. She wonders if that was deliberate. It pisses her off, to imagine anyone taking advantage of Katya.

“Everyone’s getting upset. I don’t wanna get banned from another place. Please, Katya.”

So. This isn’t just a problem for Trixie’s friends. There’s humor to be found, somewhere. Trixie’s incapable, as every other emotion has a hold on her at the moment.

Katya sighs in defeat. She wiggles on-top of the handrail, better adjusting her position to hop off. Trixie backs up, helps her down with the hand still holding on. Trixie rolls her eyes at no-one but herself, feeling foolishly chivalrous. Adore eyes the two of them with a newfound smile.

Katya lets go when she lands. The embarrassment turns to mourning.

Trixie’s fingers flex. She’s convinced the lines of Katya’s palm are sure to be imprinted of Trixie’s own. She’s scared to check.

“Thanks,” Trixie almost doesn’t hear her over the cars driving by and the added sound of Adore smacking gum. Peppermint flavored. It must be Katya’s brand. She’s weirdly jealous of Adore for a hot second, then shakes her head to rid herself of the thought.

“I’m sorry, Trixie.” Her hand comes to Trixie’s arm, thumb rubbing a circle above her elbow. The movement is a languid rhythm, and Trixie shivers. “This’ll probably take awhile.”

Katya’s Docs make her about an inch taller, yet she has to lift her chin to make eye contact. It’s cute until it’s not; Trixie is hit with the full force of Katya’s jawline. She decides to only think about how tiny Katya has to be without her fucking boots.

Trixie bites down on her lip, concealing a grin. “I still have your number.” She stands stock-still, all she can do not to buckle at the knees. Katya’s thumbnail scratches her skin lightly. “I’ll text you.”

Katya smiles wide. “Do that.”

She disengages, thumbnail coming out of Trixie’s skin. Trixie feels cold without her touch. Katya turns around and pats Adore’s head before walking away, disappearing through the restaurant doors. Trixie’s confused as to why Adore isn’t joining her.

Every car passing by is louder now, and every light down the street is brighter. Trixie rubs the bridge of her nose. She can’t believe she’s going through fucking withdrawals with this girl.

Adore blinks at Trixie a couple times, before all-out laughing their ass off. Trixie frowns.

“What?”

“Hey,” Adore manages, regaining their breath. They reach into their back pocket with a smile. “You are nervous.”

“Your observational skills are astounding.” Trixie deadpans, crossing her arms. She watches as they laugh at her again, like they did earlier tonight.

There appears to be a problem removing the baggie from their pocket. It’s caught on something, and they mutter out a slurry of curses. Trixie doesn’t offer to help. It’s the little things in life.

After the short struggle the plastic is freed, and Trixie’s first guess is right: weed.

Much to Trixie’s surprise, after they open the bag, Adore doesn’t start another search for a lighter. But rather, they extend the blunt towards her. Adore practically pushes it against Trixie’s nose.

“Take this.”

Trixie just stares, squinting into Adore’s hazy eyes; the red lines are vibrant in the whites, and Trixie is reminded of late nights in Pearl’s smoky bedroom. She sighs, then plucks the blunt out of Adore’s fingers.

“You know,” Trixie rolls it around in her own, inspecting it under the light of the streetlamp. “I’ll probably need this later.”

#goth #i remember you differently #trixya #group fic #lesbian au #cisgirl au #trans katya #katya zamolodchikova #trixie mattel #fluff #tw drugs #tw anxiety #rpdr fanfiction #high school au #trans character

[isisparker]

The Lonely & Great Gaston

words: 21,000 [yes you read that correctly] summary: Gaston died. Apparently death was not a fitting punishment for he was brought back to the world of the living. Three hundred odd years later, a practically immortal Gaston still wishes for death's peaceful reward... He never imagined that the key to his death would appear, or that it'd be in the form of the one soul he found was worth living for. note: So briefly; yes this is the Gaston redemption/Gafou AU no one asked for, yes this is also a fusion of BatB and one of my fave kdramas, Goblin [so good, and if you end up liking this PLEASE I IMPLORE YOU to watch the kdrama], and yes you did read that word count correctly, it IS that many words. BUT the good thing is that this beast of a fanfic is TOTALLY AND UTTERLY COMPLETE. There is no sequel, no To Be Continued, no having to wait for its end. Whether or not I'll return to play around with this universe is another story, but highly unlikely at the moment because this bad-boy has drained me. Please enjoy and I hope it's a worthy enough contribution to the gafou fandom [because goddamn y'all have a bunch of talented people in it].

*

[Prologue]

Gaston dies. That's a fact. A few of the villagers actually do shed a tear for him.

Once upon a time he was a war hero. As a young man he eagerly volunteered during war time. Once upon a time he was their hero. He did save the village from marauders and in doing so earned many awes and respect. He was a decent and revered sort.

Gaston died. That's a fact. Tears were shed by quite a few. The people of Villeneuve did mourn him.

But he was not particularly missed.

In the end he became more villain than hero; for under his bravado lied a weakness, the type of weak that succumbed to one's vanity and listened to their inner demons rather than their better angels [or in his case, a singular angel manifested in a devoted, long-suffering companion].

Gaston died. That's a fact. Tears were shed, but no one truly missed or mourned the wicked.

[Well, that's not exactly true either.]

No one in the village missed him, except for one. But that feeling was fleeting and often appeared to the man on random and seldom occurrences through the first year or two of Gaston's death.

[Like when he'd see a scrawny child in the square being bullied before he was rescued by his friend, who ended up being the bigger kid in the group of juveniles. Or when he'd be at the tavern and he'd overhear a braggart boasting over their latest kill. Or he'd be in the middle of a conversation with his lover when he'd hear the piercing TING from a spittoon somewhere in the room.]

Gaston had died. That was a fact. He was mourned over, but not particularly missed.

For life continued on for the people of Villeneuve...

And one day, Someone decided that the same could be gifted for Gaston.

[or cursed, however you want to see it]

*

[Part I]

He awoke in the middle of a field of daffodils.

If he were a smarter man that should have clued him in that something was truly amiss.

Never mind the fact that he was, you know, alive.

Contrary to what others had speculated, Gaston was not granted the mercy of a swift death by the fall from the decaying parapet. As his eyes took in his new surroundings [because should he focus on the fact that his heart was beating, he feared his brain would overload], he recalled his last breath on earth. He recalled feeling cold [whether the cold had to do with death or the slow realization of what he had done to get to this point, apparently time wouldn't allow him to figure which was which]. He was dying and right before he succumbed to the darkness, he allowed himself one final thought: "I'm sorry, Leol. I hope to see you again, dear friend."

Now as he took in his newly breathing form, the thought of possibly seeing his oldest friend caused his heart to quicken in anticipation.

But first, where the hell was he?

It wasn't an area around Villeneuve he recognized, that he was sure of. Frequent hunting trips with LeFou [no, no it's Leol now, he deserves that much after I betrayed him] had made Gaston quite familiar to the surrounding land. Not even the discovery of a hidden castle in the middle of a French countryside could deter Gaston's surveying expertise.

There were no signs of civilization, no mountains, no seaside... just a grand expansion of land [filled with flowers] for what seemed like miles everywhere.

It was also nightfall. He blinked his eyes and gazed up at the moon, its glow ever bright and encompassing himself and the area around him. The whites of the daffodil petals seemed to soak in and bask against the moonlight. And there seemed to be millions of them spread throughout the land. If he were the type to appreciate nature, he would probably be falling over on how ethereal everything seemed to be.

Instead he wondered why? Why here? And why was he still very much alive?

'The use of daffodils seems to be both ironic and humorous. Times like these I never dare to question Him on the little details.'

Gaston spun around at the sudden voice that filled the air. His brain had processed that the voice belonged to a female and he had half expected her to be old with how strong and unforgiving her tone was. His eyes, however, took in a woman that looked a decade or two younger than he. She was dressed in a strange red garb, almost like a robe, that screamed of regality. Her long black hair was fashioned up in a bun, strings of pearls cascading around it. To call her beautiful, he found, would probably do her a disservice.

But what struck Gaston most as he regarded her was the fact that she wore red not because she looked fetching in that particular color; but the look in her eyes said she wore it for the exact same reason he constantly wore his military jacket-- to command respect. And maybe a little bit of fear too.

Though there was something odd about that additional assessment as he found himself squirming under her piercing gaze. He hated himself for being terrified enough to refrain from asking her who she was and why, despite the fact that he could literally tower over her small frame, did she make him feel like he was two inches tall?

Her gaze seemed to soften, though her eyes still held firm and oh too seeking. 'I never did enjoy seeing the fear in the eyes of my children...'

Gaston couldn't help the scoff that escaped his lips. Besides the fact that he had come across her people in his limited travels, this woman was practically a child compared to him!

Her eyes narrowed, almost as though she had read his thoughts, as she continued, 'Though you may not believe me, you certainly will have the time now to come to that belief all on your own.'

Gaston never did have the patience for riddles. "I still don't understand! Why am I here? I thought I died! Am I still dead? It doesn't feel like I am... And where am I? And who are you?"

He paused for a second, eyes blinking in realization that "I understood that! You spoke differently than I and yet I understood it so clearly!" Gaston momentarily thought back to when she first spoke to him and nodded his head when he realized that she had been speaking to him as such from the start. "What is going on?!"

Her eyes briefly flickered down before returning to stare back at him. He quickly recognized sympathy in her eyes as she said, 'Who I am is not why I am here. I'm here as a Mother wanting to help her son. Even as little as giving him the answers he needs to accept and continue on.' 

She stepped within his proximity and placed a comforting hand on his arm. 'I am sorry, child.'

Sorry? Gaston sighed and opened his mouth to argue when a bolt of light danced across the sky, followed by an ominous thunder as it rolled and crashed in the distance.

But neither of those occurrences were what caused Gaston to jump in surprise.

It was the sudden appearance of his sword sticking right through the middle of his chest.

Too stunned was he of its existence that he didn't even notice the lack of physical suffering that mortals associated with one's body being pierced by a weapon.

He didn't even allow himself to scream or shout in terror and confusion before he reached up and tried to remove the blade himself.

... and that's when he finally felt the pain of the blade.

During his early military training [and subsequently during the war and then the invasion at Villeneuve], Gaston associated himself with the physical danger caused by a sword's blade. In his entire career he'd been stabbed by various weaponries.

But none seemed to inflict the type of pain his entire being was suffocating under. It felt like fire, yet in its impossibility it was the closest he could to describe it. And not just the scorching heat of a flame... no, it was cold. It was the type of cold fire that continued to course and grip on through his body.

Yet still he continued to fight with, pull on, and tear at the hilt of his sword. And regardless of the fact that his entire being felt aflame, Gaston fought desperately to pull the sword out of his chest.

He screamed. He cursed. He howled in agony and anger.

Soon the frustrated and enraged screams turned into sobs. Desperate, heartbreaking sobs.

But still he fought with the weapon.

Though his mind and body felt like he was struggling with it for days, mere minutes passed until he fell to his knees in defeat. He was not aware of the hot tears streaming down his face until he felt a soft hand, and a compassionate presence, gently wiping them away.

Gaston was completely immersed in the dread of his new existence that he didn't realize the pain he had felt earlier slowly fade away as he removed his hands from the sword's hilt.

He bowed his head and pleaded with a voice so weak that even he was surprised by its frailty. "Please," he begged with such sorrow and fear, "please help me."

She moved closer to envelope him in an embrace. Gaston was startled at the familiarity; from her comforting grasp to the way she smelled so much like his mother... Fresh tears escaped him and he found himself scrambling to hold on tighter. Inwardly he still felt the heat of the sword's presence despite the fact that it seemed to have visually disappeared, but so consumed by this woman's... no, no this deity's love for him, he was willing to momentarily suppress his anxiety.

When She felt that Gaston had calmed down enough to listen to what She needed to say, She pulled back and met his watery gaze.  

'Gaston, I mostly protect and guide the young ones, the children of this world,' She started. At his dejected look, She gave him a soft smile and added, 'Although I do recall that you were once a little boy too. And you still are one of my children so... small miracles in loopholes.'

Gaston felt a small pressure ease off his chest as he laughed at Her jest.

Still looking at him with motherly fondness, She said, 'I need you to heed my words, Gaston. Yes, you are alive.' She paused briefly, expecting him to interrupt with more questions, but She was surprised to see that he remained quiet, practically docile, as he waited for Her to finish. It must be a small feat on his part, but it gave Her a small flare of hope for him.

'When an object that held a powerful desire merges with a mortal soul, that being becomes immortal. In your case, a warrior's blade once smeared with blood from its master, and enchanted with a beloved's desire. Only the person whose love matches the desire that bewitched your immortality will be able to draw the blade. Only then once drawn, you will turn to ash and peace will be granted.'

