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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

Insanity

Prompt: Hi... I uh... I’m back, again anonymously.... to see if maybe... you could... write a thing? No pressure but if so... maybe a hurt/comfort?

Remus is used to dealing with feeling like he is loosing his mind on his own. Like he puts up an insane front so that the others don’t notice when he is loosing his grip on his sanity. Then he ends up laughing as he is falling apart and thinking that he has indeed found the real meaning of going insane. And he just laughs until it hurts and the laughing fades but the tears don’t stop. He’s thinking of doing something drastic like just running away to the subconscious so he doesn’t have to exist as a side anymore, but on his was he runs into Janus and Virgil or other people if ya want. Then they talk him down out of his insanity and realize remus needs a lot more help than they ever imagined.

I know this is a really long prompt and if you don’t wanna write it no pressure whatsoever. I just like your writing better than mine lol. Uh, thanks if you do and thanks for having boundaries if you don’t! <3

Thanks for the prompt!

Read on Ao3 Part 2 (ish)

Warnings: as you can guess, this revolves not just around Remus, but on intrusive thoughts. Self-harm, suicidal ideation, psychosis, insanity. There is a happy ending where our boi gets comforted and grounded, but the way to getting there ain’t pretty. Take care of yourselves please

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic, you decide

Word Count: 3864

Sometimes the world just fucking sucks.

Sometimes the world just really fucking hates him.

Sometimes the world just fucking sucks.

Remus doesn’t know why his brain decides that right fucking now is the perfect time to swan dive off a balcony into a wrought-iron fence, he just knows that the wind on his face cuts his cheek like ice because of how cold it is.

He doesn’t understand the compulsion to stride to the middle of a volcano and dive into the magma just to see how the lava flows on the inside, he just knows that the burn in his hands from being even this close to a volcano is only matched by the burn in his head to just fucking go.

He really doesn’t know how he ends up wanting to rip his brother apart, piece by piece, so he can see how every inch of his muscles work, he only knows that hat he’s got his arms tightly around Roman, it’s the most grounded he’s felt in fucking ages.

Sometimes the world just really fucking hates him.

The light switch would look perfect controlling the precise contractions of his organs. The bird that flies by outside the window tears his trachea out with its razor-sharp beak. The water bottle Patton uses would screw into his eye sockets until his corneas shattered.

Remus knows to laugh them off. They can’t hurt him, they’re his! His ideas! They’re supposed to be disgusting, revolting, it’s a good sign if it’s him they revolt too. After all, he’s sure as hell got higher standards.

On the other hand…is this what it fucking feels like?

The idea of using a knife sometimes makes it feels like ants are crawling through his bone marrow. The steel glints way too harshly in the light as he picks it up and suddenly all he can see is blood, blood, and more blood, cuts in his arms, throbbing muscle, it hurts, why doesn’t it hurt that bad, make it stop, make it go away —

Remus takes a deep breath and puts the knife down.

He’ll walk past a window on a bad day and all he can feel is glass, sharp glass, in his skin, in his eyes, in his tongue, broken glass, inside him, cutting little nicks and tears and it hurts, it won’t stop hurting, why can’t he taste the blood, what’s happening to him—

He draws the curtains and walks away without another word.

The Sides are all there in the living room and his hands itch for his morning star, for a sledgehammer, something, anything to break them apart, put them back together, stitch them up in horribly beautiful ways, listen to their screams as their vocal chords break, why can’t he hear them screaming, why are their screams so loud—

He smiles feebly and sinks out.

Remus curls up in his bed and howls, the room collapsing in on itself, pressing against his lungs. He keeps screaming and screaming and screaming until he’s laughing. He laughs. He keeps laughing until his voice dies in his throat. He keeps laughing.

Something has its wriggly little talons in his stomach and he can’t stop laughing. It hurts. He can’t breathe. He wants it to stop. He never wants to know what it’s like to laugh again. He never wants to stop laughing.

He wants it to stop.

He knows exactly what this fucking feels like.

He can’t open his eyes sometimes because he can’t look at what he knows will appear in front of him. He can’t close his eyes sometimes because he’s too terrified of what will be carved into the underside of his lids. He can’t speak because he knows what horrifying thing will tumble out of his mouth. He can’t stay quiet because he knows what happens when all the voices stay trapped in his head.

He can’t be because it hurts too much.

He can’t not be because then it will stop hurting.

The others don’t know about this. Of course they fucking don’t. They don’t listen to him when he fucking wants to talk to them about shit, why the fuck would they pay attention to the stuff he doesn’t want to tell them?

Patton doesn’t give a single flying fuck about him. He made that perfectly fucking clear.

Logan thinks he’s boring. That’s the most fucking offensive thing Remus has ever heard, and that’s fucking saying something.

Virgil’s a scaredy-cat. And he’s gotten boring to terrify. Virgil’s afraid of fucking everything.

Janus is so nuanced, it’s fucking annoying.

Roman’s his brother.

Remus growls and rocks himself faster, clutching the sides of his shirt until the fabric tears. He squeezes his eyes shut and ignores the pain in his ribs. The voices howl and cackle as the winds swirl around him. He ignores them as best he can.

It’s fucking cold in here and it’s too fucking hot.

They don’t see this part of the fucking mess that is Remus’s existence. They don’t see the un-fun parts of the crazy. They don’t see the reality of what Remus has to deal with.

They see the sex jokes, the crude puns, the horrible images he plants in their funny little heads. What must it be like in there, it must be so boring.

They don’t see the way he has to hold himself back from jumping onto every sharp object, throwing himself from every high height, digging his teeth into his own flesh and stripping it away from the bone.

Remus growls as he shoves the pillow between his teeth. The cotton tastes awful but it keeps his teeth away from his own tongue. He’d tried that once, tried biting it off, maybe the horrible taste of battery acid would leave his mouth if he had no tastebuds. He just wound up on the floor of the bathroom, vomiting up chunk after chunk until his tongue grew back, twitching against the roof of his mouth. He started biting the pillows after that.

It’s so fucking stupid, that they can’t fucking see this shit. He knows he can’t let them, he’s got fucking wires crawling around beneath his skin. He’s convinced of it. He can’t listen to Patton being condescending, he can’t listen to Logan flatly telling him he’s off his fucking rocker, he can’t listen to Virgil flip out at him, he can’t listen to Janus’s snide disapproval.

He can’t fuck up his brother.

So he just laughs.

Long and loud and hard and obnoxious because if they’re listening to the laughter they’re not listening to him.

There’s always going to be something they fucking want to pick on with him; they’re so fucking boring they can’t tolerate a little bit of difference. But if they start poking at his scars with their razor-long nails he’s going to rip open his skin and let the swarm of wasps inside him devour them whole. So he just laughs and laughs and lets them stare at him in disgust.

Disgust is better.

Sometimes his laughter is fucking hysterical, rising and rising and rising until they’re all screaming at him at the top of their lungs just to be heard. They say that he’s scaring them. Good. They should fucking be scared.

Sometimes his laughter is just in his head. They say they can’t hear him but he’s laughing. He’s laughing and they can’t hear him. Could they ever?

Sometimes he doesn’t realize it’s him. Someone will be laughing and they’ll all be glaring at him and oh, yeah, that’s him.

Sometimes he just can’t shut the fuck up.

Maybe it would be easier if he fucking could.

If he could shut his brain the fuck up for two goddamn seconds maybe he could actually make this work. Maybe he could be palatable enough to be tolerated. What does being tolerated feel like? What does it look like? Is it red, like blood, does it run in rivulets down his arms?

Is it dry, like the pillows? Does it just sit there in the corner, begging to be torn apart by razor-sharp teeth, or does it actively try to suffocate him as he wraps his mouth around words that won’t ever fit?

Or is it empty, hollow, like the blood vessels in his heart? Does it make him ache when a strong breeze blows by? Does it taste like steel, ozone, does it burn his tongue as he tries to breathe?

What does tolerance feel like, Remus wonders, because he’s all too familiar with isolation.

He’s never really alone. The voices won’t leave him be. They scream and cackle and whisper and taunt him with their awful, awful words and ideas and images and sensations. But he’s alone in every way that matters.

Except for the monsters.

He and Roman haven’t told the others about the Subconscious. It’s the one thing they’ve both consistently agreed on. The others don’t get to know about the Subconscious.

It’s not a nice place. It’s not even really a place. It’s a void, deep and vast, populated by things darker than darkness. The things in there are terrifying enough to make Remus’s skin crawl. They drag things down into the depths and rip them from the inside out, shredding tissues as they’re flipped inside out.

Monsters live in there.

Beasts. Creatures. Things.

They whisper to Remus sometimes. Their tongues are soaked in fear. Not Virgil’s type of fear, a thicker type of fear. It oozes out of their gaping maws and coats Remus’s limbs until he’s stuck, drowning in a tar pit. Insanity.

Sometimes he can struggle out of it.

Not this time.

The monster purrs in satisfaction as its shadows whip about the walls, crawling up to the ceiling, tapping their long, bony fingers against the very edges of the eye. His ribcage creaks, rent asunder by the sudden invisible weight. Dark passages yawn at the foot of his bed, around the fuzzy edges of the candle’s glow. Is there a candle in here? He’s not allowed a candle. Why is there a candle in here?

The shadows creep closer, up the long winding staircase—staircase? Where is he? Is he moving? Are they moving him?—through the banister, dancing up the curtain strings. There is insanity here, delectable, soaking through the walls, coloring the soft breaths that sigh in the still interior. The shadows creep closer, luxuriating in the darkness, the unseen. Remus stands at the brink of madness, teetering, awake, dripping head to toe in insanity.

A single candle burns atop the nightstand. He’s not allowed a candle. Its light flickers. His head pokes out above the sheets, fingers curled around its edge. He didn’t tuck himself in. He isn’t in bed. Yes, he is. The bed is standing up behind him. Now it’s lying down. He doesn’t know what’s real anymore.

He dares not move, lest the shadows hear him and find him, and yet he dares not close his eyes. A chill reaches a long finger through the window pane and lightly strokes the space between his shoulder blades. He keens.

The fingers lift his hairs to stand aloft, tugging them as if they are puppeteering his arms. They aren’t his arms. They never were. The chill cackles, diving to squeeze his legs, massaging its frigidity into his thighs. A knuckle comes up to trail along the soft skin under his arms, laughing as he curls up tight, trying to block the probing touches from snatching the rest of his warmth. He’s too warm. He’s too cold. The air atop him merely flutters, letting the chill dig and prod and one at him with its relentless talons. The insanity merely rumbles, soaking him to the bone. Is that what it wants? To steal his bones?

As the insanity drips through the air, it fills his ears, sending the shadows along the walls, up the ceiling, down beneath the skin. The light flickers. The insanity pours into his eyes. The chill rubs it in, still reaching wiggling fingers toward the soft meat of his tummy, blowing the insanity into ripples across his pupils. It reaches two fingers into his mouth, sliding across his tongue. As he gasps, it wriggles back under his arms and cackles anew. The insanity simply hums, sliding across his skin, down to pool in the hollow of his arms, nestled against his chest. Crueler hands dig into the meat at the back of his knees, the undersides of his rear, delighting in how he shivers. He whimpers. A knuckle runs over the very edge of him and lingers, coaxing the insanity to its wiggling lure.

The pit yawns beneath him, the monster voice luring him in, closer, deeper, come, down…

He does the only thing he can do.

He laughs.

Loudly. Heartily. He laughs so hard it bends him in half, cracking his spine. The sound scrapes along his throat. It rips spittle out of him, flying off into the darkness. He laughs. He laughs. He can’t stop laughing.

Spittle is joined by tears.

He can’t stop.

It won’t stop.

They won’t stop.

Nothing ever stops.

“Remus? Remus!”

“Jesus Christ, Remus, what’s going on?”

“Come away from there, sweetie, you’re going to fall.”

“Remus, come on, come here, listen to us, come on, you’re—you’re gonna fall.”

Hands wrap around his arms and yank, sending him hurtling back from the edge. He falls into something soft.

“Hey, hey,” comes the quiet growl, “hey, dude, it’s okay. Shh, shh, breathe, Remus, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Too late.

“You gotta breathe, man. It’s gonna be worse if you don’t.”

I can’t, Remus thinks frantically, I can’t breathe.

He’s still laughing. There are still tears running down his face.

“In and out, Remus, you can do it…”

Virgil? Is that Virgil? Isn’t Virgil scared of him? Why is Virgil here?

“There you go, Remus, it’s okay…” Virgil’s rubbing his arms. Arm? How many does he have? “It’s okay.”

Something hits his chest like a thunderclap and he gasps.

“That’s it, that’s it…it’s okay, Remus, it’s gonna be okay.” Something’s strangling him. No—no, trapping him. Also no. What’s happening? “You’re alright now, Remus.”

“V—Virgil?”

“Yeah, Remus, it’s me. J’s here too, it’s gonna be okay. We got you.”

Remus cranes his head backward to look up at what’s holding him. Janus smiles down at him, concern written plainly all over his face.

“Hey, sweetie,” he says softly, stroking Remus’s damp cheek, “you gave us quite the scare there.”

“S-scare?”

“You looked like you were hurting,” he says, not unkindly, “and that you were scared.”

Something twists in his gut.

“What would you know about being scared?”

To their credit, neither of them fucking blinks.

“I know that I care about you,” Janus murmurs, still cupping Remus’s face, “and that the thought of you falling into that pit scared me.”

“I care about you too,” Virgil says, “and you were hurting.”

“Everything hurts,” Remus hisses, yanking at Janus to get him to let go, “there are ants crawling around inside of me and monsters force-feeding me insanity.”

Virgil shoots Janus a worried look. Janus reaches behind them to fetch a tissue box, silently cleaning Remus’s face.

“It won’t stop,” he mutters, “it never stops.”

“What never stops, sweetie?”

“Everything.”

Janus glances up. Then back down.

“The others are worried,” he says softly, “they want to come see you. Should we let them?”

He can’t hold back the scoff. “Why would they care?”

“Because they care about you, sweetie, you’re important.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Of fucking course you are,” Virgil says immediately, “don’t say that.”

“You’ve got a fucking funny way of showing it,” Remus hisses, “you don’t want me around.”

“That’s not true!”

“Patton.”

“No, Logan! He doesn’t believe we care about him, let me go—“

“Patton?” Remus turns his head.

Patton…Patton is also crying?

The other Side drops to his knees in front of Remus, reaching out to catch another set of Remus’s tears in his palms. His lip wobbles, curling around Remus protectively.

“Of course we care about you, kiddo,” he manages, “you’re so wonderful.”

“You can’t fucking stand me.”

“I don’t understand you,” Patton corrects, “but I could never hate you. You’re so passionate. I love the way you love things.”

Fucking pause.

“You—you what?”

“I care about you, kiddo.” Patton presses his forehead against Remus’s. “Please don’t leave.”

What the fuck is going on? The monsters pull back, uncertain, but the ants have no such qualms. They burrow deeper into his bones, crawling through his muscles in searing agony.

“Remus,” Logan calls softly, “Remus, can you hear me?”

“Yeah,” he gasps, “yeah, I can hear you.”

“Good.” There’s a gentle hand under his chin. “What’s the matter?”

“There are ants in my bones and monsters trying to drown me in insanity.”

Logan just nods. He fucking nods. “Why do you think there are ants in your bones?"

“I can fucking feel them,” Remus growls, “they chewed through my veins. They’re in me.”

“Where do you think they started,” Logan says softly, “can you show me?”

Remus just lifts his wrists limply. Logan takes one in his hands, frowning in concentration as he runs his fingers gently over the skin.

“There aren’t any marks here,” he pronounces after a moment, “no holes, no bite marks.”

“There…there aren’t?”

“Not here.” Logan holds his hand out, palm up in offering. “Where else?”

He lays his other wrist shakily in Logan’s grip. He looks it over with the same attentive care, pronouncing no bite marks. No ants.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he promises, rubbing his thumb over the back of Remus’s hand, “is there anywhere else you’d like me to check?”

“Behind my ears,” he blurts before he can stop himself, “I—I can hear them.”

Logan nods and stretches his arm forward. “Come here, then.”

Has Logan always been this…soft? The gentle fingers pressing and stroking behind his ear, carding through his hair, have they always been so…kind?

“Would you like me to take a picture,” Logan whispers after a moment, “to show you there’s nothing?”

Remus nods. There’s a quiet click of the camera shutter.

“See?”

“…yeah. Yeah.”

“Anywhere else?”

“My back. My spine. It—it hurts.”

“May I have a look, then?”

Logan checks him over. Every single spot. He doesn’t once roll his eyes or huff that Remus is being ridiculous. He doesn’t scold him for it. He doesn’t pretend that the ants are real and he knows how to get them out. He doesn’t tell Remus that he’s going to be eaten alive from the inside.

He just…checks. Patiently and thoroughly. His hands are warm. His voice is quiet.

“I can have an x-ray ordered,” he says after he checks the last spot, “if you’re still unsure.”

“N-no,” Remus manages, shaking a little, “I—I believe you.”

Logan nods. He reaches out to cup Remus’s chin again. “Are you alright?”

Is he?

Has he ever been?

“N-no.”

“That’s okay.” Logan smiles—fucking smiles—at him and glances up at the others. “Can I show them how to check for you, in case it happens again?”

The question shocks him to his core. He barely has the wherewithal to nod.

Logan’s hands are back on his skin, turning and pointing carefully. He can feel their eyes on him as he works. Janus gently undoes the top of Remus’s collar so they can make sure his neck is clear as well.

“Roman?”

Remus’s heart sinks.

“Roman, do you want to see how to—Roman, what are you doing?”

Remus peers nervously over his shoulder to see Roman standing in front of the pit. From the line of his shoulders, he can see how tense Roman is. His hands are shaking.

“...Roman?”

He turns. His face is deathly pale. His gaze finds Remus and he swallows heavily.

“…Re?”

“Roman?” Remus swallows. Is that what his voice sounds like? “Ro?”

“Were you…” Roman glances over his shoulder. “Did you…?”

Shame.

Shame bubbles up so fast it springs hot, guilty tears behind Remus’s eyes. He ignores the worried noises from the others as he slumps.

A truly wounded noise comes from in front of him as Roman barrels forward, knocking his brother flat on his ass and wrapping his arms so tightly around him that Remus gasps awake.

Warm. Real. Roman. Roman is here, Roman is safe, Roman cares about him, Roman is fucking here. He lets out a cry of his own and clings to his brother.

“Not one of them is gonna touch you,” Roman swears, his voice shaking, “you hear me? I’ll gut them myself. They’ll have to get through me before they can even touch you.”

“I know, Ro—I know—“

“Swear to me,” Roman whispers frantically, “tell me you know I would never have let them take you. Tell me you know I’d’ve torn that place apart just to get you back.”

“I know, Roman, I—I—“

“Don’t ever scare me like that again, Re, I can’t take it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ve got you, you’re staying right here—“ Roman holds him tighter and it’s the good kind of sore—“right fucking here.”

Distantly, he hears Janus chuckle and there’s another warm swirl across his back. He looks up from the crook of Roman’s neck to see Logan settling in, reaching out to give them a hug. Janus sits behind him. Virgil and Patton grab blankets and join the pile.

It’s…it’s good.

“Listen to us,” Roman keeps whispering, “not them. They’re not gonna lay a hand on you. We got you, Remus, we’ll keep you.”

“Gonna keep me?”

“Always, Re.”

“R-Roman—“

“Let it out, Remus, come on. We’re not going anywhere.”

Remus cries.

Sometimes the world just fucking sucks.

But sometimes, as Patton ruffles his hair, as Virgil leans his head on his shoulder, as Janus rubs a hand across his tummy, as Logan starts talking very softly, as Roman holds him tight, sometimes it doesn’t.

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#sanders sides #fic #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic remus #remus sanders #deceit sanders #janus sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #dragonbabbles #self harm #tw: self harm #tw self harm

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hermits-that-craft · 4 years

Text

Night AU - Chapter 52 - Arc 2 - Relost

AO3:https://archiveofourown.org/works/23509375/chapters/66540838 I’m sorry it took so long!

“You two are idiots.” Tango laughs breathlessly. “I can’t believe you got away with that.”

“But they did!” Zedaph cheers, smiling.

“Dude shh you’re going to wake up the hermits!” Scar stage whispers, and Cub snorts under his breath. Etho hums a song to himself, listening to Impulse and Scar play catch up with the others.

“I can’t believe Scar has a god mode but I don’t.” Zedaph whines playfully. “I think I deserve a god mode.”

“I don’t know how to activate god mode though.” Scar says, hanging upside down off his bed.

“Void nerfed you because you’d be too powerful” Cub says sagely, nodding his head as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“They nerfed you!” Tango cackles, falling off the bed as he laughs. Zedaph and Impulse soon follow suit, either sitting on the floor with Tango or getting dragged off the bed by the other two.

“We’re coming for you Cub!” Zedaph cackles, shuffling towards Cub’s bed. The older men quickly jumps onto his bed, standing on top of it as though his life depended on it. Etho snickers in the corner, watching as Scar is dramatically dragged to the floor by Tango.

“The floor is lava.” The words barely leave Etho’s mouth before the hermits are clinging to beds and fences as though their lives depend on it, all shooting half hearted glares at Etho.

“I thought you were asleep!” Scar says, hanging off of the fence post that the lantern is held up by.

“I didn’t think you could jump that high!” Etho counters, and the group laughs, Scar slowly lowering himself to the ground.

“Well sometimes you just gotta up you know?”

“‘Well sometimes you just gotta up.’” Zedaph quotes. “Wise words from mister GoodtimeswithScar.”