Gaston nodded at Her words, quietly processing them. He looked pained, warring thoughts and a strong desire to ask yet afraid of angering anymore gods than the one that obviously did this to him.

He heard a laugh coming from Her direction. He quirked an offended brow as She shook Her head and explained, 'This isn't just a punishment, my child. This is also a gift. Another chance at life. At peace...' She reached over and gently fixed his hair much in the way his mother used to when he came home from running around town with his friends. Gaston tried desperately not to lean in and sigh at Her touch. At the sight of Her amused smile, he realized he had failed in that endeavor. Still combing Her fingers through his hair, 'You may have prayed for death with your final breath, but consider that you were loved by someone to desire peace for you.'

He didn't know what to say to that. He knew that he was highly regarded by many in life, but so much so that they not only loved him but wanted him to have something even he didn't feel that he deserved?

As he struggled to understand it all, he felt a feathery kiss on the crown of his head and heard gentle laughter escaping Her lips. He looked up and felt a mixture of sadness and calm as only Her voice remained.

'Live well, my lonely and great Gaston...'  

*

His first grave marker rests in a little town in the French countryside.

The first time his first [and true] name was engraved, it was on a marker in a cemetery plot in a small French inhabited colony that was practically an ocean away from Paris, France. That plot of land belonged to a man named George Guest, the First.

It was neither here nor there that records will state of a M. Guest having arrived in the Colonies to start anew just days after the deity had kissed Gaston farewell.

When George Guest, the First, passed away, he had left his estate in the capable hands of his nephew, a Frederick Leol Ashman. Frederick Ashman wasn't just M. Guest's nephew, nor was he solely in charge of his growing finances. Frederick was the only son of Stanley Ashman, an old friend of Gaston's.

Stanly Ashman was the first [and only] person from Gaston's old life that remained. Due to some strange circumstances [and upon Gaston's further inquiry he's come to realize that just means his goddess discovered another loophole], the two crossed paths in Paris and found a need for each other: Stanley needed a second chance at life away from his heartache at Villeneuve and Gaston needed a friend who was mortal.

[There was also another reason the two men had connected, but until Stanley's final days, neither breathed his name in the other's company... save for one drunken and emotionally charged night under the bright lights of Paris.]

When his father had passed (his mother having gone during his birth), Frederick accompanied his "brother" Gaston on a voyage to the Colonies.

He tells people that by the time he's made it to the Colonies, his brother Gaston had passed away. Thankfully he had met up with his mother's youngest cousin, an uncle named George Guest, the First. His uncle George helped Frederick financially before traversing north for new possibilities.

When Frederick's youngest child was saying his first words, he decided to relocate his family and join his uncle up north. He sent word up to his uncle, expecting the approval when a few weeks later he had received an answer in the form of George's "son," George the Second [who, if anyone looked closely, bared a striking resemblance to his father]. Frederick, who had just started to groom his middle child into keeping their family's greatest secret, embraced his "younger" cousin and joked how they could surely pass for father and son, or (at the very least) uncle and nephew.

By the time George had helped the entire Ashman family traverse to their new home, he had already started to drop hints of leaving this new world to travel abroad. When Frederick's middle child, Thomas, was just accepting that his purpose in life wasn't as mundane as he had feared, he had to say good-bye to his newly discovered uncle and that next time he may see him, he would probably address him as brother or son.

When a mail arrived to inform the family of George the Second's death, despite the fact that there was no body for Thomas and his father to bury, a tombstone was set up in a corner of the Guest's plot of land.

Years passed and Thomas was in the middle of grooming the only child he trusted with the family secret, his only daughter, Clarissa, when a young man (old enough to be his son) that looked strikingly like his uncle George had arrived in town.

After he had introduced himself to the Ashman family, the young man followed Thomas (and young Clarissa) into his private study. Once Thomas had made sure that it was just the three of them, the young man stared at Clarissa, as if seeking something he had forgotten.

He then got close enough to, without spooking, her and dropped his voice to a quiet awe as he said, "My word, you have your great-grandfather's smile."

Clarissa gave a fond eye-roll and replied, "Yes, yes. Father reminds me of that every time he brings out the old picture of you and grandfather. How you had teased grandfather Frederick about how much he looked like great-grandpa Stanley."

The young man raised a brow, "So you know who I truly am?"

"Of course, uncle Gaston," she beamed, "you are the man who is currently my uncle, but will one day become my nephew and if I'm lucky to live long enough, you'll be my grandson."

Gaston gave a hearty laugh at that and for the first time in the first hundred years of his life, he felt a warmth and a hope that he didn't have that long ago night in the middle of a field of daffodils.

Thus the great [and somewhat lonely] life of Gaston continued on as such...

Until a Grim Reaper and a Missing Soul came into his life.

*

[Part II]

Gaston continued to live.

Had those who hated him realized as such, it might seem like an unfair assessment. Why must someone so vain, so shallow, so cold be blessed with an everlasting life? To never die, to be as close to godlike as possible and have the chance to live and witness the many wonders and improvements upon this civilized world?

Gaston continued to live... but every day, often during a particular time between dusk and nightfall as he kneeled on the floor, struggling with the sword impaled on his being and the agony incomparable to his desire for eternal rest, did he wish for death.

For those that seek immortality as if it were a gift do not realize its true value: to practically be a god, you live a lonely existence.

Gaston continued to live... to see the world, to participate in society's benchmark events, to build upon small enterprises of his own.

His most sacred [and treasured if he were honest with himself] accomplishment is found on the outskirts of a bustling Canadian city. There's a special plot of land, a cemetery, dedicated not just for the members of the Ashman family that he's trusted [loved] enough with his secret, but half of it is filled with shallow, empty graves of the men he's had to be [though if he thought about it too much, he supposed it's symbolic of the piece of himself that died alongside Stanley, Frederick, Thomas, Clarissa, Noah, Stanford, Roberta, Richard, Andrew... and eventually dear Joanna].

Gaston continued to live... but oh, what a great and lonely life.

*

Somewhere in a provincial town, at the mouth of a stone bridge and over a table of fresh garden vegetables, a young woman was having a lovely conversation with an elderly woman.

"Grand-mère," the young woman addressed the elder, not because of kinship but more out of respect, "please, I insist you take my scarf. It's too cold for just that one jacket."

The older woman scoffed and teased this woman, practically a child compared to her, that she's trekked through snow in far less than this sole red coat.

The young woman laughed a beautiful melody against the quiet dusk sky. "If you won't let me offer this to you," she absently lifted the hand that was near her hips to stroke against the thick wool scarf, "even though the color matches perfectly with your jacket... at least let me buy you a hot beverage? I fear at your age--"

The older woman rolled her eyes, though there was no heat for she knew this woman's kind heart, and thus gently scolded her for assuming that just because she's old, she was not frail.

"Okay, okay," the young woman held her hands up in mock surrender, "Promise me, though, that you'll pack up your vegetable stand early tonight. I heard that snow will be arriving earlier than we anticipated this year."

She started to gather her recently purchased items of potatoes and greenery, grunting a bit at the weight in her arms, never mind the additional pounds she gladly gained, when she felt a weathered and warm hand on her own. She looked up and nearly startled at the hard and imploring gaze coming from her older friend. "Grand-mère..."

'Child, before you depart, I have one more story to tell you.'

"Does it have a far happier ending than the Prince who could never rid himself of the Beast within? Even despite the curse being lifted?"

'No... But it does involve another beast of a man and a gift, or a curse depending on such, given by the gods. Because sometimes, and you must remember this, child; sometimes at the moment of life and death, a wish fueled by strong desire can not only be heard by a soft-hearted god, but it could also be answered.'

*

Gaston had not been near these parts of his home country in... Well, not since the early 1900s and he'd promised a young Richard Ashman a trip across Europe as a graduation gift from Columbia University, New York.

As he took in the sights against the backdrop of yet another new century, faces from different eras of his life [both pre-curse and post] started to flood his senses. It got too overwhelming for him [to the point where even the face of his departed Stanley began to blend with that of his once living name sake, Stanford] that Gaston needed to drown himself in liquor before the memories did it for him.

He supposed that he could blame it on the alcohol that lead him to what will probably be his greatest success [or most idiotic act, depending on his mood] as a supernatural being.

... please. Help... Oh God, please.

Throughout his long years as a somewhat god-like creature, Gaston had been privy to overhearing many prayers. One of the few gifts he'd been given alongside his immortality (such as his weirdly profitable power to create gemstones, manipulate elements, and travel to different places just by simply stepping through a door's threshold) included the ability to hear the whispered pleas of the humans around him. It became a curse in that though he could hear the abundant amount of prayers, he did not have the full power to grant all of their wishes. Gaston quickly realized that with his newly found compassion came the punishment that he could do next to nothing for a lot of these helpless souls.

As he reached to down another bottle of beer, somewhere he heard that same strained plea... but there was something different about it. It wasn't the strength of the desperation he felt that began to pull him towards the troubled presence, but how it sounded so achingly familiar in tone to someone he knew practically lifetimes ago.

When Gaston found the soul whose prayers begged to be heard, his heart lurched and he found himself kneeling in front of the poor woman's broken body. He was also careful not to step on the thick pool of blood forming around her.

Though her eyes seemed to dim further into the death's darkness, she suddenly found herself staring up at Gaston... and smiled.

If Gaston hadn't felt his heart breaking at the sight of this dying woman, he would have been bowled over by her smile. There was something so goddamn familiar about it that he couldn't help himself as he reached to gently stroke her face.

His apologetic words started to form on the tip of his tongue [oh how he wished he could save her, but he did not have the power to do so] when he felt... it...

His eyes widened, stunned. To further confirm his suspicions, the young woman attempted to curl herself further into a ball, almost as if that act alone would prevent their looming deaths.

"Your prayers weren't for yourself..." he gasped, truly in awe of the power of this young mother's love for her unborn child.

Gaston regarded her dismal state before he looked at their surroundings. At the sight of faint car tracks, he had to look away least his vision turned red. What was this woman doing out here? Here and all alone in the middle of a country road?

He felt a slight tug on his arm and was once more struck at how achingly familiar she was as she began to plead for help.

Gaston didn't need to question the situation any further, especially as he started to feel the closing presence of death. Gently, he placed a comforting hand on her stomach and met her gaze with a hopefully soft one of his own. Even if this were to one day bite him in the ass [and boy had he lived long enough to know there was going to be a price to pay], Gaston knew he was doing the right thing when he felt the faint movement coming from her stomach.

As the woman's eyes fluttered close, Gaston marveled at what he was about to do. "Well... it's hero time..."

*

He had two cards, one with a name and another without [for it is common for a card to be nameless for the unborn]... but no body.

The Grim Reaper glanced around the snow fallen area and there was no mistaking that he was at the right place. Especially if he had to go by the thick pool of blood that laid before him.

"This..." He tipped his wide-brim hat in confusion as he continued to survey the scene, "this is most troubling."

A flutter of movement caught his eye, causing him to snap his attention towards... a newly blossomed daffodil? He walked towards it, startled at its own bright white petals that stood out amongst the snowy ground.

A thought occurred to him and he growled in annoyance.

"Not like I needed more paperwork..."

*

In a small clinic, farther than where she lived, a young woman held tight to her miracle. Most would argue that her being alive at all was also an act of God, but the bundle in her arms was truly the real deal.

Oh how she wished their savior could have stayed. She would no doubt have allowed him to be the first to hold her son. But he had left soon after he had made sure the doctors had her in the delivery room.

A mixture of sadness and gratefulness washed over her, for she didn't even get his name!

As she cooed over her child, she smiled and decided that she'll be a bit more creative and honor him in a different way.

"You're very lucky... he's strong, like a lion... like his mother."

She held her baby tight, recalling her savior's parting words as she watched her son squirm in blissful sleep. She placed a gentle kiss on his crown and said, "My little Leo. So brave, so true..."

*

Long ago, when Grand-mère had visited her in the hospital, the old woman had gently held Leo and began to retell the story of a great and lonely immortal that walked the earth, looking for the one who will break his lonely and cursed existence.

She never quite understood the purpose of the old woman's lovely [and often melancholy] tales, but since that night when her savior appeared and saved her son's life, she stopped questioning Grand-mère's words and simply accepted them as truths.

Even those truths that made her stomach churn -- like the one about how even miracles have a price to pay.

But the years passed and the young woman slowly began to fool herself into thinking that maybe, just maybe, she had nothing to fear. Thus on the eve of her son's ninth birthday, after she tucked him into bed, kissed his crown, and whispered for the sweetest of dreams, the young woman slipped out to purchase the grandest of birthday cakes for little Leo.

*

About decade later, Leo found himself being asked when he had last celebrated his birthday.

His reply would be when he was nine years old.