Everyone pauses, dread replacing the joy as their communicators hum in unison. Scar and Impulse both immediately shake their heads, not willing to find out if Doc or Ren are dead, or worse. No one wants to look, to find out the terrible news. To find out if a friend is dead. Killed and respawned, or their body found somewhere. Cub pulls Scar into a comforting hug, though nothing on his face could be described as anything but horrified. Zedaph taps Impulse’s hands gently, grounding the man. Tango looks at Etho, pleading with him to check with his eyes. Etho nods, and Tango lets out a relieved sigh as Etho pulls out his communicator. Horror fills his stomach, fear overtaking his common sense and brain as he reads, and rereads, the notifications. Tears slip out of his eyes, and vomit threatens to force its way out of his throat.

TheJungle has entered the server.

TheJungle: Night, I want the nHo back. I will join you if you give them to me. TheNight: I already have 1/ 4 ready for you. TheJungle: Omw

“Good news and bad news, everyone.” Etho says, his voice soft. “Night doesn’t have Doc or Beef anymore.”

“The bad news?” Tango’s voice sounds like it's traveling through a wall of honey, but Etho swallows, trying to force the fear and tears down his throat.

“The jungle is back.”

---

Iskall and Etho walk along the edge of the shopping district, Iskall quietly testing his new robotic arm. It’s been painted white, and it responds well to his movements, though he leans towards it as he walks. Etho keeps an eye on his, helping him adjust to the new weight.

“It’s kind of funny,” Iskall murmurs. “I just got used to not having the weight of an arm, and now I have to get used to the weight of one again.”

“It’s heavier than a norm- a non-robotic arm.” Etho catches himself, reminding them both that this arm is Iskall’s new normal. “So you’re going to have to get stronger.”

“Are you saying that I’m not strong.” Iskall jokingly asks.

“Yes.” Etho depans, before dodging a punch from the ex assassin. “Am I wrong?”

“Yes! Yes you are wrong!” Iskall pushes Etho gently. “I am amazing and strong and you all are weak compared to me.”

“Yessir.” Etho nods, pushing Iskall back. The pair laugh, turning around the hill before they freeze.

Doc leans on the side of the hill, his eye wide and fearful as he watches Etho and Iskall. His metal arm is gone, wires poking out of the gaping hole in his shoulder where the arm should be. Redstone, or perhaps blood, covers what is left of his lab coat. It’s torn to shreds, there’s barely anything left of the fabric that Doc took such good care of.

“Doc?” Etho asks, his voice quiet. “Doc, are you alright?”

“I need to go back.” Doc sways in the breeze. “I need to get Ren out. Oh Void, they’re going to slaughter Ren.”

“Doc you’re not making any sense.” Etho says, slowly walking towards his friend. Iskall looks at his new arm, frowning as his gaze hits the claps. “I’m sure Ren is going to be-”

“Take my arm.” Iskall says, his hand undoing one of the claps. “Get Ren back.”

“Iskall-”

“Get my friend back, Doc.” Iskall struggles with the arm, Doc helping his detach it from his body. Iskall helps Doc to attach it to his arm, Etho spluttering in the background. Etho watches and Doc pulls Iskall into a hug, a tear falling from his eye.

“I will. I’ll get Ren back.” Doc promises.

Iskall leans against Etho as Doc flies off, a stray tear falling from his eye. Etho gently rubs his shoulder, humming to Iskall as the man struggles to contain his fear. Etho doesn’t - Etho won’t let Iskall relapse, he promised the other hermits that this would be good, healthy for Iskall. He won’t let Iskall lose himself.

Rendog burnt to death fighting Docm77

---

They footsteps echo down the hallway, bare feet hitting the stone floors. It’s angering, this base in their domain - Night control the End and the Nether, surely they could have built a base in one of those. In any case, Night has an offer that he cannot refuse. Her long hair is in a braid, and she prides herself on knowing that she will confuse her father's sibling.

“Jungle, welcome.” Night says, their mask cracked. They look deranged, perfectly matching Jungle’s emotions. “I assume you are here to collect your players?”

“I will work for you until I get all of them back.” Jungle smiles, making sure that it’s just too wide. They scan the room, spying Beef and Doc. Two of their players. “I thought you only had one.”

“I had to lull the hermits into a false sense of security. I wanted to make them think that Experiment escaped.” Night nods to Doc, and Jungle turns his gaze to the man.

It’s so, so painfully clear he’s scared. They can smell it on him. But he isn’t fighting Night’s control - or maybe he’s too weak to escape it. The fear only serves to break the two men further. Fear radiates off of the two men, though it’s clear that the stars that Night replaced them with are confused by their hosts’ fear.

Perfect.

They can’t wait to bury these men in bedrock and vines.

---

“Dad?” Grian asks quietly, his eyes wide. Builder reads over the notification. Once. Twice, before he sighs. “What are we going to do?”

“I need to get something from the godly realm.” Builder says, standing slowly. Xisuma blinks, watching the god with distrust. “Something to counter Jungle.”

“Oh!” Grian lights up a small amount, and Cleo looks to the corner of the room, her mouth open as though she’s going to ask it something, “Are you getting Althea and Ella?”

“Who?” Joe asks, sitting on the table.

“My sisters.” Grian says without second thought.

“His daughters.” Rose points to Builder. “The goddess of Mushroom Islands and the goddess of roofed forests.”

Builder nods, before disappearing into the air. Xisuma wraps his arms around himself, his knees hitting his chest. Scar pats his back sympathetically, and Xisuma sighs.

“I can’t keep anyone out of here, can I?” Xisuma mumbles.

“You’re trying your hardest.” Scar says, smiling. “That’s all that matters.”

Rose summons some magic, using it to clear some of the dusk off of the higher shelves in the room. Cleo starts mumbling to herself, and everyone except Joe and Rose give her worried looks as she addresses her ramblings to Amari.

Three buzzes echo from the communicators, and Builder enters the room with two women. One of the wears a red cloak, a white dress and a brown leather corset, knives and potions hanging from it. The other women wears a simple red dress, her hair in a bob around her head, though she wears sturdy leather boots.

“You must be Xisuma!” The one in the red dress smiles, shaking his hand. “I love how you used my domain for the shopping district, It’s always nice to see people settle here!”

“Uhh, Althea you might want to introduce yourself-” The other, Ella, says, patting her back. “In any case, I want to beat up our sinling. Where the fuck are they?”

---

Amari watches over the group, as everyone settles in for the night. She refuses to allow herself to show to the mortals, and though Etho, Keralis and Cleo are kind and promise that the mortals would get used to her, she refuses to give them another reason to fear. She leaves the barracks, walking over to a small room that overlooks the shops. They glow against the night sky.

“Hello Madam Amari.” Joe Hills says, and Amari turns her head, surprised. “I assume you’re here, this is the nicest view in the building, though if you aren’t here I assume I look insane.”

Amari smiles, knowing that Mr Hills says this as he enters every room. Perhaps she’ll give him the sight, for being kind to her and her wards. Void only knows that kind eccentric people deserve a power that is from an unknown blessing, and prophecy is so very over used.

#the night au #Night Au #hermitcraft #fic

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gingyboo · 3 years

Text

Mirror Mirror

A/N: Again many thanks to @booglebug

Description- Soulmates existed. People knew that much. Soulmates were rare, a handful in each generation, an unexplainable phenomenon that formed a bond closer than blood and more sacred than marriage.

Bucky finds his soulmate when he needs her most. Little does he know how much she needs him too.

(Soulmate au that slots pretty much in to the MCU but with soulmates. Set after TFATWS.)

Pairing- Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings- Mentions of violence and guns, but its mostly fluff, drama and angst. Blood and serious injury.

This is a multi chaptered fic.

Please like, comment, reblog!

prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter4 Chapter 5Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 chapter 15 Chapter 16

------------------------------------------------ Chapter 17

Kit watched the ramp rising, shutting out the sunlight. His breath was heavy as he maintained the pressure on Nancy’s wound. Just before the ramp closed Kit was jolted by the distinctive clang of metal on metal. The ramp was forced open enough for Bucky to squeeze through, he seemed dishevelled but unhurt as he stood up, his head brushing the roof of the jet. All colour left his face as his eyes landed on Nancy. Words lost him entirely as he fell to his knees by her side. Kit looked at him helplessly.

“The Wakandan outreach centre, London, they’ll be able to help her.” Bucky stuttered towards the pilot. He took Nancy’s hand that was limp by her side. and enveloped it in his flesh hand squeezing it firmly. leaning over her, he swept a flyaway strand of hair off her forehead. Tears pricked in his eyes.

“Nancy…” he whispered.

Sam dropped through a hatch above them, landing lightly on the floor behind Bucky. They shared a look and Sam dropped the shield, squeezing Bucky’s shoulder.

“Nancy, please, stay with me.” Bucky pleaded, holding up her head, two fingers finding the weak pulse in her neck. A shiver ran through him, and Nancy’s eyes fluttered slightly. Bucky squeezed her hand tighter.

“Nance…”

“Bucky, you’re okay… Buck…what happened?” Green eyes peaked out between her lashes.

“Oh, thank goodness, you’re going to be ok, the Wakandans will help you, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry...” he pressed his lips to her forehead. Kit shifted his hands as Sam passed him fresh wad of bandages to stem the bleeding. Sam was talking frantically on the phone. Nancy’s eyes darted round the plane frantically taking everything in. Her eyes landed on Kit, all his focus was on the wound in her chest, he was shaking, his breath catching in his throat. Nancy tried to reach for him, with the hand not locked in Bucky’s, but her arm felt heavy and detached from her.

“Kit,” she choked out, “Kit, look at me.” Kit shook his head, her eyes snapped to Bucky’s, a wordless exchange took place as he removed her hand from his grip and slipped his crumpled jacket under her to support her head. His hands covered Kit’s releasing him from his trace. Kit slid back, finally meeting his sister’s gaze.

“I’m sorry, it should have been me.” He stuttered “it’s all my fault.”

“No. Don’t you say that.”

“Shuri’s let the London team know, they’re preparing a medical team, she says Bucky should stay close, she thinks their bond could help her.” Sam said, hanging up the phone. Looking at the scene by his feet. Kit looked like a small child whilst Bucky seemed older than ever. All extended youth seemed to have evaporated from his form as he watched life spilling from his soulmate. The sight seemed too personal, too private, even Kit had looked away, curled up against the wall. Sam marched into the cock pit, he could be more helpful there.

The journey could have been years for all Bucky knew, Nancy drifted in and out of consciousness speaking fractured sentences, he shushed them away, telling her to save her strength. She was quite for what seemed like an age before her voice returned, stronger and clearer than before.

“I need you to promise me something.” She said to Bucky.

“Don’t talk like that.”

“You have to promise me you won’t fall apart, promise me, you won’t go looking for vengeance, you or him, I know he’s still in there, but you can’t let him out.”

“Nancy stop.”

“it’s okay, you can let me go. I think it’s time.” She winced pain filling her feature.

“You’re not going anywhere, you’re not leaving me.” Bucky turned to the cockpit, “How far are we?” He shouted.

“We’re close, little further.” Rayden responded, his voice laced with guilt though he pushed the engines to their limit.

“Bucky I’m sorry,” tears swam down her cheeks, “Kit.” She called, unable to turn her head, paralysed in pain. Her brother slid over to her, taking her hand in his.

“I’m here, I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Kit, I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too CeCe.” He cited his childhood nickname for her. A simpler time when his baby sister came home from the hospital and two separate syllables was too much for him.

“I need you to know, I forgive you, for leaving, for hiding, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, you not forgiving me, you’re not going to die, you’re going to be angry at me for long time, I’ll have grovel and plead, I have regain your trust and even then you’ll still bring it up every time we disagree on something, you’re my baby sister and you’re not going anywhere.” He said firmly, Nancy smiled softly, a chuckle escaping her lips. Her breathing escalated, she choked and coughed, blood seeping out of her mouth. Sam appeared beside them once more, reaching down he swept Nancy up in his arms, cradled to his chest like a baby. Her head lulled to one side. Kit stood to protest, but Bucky held up a hand.

“He’ll get her there faster.” the ramp started to lower, as Bucky leaned over, kissing her cheek softly.

“Don’t go where I can’t follow.” He whispered in her ear, if Sam heard he was pretending not to. Kit squeezed her hand before Sam dove out into London’s sky.

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

Bucky felt her fingers twitch first. His gaze shifted up instantly until it rested on her eyes. They shifted beneath her lids, responding at last to the bright lights above her sick bed. The outreach centre had taken her in fixed her up, she had stabilised by the time Kit and Bucky had made it to her. It had been two days now, her wound was healed but her body was still recovering. Wakandan medicine was an amazing thing, Bucky was fascinated, remembering his days on the battlefield in the war, how many would have lived had their facilities been available then. She was squeezing his hand now, and he smiled squeezing back.

“Nancy?” He spoke softly his free hand sweeping across her cheekbone. Her eyes fluttered open, green peeking through her thick lashes.

“Buck… Bucky.” she croaked out.

“Oh, doll you had me scared back there.” he exhaled heavily, drawing his chair closer to her bed.

“The witches?” she asked frantically trying to sit up. bucky held her back down with soft shushing noises.

“We left them there, not the last we’ll see of them no doubt, but for now you’re safe, that’s all that matters.

“Where do we go from here? Back to Wakanda?”

“We can’t.” his face fell into a solum line.

“What’s happened?”

“Duncan Everitt is dead.” he said simply, watching a crease form between her brows.

“How?”

“We don’t know, but if someone can get to him there then its not safe enough for you.” he insisted. Nancy’s brow furrowed but any protest was cut off by Kit rushing into the room. He was by her side in an instant.

“Don’t ever put me through that again.” he smiled down at her.

“Where will we go?” she asked looking between the two men.

“I will go to Wakanda, Duncan may have hunted me, but he was one of my men once, he deserved better than what he got, I will find out what happened to him.” he said defiantly. Nancy nodded, Bucky help her to sit upright in the bed. “I’ll get to see dad, apologies, start to make amends.”

“He’ll be over the moon, to see you again, when I told him I think he didn’t dare to dream, he won’t believe until he sees you. I know I didn’t.” she looked up at her brother, he was now freshly shaved, and his hair trimmed, he wore a loose-fitting white t-shirt and some black silk trousers, he’d made him self at home here. Nancy was pleased, he looked more like his old self, younger, softer in the face without the wiry beard.

“I was thinking, we could go to America, Louisiana probably, I got a place there, it’s not much, but…”

“I’d like that.” she said quickly smiling, she caught Kit’s eye who smiled in agreement. Whatever had happened, Kit trusted Bucky now.

“Sam would be close by too, if trouble were to find us.” he smiled taking her hand again.

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

It took a few days to prepare, finding flights, sorting out her visa, getting Samara to deliver her passport to Sam on the other side of London to avoid anyone following them to get to Nancy. Kit left with Rayden for his journey to Wakanda, it was a tearful farewell on Nancy’s part as Bucky finally left her side to give the siblings a moment of privacy. Nancy felt stronger every day, moving out of her sick bed and into a shared room with Bucky. Not wanted to risk going outside she walked up and down the stairs in outreach centre, outwards appearance resembled a tower block, one of the larger centres held, it had a lot of stairs. Shuri contacted her, sending over a replacement top with bullet proof properties, the other torn to shreds by the bullet and the doctors. Her father fretted down the phone to her, even her mother called, though it was cool and brief her mother did at least sound half relieved to hear her awake, Kit had insisted she’d fretted constantly before Nancy had woken up, this she found hard to believe. Eventually it was time to leave, set off for a fresh start. As Nancy curled up in the wide 1st class seat with Bucky beside her she felt herself poised at a precipice, a brand new chapter of her life.

#bucky barnes #the winter solider #sam wilson #captain america #soulmate #mcu #mcu fic

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riverboundao3ff · 4 years

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Riverbound, Chapter 18

Pancakes turn out to be a great idea, because you haven’t had breakfast yet and you get more time to think about what you’re going to say when you’re chewing on a mouthful of delicious sweetened bread, berries, and syrup.

“I can’t believe you’re alive,” Ardata says for the umpeenth time. You had let her rant for the past ten minutes about how sad she’d been after you disappeared, about her GrubTube career going down the drain after she’d been hacked, and then eventually making friends with Elwurd and Remele because, in her words, “They were the only trolls interesting enough to make me want to go out and Do Things.”

Elwurd snorts. “Only after countless wipes of bitching and moaning, but okay.”

“I had to unlearn everything I was raised to believe-!”

“Yeah, yeah, we know.” She looks back to you and grins. “We’re just happy you’re okay. Where the hell did you even go, dude?”

“Well… I was kidnapped, there were some interesting shenanigans involving space and time, made some new friends, yelled at a couple of assholes, and then I found my way back here,” you summarize. If you had a nickel for every time you’ve explained what happened to you, you’d have enough money to buy an actual hive to live in.

“Good gog,” Remele mutters, sipping on her coffee. “That sounds… rather stressful.”

“It was, believe me.”

Next to you, Polypa clears her throat, not meeting the eyes of the ceruleans. You don’t blame her; she’s a lowblood and all three of the other girls are intimidating, especially Elwurd. “So, you three are part of that… group?”

Ardata purses her lips, but it’s Remele who answers. “It’s… a wee bit complicated. We know Dammek and Xefros, of course, but we’re more focused on taking out direct threats to the rebellion instead of social justice.”

“We’re a highblood ally group, basically,” Elwurd clarifies.

You blink. “Dammek and Xefros?”

“The bronze and the rust up on that overturned scuttlebuggy. They’re in charge of the whole thing. They’re pretty cool.”

Remele nods. “Xefros is the one who found the other rebellion faction and located you.”

“Dude must have had a hell of a night finding an alien,” Polypa mutters, amused.

The ceruleans fall strangely silent. Elwurd sucks her teeth and looks over at Remele, who looks at Ardata, who makes a face at her and stares down at her waffles. You instantly know that something big happened, something that they’re hesitant to tell you.

“So, about that,” Elwurd says.

“What?”

Remele hums nervously, tapping a claw against the plastic of the table you’re all sitting around.

“What?” you demand.

“Look. This is going to sound a little insane, but…”

“A human child came to Alternia while you were away,” Elwurd finished.

“... WHAT?!”

Your name is ELWURD, and you are running away from a pissed-off indigo chick who just wanted to enjoy her pancakes. This is disappointing, because she’s pretty hot and you haven’t had a date in like, two perigees, but maybe you’ll catch her later at the party you’ll be throwing next wipe and apologise.

“Why don’t we just fight her? There’s five of us against one!” Remele complains as she vaults over a fence with you hard on her heels.

“I’m not fighting that bitch, she’s huge!” Ardata yells from up ahead.

“Second that!” the alien calls from somewhere behind you. They’re surprisingly speedy for a little guy, but they do have great legs. Not that you’ve been looking.

Polypa speeds past you in a black-and-olive blur and flings herself up the wall of the abandoned drill factory you’re all heading towards. “Rule number one of fighting indigos: try not to.”

Ardata zooms up after her, yelping as the tip of her boot gets caught on a stray shingle as she vaults herself up onto the roof. She’s come a long way from being some spoiled GrubTube celebrity, you’ll give her that, but her parkour skills still need a lot of work.

You and Remele bring up the rear, and before you can turn around to help the alien up a little zapping sound like a plasma ball being bounced around sounds from just behind you. You turn in surprise to see the alien standing on the roof with you guys, hands on their knees and out of breath. They give you a thumbs-up.

“Did you just…” you begin, unsure if the stuff you snorted off your own kneecap last morning wore off completely, but from the looks Remele and Ardata are giving your mutual friend you think you aren’t high anymore.

Polypa sighs. “Yes, my moirail can teleport. No, I really don’t know why.”

“HEY!”

You lean over to peer down at the indigo chick. “Yo!”

“You load of bitches better learn to treat your superiors with respect! You’re lucky I don’t feel like climbing this shitpile!” she spits.

“Right, totally because you’re not out of breath,” you call back. “Man, you indigos are all the same. All muscle, no stamina.”

“Or pancells,” Ardata sneers.

“Or decency,” Remele finishes.

She snarls loud enough for it to echo off the walls before storming off back the way she came. Polypa gives her the finger, smirking proudly as she watches the indigo stomp off into the night. You can see why the alien chose her to be their moirail.

“So.”

You turn back to see the alien tapping their foot impatiently. “The tea. Please.”

“Well… weird portal thingie brought over this girl from Earth named Joey. Weird portal thingie also sent over Dammek to Earth. Shenanigans ensued. Drama happened. I fistfought a violetblood in the parking lot at GrubMart. Somehow, we managed to get everybody back where they belong, and nobody even died. Yay.”

You hope Joey and Jude are doing alright-- they were great kids, even if being around them was a little painful. Both of them reminded you so much of your long-lost friend. Maybe it was a human thing to be overly nice, super goofy, and a total crackhead all at the same time.

The alien’s hazel eyes are focused on something past you. Their lips are moving but no sound is coming out. They begin to shake.

Polypa calls their name, darting forward to grab her moirail’s shoulders. They look like they don’t even see her.

“Hey, are they…” You don’t finish your sentence, because hello, your friend is obviously having a panic attack.

“It’s him. It’s him. It’s gotta be, Polypa, he’s still…” they gasp, the rest of the color draining from their already pale face. “He’s still here, he’s gonna come for me--”

“No no, it’s okay, you’re okay,” she whispers frantically, trying to shooshpap them even though they’re human and that sort of thing doesn’t work on humans. “Listen-no, look at me. You’re safe. You’re safe--”

Ardata jumps back as their eyes flash bright green, like neon searchlights in the dark. They don’t look like themselves anymore.