He had left the empty house [a not so uncommon thing considering that he was a son of a single mother that worked two jobs just to support their livelihood] in the morning and for most of the day was eager to return home when he knew his mom had requested the night off.

As the dusk started to settle, Leo had practically burst in through the backdoor and grinned in joy at the sight of his mother sitting at the kitchen table, a big grand birthday cake taking center stage.

"I remember laughing. I was surprised and... so happy... I never wanted for much. But she always managed to at least pick up the most decadent of cakes, just for us. She said that her little miracle deserved at least that much..."

Leo's eyes started to mist. It was a sight that instantly brought out the guilt in Gaston's eyes, who was the one that had made the inquiry about his birthday. The young man gulped and continued, "I should have known something was wrong when she insisted that I was big enough to light my own candles. She was always so protective of me. One time I nearly caused a heart attack just because I scrapped my knee on the tire swing at school! Why would she allow a nine year old to use matches?" He fought down the hysterical laugh that threatened to turn into a sob as the memories came crashing over him.

Leo rubbed his eyes, angry and oh so haunted, "She said that I was too smart and observant for my own good. I knew the second I placed the first candle on the cake that the woman before me wasn't my mother, but her spirit."

"Leo..." Gaston started to reach out, but his hand was pushed aside. Gaston tried to mask the hurt and thankfully didn't try again, for he seemed to realize that the last thing Leo needed was his pity.

"You asked, so please..." Leo begged with what dignity he held onto, "Please let me do this."

At Gaston's nod, Leo continued. "I started to cry. More so when I saw how heartbroken and helpless she was, unable to do the one thing the both of us wanted most: to hold me in her warm embrace. When I was able to calm down, she began to tell me that soon the phone will ring. That it will be the hospital where she was taken to. She told me to go straight to grand-mère, this old lady my mother knew since she was orphaned in her late teens. That I had to take grand-mère with me, so that I wasn't completely alone when they showed me... when I had to see..."

Leo couldn't say it. He couldn't do it. Though it had been ten years ago, the pain of that night still gripped his soul.

He felt Gaston grabbed hold of his hand and gave it a strong squeeze. It was solid, it was warm, it was encouraging, it was thankfully fleeting and it grounded him in a way he never could have imagined. Leo had huff a watery laugh and prayed that his eyes shone with the fondness he had for this man. If Leo wasn't careful, he knew he could fall hard and deep for this immortal [and it would not end well for either of them].

"Was that the last time you saw her? At the morgue? I did not think they'd allow children to..."

Leo nodded, though stopped short as he amended, "Well, no. I... I actually didn't have the chance to."

Gaston tilted his head, curious. Before he could ask, Leo continued, "Just when I left the house, I ran into..." He stumbled a bit, unsure how to go on, especially considering certain circumstances...

"Ran into?"

Leo sighed and bit the bullet. "I had just left the house when I came across him... the Grim Reaper. I didn't know who he was at the time, although I could feel that he was death, but apparently he had been trying to find me and my mom for years now. My mom's name finally showed up on his list and just when he arrived to collect her, he ran into me." Leo met Gaston's stunned expression and hurried, "It's okay! Obviously since, you know, I'm here. With you." The young man squirmed, already feeling uncomfortable, "Grand-mère showed up and managed to outsmart him. Saying that he couldn't collect me as well because at the time the second soul had no name, but because I had one now, he'd have to go through the proper channels or something... Realizing that she was right, the Grim Reaper let me go."

Gaston laughed and said, "Honestly, it doesn't take much to prove that idiot wrong."

"Are you two done talking about me?"

Leo bit his lip while Gaston failed at hiding his startled jump. The immortal allowed a curse and a glare towards the intruder of their private conversation.

"What are you doing here?!" Gaston hissed towards the open living room area, at the Grim Reaper himself.

The Grim Reaper, clearly out of his normal business attire of a black suit and black wide-brim hat and dressed in a casual tee and jeans, rolled his eyes and said with a dismissive wave of his hand, "Trying to read in my home but having to contend with you two love sick fools."

"You mean my home," Gaston corrected.

"I signed the lease. Legally it is mine."

"Don't you have someone to kill?"

A resounding slam of a book hitting the coffee table echoed throughout the house. Leo warily watched as the Grim Reaper stalked over to their table and gave an imposing stare down. Gaston himself met the gaze with a lazy, even mocking, grin.

Grim [as Leo started to mentally address him as, never ever vocally though] pointed an angry finger at the immortal and growled, "That is an ugly stereotype perpetuated by the media and I will not stand for it!"

Gaston feigned hurt as he braced his hands over his chest, "Oh, your anger has wounded me! I'm dying over a broken heart here!"

Hurt flickered in Grim's eyes before he quickly masked them with indignation. He turned and stormed away. Soon a distant slam of a bedroom door shook the house.

Though Leo will always have a constant fear of death [no matter how used to seeing spirits everywhere], he has slowly come to consider Grim as a gentile sort despite his... existence.

"Gaston," Leo admonished, "I think you've hurt his feelings."

Guilt and concern washed over his features before he hid them behind [false] bravado. The immortal stood up, citing that he needed to pick up something from the grocery store, and quickly eased out of sight. Leo rolled his eyes, a small smile on his face as he heard a door opening at the top of the stairs.

Though his life had forever altered when he was nine years old, ten years later Someone realized it was ready for another change... and whether or not it was a good thing remained to be seen.

*

It's not that Gaston hated that Grim Reaper... Hate was such a strong emotion he hadn't felt in, well, a lifetime or so ago.

No, the problem was that no matter how many days within each other's company would eventually pass, and no matter that with each day he found himself sort of growing a little fond of that reaper, there was still something about him that tickled at Gaston's core. Almost like an itch he could not reach. There was just something utterly annoying about the being's existence.

It started from the first moment they saw each other; at a normal city intersection to the human eye. But since Gaston was no less mortal than the harbinger of Death himself, naturally the immortal saw right through the supernatural curtains and spotted one of many tea houses that served as doorways to the afterlife.

While the Grim Reaper was diligently drying his tea cups, he looked up and met eyes with Gaston, who was passing through the city. The two stared at each other with various expressions on their faces; the Grim Reaper was puzzled for it had been a while since he'd come across an immortal, and Gaston was instantly filled with... annoyance?

So Gaston did what felt scarily natural to him-- He smirked and said, "What an offensive hat."

Though he felt the guilt later on, he was oddly proud at himself for causing such an affronted look to grace that reaper's face. Plus, at the time, he figured that he would not cross paths with him [or his terribly floppish hat] until another lifetime has passed.

How was he to know that his nephew, Charles ["Please, uncle, call me Chip. Charles is a name for ugly rich dudes"], would attempt to lease out his home before he even had a chance to pack and leave the country [again]?

If Gaston was honest with himself, he should wonder what it was exactly about that particular Grim Reaper that bothered him [again, he's lived long enough to know that coincidences aren't as clear cut as they seem].

*

Now Leo on the other hand... that was a different experience altogether.

When Gaston first met him, it was on a rooftop in the middle of the city... a city that was a literally ocean's away from where he had currently been occupied in [see: that field of daffodils was apparently some Higher Power's gift of sanctuary for Gaston, kind of like an earthly manifestation of limbo].

At first Gaston was lying down on a spread blanket, absently fiddling with a plucked daffodil while star gazing and trying his best not to fall into [another] depression over his prolonged life. While softly humming he started to hear a faint whisper coming from... well, all around him. He started to sit up, ears alert and trying to figure out not only where it was coming from but also what was being said.

"... I don't ask for much. Never did," the voice pleaded. Gaston distinguished it as male and sad, even desperate, if he had to pinpoint a tone. And young too, maybe a teenager? "I haven't done this since... It's been too long! But I have no one and y'know, I suppose it doesn't hurt? Okay, I can do this... I need to do this... I wish to find a job. I need the money so I can finally get away from my uncle and his family. But if I don't have the money, I wish that something could be done about them. I know they're the only family I have left, but I... I can't stay with them anymore... So, yeah, I wish for a job and a way to not be with them anymore. Oh and if you could squeeze in a boyfriend too? Not that it's important, I mean I am still young... like eighteen- I mean nineteen now, huh? But anyway, yeah... I wouldn't mind a boyfriend either..."

Gaston had heard many prayers over the years, but there was something about this one that managed to pull at his core. He'd laugh if he didn't find it so disconcerting at how something childish [at least the latter part, the former parts he could probably grant easily] had reached him immensely...

Or maybe it was the voice itself?  

Before he could contemplate further, within the blink of an eye, Gaston found himself standing on a roof top in the middle of a city, and facing a very startled, wide-eyed young man, who flailed spectacularly off a bench.

Gaston will be the first to admit that he's imagined a scenario like this before [he's lived long enough to allow his imagination to run wild], which is why he's more calm and collected than the young lad before him. He watched as the young man [he would not had guessed that he was nineteen if Gaston had to judge by the baby fat on his youthful face] scrambled off the ground and amble his way back onto the bench.  

The young man fixed his black-framed glasses (that were momentarily askew because of the fall) before he stared owlishly up at Gaston, a mixture of awe and confusion gracing his [admittedly to Gaston, much to his chagrin] adorable face. He tilted his head to the side, gaze still focus on Gaston, as if trying to figure out what to say to make sense out of what just happened.

It was a sight that nearly bowled Gaston over, for he'd seen this particular expression on a very familiar face before and in all the centuries that have passed he never fathomed that he'd see it again.

[In remorseful dreams, yes, but in reality? Never.]

Gaston schooled his features and prayed his voice didn't betray how utterly shook his was at the moment as he said, "You."

The young man gaped, "Me?"

"Was it you?" Gaston tried to hold back any emotions, especially annoyance because, really?, wasn't he just commiserating in his private ethereal space? "Did you just summon me?"

He'd heard of such an occurrence. Read up on it, actually. Live for a couple hundred years and even the most biblio-phobic individual would go through a reading phase. Turns out that Gaston would consider collecting books a lot more fun than collecting animal kills [also a lot cleaner and less work]. But he's come across such an act and at the time he wouldn't have put it passed the deities to allow it to happen to him.

Especially by a being that looked remarkably like a ghost from another lifetime ago.

"I..." the young man looked genuinely perplexed, "I don't think so?"

Gaston looked at the space next to the young man, at a lone cupcake and a wisp of smoke trailing off a single candle. He quirked a brow and gave the kid an amused grin, "I think you did." He crossed his arms, though kept his stance unguarded so as not to spook him. "And as such, I think I should at least know the name of the lad who sought out my service."

"No," the young man shook his head, "no, I did no such thing. Besides, I don't even know you! Much less know how to- to-" he waved his hand around, "whatever you just said!"

"Summon." Gaston said with a wry grin. "And yes, yes you did. I'm assuming," he walked over and plucked the candle off the cupcake, licking off the frosting before he said, "Hmm, orange crème, nice..." He handed the candle to the young man, "anyway, I'm assuming this is what you used to summon me. I heard your wishes and you must have desired them quite fervently because once you blew out the flame, well," Gaston flourished a little spin, grinned cheekily and concluded with, "here I am, at your service."

Gaston eyed the young man, who was currently more flummoxed than impressed at his diatribe. Realizing he wasn't going to get the answer he wanted, he got as close as he could without spooking him and extended a hand as he quietly said, "I lived by many names, but I wish for you to know me as Gaston."

He watched the young man stare at his offered palm and just when Gaston started to lower it, he felt a soft calloused hand grip into his own.

"I'm called Lefou..." He said, quiet and hesitant, and refusing to meet Gaston's gaze. The poor boy's form was tense and guarded, as if waiting for the expectant mocking. Almost as if to delay it, he started rambling as he added, "I know it's a stupid name. Not even my real one, but it's pretty much what everyone calls me. Le fou. Calling the immigrant French boy a fool in his mother tongue. Ha. Ha. Totally original. Never mind that I haven’t... spoken... Uh, are you okay?" He trailed off when he finally raised his head he was surprised to see Gaston with an unreadable expression on his face. To say that was a new one would be an understatement for him.

Gaston himself clamped down on the emotions that fought within; confusion, denial, regret, sadness... and [most prevalent in fighting for control] hope. It raged and sang within his blood so fiercely that his mind started reminding him that if he wasn't careful, he just might scare the young man before he even had a chance.

Gaston smiled at the young man, gentle as he asked, "What do you wish for me to call you?"

"What? I don't--"

"I do not wish to refer to you as a buffoon." Gaston sniffed in disgust before shifting his expression to that of a compassionate one, "And I have a feeling you'd rather me address you as someone worth admiration and respect than what those idiots assume of you."

The young man blinked up at Gaston, still so very confused and yet something in his eyes betrayed that he was a little enchanted by the older man. He removed his hand from Gaston's, looked away as if to contemplate whether or not to trust him with one of his most guarded secrets. Finally he shrugged, playing indifference as he uttered quite softly, "Leo... Honestly it makes no difference to me which name you use, but my real name's Leo."