They look like--

“What’s happening?” Remele asks worriedly. You wave her away, following the little voice in your head that’s urging you to stay back.

Something feels terribly wrong.

You are THE GUARDIAN. You are the Guardian. You are the Guardian. You are the Guardian. You are the Guardian. You are the Guardian. You are the Guardian. You are the Guardian.

And the universe is splitting apart.

Of course it’s not in the sense that corporeal beings like yourself would be able to see, but because you’re a god you can feel it. You can feel it in every atom. It’s in every proton and neutron in your physical form, wiring into you, deeper and deeper until you can’t feel anything but the shriek of reality being torn apart like a wet napkin. The pain hits you soon after.

Your legs give out and you fall.

You grab for the tear, try and smooth it back together, stop the bleeding. You’re bleeding. Why won’t it stop--

Somewhere far away, you can hear Polypa calling for you, but no matter how hard you try you can’t answer her. Come back. Please come back.

Please

can’t

The last shreds of your vision that aren’t dominated by black spots vanish at last, and you gratefully fall into the darkness.

You’re not sure when, but eventually there is a light shining from deep within the void. You twist around to stare at it mid-fall.

You blink, stunned, and then you’re standing in a school cafeteria. Sunlight streams in through the big glass windows-- Earth sunlight. It warms you from the outside in, like you’re being thawed emotionally as well as physically. The lunch tables are all folded neatly against the opposite wall. In the air is the familiar smell of linoleum and french fries; it must have been burger day. God, you miss burger day.

There’s no soreness from tumbling across the pavement earlier when you knocked Ardata out of the way of that drone. No scabs are visible on your knuckles. Every breath you take is like inhaling pure oxygen, even with nothing around to produce it. For the first time in what feels like years, you are in absolutely no pain whatsoever.

Soft footsteps behind you alert you to the presence of another. You turn, bracing yourself for anything, for him, but…

“I knew you could do it.”

She grins at you with eyes that sparkle like stars, pride radiating from every fiber of her being. Her dress is free from dirt and looks as new as the day it was made. The sunlight catches in her jet black hair and makes the white of her dress glow gold.

“Boldir,” you choke, a hard lump forming in your throat even as you run for her and throw yourself into her strong arms.

Boldir catches you without hesitation and holds you tightly, gently rocking you back and forth. You’re crying but you can’t bring yourself to feel embarrassed and it’s amazing.

You laugh wetly, wiping at your eyes. “How-- what? How are you here? Why are you here? What even is this place?”

“Good questions!” She looks very proud of herself. “Reaching you took a lot of work, but I found out that the easiest way was to create a space where you could astral project into. A place buried so deeply into your subconscious even he couldn’t make you forget about it.”

You look around, knowing who Boldier is talking about but still baffled as to why you’re in a school cafeteria. “This… this is a school.”

“Yep! Does anything look familiar?”

It hits you like a punch to the gut the second she says it. With a gasp, you whirl around, taking everything in as a memory resurfaces from the sea of the life you once led.

About ten feet away, a fuzzy image forms out of thin air. A bunch of teenagers are sitting around one of the lunch tables, yelling and laughing, doing homework, eating, showing each other stuff on their phones. They become more solid the longer you look at them, like you’re trying to focus on them through a microscope.

Sitting between a dude with a varsity jacket and a pretty brunette girl is a small blonde kid, easily the shortest person at the table, their hair down past their shoulders. They’re reading something off the brunette’s phone and almost spit out their chocolate milk when they start giggling.

It was the last day of your sophomore year, you remember. You were going to hang out with your friends after school. You can’t recall exactly what you guys did, but it’s so far away in your memory you can’t even begin to think about what it might have been. The little blonde kid looks so happy, their only worry being what colleges they should apply for next fall.

You don’t even know you’re crying until Boldier wipes the tears from your face with a soft, sympathetic noise.

“This is my high school. Those were my friends. I… I grew up here, Boldir,” you whisper.

“And that’s why this universe split apart from the others, Guardian. You’re finally remembering who you are and where you came from! What else can you recall?” she demands, cupping your face between her strong hands.

“I… the other night I remembered my grandma, and my uncle, because she died of a heart attack and… and oh my God. Oh, fuck. I remembered my mom,” you sob.

“Good! Yes! What does she look like?”

Your head is beginning to pound. Are you dehydrated or something? “She’s… taller than me. She loved me, right?”

Boldier giggles. “Everybody’s taller than you.”

“But she loved me?”

“She did. She does.”

The sunlight coming in through the window seems to be getting brighter and brighter. “Boldir, what’s happening? Where are you?”

“I can’t come to you right now. I have to keep him away from you as long as I can,” she explains swiftly. “He’s losing patience.”

“Scratch?”

Ice water shoots up your spine when she nods, a low growl building up in her chest. “Listen to me. You have to remember who you are! That’s how you can break free of Scratch’s control. When he finds you, you can’t listen to anything he tells you. You are the First Guardian. You control your own destiny. I know you can save Alternia, Micah!”

A loud splintering sound makes you whip around to see the linoleum crack open, revealing shards of light that pierce the air like knives. The sunlight is nearly blinding you now. Your headache goes from mildly painful to a full-blown migraine in the course of a couple seconds. Boldir hisses in fury and throws you behind her as the ground where you just stood gives way into white nothingness, the color of bone after it’s been out in the Alternian sun for a day. The low, dull roar of the heart of a star follows after, so loud to your aching head that you almost collapse on the spot.

“But where are you?” you cry again. “I’ll come get you! Are you in danger?”

She just pats your shoulder, looking back at you with big sad eyes. “You might be the most powerful being in this reality, but there isn’t anything you can do for me anymore. I’m sorry. What I want you to do is succeed and be happy.”

“But-!”

“Just keep remembering, okay?” she pleads, and then she’s gone, and once again you’re tumbling down through emptiness.

Remember.

:::

Your name is MICAH. It’s not the name you were given at birth, but it’s a name you chose for yourself when you changed your hair, your pronouns, the way you dressed in a life not so far away from where you are now. Your name is Micah. Micah… something.

What the hell is your last name?

Why are you trying to remember that…?

Boldir. Remember Boldir.

Her words come back to you about you not being able to do anything for her anymore. They ricochet around the inside of your brain, becoming more and more agonizing to think about until you’re wailing into the nothingness of your subconscious. Your heart is breaking into a million pieces just like that damn cafeteria floor.

Because you know that Boldir Lamati is dead.

And you never even got to say goodbye.

In a moment of time that might have been five minutes or five years, you begin to feel your body again-- all four-feet-eleven-inches of you, even though you really do not want to go back to the land of the living. Living sucks ass.

Somebody is running their hand through your hair, gentle and smooth. You want to just lay there forever, letting whoever this is hold you, but then you hear somebody speak nearby and your eyes open all on their own.

“They’re coming to!”

You meet the concerned gaze of Lynera, who’s wringing her hands fretfully as she stares down at you. A familiar ceiling spotted with bioluminescent fungi hangs low above your head, and there’s a jade green blanket tossed over your torso.

“Well, this certainly rings a few bells,” you mumble to yourself. You look up and realize you’re in Polypa’s lap. She’s not normally one for pale PDA, so the fact that she's holding you so close with somebody else around is a little strange. Her long hair is tickling your face, making you sneeze and scrub at your nose.

“How are you feeling?” she whispers.

“Awful.”

“How so?”

“One of my friends is dead.”

“How do you--”

“I had a dream where she came to me. She’s done it before. Polypa, sometimes I… I have dreams that tell me about the future. And the past. And the present.”

She exhales, quietly stunned. “I’m sorry, Micah.”

You nod, doing your best to fight back tears and failing. Even the sound of your own name isn’t helping you feel better.

Footsteps approach, slow and careful, and you look over to see Lynera crouch down next to you. “We think you had some kind of seizure? Your moirail said that you started talking really strangely, and then you collapsed and started to spasm. Then she brought you to the caverns. You were out all day.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a seizure.” So, you have seizures now. Fantastic.

“There isn’t a whole lot of information on these kinds of things, but I’ll keep looking around to see if anybody has information on mental disorders-- not that I think you’re mental! I just want to make sure you don’t collapse out in public, because if the wrong troll sees you do that you’ll get culled and it’ll be horrible and we can’t lose you again! So you should probably take it easy for the rest of the night. I’ll tell Bronya to… um, where are you going?”

You stagger as you put all of your body weight on to your feet. Your head is spinning, but you don’t give up.

“I have to go commit a murder.”

#hiveswap friendsim trolls #hiveswap #homestuck #mspa reader #riverbound #hiveswap elwurd #pesterquest #ceruleans #boldier lamati #sorry guys #lol #c18 #the guardian

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thecandywrites · 5 years

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Isthantari- Part 2

Wow!!! I did NOT think this story would be as popular as it was! I am so happy you guys liked it!!!!! (intense fangirl squealing)

So yo! @catsithsitter, and @royale-skeleton-key I’m tagging you guys in this part two and I really hope you like it. That sweet lemony good good goodness in this chapter. If you know what I mean.

Part 2

Everything was going perfect, you were making leaps and bounds of progress, you discovered that if your froze the Jika fruits and then let them thaw again, that turned all their sourness into sweetness because the Jika home world was all tropical in climate, it never froze so even the Jika had not known that about it’s own foods and once it thawed, it would keep it sweetness no matter what you did to it after that and then if you refroze it, it could be made into sorbets and ice creams and all kinds of desserts and had all kinds of potential while the vegetables, if you heated them up and cooked them, suddenly new flavors would explode where there once was none and the flavors ranged from sweet to savory to spicy. But that wasn’t the only ‘progress’ you made. On the third day of your visit, it was like Jaxon finally came out of his shell so to speak and returned to being the same person who you had been talking to via texts and emails this whole time and really warmed up to you. He was so funny, and sweet and perfectly charming, not to mention flirtatious. And despite your best efforts to remain as perfectly professional as possible, more often than not, you shamelessly flirted back, especially after Jaxon made you a new perfume using the scents of your favorite Jika flowers and it put all your other perfume to shame it smelled so good and you wore it exclusively and Jaxon seemed even more attracted to you.

Then one night, two weeks later the ship was attacked, it woke you up out of a sound sleep and within moments Jaxon was at your door and picked you up out of bed and carried you to an escape pod. Holding you securely in all four of his arms as his wings flew him faster than he could run and once inside the pod, it ejected with both of you in it and it tried to go into outer space but you were shot down and Jaxon excreted a silky, stringy substance from his abdomen and made a makeshift spiderweb in the middle of the pod and quickly built a cocoon around you as the pod hurtled back into the earth’s atmosphere and into a really bad tropical storm. The whole time, Jaxon doing his best to assure you and reassure you that you were going to be ok and once he was done he crawled inside of it with you and wrapped himself around you protectively as you wrapped yourself around him in turn and hugged him tightly and cried into his chest and prayed to any god that would listen to help you and Jaxon live through this. Your ship was struck by lightning and were inside an airpocket of thunder when it clapped around the ship and you felt it in your chest and bones when it did and it partially crushed the ship from the air pressure of the thunder. And when you crashed into the ocean the ship completely broke apart but the cocoon stayed in tact and protected you and cushioned all of those blows but the cocoon soon took on water and it took Jaxon cutting the cocoon with his mandibles to get you both out so you wouldn’t drown and to get you to the surface. A wave soon made you both rise and you saw a little island a little ways away but you knew that when the wave would crash, that you both could get crushed under the pressure and would drown and your body and brain kicked into survival mode.