Gaston positively beamed at that response. "Well, Leo, I am honored to meet you." He glanced over at the sad little cupcake, tried hard not to allow a pitying sigh, before he clapped his hands and declared, "So, let's talk about those wishes of yours."

*

Later that night, Gaston breezed through the door of his brownstone in a tremendous mood. He could not believe his good fortune! Having lived for centuries and exposed to supernatural elements, the notion of reincarnation was certainly a reality. But Gaston never could have dreamed that in a world-wide population in the billions, he'd quite possibly come across the reincarnation of his long-lost friend!

He'd consider it a joke from the cosmos that the one person he'd been desperate to see again was the one person he wished would never discover what he became, but Gaston was just so happy to have Leol back in his life [even if he was much younger, a bit closed off, and okay maybe Leo wasn't his Leol but he'll take any version of his friend that he can] that he didn't want to question why or how.

"You look like you're up to no good."

Gaston paused in the middle of the staircase, a flare of irritation spiked and threatened to ruin his good mood. He took a breath, steeled himself, and said, "And you look like you should be anywhere but here!"

"Your old age must be showing, immortal. Remember? I paid your nephew a down-payment and signed the proper paperwork so technically I can be here."

Gaston glared at the Grim Reaper, who was leaning against the threshold of the kitchen area with a steaming mug in hand. He was dressed in his business attire, minus that ridiculous hat. "First of all, Chip had no right to lease out my home for various reasons, one of them being that I've yet to give him control of my estates. Oh and thank you for reminding me that I need to speak to Joanna about that. Secondly, you are the last person to mock my age... or having a hard time remembering things."

He turned to ascend towards his room when the sharp sound of something shattering on the ground and a sudden chill pierced through the air. Most people would be freaking out at the temperature drop caused by pissing off a Grim Reaper, but Gaston was no mere person. He rolled his eyes, "That better had been one of your mugs or so help me, Reaper..."

The Grim Reaper stalked over to the staircase, fire in his eyes while his hands were literally emitting cold vapors. He snarled as he said, "There's a difference between constant forgetfulness due to old age and having no memory of one's former life!"

"And that concerns me how?" Gaston asked, raising a brow and trying to sound indifferent despite the fact that he was already starting to feel guilty over pushing on the one sore spot this particular Grim Reaper seemed to have.

Looking so utterly forlorn, like a very sad puppy [and damn did Gaston feel like the jerk that kicked the creature], the Grim Reaper said dejectedly, "Reaper is the closest thing to a name that I have. And that's only because you seem content on sneering that at me every chance you get."

Gaston sighed and sat himself down on one of the steps. Gone were any negative feelings he had for the supernatural being before him [at least temporarily, he wasn't a monster that liked to kick depressed puppies]. He leaned forward and patted the stoop below him. When the Grim Reaper picked up the hint and joined him on the stairs, Gaston said, "Look, more often than not that's how I address every reaper I come across. Your title is all I know because that's all you yourself can identify as! I don't need to tell you the history of Grim Reapers. It's just how the gods set up your system. So if I call you Reaper it's of no offense."

The Grim Reaper nodded sullenly, briefly recalling that yes, reapers were once humans that (right after their death) were given a chance to have their former life's memories wiped clean. The Higher Powers considered it an act of mercy for those souls because prior to dying they had committed what They considered a most heinous of act. Once they had their memories removed, the Higher Powers sentenced them to an undetermined lifetime as guides for the recently deceased. It was a system that no one except the Higher Powers had control over, so the Grim Reaper did realize there was truth to Gaston's words.

Gaston placed a consoling hand on the Grim Reaper's shoulder, "And as for my sneering at you, I'm truly sorry if it happens more often than I mean to. It's no excuse but I have to tell you, my friend, that there's just something about you that always... well, as the kids today say 'pisses me off.'"

The Grim Reaper stared up at Gaston, genuinely surprised and curious, "Did you know me in my former life? Do you think that's why you can't stand me?" He paused and nodded as a new thought occurred, "Now that you mentioned it, I do seem to know exactly what you're talking about! Every time I look at you, there seems to be something about you that rubs me the wrong way."

Gaston regarded him and tried to place the Grim Reaper's face. He looked about the same age as Gaston, maybe a little younger if he didn't have that scrappy beard covering half of his face. His eyes were also so startling blue and beautiful that if Gaston didn't feel like clawing them out, he'd admittedly find himself attracted to the Grim Reaper. After a while he shook his head, "Nope. And unfortunately a part of my curse is to remember those I've known and loss. I don't believe we've met."

"I suppose it's best that you didn't know me. After all, I'm a Grim Reaper. I'm afraid to even imagine what I did to have earned such a position."

Gaston couldn't help but feel pity as he said, "I can't imagine it being any worse than what I did before I became immortal. I was an absolute beast!"

To Gaston's surprise, the reaper seemed to flinch under those words. When Gaston asked him what was wrong, a haunted look came and went in the reaper's blue eyes before he shook it off and said, "Nothing. I just..." He looked up at Gaston and gave him a shrug, "I doubt that."

Gaston was about to ask what he meant by that when suddenly he felt a familiar sensation and a yelp from the reaper. "Gaston! You're smoking! That's incredible... I don't see any fire or anything but there's smoke. You have smoke coming off of you!"

He didn't have the chance to ask him what he meant when he looked at his own hands and realized that, "Why yes, it certainly looks as such..." before within a blink of an eye he found himself facing the young man he had only left not too long ago.

Leo stood before him, eyes dancing and grinning so brilliantly that Gaston momentarily forgot to breathe, much less ask what had just transpired. The young man waved a pack of matches and a used up matchstick before he proudly said, "I guess I don't have to use up a wish or a candle after all!"

[And that was when Gaston began to suspect that there was more to his connection to Leo beyond a second chance at a long-lost friendship.]

*

[Part III]

Life wasn't so unfair to Gaston [and the company he kept] that it only gave them moments of heaviness and drama. Often times, life [and the affiliated Higher Powers] liked to throw out a few lighthearted moments. Sometimes even at the beginning of a new chapter.

There's usual a beautiful sunset before a storm rages throughout the long arduous night...

A week after Gaston and Leo met; the younger man found himself working at an indie bookstore-slash-café. Leo was so eager and excited to have finally found a job, especially where it seemed that the boss was extremely chill and more than willing to give him [a practical novice] a chance, that he didn't think to question how easy it was to have stumbled into the job.

[Leo would come to discover that life with Gaston was always worth questioning, regardless of the fact that he would never trade it for anything.]

It was while working at the café that he first encountered Gaston's nephew, Chip.

Leo had to admit that upon first sight Chip was a looker. Well, if one were into k-pop boy bands. He had purple streaked dark hair that he kept short around the ears and styled with side-way swept bangs over his hazel eyes. His diamond earrings looked like they'd cost more than Leo's rent if it were multiplied by two lifetimes and if the fashionable ensemble that screamed Private Labels wasn't enough of an indication that Chip was an spoiled heir, then the way he walked right up to the counter and proceeded to flirt with Leo was a dead giveaway.

Before Leo could give the customer spiel that Isabelle, his boss and owner of the establishment, taught him, Chip winked and said, "I'll take the sweetest and most expensive drink you got."

Leo blinked and found himself instantly put off. Mentally he thought that this guy was lucky that he had his looks going for him because he seemed to lack everything else.

Chip, however, misinterpreted Leo's stunned silence. "I know. This body doesn't seem the type to welcome unhealthy crap. But I was blessed with awesome metabolism! You can thank my Euro-Asian heritage there, God knows I do. Anyway, yes I have the bod, but unfortunately I have one of the biggest sweet-tooth's you'll come across! Heck, I got my nickname, Chip, because when I was younger, I used to have a chipped tooth right here!" He pointed towards the middle part of his front row of teeth before smacking his lips and adding, "Hard to tell, huh? That's what thousands of dollars' worth of dental can get you; perfect pearly whites!"

Leo tried desperately to hide an eye-roll at this point.

"Anyway enough about me," Chip smirked, clapped his hands, and said, "I'm ready to communicate with you now."

That last line pretty much broke Leo's resolve. He stared in disbelief at Chip before he started giggling and said, "Did you seriously use an M. Night Shyamalan quote to flirt with me?" Leo gripped the counter to keep from falling over, his eyes already misting with unshed tears of laughter. "That's no better than using Disney songs! And trust me, I've seen it tried and failed spectacularly so don't even think that crap would work." More or less muttering to himself he added, "Can't believe he used a quote from my favorite movie as a pick-up line..."

For a brief moment Chip looked like he'd been slap. Leo would have started to worry had Chip not suddenly shook his head and cracked a smile himself. With a mirthful grin that looked more sincere than his previous player persona, he said, "Okay, note to self, cancel the seventy-five golden camels and the fifty-three purple peacocks."

Leo softened at that and decided that maybe this guy wasn't so bad after all. He nodded his head, yet softly suggested, "No to the animals... but I wouldn't be opposed to a magic carpet ride." Leo turned to grab the biggest size cup that they served before adding "I've always wanted to see the world."

He distracted himself with preparing the drink, especially since he was met with silence from Chip. Maybe he misinterpreted his flirty nature?

When Leo finished the drink and dared to look up, he was startled to find Chip staring at him as if he was finally seeing him for the first time. Leo started to squirm uncomfortably from the gaze when Chip snapped out of it and formed a wide toothy grin. He approached the counter, took a sip of the offered drink while simultaneously placing down a $100 bill. Chip hummed his approval before turning to exit and parting with, "Uncle Gaston's got good taste. I approve! Keep the change and I'll see you later!"

*

"You saw him?! When? Where? Why?!"

"Calm down, uncle Gaston. It's disturbing to see you like this."

"You weren't supposed to approach him."

"But he was working in the building that I technically own."

"That I bought. With my money. And for someone else!"

"Gee, does Leo know that?"

"You wouldn't!"

"Wouldn’t what?"

"... the ones who came before you were never that mouthy to me. What happened to this generation?"

"Why are you so worried about that? One day when I'm old enough to say that I'm your older, hotter brother and I'm running the family company--"

"Out of my pockets..."

"We can bitch about the younger generation together!"

"You're doing a terrible job at trying to get your credit card back."

*

Although Leo hadn't been in the supernatural game as long as Gaston has, he felt that he should have at least been warned that life wasn't going to make it easy for them just because he could see ghosts or that Gaston was an immortal.

However, life would probably argue that it did so multiple times, especially with its biggest Danger sign so far appearing nearly a month after the two had met.

Gaston had managed to talk Leo into going out for some ice cream. He knew that the young man had been busy at settling into his new job [among other things] and Gaston tried not to appear too eager to spend time with Leo.

In addition to life getting in the way, though both were admittedly attracted to the other, they each had their own emotional hang-ups that kept them apart. Gaston was torn between keeping his distance and staying close without coming off like a stalker. Leo was torn between his own curiosity for Gaston every time Chip came into the café and pointedly ignoring his desire because his already complicated life was safer without getting an immortal involved.  

It was closing in on a month since Leo had turned 19 and inadvertently summoned Gaston and, at most, they spent a total of four days together.

[One involved Gaston accompanying Leo on his job search around the city, which unfortunately led to Leo's first run-in with the Grim Reaper in over ten years and boy was that a fun day in general for Gaston! Another involved Leo summoning Gaston right before he was to leave on a trip but then accidentally following him through the door, which incidentally caused Leo to cross international borders via magic and thus they made a day out of it. Third day there was an unfortunate incident involving Leo's uncle's bookies that thought Leo would make great collateral... not realizing that in abducting Leo they managed to piss off an immortal and a Grim Reaper. The fourth involved Gaston trying to convince Leo to move into his house, but failing because now that Leo's relatives had been arrested, their apartment became his and thankfully with his new job, and the savings he had secretly stashed for years, Leo could afford it.]

It was after Leo's closing shift and the weather was oddly warm enough for it to be "perfect ice cream weather." Leo had teased Gaston that that wasn't a thing, but still willing followed.

After picking up their treats, and walking around the city in companionable silence, Gaston finally asked Leo a question that's been bothering him for weeks now...

"So... and not that I care that Chip knows your favorite movie... But what I want to know is why did he know it before I did?"

Leo paused in his steps to turn and quirk an incredulous brow at Gaston. He started to lick his lips to wipe stray drops of ice cream off [and pointedly ignoring the butterflies in his stomach as he noticed Gaston's eyes watching that exact movement] before he replied, "You asked me out for ice cream... and the first real conversation we're going to have is why your nephew knew that I liked The Sixth Sense before you did?"

Gaston looked a little offended by Leo's question. "Not if you're making it sound like I'm some jealous fool."