“Jaxon! Listen to me, will your wings work under water?!” You yelled over the roar of the storm as you both struggled to keep your heads above water.

“They should.” Jaxon answered.

“OK, I’ll breathe into you, you breathe into me, go under the surface of the water and fly through the water to the island, otherwise these waves will kill us. Can you do that?” You asked and he nodded as you took a deep breath and attached your mouth to his and breathed out into his mouth as he breathed in your breath before he breathed out into you so that you could breathe in and together you both dove deeper than the crashing waves could reach as his wings flew through the water towards the island at an incredible speed as you clung to him for dear life as he held you tight and within a matter of minutes you were both on the beach and you drug him inland and you put the trunk of a palm tree between you as you both hugged the palm tree and each other until the storm passed.

Come morning, you found yourself laying on the ground on your back with Jaxon curled around you protectively and you worried that he was dead because his body was stiff and stuck in that position.

“Jaxon!” You yelled as you slapped him and hit him before he woke up and his body moved.

“Oh thank god! I thought I lost you.” You exclaimed as you hugged him even tighter.

“No, I’m still here.” Jaxon reassured you and pet your face in relief, happy that you had made it through too as his attennae tapped on your head too.

“What happened?” You asked him. “Who attacked us?” You asked him.

“Our own military did, they got a hold of a different queen. They assassinated the queen and her escorts and took over.” Jaxon revealed and you gasped in horrified shock.

“No! Oh my god! Does that happen often?” You asked.

“More often than we like to admit.” Jaxon revealed.

“Is that another reason why you didn’t want to be your sister’s consort? Because assassinations happen so often?” You asked softly as you pet his head soothingly.

“Yes. Usually they will simply go after just the queen and her consorts, this time they were going after everyone.” Jaxon revealed softly as he leaned into your touch.

“So what should we do? Is there anything we can do?” You asked.

“I don’t know.” Jaxon answered.

“Should you try to reclaim the throne?” You wondered.

“No, absolutely not, normally I would simply take my new orders from the new queen. It’s very odd that they were trying to kill everyone.” Jaxon shook his head no.

“Ok, well, for now, let’s just...try to survive on this island before we can hopefully get rescued by humans at least.” You suggested as you both got up before you noticed his wing was torn.

“Oh no! Are you in pain?” You asked him as you tried to touch the wing but he stopped you.

“Yes, please don’t touch it.” Jaxon warned you as he carefully unfolded it and tried to put it back into place himself before folding his wings up to keep the torn one safe from getting torn further before you both explored the little island, one side of it had a mangrove, with baby sharks swimming around in it along with other fish. And as far as food went, you found evidence of coconut crabs and other kinds of crabs as well, little fiddler crabs. You found coconuts, bananas, mangoes and wild limes and all kinds of other tropical fruits that you were both happy and relieved to eat before you worked on building a shelter. But you noticed the more you sweat, the more distracted and more scatterbrained Jaxon became.

“Jaxon? Are you ok? Do I stink that bad?” You tried to joke as you put the palm fronds and banana leaves on the roof of your little shelter.

“No.” Jaxon shook his head and tried to get back to task of starting a fire.

“No you’re not ok? Does your wing hurt worse now?” You asked.

“No, I’m ok, no you don’t stink bad.” Jaxon clarified as he tried to make a fire and was failing miserably.

“...Oh, ok.” You nodded in understanding as you finished with the roof and continued to gather as much food as you could and created a stock pile. You weren’t a good climber so your solution to the coconut trees was to try to shake them or bump them with your hip to get the coconuts down which kind of worked. But to your delight, you did find some banana trees that had ripe bananas on them so you got the stalk down with help of some of the wreckage which you used as improvised knives, making spears and things out of the shredded metal, granted, very carefully. Jaxon buzzed angrily after a while and you came over to see him clearly frustrated that he couldn’t start a fire.

“Hey, it’s ok.” You tried to reassure him as you came over to him and sat down next to him.

“No it’s not ok!” Jaxon barked at you. “Here you are, the soft, delicate one and you’re fine! You’re not hurt, I am, Jika are supposed to be tougher than humans and you get us away from the hive and break a wing and we’re useless! Here we are, crashed, stranded and marooned and you’re just rolling with it like it’s just another day at the office for you, like you’ve done this a thousand times before.” Jaxon ranted and Jika couldn’t cry but if they could, you were pretty sure he would be right now.

“Hey, Jaxon, listen to me.” You insisted and decided to break with respecting personal space and crawled into his lap and held his face so that he would look at you. “You, just had the worst day of your life, your family was murdered and overthrown from the throne, your own people rebelled against you and tried to kill you, you were so brave in making sure I was ok at least, you tried to get both of us to safety instead of only taking care of yourself. It’s you who rescued us. You are injured right now and everyone feels useless when they’re injured, humans get a paper cut on our fingers and we feel like we’re dying and we can’t go on. Humans are weird. Sometimes the super simple things kill us or at the very least injure us and maim us and sometimes nothing can kill us. Right now, if you had a scanner you would see that a metric fuck ton of adrenaline is pumping through my system and I am in survival mode. When things get better and I’m not in survival mode, I’ll get a chance to mentally process what just happened to us and I’ll be helpless and weak and you’ll be the one to carry me through that. But for right this second- you are injured and alone in an alien world. The only reason we’re doing half as ok as we are is because I’m a specialist when it comes to food, I’ve studied it for years and I specialize in rare and tropical foods, I know what to eat and what not to eat and how to make even the worst garbage edible. I know to Jika, women are rare and it takes dozens and dozens of males to take care of and look after one female and you probably feel like a failure because you’re not doing that right this second. But I’m telling you that this female in your lap right now, is going to take care of you. Because you are my friend and I care for you, a lot ok? That’s what humans do, both take care of the other, it’s not a solely one sided exchange. You are not a failure. You are doing so great, I’m so proud of you for doing what you have. Let me return the favor and take care of you now.” You reassured him as you suddenly noticed all four of his arms were circled tightly around you, holding you close and pressing you up against his chest as your thumbs stroked what you considered to be his cheeks. Careful not to touch his sensitive compound eyes.

“Ok,” Jaxon nodded as he realized he was clinging to you and tried to force himself not to do that but his body was warring against him.

“How about you stay here, take a break and just rest. And if you see a crab, in particular a coconut crab, kill it for me so I can cook it, because I love crab, I think it’s delicious but I have no idea if Jika can eat crab or not so it’ll be a new experiment. I’ll try to gather all that I can.” You offered before you kissed his mandables sweetly. “We’ll get through this and we’ll be ok, you’ll see.” You tried to encourage him as you got up and got out of his embrace and continued to search for what you could. The Jika had consumed the vast majority of garbage and plastics in the ocean, plastics being super versatile for their own technology and infrastructure and when the ships had been in the oceans, they had scooped up tons and tons of it and built new star ships out of it because they had a component to not only break it down into usable components but also rebuild with it. In fact there were still a few Jika ships in the oceans collecting plastic. Thankfully, what washed up ashore on this island was usable, you found some glass jugs and bottles and a small fishing net, fishing line and lures and some shoes, some flip flops that were a little big on you but would work for now and even a pair of goggles and so much rope, you were in great luck. You came back and Jaxon had succeeded in making a fire and seemed in much higher spirits now.

“See? You got it! You made a fire!” You cooed proudly as you put down all your stuff that you had collected as you helped him grow the fire and keep it burning.

“Now, should we go crab hunting or fishing?” You put to him.

“Which will be easier on you?” Jaxon asked.

“They’ll both be about the same. Coconut crabs can be scary but so can sharks.” You shrugged.

“Crabs then,” Jaxon decided and you helped him to his feet as you grabbed your spears and went looking for their holes and when you found one, you poked and prodded it until it came crawling out, it was by far the largest crab besides a king crab that you had ever seen before and you didn’t know if you your little spears could kill it or not before Jaxon buzzed angrily again and very quickly picked you up into his arms to sting the crab, his stinger easily piercing it’s shell and killing it without having to pump too much venom into the crab. You found yourself giggling, even injured he didn’t hesitate to ‘protect you’ from his perceived danger.

“Good job,” you praised as he seemed to notice as an afterthought he was holding you again as he awkwardly put you down but didn’t let you touch the crab at all, in fact he picked it up and held it away from you both.

“So you eat bugs?” Jaxon asked you warily as he eyed the now dead crab suspiciously.

“Uh, well, I guess crab looks like a...bug...doesn’t it.” You concluded with an apologetic look to him. “But I promise to never eat you.” You laughed nervously as Jaxon didn’t say anything to that and you just sighed in defeat as you walked with him along the beach before you found the cocoon he had spun for you wash ashore.

“Our cocoon!” You cheered when you saw it and tried to pick it up and haul it ashore, now that you could actually appreciate it, it was super soft and shiny, like silk and even wet it was still soft and squishy and fluffy. “Now if we can dry this out, we will have a bed.” You smiled brightly at Jaxon who seemed quite pleased with that and helped you drag it back to your base as you took the dead crab and put it onto the fire to cook so you could help him hang the cocoon in a tree so it could dry out.

“Please do not take offense but I do not trust your shelter, do you mind if I attach this to the tree so you could sleep in this? I believe I can make a waterproof layer to the outside so it will not accumulate or retain moisture, until we are rescued.” Jaxon offered.

“Are you sure? I can’t imagine how costly this was to you to make to begin with.” You posed.

“It will be worth it to me, please.” Jaxon returned.

“Ok, I trust you, do whatever you want to it.” You put to him and sat down by the fire and watched as the stinger in his abdomen was replaced with some sort of sprayer and as he sprayed it, all the water in it immediately came crashing out of it, splashing all over the sand under it as it once again regained it’s super fluffy, cloud like shape before he used his strength to make a palm tree which was already growing sideways turn just a little more bowed and attached the cocoon to the underside of the tree a few feet off the ground so that at least a foot of space separated the bottom of the cocoon and the ground, his abdomen replacing it’s sprayer with his silk spinning gland to do this as he orientated the cocoon so that you could easily slide in and out of it and sleep comfortably in it.

“You could make it big enough for the both of us you know.” You pointed out as you noticed he was narrowing the opening so that only yourself could crawl inside and closed up the bottom of it so you wouldn’t slide out of it either. He paused and made sure he could still fit inside before he seemed quite happy with his work and retreated to sit down next to you once again.