A little too amused by this, Leo grinned and said, "Well if you're going to be putting labels on it..."

Pouting, "It's a little unfair, isn't it? I'm the one that granted your wishes--"

"Wow," Leo laughed, surprising Gaston by looking affronted at his words. "I wasn't too far off with the Disney fairy-tales..."

"What?"

A little indignant now, Leo glared, "And wishes indicate plural! Meaning more than one! And you, who I can magically summon with a matchstick, barely even granted one!"

Now it was Gaston's turn to look offended, "Who was the one that turned your criminal guardians into the police?"

Leo licked his cone and said off-handedly, "I recall that they turned themselves in." He paused for a second before adding, "Although now that you mention it, I didn’t think they had it in them to steal gold bars. Motivation, yes. Smarts? Not so much..."

"Yes, well, they're lucky that's all they're serving their time over. With the abuse you suffered, they should have been punished far worse than a mere Felony C..."

Leo gaped, "How did you--"

"And who was the one that got you that job at that cute bookstore café?"

An angry gasp escaped Leo's lips. "I found that on my own!"

Gaston startled at Leo's seething. He took a step back; both literally and figuratively, and quickly realized the bad road he was heading towards. Holding up a submissive palm, "No, no, you're correct. You did find that on your own."

Leo searched Gaston's face for any insincerity... and found something much worst. A little slack-jawed he cried "You didn't!"

Gaston prayed that both his nephew and Joanna never discovered that they were proven correct. They had forewarned him that what he had done would not go over well with Leo. "To be fair, darling, you did make a wish and you can't just expect a god... like... me... to... I'm making this a lot worst, aren't I?" He finished with a grimace as he regarded the anger radiating off of Leo.

Gaston considered himself a terrible person for finding Leo's rage highly attractive.

"I am thisclose to shoving what's left of this ice cream down that- your- that- ridiculously tight shirt..." Leo stumbled because damn it! What he was threatening could do more harm to himself than Gaston. "How do you even breathe in that?!"

Gaston looked down at his unbuttoned red three-quarter sleeved Henley in confusion before realization formed a seductive smirk on his face. He took a step closer before he felt Leo gently shove him back as he took a step away himself.

"No!" Leo held up a finger in warning, "I am mad at you right now and you can't just flash that 'I'm hot and I know it' look you do so well on me. I'm not some weak-willed bimbette that sighs and fawns over men flexing their guns and whatnot!"

Whether it was the infliction or the words itself, but Gaston immediately dropped the act and took a step back from Leo. He nodded in agreement, his voice soft and filled with something that Leo couldn't describe. "I know, Leo. I never took you to be a rabbit."

"Rabbit?"

"You're right."

"I'm... what?"

"I may have had a hand in your job search..."

Leo glared, "Explain."

"I know the owner of the building," Gaston started, nervously rubbing the back of his neck, "And I may have mentioned to Isabelle that I knew someone who was seeking employment..." He tried desperately not to look Leo in the eyes, for fear of releasing a tidbit or two that he was omitting from his admission [like though the title of the building where the bookstore-slash-café was housed said that Chip was the owner, Gaston himself was the one that bought the building... and he had bought it for Isabelle, the shop's owner... and possibly the reincarnation of someone he wronged long ago. He purchased the building not out of a sense of obligation but as an overdue apology. He liked to consider it progress on his part when he sought out that particular favor from Isabelle instead of a 'Thank you'].

Leo waited for Gaston to finish, and when he offered no more of an explanation, he regarded the immortal. His gaze softened as he realized that though Gaston still seemed to be hiding something, there was sincerity and a tinge of remorse in his voice. With a hint of warning, "I don't like being lied to..."

"I don't like lying to you," Gaston admitted.

"I did wish for a job," Leo said begrudgingly.

Gaston took a chance and approached Leo, making his movements known that he wanted to place an arm around the smaller man but will only do so with his consent. When Leo leaned his frame towards Gaston, the bigger man smiled and said, "The only real hand I had in this entire job endeavor was giving Isabelle my word that you were worth taking a chance on."

Leo grinned shyly at that. "You told her that?"

"Of course! It's the truth."

Leo stared up at Gaston, utterly transfixed by his conviction. Not since his mother has anyone had such faith in him. It nearly brought the young man to tears. Leo took a moment, contemplating on how he could repay Gaston for his belief in him... and realized the answer was there all along.

As they continued walking, Leo shyly asked, "Gaston?"

"Hmm?"

"Chip may know what my favorite movie was, but he does not know why..." Leo took a deep breath before diving in, "Would you like to know it?"

Gaston returned Leo's soft smile. "I would be honored."

"So... you know that I can, y'know, see... them... right?" Leo said nervously, to which Gaston took a moment before nodding understandingly.

"The souls of the deceased? Yes." Gaston regarded Leo, "You've yet to talk with me about this ability of yours, but yes I am aware of your sight."

Leo hummed, "I suspected as much. That day we spent in Canada and I saw the spirit of that little girl, you didn't act out of the ordinary, nor asked why I suddenly behaved, y'know, odd."

Gaston shrugged, "I suspected you would have discussed it with me one day."

A laugh escaped Leo's lips, "You're incredible, you know that? You respect my supernatural boundaries and yet every other aspect of my life you feel the need to butt in." When Gaston gave another shrug but didn't say anything to contradict it, Leo decided to let it go and continue with his story.

"Anyway, the reason that movie is my favorite is because I could relate to Cole. I mean, I'm not a scared little kid, not anymore, but I know what that fear was like. That fear is also a reminder of how lucky I was that, unlike Cole in the beginning of the movie, I had a mother who knew what I was." Leo gave a wistful smile, "My mother, who was the most beautiful person I'll ever know, knew from the start what I was. And still she loved me so much and still called me 'her little miracle.'" Leo took a breath, trying his best not to let the sadness overwhelm him. "I did more than relate to that movie. It served as a reminder of how blessed I was to have had my mom..."

He paused and turned away from Gaston. Leo braced himself for the usual response he'd receive from those who discovered the truth. Though he rarely went into details like he did with Gaston, the thought process was always the same. And the results? People realized just how much of an oddball he was.

"I would have loved to meet her."

Leo looked back at Gaston, surprise evident on his young face. "What?"

Gaston's eyes were honest and his smile small as he repeated himself and added that "Your mother sounded like a wonderful woman."

Leo refused to cry. He also refused to let himself swoon. Instead he stared in shock before he slipped into an old M.O.; self-deprecation. "She was... Especially to have given birth to a freak of a son."

Gaston snorted and rolled his eyes, "Why must you sell yourself short, darling?"

"You're right," Leo snarked right back, "I'm that sort of special."

As if missing the sarcastic barb, Gaston nodded his head sincerely as he proclaimed, "You're more than that! You're extraordinary, Leo."

"Okay, you need to, y'know, not do that..." Leo blushed. "I'm not normal--"

Gaston grinned toothily, "I'm immortal and you've met my flat-mate, the Grim Reaper. Why should you settle for normal?"

Leo started to glare, ready to argue with Gaston over his flippancy, when the young man found himself struck by the way the older man's eyes danced and how his smile was all too fondly directed at him. Leo felt his breath hitched as he realized how beautiful this man was... and what's even more amazing is that Gaston seemed to see something equally wonderful in him too, if he had to gauge by the look in his eyes.

Without really thinking about it, Leo decided to work on the one wish Gaston had yet to answer for him. Before he lost courage, Leo stepped into Gaston's space and leaned up to kiss him.

Leo felt the immortal kiss him back before gasping and pulling away. The young man started to chase Gaston's lips but froze when he realized that Gaston hadn't gasped in surprise but pain!

For in the middle of Gaston's chest was a sword engulfed in blue flames.

There must have been something about Leo's reaction that caused Gaston, who started to sweat in agony just a second ago but was now trying to compose himself, to hold his hand out as if to keep the young man away. "Leo..." Stress was evident in his voice, "It's... I'm..."

"You're in pain," Leo spat out, angry at himself for standing there like an idiot than the fact that Gaston was under some horrendous curse.

Unable to help himself, Gaston gave a weak chuckle, "Just a flesh wound, love."

Leo felt tears prickle his eyes just as he rolled them, "Of course you're the type of moron to quote The Princess Bride while you got some big ass sword sticking out of you!"

Gaston blinked, stunned, "You- you can see it?"

"Yes! It's hard to miss, Gaston."

"I- I can't believe," Gaston wheezed a little out of breath, "that you can see it!"

"We need to remove it. It's hurting you!"

Gaston smiled weakly, "If only I could, darling. But that's part of the curse..."

Leo stared at the hilt for a second before he looked up and met Gaston's scared eyes. Without prompting, Leo reached out and placed both hands on the handle. His focus was completely on the sword that he nearly missed the terrified gasp coming from Gaston. "I think... I think I can help you, Gaston." Leo sent a quick prayer that the motion wouldn't hurt the immortal any more than he already was before he began to pull at the sword. The young man didn't know what he was expecting; maybe a little resistance, maybe the handle burning his hands because, y'know, it was engulfed in blue flames, but whatever it was he surely wasn't expecting the sword to slide out of Gaston's chest quite so easily.

"I- I think it's working!" Leo's laugh was a mixture of relief and hysteria, "Gaston! Hold on, okay? Let me help pull this out, alright?"

"... No."

Leo startled at the immortal's ragged growl. "Gaston?"

"S-s-stop," Gaston stuttered in pain, "P-please!"

Leo's grip on the sword's handle loosened a bit before he resumed his hold, "Stop?!" His vision started to blur as he strangled out, "You're hurting! Gaston, please, let me..."

"'m sorry, love." Gaston hissed.

"Sorry? What--"

It was a blur. One moment Leo had such a strong grip on the hilt that all it would have taken was one brute tug for Gaston to be free of the cursed sword... and the next Leo was staring at Gaston in shock as his body was flying backwards and quick. His brain had just processed that Gaston had intentionally pushed Leo away when he felt strong arms wrap themselves around him, his back colliding with a muscled chest as an invisible force vibrated around his entire being.

Before he blacked out, Leo tried to see where Gaston had gone to before the young man slowly realized whose arms had caught and been shielding him safe the whole time.

*

[knock, knock]

"Uncle Tenant?"

[knock, knock, knock]

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I hope you're still awake."

[knockknockknock]

The Grim Reaper was grateful that he hadn't even changed into his pajamas or else Gaston would have been short one nephew. He finished undoing the knot off his tie before he walked to the bedroom door and threw it open. He gave the young mortal an unimpressed look, "Yes?"

Chip shot his arm up and held his phone out. "Here."

The Grim Reaper hated technology despite the fact that he begrudgingly admits it has its usefulness. It still didn't stop him from flinching the moment Chip had shoved the phone in his face and had to watch a clip of an accident up close.

"What the--?" The Grim Reaper tentatively took the offered phone, confused as to 1. Why was the same accident being played over and over? And 2. Why was Chip showing it to him?

Chip rubbed his forehead as he said in a strained voice, "It's uncle Gaston. And I'm the idiot in the family? Does he not know that nothing can be hidden from any moron with a smartphone and internet access? Especially a parking lot full of cars being slaughtered due to a billboard crashing on them when you, I don't know, flung yourself right into it?!"

Upon closer inspection of the clip, the Grim Reaper did note that was a spectacular sight of massacred machineries. From the start of the video it looked like a big blurry mass collided into a billboard sign, followed by a mini-explosion of sparks and glass as the bulbs on the sign shattered upon impact. Seconds later the billboard itself toppled onto a semi-packed parking lot, upon which a half dozen or so cars became casualties in the fall's wake. The soundtrack of the video consisted of quite a bit of people freaking out.

"Aunt Jo has her people handling things online, but we need to clear up the mess from ground zero."

Grim Reaper snapped his head up, "Excuse me? Why do I need to be there?"

Something flickered in the young mortal's eyes before he seemed to straighten up and snark with a wave of his hand at himself, "Duh, I'm human! I don't have a Grim Reaper's ability to modify someone's memory." Chip snatched his phone back and turned heel. At the bedroom door he called back, "Now come on! The sooner we fix this, the sooner we can hold this over uncle Gaston's head!"

The Grim Reaper opened his mouth, about to argue, when a new thought occurred, causing him to follow and shout, "Wait! How do you know who I am?!"

*

Leo was the first between himself and Gaston to wake up.

The young man was startled awake by what he thought was a bad dream involving a daggered Gaston and lots of flashing lights. He had sat up, blinking wearily at his surroundings when he realized that the comforter he was on wasn't his own [his bed was tiny compared to the huge Queen he'd woken up in]. Realizing that the night stand was to his right, he fumbled around in hopes that whoever had taken him in remembered to consider his glasses. Sighing in relief when he felt and placed them on, Leo finally took note of his environment.

It was daylight out if he had to guess by the sunlight streaming in through the windows... and okay, he was in a room that had a skylight. Leo chanced a glance at his body and was relieved to see that he was wearing the same clothes from--

And that's when he realized that the bad dream he'd woken up from wasn't a nightmare after all. Especially as the events of that night began replaying like a highlight reel of the most tripped out dream ever.

Leo started to scramble out of bed, but nearly toppled back over on the comforter as sharp muscle pains on his right side screamed out and halted his efforts.

"Bet that hurt," a familiar voice called out from the doorway. Chip was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed and clucking his disapproval. "You do realize that if you get hurt even further--"

"Your uncle will kill you?" Leo asked before he groaned as another stab of pain shot through, this time from his left side.

Chip snorted as he walked in and towards Leo. He stood next to the nightstand and proceeded to attend to the contents that Leo had completely missed seeing when he woke up. Making work of opening the water bottle and aspirin, he shuddered as he said, "Worst: he'll take away my credit card."

"Oh the woes of the Pampered and the Spoiled..." Leo teased his friend.

Rattling the pill bottle, Chip mock-threatened, "Now, now, has no one warned you about making fun of your caregiver? I can make an 'oogie mess' of things for you." He handed the pills and water bottle to Leo, who shook his head and grinned good and naturally.

"You're such a nerd. Besides, you know what they say about misery and company... Cheers!" Leo downed the aspirin and water.

"Speaking of miserable," Chip gently sat down at the foot of the bed, his playful demeanor pushed aside as he fiddled with the hem of his pants, "no one would blame you, least of all uncle Gaston, if you wanted to leave and never see any of us again. Last night was... intense. Besides the footage, uncle Gaston sort of filled us in and... Okay, normally I would say screw them and still see you myself, but then I'd have to put up with a mopey immortal bothering me with questions about you and... Well, I think you're awesome, but short of him threatening to take away from my wallet, I'd rather not?"

"How do you manage to sound like the sincerest guy ever and the biggest asshole all in one monologue?" He was torn between hugging and shoving Chip off the bed. Instead Leo reached over and whacked Chip's arm with a now half empty water bottle.

Chip laughed and faked injured, "Uncle Gaston has that effect on people..."

At the mention of the immortal, Leo's gaze was downcast as he fiddled with the label of the bottle. He decided to finish off the remaining water before he asked, "How is he?" Leo winced as he said, "I don't remember much after he... before I blacked out..."

Softly, "Even Superman bleeds."

Leo blanched at that, "What?"

"Uncle Gaston can't die, but that doesn't mean he's incapable of getting hurt. I doubt he'll show any physical signs of trauma, but he wasn't in the best of condition when he carried you here; that dumb bull-headed ass. Speaking of which, it took about enough painkillers to tranq a bull just to knock him out and rest for a couple hours. He's passed out downstairs if you want to see him... Or not, up to you. Even though uncle Gaston caught you mid-flight and took on most of the impact, he was still the one that pushed you. So..."

Leo refused to think about that part of the incident, instead choosing to focus on what pretty much started it. "So you know about..." Leo waved his hand around his chest. He didn't understand it all, but from he remembered of that night and Gaston's reaction, he had a feeling that this infliction wasn't public knowledge.

Chip blinked, "You mean Excalibur?" At Leo's nod, Chip coughed and avoided eye-contact, "Maybe?"

Leo sat up, alert, "What do you know about it?"

He quickly schooled his features, "Not much... probably nothing..." Chip slipped into his default playboy persona, "Besides, history was never my best subject."

"For someone that apparently likes to play the Spoiled Rich Idiot card, you sure know a lot about Gaston's secrets..."

Chip groused at that. "Well I'm probably the last person you should hear about those things, that's for sure."

It took a moment, but Leo decided that he needed answers, even if he ended up bothering a sore and possibly bed-ridden immortal. His intentions must have been written all over his face for Chip jumped up and held his hands out.

"I may be a Spoiled Rich Idiot, but even I know that's a bad idea!"

As Leo struggled to get up, his arms flailing the empty space between the two of them before grasping onto Chip's hands, he rolled his eyes and insisted that "You're not going to tell me anything, so I'm going to the source!"

Chip winced as his body adjusted to take on most of Leo's weight. He sighed and tried not to whine as they made their way downstairs.

"He's going to take away my Amex. You know that, right?"

Leo cooed, "You poor baby. What will you do with one less credit card in your billion dollar inheritance? Y'know, I'm sure I can talk into Isabelle into hiring you. We always have room for a part-time cleaner."

"Ha! That's funny! My pinkie's net worth would probably cover the cost of the building you work in..."

"I will slap you. I may be in pain now, but I can still knock the privilege right out of you."

"Shoving helpless mortals into billboards, threatening helpless billionaires with violence... You two are perfect for each other..."

"What is the Missing Soul doing out of bed?" The Grim Reaper piped up from his place on the living room couch. This was the first time Leo had seen the Grim Reaper in an attire that wasn't the trademark black suit, and needless to say that he found it a little disconcerting. His feet were up on the coffee table, a book placed on his lap, and a sleeping immortal resting on the floor beside him.

Leo gently shoved himself off of Chip when he spotted Gaston asleep on the floor. He eased towards where the immortal was laying and eventually sat down right next to him. Leo reached out to caress his cheek and tried not to gasp at the fact that even unconscious Gaston was aware enough to shift his head into Leo's touch. "What is he doing down here?"

"Sleeping," Grim's monotone response earned a glare from Leo.

"I meant why?" He hissed, careful to keep his voice down as he continued to gently stroke Gaston's face. "There's a couch literally right there. Not to mention his own bed."

Grim glanced at Chip before looking back at Leo. "We don't have any guest rooms. And I refuse to give up my bed to you." Nodding at Gaston, "The man's insufferable enough about his house. I shudder to think when it involves you."

"Oh," Leo fought the blush at what Grim had just revealed. Collecting himself, he coughed and said, "Well... fine. But the least you morons could have done was set a pillow and a blanket down for him!"

Grim jumped from his seat and gave an offended look at Leo before pointing an accusing finger at Chip, "Did you not tell the Missing Soul what we did all night for the two of them? And he dares call us morons on top of insinuating that we're useless?"

Chip rubbed his temple, mumbling about credit cards before he sighed and said, "Not any time between making sure he wasn't in pain and avoiding an interrogation about that thing--" Chip frantically waved around his chest area, "that we're not allowed to talk to Leo about."

Grim looked genuinely confused at that part, which Leo found interesting and mentally stored that observation away for a later date. Grim started to ask why that was so, but Chip quickly changed the subject by insisting that they grab a pillow and blanket for Leo. Before Grim could argue against it, Chip reached out and tugged them towards the staircase.

Leo soon zoned out on their bickering and instead decided to focus on Gaston.

"I'm glad you're okay," Leo whispered while running his hands through Gaston's hair. Almost as if he could sense Leo's presence, Gaston breathed out a content sigh. "However, I'm still angry. Why did you stop me? Why didn't you let me help you?"

Leo removed his glasses and set it down on the coffee table. While rubbing his eyes, whether from weariness or the tears that threatened to escape remained to be seen, "I have so many questions, Gaston. But I think I might have to wait for those answers, huh? Just..." He eased his body down right next to Gaston, their faces mere inches away from the other. Facing the sleeping immortal, Leo placed a hand on Gaston's cheek and prayed, "Please don't scare me like that again."

The young man watched Gaston's serene form for a few minutes more until the sense of comfort and intimacy lulled Leo into sleep himself. He was vaguely aware of a soft cover falling on his person or a pillow placed under his head, much less the hushed conversation that took place in front of them: the long-suffering immortal and the beloved that could put a permanent end to his lonely existence.

*

If Leo was expecting Gaston to be upfront about that incident, he found himself bitterly disappointed.

The first few days after Gaston had woken with his body healed much faster than a normal mortal, he proceeded to act as if nothing significant had happened. Sure he continued to be charming and actively seek out to court Leo, but anytime it seemed the conversation might venture towards that night, Gaston would play dumb and refocus on something else.

[Leo never had to wonder where Chip learned that attractive quality from.]

Admittedly it was cute the first week or two... but it had gotten downright aggravating, especially three months after the infamous incident. Granted Leo had to take some blame for that because he didn't pursue the answers that plagued him. Between work, consoling a ghost or two, hanging out with Chip, befriending the Grim Reaper, and dating an immortal, Leo was surprised he still had time to tackle the book list that Isabelle threatened his employment over unless he read at least one title from it!

And just when he started to think that maybe he had dreamed up that entire incident, Leo was reminded of it once more.

Leo had just completed his opening shift and Gaston had arrived at the store to escort the young man home. On the leisurely walk to his apartment, Leo was talking Gaston's ear off about the newest development between his boss and the Grim Reaper.

"I should have kept my mouth shut about working in a bookstore," Leo complained, unaware that Gaston had threaded their fingers together and that they were now walking hand-in-hand. With his free hand, Leo waved it around wildly in frustration, "I get that Grim was already socially inept before he met Isabelle, but you'd have thought with the insane amount of books he's read in his life he'd at least pick up cues and conversation pieces!"

Leo glanced up at Gaston, noting the immortal's shrug and genuine smile as he said, "Maybe Isabelle's beauty has struck our reaper dumb?"

The young man couldn't stop the little green monster in him as he sniffed, "She's not that beautiful... I love her, but she's as much a recluse and nerd as Grim."

Leo felt Gaston's warm gaze before he saw it. With a teasing grin on the immortal's face, "Her beauty is nothing compared to yours, sweetheart."

Though Leo rolled his eyes, he returned Gaston's fondness by gently tugging his hand and tip-toeing to give him a kiss on the cheek. "If you say so, dear."

Leo turned to resume their walk when Gaston yanked him back, their bodies close and the immortal's face mere inches from his own. The young man leaned in, half expecting to be kissed by him when he heard Gaston speak with a hushed reverence, "For centuries I've seen sights that would make blind men weep; a regal goddess, stunning Princes, sunsets and bold innovations concocted out of man's imagination..." With a gentle caress to Leo's cheek, Gaston proclaimed, "But your soul, your one of a kind compassionate soul, outshines them all. You cannot imagine how dark the world was until I saw you."

Gaston leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Leo's forehead. He breathed him in and whispered, "I'm afraid to go back to that darkness..."

Leo closed his eyes, breathing Gaston in as well. He started to raise his arms to embrace the immortal when he heard a sharp hiss of pain. His eyes flew open, for he recognized that sound and prayed that he wouldn't be met with the same sight that haunted his nightmares for months now.

To his shock he saw Gaston's hurried form retreating towards the nearest building. Leo wanted to shout after him, but knew he was too late when he watched Gaston nearly rip the closest door open and disappear from his sight.

Leo tried to ignore the sting of hurt. He knew he probably looked more heartbroken than he felt. If nothing else, he was angry at being left behind. Again.

[Which was weird because Gaston has never abandoned him before. And yet...]

*

Gaston knew he was a coward. He knew that Leo deserved the truth. Hell, Leo deserved the love of someone greater than a lowly, selfish immortal like himself.

But how was he expected to give up on the one thing on this planet that finally gave his pathetic immortal existence worth living?

‘Because his life depends on it,’ said a familiar voice out of the darkness.

Reminiscent of when they first met, on this exact same field of daffodils and during this exact time of day, Gaston sat up and faced the motherly deity he hadn't seen in practically centuries.

He was about to inquiry what She was doing here, regal in red as always, when her words came rushing back to him.

"What do you mean? Whose life depends on what?"

She swept down and plucked a flower, delicately playing with it as She spoke. 'Just so you know; I'm not happy with you right now, Gaston.’

Gaston rolled his eyes, though kept a sincere smile as he said, "I'm not afraid of a pissed off goddess. Not when I have to contend with a pissed off Leo..."

‘Funny you should bring that darling child up...’ She pointed accusingly at him, ‘Considering that's the reason why I'm angry.’

He scowled, confused, "You're a god! Since when do the affairs of lesser beings matter to You?"

She caressed the petals before She plucked one of them out in such a precise movement that Gaston winced for the flower. ‘Since his existence is connected to yours.’ She gave him a cold stare, ‘You know better that coincidences are a mortal's way of understanding how We work. Or worst yet, did you not think there was a consequence to your action when you played god that night on an empty provincial countryside road?’

None of this was new to Gaston. In spending time with both Leo and the reaper, he'd pretty much put the pieces together and concluded that they truly lived in a small world. If he was expecting the goddess to surprise him (let alone guilt him) that night, She'd have to try harder.

A lack of response on his part only seemed to aggravate Her more. Plucking each petal one by one, each swift pull more harsh than the next, She continued, ‘Leo was never meant to live this life. You were meant to see your Leol again, that has always been the plan, but because of your interference, stubbornness, and downright selfishness, you condemned Leo's soul to a short life and violent death!’