“Thank you.” You thanked him as you used a stick to move the crab around in the fire to make sure it cooked thoroughly before you pushed it out of the fire to let it cool so you could eat it as you went ahead and cut up some coconuts to drink the coconut water, offering one to Jaxon so he could drink some too, not wanting him to get dehydrated as he quickly drank his before you gave him yours before opening up a third and handing that to him too, on his seventh coconut, did he finally quench his thirst.

“I apologize for depleting our supplies.” Jaxon apologized.

“Nah, don’t worry about it, it’s not that small of an island, there’s more coconuts, it’ll be ok, you just made me the best shelter ever with your own silk, that’s quite the toll on you. Of course you’d be thirsty.” You waived off with an adoring smile as you went and got more.

When you came back, the crab had cooled off sufficiently and Jaxon watched as you used a rock to crack the legs open before taking the meat out and ate it before you offered him some. He cautiously took it and tried it and you waited to see if he would be allergic to it or not and soon he devoured the crab leg you gave him, shell and all before he took off another and ate that too as you continued to eat the meat out of your leg before offering him the shell which he gratefully took and ate that too before he started eating the body and found the sack that coconut crabs had that contained oil and outright drank it and slurped it up, licking his arms and fingers clean as you ate your fill of the actual meat and just grinned as you watched him wolf it down.

“Good?” You asked as he nodded yes as he continued to eat the shell of the head, having slurped up the cooked crab mustard gleefully and couldn’t help but buzz happily.

“Very much so. I can’t believe we’ve been here this whole time and never ate them because we thought they were too much like ourselves.” Jaxon realized.

“Well, humans are similar in that we really don’t like to eat monkeys, chimpanzees or the like because we feel the same way about them, at least in the western world.” You offered with a shrug as you offered him the last shell which he took and quickly ate that.

“Would you mind?” Jaxon asked as he gestured to your hands which you nodded no before he carefully took your hands and licked them clean which made you giggle and squeal because you could tell he was trying so hard to be careful but you were so ticklish as you felt your cheeks burn as you made sure your hand stayed splayed so he could get at every inch.

“Thank you my queen.” Jaxon thanked you once he was finished.

“What?” You asked before he went ridged as he realized he said that out loud. “Oh Jaxon, you don’t have to think of me as your queen, I...” You began.

“But I want to.” Jaxon blurted which had your argument die on your tongue. “Please, I need, I need...you...to be my queen.” Jaxon whispered.

“You need me to boss you around?” You tilted your head curiously as you were trying to understand his request.

“No, well, yes, well, it’s complicated, most who get separated from the hive die because most drones don’t have the wherewithal to take care of themselves, to even eat or drink on their own so they don’t die without a queen telling them to do so through the hive mind. Our instincts when separated from the hive are always to return to the hive, without that, most just think death will be eminent and literally lay down and wait for death as they descend into madness without the hive mind. I’m different because technically I don’t need the hive mind and my brain is more advanced than a drone. But...I need...a purpose and usually my purpose needs to revolve around a queen and without that I’m...”

“Lost?” You supplied.

“Yes.” Jaxon nodded.

“Ok, well when we can get back to civilization, we can sort everything out, if you need me to be your queen for now, then that’s what I’ll do, you’re gonna have to help me, I’ve only ever ruled myself before so I’ll need feedback, I want to be a good queen.” You grinned as you hugged his arms again and looked up at him, smiling softly at him.

“You’ll be the best.” Jaxon encouraged you as he grinned back as you just sat there and watched the sunset, towards the end of it, he helped you up into your cocoon.

“Aren’t you coming in?” You asked him as he perched himself on top of the trunk so that he could look down into the cocoon though.

“No, I need to guard my queen.” Jaxon shook his head no.

“Oh, ok, well don’t go too far.” You teased as you laid down and got comfortable, using the inside folds of the cocoon to wrap up like a blanket since it was getting chilly outside.

“Are you sure you wont’ get too cold?” You asked as you laid your head at the opening so you could look up at him as you briefly flirted with the idea of dragging him into the cocoon with you despite his protest as your first ‘official’ order as his new queen but didn’t want to ‘abuse your authority’.

“I’m sure, good night Isthantari.” Jaxon bid you.

“Isthantari?” You repeated.

“It means ‘one I am devoted to’, it’s what we call our queens rather than their names, would you prefer if I used your name?” Jaxon posed.

“No, Isthantari is wonderful, I love it.” You grinned up at him from the entrance to your cocoon.

“Is there a title you would prefer I use with you or just your name?” You asked as Jaxon thought that over.

“No, Jaxon is fine.” Jaxon insisted.

“Ok, good night Jaxon.” You bid him.

The next day, any semblance of deodorant on your body officially died and you noticed Jaxon was becoming even more scatter brained whenever you were too close to him, like his brain wasn’t working at all and he would stand really close to you and fight with himself on whether or not to hold you before he would come to his senses and try to stay away from you for a little while before his body would be drawn to you again.

“Jaxon, can you please tell me what’s going on?” You asked as he had a look about him that scared you as he was currently hugging a tree and trying to face away from you and to you- he looked like one of those ants that had a parasite in it’s brain, making it act crazy which terrified you.

“No,” Jaxon answered as he tried climbing the tree to get some coconuts but was failing so you walked away from him and you noticed the further away you were, the better he did. So you shaved some coconut and tried to bathe in the ocean with it, putting the coconut butter/oil in your armpits and all over your body to help cover up your body odor to see if that helped, which it did. But Jaxon seemed downcast and disappointed that you did that.

“Jaxon, you need to tell me why my body odor is hurting you.” You insisted over lunch, this time eating a fish as Jaxon ate another coconut crab.

“It’s not hurting me.” Jaxon insisted.

“Yes it is! It’s like your brain and body break every time I’m around you and you can’t function, would it be better if I stayed on the other side of the island?” You asked.

“No! Do not do that!” Jaxon exclaimed as your scent was beginning to take affect on him again.

“Why? Even right now it’s doing something to you, could you please just tell me so I know what to do?” You pleaded.

“You smell like a queen!” Jaxon finally snapped. “Your body odor, it smells better than any queen ever has and it’s telling my instincts to mate with you. That’s why all the drones on the ship tried to swarm you, because you appear as an unattended queen to them and it’s why I encouraged you to wear perfume because it helped diffuse it but all it did was entrap me harder. I didn’t just save you because you were my friend- I was literally following instincts to save you as my queen, that cocoon, that’s what all the males make for their queen, she’s surrounded by a safe cocoon at all times and is guarded at all times and when she’s not eating, she’s mating and that’s why I’ve been pushing you to eat constantly so I don’t overpower you to mate with you- constantly. I don’t want to hurt you. I can’t hurt you. You’re my Isthantari and I won’t just be devoted to you while we’re here on this island I’ll be devoted to you for life and it’s something I want to do and it’s something I need to do. I knew the moment I met you and smelled you that you were my queen, I just had no idea how strongly you would affect the hive, I thought it would just affect me, that’s why I walked so fast that first day, I wanted you to sweat to smell more of you but when I saw your affect on the others I knew I had made a mistake and so that’s why I encouraged you to wear more perfume. That’s also why I didn’t let you socialize or meet with any of the military because they would have realized that and taken advantage of you and put you on a treadmill to do nothing but sweat so they could harvest it and use it to take over the hive sooner and I know you would feel horrible and guilty over that since you put such a high value on family. When you had the royal jelly it just locked in your scent and that’s never happened with anyone before. My sister’s scent was so weak, I knew she would be overthrown by a stronger scented queen sooner than later, that’s why I never let you meet her because if she had met you, she would have realized you were stronger scented than her and would have killed you or at least tried her best to do so before her own consorts left her or killed her to make you their queen over the hive instead of her and none of it is your fault, you have to believe me, nothing is your fault.” Jaxon revealed and you gasped in shock as Jaxon just held his head in his hands as you sat there, stunned and just let this revelation wash over you for a few long moments before everything clicked in place and you realized something about yourself.

“Can Jika and humans even mate? Like are we...compatible?” You asked.

“Yes, Dr. Kimble and my brother mate all the time, he had the same reaction to her that I have to you and she was open to it but I know that with the wide range of human body types that it may not be possible for some human women to take on a Jika male’s sex organs.” Jaxon explained as you thought it over.

“Is this why you didn’t come into the cocoon with me last night?” You posed.

“Yes, because if I did, I would have mated with you then, that’s what males do, we get in the cocoon with the queen and mate in the cocoon.” Jaxon nodded.

“Oh,” you nodded in understanding before you realized that...you were open to it too.

“Well I’m not closed off to the idea.” You hinted as you as you scooted closer to him.

“Don’t tease me, please,” Jaxon pleaded desperately.

“I’m not teasing, I’m serious, will you go back to “normal” after you try mating with me?” You asked.

“Yes,” Jaxon nodded yes as he looked at you and felt yourself grow feverish under his gaze.

“Ok, show me.” You invited before he grabbed you and put you into his lap as a slit, that you thought was his waist attaching to his abdomen opened up and a large, bright purple, bulbous, clearly phallic penis emerged, it was coated in a slick, almost slime like substance and it smelled slightly musty yet still fruity sweet, the head looked like an extra large duck egg with big bumps on the top of the shaft and ridges on the underside with a large ball all the way at the base, slightly smaller than the size of your fist, it was very impressive and then what you assumed were his testicles, three of them, each of them the size a kiwi came and rested in the sand between his legs, you had no clue how he had managed to fit that into his waist or perhaps they were stored in the abdomen too. But they were out and on display and all of it still seemed to be throbbing and you felt yourself grow quite wet in anticipation because this was your first sexual encounter with an alien but you were fairly certain you could take him.

“Wow,” you found yourself grinning as you pulled up your nightgown and pulled off your underwear before you pushed him back slightly to make room for you to straddle his waist as you lined up yourself up and slowly came down onto him as you noticed his arms were around you once again and the lower arm’s hands were on your hips while your own arms rested on his shoulders as you slowly eased down onto it. His own slickness giving your own womanhood a tingly sensation, not painful at all but definitely enjoyable before he attached his mouth to yours and kissed you. Something his brother had encouraged him to do because humans loved kissing. Jika kissed too, but not nearly to the extent humans did and it was his brother’s favorite thing to do with Dr. Kimble. Jika had lips and a human like mouth underneath their mandibles so that once those were moved out of the way, you could kiss him back with relative ease and he tasted like...buttered toast to you for some reason, you quite liked it though and when you started to move, the tingly sensation amplified and heightened your own arousal and easily transformed this into the best sex of your life. The bulbous head rubbed against your G-spot and you threw your head back to cry out in ecstasy as Jaxon kissed and nipped at your ears, jaw, neck and chest before you realized your chest was...sopping wet and you looked down to see a soft squishy duct in his collarbone at the base of his neck stick out and was oozing what looked like pureed mango.

“Jaxon, what’s this?” You asked as you paused and pointed it out.