Gaston blanched in horror. He found it hard to breathe as he shook his head in denial, "No... I would never..."

‘Granted I was against the idea, but He thought it'd be poetic justice, a sort of balance, to bring Leol back in the form of a life that was never meant to be. That because of your actions, it seemed fair that the same hands that unexpectedly cursed you with immortality would unexpectedly be the same ones that saved you from this cursed existence.’ She threw the stem down, all sadness from her previous tirade gone as her anger returned, ‘Leo was never meant to live this life, but now that he is, he was only brought back for the purpose of ending your suffering! But because you've been selfish and refused to let him help you, you've pretty much negated his sole reason for being born! Do you understand now?’

Gaston understood. He glowered at the goddess before looking away from her because he'll be damned if he had to like it.

But She wasn't done with him yet. Her eyes raged as she proceeded to bring her point across loud and clear. ‘It's already happening.’

Gaston's head snapped at attention, fear in his eyes. "What?"

With a sneer that made Her unfairly more beautiful than it should, ‘Death has been watching him from day one, Gaston, and waiting for a chance to balance the scales. Death's kept a closer eye even more so when you two finally met. That incident with the bookies... then that incident with the billboard, which, was it not by your hand? Gaston, in order for Leo to continue existing in this life, he needs to do what he was born to do. And the more you deny Death the chance,’ She dropped her anger and gave a forlorn sigh, ‘the more vengeful Death will be.’

She walked up to Gaston, whose entire body started to shake with agony and rage. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, making sure he looked at Her as she softly pleaded, ‘Do you understand now?’

He didn't say a word, just nodded numbly and tried to suppress the need to strike out at the goddess.

She squeezed his shoulder, ‘Gaston, I love him too.’

He shook his head as he finally stared Her in the eyes, his own wet and haunted, "Not as I do."

‘Then say good-bye and let him bring you peace.’

*

Days later it was the Grim Reaper that told Leo the truth.

"She's running errands," Leo called out from his place behind the café counter. At his downtrodden look, Leo sighed and began concocting the Grim Reaper's usual drink. The young man was grateful that the entire store was momentarily empty. He honestly didn't know how to console a being known for causing literal cold spells when he was depressed while simultaneously dealing with customers.

"I think Isabelle's avoiding me," Grim sighed after the two shared a brief silence. He sat down at the table closest to the café counter and looking every bit like a kicked puppy that Leo silently cursed Gaston for telling him that analogy.

Once the drink was done, Leo came around and joined him at the table. He watched the Grim Reaper nod his thanks before sipping forlornly on the blended drink. "What makes you say that?"

Leo knew exactly why, but he wasn't going to let the harbinger of death know that.

"I have no name!" Grim pouted, "Since when does a name hold more weight than an actual connection between two people?" At Leo's nod, Grim continued, "She also wants to know my job occupation. I couldn't very well lie to her and tell her that I deal with collecting the souls of the recently deceased, now could I."

"No," Leo agreed, "that would probably not go over well. No matter how quirky of a person Isabelle can be."

Grim thunked his head against the table, much to Leo's dismay, before he groaned and said, "You know we're not supposed to do this: form a connection with mortals. It's against the rule book. The Department of Codes and Ethics would motion a strike in my files!"

Leo didn't think to stop himself from saying, "Oh you wouldn't want that..."

"No, I wouldn't!" Grim took another gulp of his drink before he glared at Leo, "I already have one thanks to you and your mother."

"I can't imagine why Isabelle wanted more out of you and your brutal honesty..." Leo scowled.

It was then that a thought occurred to Leo. He knew that it was a stretch, but he had learned what happened if he just waited and depended on Gaston to be honest with him.

"Hey, so..." Leo absently played with his name tag, "If I can help you out with Isabelle," Grim's head shot up, interest gleaming in his eyes, "do you think you can help me out with something too?"

The Grim Reaper frowned in contemplation. "Does it involve the immortal?" He grimaced at a new thought, "Oh, not anything perverse or--"

Leo waved his hands frantically, his eyes wide in horror, "No! No, no, no... No."

Grim cocked his head to the side, searching, "But it does involve him."

"Yes..." Leo fiddled with his tag even more. "It's about... Well, it's about that thing..." He indicated to his chest and hoped that he didn't have to spell it out.

Luckily understanding, and was that sympathy?, dawned in the Grim Reaper's eyes. "You wish to know about the sword in his chest."

"Have you seen it?"

Grim shook his head, "No. I'm not the one fated to remove it."

Hope flared in Leo's chest, "So it can be removed?"

Grim took a sip of his drink and nodded, "Yes." He paused, staring at the cup before he looked back up at Leo. The younger man was nearly bowled over by how beautiful and sad the Grim Reaper's eyes were. "You can."

Those two words had never sounded more prophetic, much less ominous, to Leo.

"What isn't Gaston telling me?" Leo started to reach out to Grim, but upon the reaper's sudden shift in his chair, he remembered that the being had a rule about contact and touching. He sighed and implored with his honest plea instead. "And don't try to spare me or insist that I should hear it from Gaston himself! He'd rather run away than face the truth. Ha! He actually did!"

"I know," Grim said sympathetically.

"So he's talked to you but not to me," Leo glared, "That's amazing. I'm in love with a coward that--" He stared at the Grim Reaper, shocked at his own admission. Even the being before him looked stunned. Leo thought about it and when he realized how very true that declaration was, he knew that should be more of a reason to know the truth. Leo turned his gaze back to Grim and knew that he was the right person to ask.

Grim's gaze was soft as he said, "That's exactly why you're the one to break his curse. Your love matches that of the one that gave him his immortality."

... Well that was a new fact about Gaston he knew nothing about. Leo wasn't an idiot to think that an immortal that has lived as long as Gaston did wouldn't have been involved with other people. He just assumed by how Gaston has treated him and from all his speeches that Leo was... special.

It must have been written on his face because Grim shook his head and said, "You’re his first and only love. He's told me so himself. He was absolutely terrified about you, actually. And he has no reason to lie to me."

"I don't understand..."

"Magic, miracles, the likes of higher powers beyond our control are all real. Especially when fueled by love," Grim started, giving Leo a pointed look, "you should know all about that, Missing Soul."

Leo gulped at that and nodded for Grim to continue. "Long ago, Gaston's body had been laid to rest. He was buried with one of his swords, one that apparently he used while he was a decorated captain in the military. That sword in his chest, once covered by his blood and those he's slain, became enchanted by the only person who has ever loved him. I can tell you that much but I fear Gaston should be the one to tell you more about him..." Grim paused to allow Leo to digest what he'd said so far. When Leo nodded again, Grim continued. "When he was brought back to life, a goddess had told him that it was the desire, empowered by a sincere love, in that sword that was responsible for his immortality. Thus it was only at the hands of someone that could match that love that could remove the sword..." Grim struggled for a second, almost as if the next part pained him to say as much as it will be for Leo to hear. "That's why you're the one who could remove the sword... the sword that's keeping him alive..."

Leo wasn't aware of the tears that started to fall, or the tightening in his chest that made it hard for him to breathe. It seemed impossible, but here was the truth he'd been seeking... and oh how he wished he never sought it out at all.

[Grim Reapers rarely had regret because they never remembered anything in their life to have remorse over. He, however, knew this would be one of them if he hadn't helped Leo. Watching the helpless mortal cry into his hands, the Grim Reaper winced and thought that maybe the other secret regarding the young man can wait... And that hopefully he'll get to tell Leo before he turned 29.]

*

[Part IV]

Leo Evans Dupain 18th Ave. // 24th E. Lane skull fracture // broken spine d. 20.02.2020 - (00:00 - 05:00) b. 15.10.2000

The Grim Reaper stared at the card for what felt like hours but was actually seconds. He blinked several times. He knew he'd be breaking protocol [just another to add to the file] but he couldn't stop himself. Without a second thought, he bolted out of his room to seek out the immortal.

The date on the calendar read Wednesday, February 19.

*

Isabelle shivered, and it had nothing to do with the cool Spring air. She rolled her eyes at the two young adults, both of whom were sitting precariously on the wall surrounding the rooftop building. "You two are making me nervous!"

"Take a drink then! Calm those nerves!" Leo's friend, Chip, crowed from his place next to Leo himself. Both men were well into their third beers and neither looked like they were stopping. Isabelle wasn't a big drinker herself, but she wasn't a prude. Someone, however, had to keep a clear head.

It had started innocently enough. Both Isabelle and Chip were tired of seeing Leo moping over Gaston. Isabelle didn't know the full story, but she knew a tortured heart when she saw one. She'd read enough stories about heartbreak to see the signs. And though Chip might know more than he'd let on, even he seemed to be helpless as to how to help Leo.

As they were closing up shop later that night, Chip declared that [on his dime, of course] alcohol needed to be picked up and enjoyed at Leo's rooftop abode.

[Leo didn't really live on the roof. His apartment just happened to be on the floor right below the rooftop, and thus because of its proximity he preferred to use that area as an escape.]

Not one to reject free beer, and because it's been nearly a week since Gaston had abandoned him and just days since the Grim Reaper told him the truth, Leo was all too enthused to drink away his sorrows.

And though Isabelle had been invited, she willing joined if only because she knew someone had to keep the two in check.

One never knew what shenanigans could happen as the Wednesday hours crept into Thursday.

*

Gaston stared at the card. A frown creasing on his face as he flipped the card back and forth, "It's blank."

The Grim Reaper rolled his eyes, "You're not a reaper. Of course you won't see his name." He snatched the card back, "But it doesn't matter. What does is the fact that," He pulled the pocket watch out and mentally counted the time, "in a less than an hour it will be the early hours of the 20th. Which is when this card said she's going to die!"

Gaston ripped the card back, looking at it searchingly. He growled, "Damn it, Reaper, does it say where and how?"

The Grim Reaper rolled his eyes and took the card back. He placed a calming hand on his friend's shoulder, "It gives a location, though I'm not sure what's around that area that could cause a fractured skull and spine."

"What's the address?"

The Grim Reaper told him what the card said, and Gaston's eyes widened. "That's Leo's building." He headed towards the door, hoping that he wasn't too late. "When he's upset he likes to go up to the roof. I have to go now!"

Gaston threw the front door open and stepped through. The Grim Reaper was tucking the card in his jacket pocket as he started to follow. The door had just closed when he grabbed the knob. He sighed, gave it a twist and a "Wait for me!" as he threw the door open. His feet came to a halt at the threshold as he stared at an empty front stoop. The Grim Reaper looked around the immediate area and both sides of the street before he frowned.

Where did he go?

*

"Ugh! Come on, Leo! I'm hungry!" Chip shouted out to his friend from the street in front of Leo's apartment building.

The trio had decided to grab a late night bite from Patty's, a 24-hour diner a few blocks from where they were. They had just left the elevator and entered the lobby when Leo realized he'd left his phone behind on the roof... somewhere. He insisted that they go on without him as it'll be quicker if he had gone alone.

They took a few steps away from the building before Chip pulled out of Isabelle's grasp, who had been trying to keep him from falling, just so he could start yelling at their friend.

"Leeeooooooo!!!"

Chip leaned back onto Isabelle's annoyed form, the alcohol fuzzing up his balance. He cupped one of his hands, using it like a megaphone as he tilted his head back and yelled up at the complex, "Fuck your phone! I'll buy you a new one!"

"Shut the fuck up! We're sleeping here!"

"Yeah, shut up!"

Isabelle closed her eyes and prayed that Chip didn't--

"My ass is worth this city block! So unless you want my rich ass to buying out your homes and kicking your ass out, YOU SHUT UP!"

"Damn it, Leo..." Isabelle groaned, "Where are you?"

Suddenly Chip started waving his free arm, a wild grin on his face, "Look! There he is!"

The apartment building had eight floors, not including the lobby area, and even though it wasn't the tallest one in the city, it was a far enough drop from the top to cause some serious damage.

Isabelle's gut twisted at the sight of Leo leaning so far over the wall of the rooftop. She glanced at Chip as he continued to wave frantically at their friend, and swatted his stomach. "Stop that!" she hissed at him before her gaze returned to the roof.

Suddenly Leo seemed to flail a little as his upper half leaned dangerously over the edge, his outreached hands making a failed attempt to catch something that was now plummeting towards them. Isabelle and Chip didn't notice the glasses landing near where they stood, for they were too busy panicking that their friend might fall to his death.

*

If nearly falling off a building didn't sober him right up, maybe the horrifying idea of one's last coherent thought before death was that he'll never get to eat Patty's famous fudge sundae should have done the trick. Because why did his last thought had to be food instead of...

The young man had closed his eyes as he waited for the inevitable kiss of death with the asphalt down below, when suddenly he felt a hard yank on his shirt and his broad frame smacking right into an even broader one. Leo realized his body was headed opposite of the nine story fall, and that it was cushioned by what had to be another human being.

His mind immediately processed that he was safe and not a pancake on the city streets below, but every other part had yet to get the message if he had to judge by his erratic and shallow breathes as a panic attack reared its ugly head.

"You're okay, Leo. You're safe. I got you, sweetheart. You're safe..."

Another reason his mind recognized that he was indeed alive and well was due to the immediate warmth from the strong arms that encircled his being and a familiar scent that he associated concepts like "security" and "strength" and, his favorite and one that he'll fight like hell to keep, "home."

Leo closed his eyes and breathed Gaston in.

*

"Just so we're clear; Gaston, I am still so very angry at you."

"I know."

"We still need to have a talk... y'know... about..."

"I know."

"Because if we're going to have a future together--"

"Leo?"

"We need to be open and honest and--"

"Leo?"

"And- and--"

"And, what, love?"

"... and thank you, Gaston."

"For what?"

"Saving me. Again."

"Always. And Leo?"

"Hmmm?"

"You have my word: I will do whatever it takes to keep death away from you."

"Hmmm... That's nice. Although that'd be hard considering the epic bromance you have with the Grim Reaper."

"I will pretend that you say those words while you're still under the influence of alcohol."

"Leo?! Leo! Oh my God, thank heavens you're alive and- and- you're with Gaston? But how did you? We were just--"

"Ugh! I wish I was still under the influence of alcohol! Just so I can stomach all this lovey dovey crap between you two. So I guess you made up? Finally! Come on, Isa-B. Romeo and Mercutio need their post break-up make out. I haz needs for sushi! Or tacos... oh! Sushi tacos! I know a place..."  

*

"If it's any consolation, I don't wish death on you anymore." Gaston had been nursing a beer at the kitchen table, lost in thought as the Grim Reaper approached and sat right next to him.

The immortal gave the reaper a small smile before sliding an unopened bottle into his hand. The reaper gave the bottle a squeeze, chilling its temperature to his preference before flicking the cap off.

Gaston gave a low chuckle and held his bottle up, "I will certainly miss that parlor trick of yours, my friend."

When the Grim Reaper clinked his bottle against Gaston's, he returned the smile and said, "And I will not miss your drunken sing-alongs at two o'clock in the morning."

A booming laugh escaped Gaston's lip, his eyes dancing, "Admit it that will be the one thing you do end up missing about me!"

The Grim Reaper smiled, "Never."

The two drank in silence. It was a nice moment for them. This wasn't an unusual occurrence because since the Grim Reaper had moved in, what started as a once a week drink together slowly evolved into sharing snacks and alcohol every other day. More so when it seemed they were commiserating over their significant others.

It was Gaston who broke the silence. He looked over at the Grim Reaper and said, "Thank you for telling him. I was too much of a coward to do so."

He shrugged, "He deserved to know the truth."

"I have a favor to ask, Reaper."

The Grim Reaper arched a brow, waiting.

Gaston was playing with the beer bottle's label before he finally looked up. "I don't know exactly what will happen to him once I'm... when I... I need Leo to be okay."

The Grim Reaper nodded, "He'll be fine."

"No," Gaston shook his head, "I mean... Leo deserves the world. He wasn't supposed to exist until I made it so."

"Yes, I am well aware of that," the Grim Reaper said bitterly.

"Leo needs to be okay. He had a life before, and he'll have a glorious one after me. I don't want Leo to stop living just because I'm gone. Please help me make sure of that. By any means necessary."

There was an edge of desperation in Gaston's voice that gave the Grim Reaper pause. He regarded the immortal before he sharply gasped, stunned for surely he wasn't asking him to modify Leo’s memories!

Gaston nodded, glad that he didn't have to voice the one request he had that was also breaking his heart. He watched warring emotions flicker on the face of the Grim Reaper. When the being nodded despite his eyes betraying how he felt about it, Gaston breathed a huge sigh of relief.

The two fell back into companionable silence. Neither of them picked up another beer. They remained side by side for the remaining hours of the day.

*

Gaston knew that his time with Leo [and in essence, his time on this earth] was coming to a close. He could feel it in the air as clearly as he could smell the approaching rainstorm that would hit the city they lived in.

The night was warm. Almost humid. And yet when Gaston felt himself whisked away [Leo had done away with matches and always had a lighter on his person], the immortal could feel the chill of death's approach.

When he looked around, noted the familiar skyline backdrop and rooftop decorations, he realized immediately where he was. Especially as he caught sight of a smiling Leo, looking so bright and beautiful as he tended to a spread out blanket and picnic, that it took his breath away. He absently rubbed his chest, an action he should have avoided when Leo looked his way and his smile faltered. His eyes began to fill with fear and concern as he quickly stood up to greet the immortal.

Gaston started waving it off, tried to come off reassuring. Leo regarded him with a pointed look, one that said tonight he wasn't off the hook.

For the next couple of hours, the two men soaked up the food and the company. They bantered, they argued, they teased, and... Gaston was finally honest.

He told Leo everything. From his life and death in Villeneuve, to his resurrection, to his reward and punishment, and even revealing what the goddess had told him about Leo's true role in this life...

Gaston kept as calm as he could, despite the warring emotions within was close to exhausting him. He observed Leo, noting with awe at how empathetic he was. Leo never said a word, just listened. Every once in a while Gaston would reach over and gently wipe a stray tear or two from Leo's face.

Finally, when it seemed every last secret Gaston has kept was now out, he told him about Leol. He told of his friendship to Leol, of his denial in regards to how he saw Leol, of his betrayal to his oldest and most loyal friend.

"Lefou-- No, Leol... Leol was true. And I knew that... and it took me a long time to admit that I was a horrible human being to both of us. But more to him... and to others who didn't deserve it.

"For a long time, every night I dreamed of regret. My penance was this life. And I tried to live it as best as I could. I hoped one day that I would live long enough and that this sentence would end..."

Gaston reached for Leo, cupping his hands gently on the younger's face. "The brief time you've been in my life was the happiest I've been in centuries since I returned from death. For the first time, I wanted my immortality, if only because I got to be with you." He leaned in and kissed Leo's forehead, his voice hitched as he said, "But I can't be selfish... not with your life. Not again, not anymore."

The immortal met the young man's eyes, noting the pain and love shining through. Gaston released his hold on Leo's face and moved to grasp his hands. He gave each hand a revered kiss, invoking a watery laugh from Leo's lips, before he squeezed them gently and pulled the young man closer.

"I want you to be selfish," Leo cried, looking away with frustration and anguish, "Why can't we both be selfish?"

"Leo, darling, look at me."

When the young man met Gaston's imploring gaze, the immortal gave Leo's hands another reassuring squeeze as he said, "Because there needs to be a balance. I got the chance to live a long life... You've barely begun."

"What's my life without you now that I just found you?"

Gaston gave a brave smile as he squeezed Leo's hands one more time, "Hopefully a full one..."

He heard the wonderful sound of Leo's laugh. Even if it was self-deprecating, it was still beautiful and Gaston couldn't have asked for a better sound to be his last.

"Sure, if you say so-- Gaston? Gaston?! No, wait, what are you doing?! Stop!"

Gaston knew from experience that the struggle to remove the sword, specifically done from his own hands, was the type of anguish and hell the likes of Dante wrote about. Though this time around it physically felt like a cool release, the pure agony of listening and seeing Leo fight against it was more torture than any nights he's spent alone removing the weapon.

"'m sorry, Leo..."

Leo struggled to release his hold, tears streaming from his face as he begged, "Gaston, please! Don't do this! Don't make me do this!"

Gaston shook his head, trying not to break his own resolve as he held onto Leo's shaking hands. "I won't have your death be on my hands."

"Then why must yours be on mine?!" Leo keened.

"My love... is stronger... than my life... Death can never kill it..."

Leo scowled despite the small giggle that escaped him. "That was a horrible Princess Bride knock-off. Don't do that."

"As you wish..."

It was a brief moment of levity before they held gazes, Leo's pleading while Gaston's started to fill with sorrow. The immortal did not fear death, but he was terrified of Leo's beautiful life being snuffed out. But it won’t. It will be full and wonderful. Gaston desired it above all else.

Gaston leaned in and stole one soft kiss. Gently despite his words that held so much strength in them, he said, "Live well, my heart."

Leo took a shuddering breath, as if breathing in Gaston as much as he could. Within seconds a sense of calm seemed to have washed over Leo, especially after he stared searchingly into Gaston's eyes and saw an answer to a question he had not considered before. There was a flash of resignation, but quickly it was replaced with heartbreaking resolve. Gaston released his grip on Leo's hands, for he knew Leo would not fight him on this anymore.  

The young man closed his eyes, whispered a prayer that remarkably sounded like one spoken in another lifetime. 

"Find your peace, Gaston..."

Leo took a long hard breath and pulled.

*

A young woman sat in a bookstore. She opened a letter and marveled at the sight of the newly drafted ownership papers within.

A young heir sat in his parked sports car. He absently played with a black Amex and gazed fondly at its engravings.

A reaper sat at a kitchen table. He had opened a bottle of beer and gave a silent toast.

A goddess in red sat in a field of daffodils. She blew a kiss to the sky and smiled.

A young man sat alone on a rooftop. He hugged himself tight and vowed to live to the fullest... tomorrow, for tonight he would grieve.

*

And Gaston?

He found peace.

*

[Epilogue]

Leo Evans Dupain d. 20.10.2029 b. 15.10.2000

He stared at the formerly blank card in his hands. Moments ago he and another were on assignment together. He had five name cards and his partner had four more; ranging around five to seven years old and one adult.

The two reapers were about to embark when suddenly his partner had gotten a call to discard all of the cards... but for one of them to possibly stand by just as a single blank card appeared.

When the name appeared just seconds after the collision, the Grim Reaper shed a mournful tear.

"I'm glad that it's you," a voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Missing soul... I was hoping that I was wrong."

Twenty-nine year old Leo gave a watery laugh. "You did warn me that around my 29th year, I'd be visited by another reaper. Here I thought it'd be under... different conditions. How are you doing, Adam?"

The Grim Reaper, who had gotten his past memories back as a punishment from his bosses for many strikes, least of all falling in love with the reincarnation of his wife, gave a sad shrug. "Considering that I had an unexpected card delivered to me that has the name of a dear friend, I'm well I suppose..."

"Unexpected card?"

Adam started to escort Leo away from the sight before them; a massive car wreckage of a sedan and a runaway cement mixer.

"Yes. We rarely get a card where someone sacrifices their own life for others. That's why it's unexpected."

Leo briefly glanced over his shoulder, noting the parked van of preschool-aged children. He allowed a sigh of relief that there were no reapers within sight of them.

With a wistful smile, "As someone once told me, I lived my life... they've yet to begun theirs."

Leo had lived. He spent the past ten years after Gaston passed just living his life to the best of his capabilities. He traveled. He went to college. He laughed and kept his loved ones close. 

Sometimes it was hard. And a little lonely. He could never see a candle or a flame and not feel a flicker of sadness. 

But he lived. Because that’s what you do to honor those who left you behind.

Adam nodded at Leo’s statement, "That was a surprisingly wise being."

"Speaking of a wise being... she misses you. I suppose we both will now, huh?"

Adam nearly stumbled, once he found out the truth about his past life and how he became a reaper, he knew that he could never be with Isabelle. But he still ached for her.

"I never deserved her in that lifetime, or in this long one that I'm still serving." Adam said as they entered his tea shop. He sat Leo down and began to prepare the tea; one that every soul is given as an act of mercy to forget the pains of their departed life so they can start anew.

When Adam placed the cup in front of Leo, he stared at it for a while before he asked, "Is it true what they say? That a soul is given four lives?"

Adam nodded gently, "One of planting seeds, one of watering them, one of harvesting, and finally of a life to enjoy the harvest."

Leo toyed with the rim of the tea cup before he pushed it away, silently declining and standing up from his seat.

Adam tried to hide his smile over Leo's decision. He was supposed to be indifferent to such things, as per protocol.

Leo walked over to Adam, who had stood with him and nodded towards a door to his left. With a grateful smile, Leo placed a kind hand on his shoulder, and then turned towards the door.

With a fond smile, he said, "I hope we have two more left. I'd like to see him again."

*

[sometime, somewhere in the future]

... two young children are playing in a field. One of them hands another a daffodil that they just plucked for the other.

They both smile.

 THE END

#gafou #gaston x lefou #lefou x gaston #batb au #I'M CRYING BECAUSE IT'S DONE #goddamn it was so hard to do

[dead-gay-bitxh]

WIP of Entirely Unnecesary Overwatch Puppet Master AU

#writing #WIP #Puppet Master AU #Jack as Toulon #everyone else as everyone else #bonus points if you see the setup for the heartbreak at the end