“That’s...my royal jelly, we excrete it during mating so that the queen can eat while mating, the sweeter the jelly, the longer she eats, meaning the longer we mate.” Jaxon explained as you stopped humping him to mentally take in that information.

“Oh my god, you mean that royal jelly I had before...” “Was mine, I was hoping you’d like it.” Jaxon admitted.

“You milked your own royal jelly, to...” you began.

“To impress you and woo you.” Jaxon confessed.

“So I can eat this now?” You asked as you gestured to it.

“Please do,” Jaxon invited before you licked it up from his chest after he licked your own clean and when you put your mouth over the gland and sucked, Jaxon moaned loudly and buzzed in delight and began moving you to keep riding him and you noticed, now it was more intensely sweet and downright addictive as you drank it down. Moaning and keening in bliss as you surrendered completely to him.

“Jaxon, I’m gonna cum,” you tried to tell him between gulping down mouthfuls of his nectar.

“Cum, please cum,” Jaxon pleaded desperately as he drove up into you, trying to get the biggest bulb at the base inside you and you couldn’t help but realize that you were about to be knotted, in a werewolf kind of way as you spread your legs as wide as you could and canted your hips a little and with one final push down the knot popped inside you and that sensation sent you over the edge and into climax as you inwardly constricted around it as your legs shook and you clung to him and keened and whimpered before your mouth was suddenly pumped full of jelly and you had to swallow several times to get it all down as some of it escape from the corners of your mouth as you felt your lower belly grow and distend as your womb expanded too, not nearly as painfully as it should have been, his cum giving a slightly cooling, tingling sensation, like mineral ice but delightfully subdued- as he pumped you full of cum, it felt really good actually as the royal jelly finally stopped coming as you pulled away and gasped for breath and panted as your head rested on his shoulder as he pet and massaged your body and nuzzled your face with his own as his antennae tapped the back of your head and your shoulder attentively.

“You did so good, I love you so much, I’m so proud of you, thank you so much my Isthantari.” Jaxon cooed to you as you both basked in the afterglow, the tingly sensation now amplifying your own orgasm and afterglow so that you still felt like you were still on cloud nine and weren’t gonna come back down for a long time.

“I love you too,” you cooed back as you pet him in turn as you felt yourself oh so slowly come down from your high and happily just let yourself rest in his embrace. This was epically good.

“That has to be the best sex I’ve ever had.” You admitted as he buzzed happily and you felt his feelers tap your head and back like crazy for a few seconds.

“Really? So you’ll want to do it again?” Jaxon asked excitedly.

“Well not right this second but later, yeah,” You confirmed as you raised your head to smile brightly at him as you felt his penis start to shrink and recede and once it plopped out, a literal cascade of cum fell out of you.

“Holy shit, that’s a lot.” You blurted when you looked down between you to see it’s ultraviolet holographic shimmering liquid that felt like a soft jelly and in fact you could have sworn you had a holographic jelly highlighter/ body glitter that looked exactly like this as you reached down to touch it before you swiped it onto your arm and noticed it behaved exactly like holographic highlighter while also providing you with a cooling relief from the sunburn you’d been trying and failing not to accumulate.

“Oh my god, it’s like my makeup.” You giggled.

“Actually when I saw you wearing your makeup I thought it looked like it and it turned me on like you wouldn’t believe. Which is why I was able to pump so much jelly out for you so fast while you were smelling the flowers in the botany area. You have to understand, that the moment I saw you, you were perfect, you smelled divine and you looked like the embodiment of sex and it was all the self control I had not to do this immediately. Also why I was so awkward because you were trying to be professional and I was warring with myself to either put as much distance between us and drawing impossibly close to you and obviously you see which side won out.” Jaxon murmured bashfully.

“Aw, you could have told me.” you fawned before you kissed him sweetly. “So it’s not disgusting if I kinda want to wear it? It’s actually cooling and giving me relief from the sunburn.” You posed.

“By all means, just don’t expect me to not want to have more sex with you, much more often.” Jaxon playfully warned as you giggled and quickly scooped it up and put it all over you, it did relieve your sunburn immediately and you stripped naked to put it all over your skin and even Jaxon helped put it all over your back and your butt, touching and caressing that part of your body very lovingly.

“Do you love my butt?” You teased him.

“Yes! I do, it’s so amazing and perfectly plump, perfectly befitting for a queen and so soft. Jika females are also very soft, their exoskeleton is very thin and delicate, which is why they must be protected at all times. And even your thighs are perfect.” Jaxon praised before he kissed them and your ass, making you giggle and squirm, you had always been self conscious for your big ass and thighs, but having a prince tell you that it’s perfect and divine sure did help you feel better about yourself before he moved around and caressed your belly too.

“This is one of my favorite parts though, I’ve been wanting to touch this since I first met you too.” Jaxon admitted as he nuzzled your belly gently before kissing it and especially your stretch marks lovingly.

“Really?” You asked as you pet his head.

“Remember, the bigger the queen, the more young she can have and the fatter she is, the better the males have done in caring for her, it’s a sign of success and prestige if a queen is huge.” Jaxon revealed in awe.

“Oh, well to humans, fat is seen as a bad thing, it’s taken as a sign of bad eating habits and laziness and how not in shape you are.” You told him with a frown.

“Humans are stupid sometimes, you are perfect, by any standard, I know entire races who would look at your body and see perfection and you would be hailed as a goddess to them.” Jaxon informed you.

“I’ll take your word for it.” You nodded. “I could go for a nap though, but we need a way to catch fresh water because I will need water eventually, I can’t drink sea water because it has salt in it and sea water will make me sick if I drink it.” You told him as you felt yourself grow so sleepy.

“Oh, ok, how about you rest then and I’ll work on the water thing.” Jaxon insisted as he stood and picked you up again and carried you back to your cocoon.

“Do you just like to carry me or something?” You asked curiously.

“Usually females are too big to walk on their own and have to be carried, and you’re so light and easy to carry, I could carry you with only arm if I needed to and yes, I love carrying you- very much so.” Jaxon explained as he helped you into the cocoon.

“Well ok then.” You nodded as you crawled inside and turned around and got comfortable as your eyelids grew heavier and heavier before you fell asleep because while the cocoon was perfectly warm at night, it was also very cool during the day and a welcome sanctuary to you. And once you were asleep, Jaxon literally bounced with happiness and let his wings unfold to reveal now perfectly repaired wings. The compounds in the crab’s exoskeleton was exactly what he needed to repair his own wings and it was even enough to strengthen his own exoskeleton and that oil from the crab was enough to fully lubricate his system, he could make you dozens of cocoons and a whole wardrobe of clothing with his own silk if you wanted it. He made sure you were asleep before he flew and retrieved all sorts of things from the ocean and from all over the island and even found a neighboring island and quickly collected all he could from there, killing a dozen more coconut crabs and hauling them back to your island. He had never been so happy in his life, his queen loved him. Jika queens usually only tolerated their consorts and viewed them as slaves, viewed everyone as slaves because they were. But you, no, you appreciated him and praised him and comforted him and cared for him and understood him and loved him and that was more than any Jika could ever hope for, ever dream of having other than their own satisfaction that they were serving the queen and the hive. He wanted to stay on this island for the rest of his life with you, screw the rest of the world. Once he could figure out the water situation you would be perfectly fine and happy. When he came back and saw you were sleeping still, he even went fishing and managed to kill a red snapper for you, feeling exceedingly proud of himself with that, being able to provide for his Isthantari so well.

You awoke to him throwing the coconut crabs onto the fire as he tried to take the scales off the fish, since you had talked him through scaling and gutting a fish already.

“Wow, look at you, now who’s acting like it’s another day at the office?” You gently teased him as you got out of your cocoon and got redressed in your pajamas and came over to him and helped him make you dinner as the sun was setting.

“So there will be another storm coming, I think I can spin some more silk to soak up the rain water, you can drink rain water- yes?” Jaxon asked.

“Yup, rainwater will be perfect, how did you know there will be another storm coming?” You asked in amazement before he pointed to his antennae.

“I can detect pressure in the atmosphere and wind direction, it’ll rain for most of the day tomorrow. The nutrients and components in all these crabs will give me what I need to make it through tomorrow without needing to eat and also provide you will all the jelly you could drink without taxing my system.” Jaxon informed you proudly.

“That’s great! Will it help with your wing?” You asked.

“….yes, but it will take time before I can fly again.” Jaxon lied but you believed him.

“Yes! That’s good though! I’m so happy they’ll help.” You grinned as you nudged him with your elbow.

“Yes,” Jaxon confirmed.

“Well then I’ll leave the crabs for you then, because you need them, I’ll just eat fish from here on out. I want you to heal sooner than later.” You urged him.

“I can still share them.” Jaxon countered.

“Well I won’t say no to some of their meat but the shells are of no use to me at all so you can eat all of those.” You beamed happily before you pulled him over to kiss his cheek affectionately as he in turn kissed the crown of your head back before the fish was completely roasted and he offered it to you and watched you squeeze some lime over before it cooled off a little and you got to eat it happily as Jaxon ate the crabs and offered you bites of the meat in the legs occasionally until you were both beyond satisfied and then you watched as Jaxon was able to eat not just the meat but the bones of the fish too, quite liking that and told you that the calcium and the cartilage would help him heal too. You watched him make a wide net between a several palm trees as he then layered on some fluffy stuff and sprayed only the bottom of it in all in a film in all but one part to act as a spout to catch the rain water so that it would retain the water on the top and not let any escape from the bottom.

“So how many gallons of water will this catch?” You asked as you came up to it and still marveled at it’s softness as you spread your hands over it and stroked it. It looked like the most amazing hamock ever.

“I don’t know, hopefully enough.” Jaxon shrugged before you both crawled into the cocoon, Jaxon once again curling around you as you curled around him in turn before you had sex again to wear yourselves out for sleep, his nectar providing the best dessert ever.

In the middle of the night is when the storm came, the crack of thunder waking you both up as his antennae once again tapped you all over your face and head to make sure you were ok.

“I’m ok, it’s just a storm, we’ll be ok.” You reassured him softly as you got settled back into sleep, the sound of the rain hitting the coating on the cocoon lulling you into a deep and restful sleep. When you woke up again, Jaxon was already awake, watching the storm out of the little hole as one set of arms, his lower set was still wrapped around your waist while his upper hands combed through your hair with his fingers, the action soothing him and the feel of your own hair pleasing his senses greatly. The queen also had fur like hair around her collar and liked to keep it impeccably groomed, but it was courser hair than yours.

“Hey you,” you greeted sleepily as he moved his head down and you watched his own irises move across his compound eyes to look at you, you realized they were like the eyes of a praying mantis like that.

“Hey, you’re awake,” Jaxon grinned happily.

“I am,” you nodded before you kissed him. “Hungry too.” You murmured into the kiss.

“Ok, I can...” Jaxon went to untangle himself from you before you locked your legs around his waist and grinded your center at that seam again.

“Both kinds of hungry.” You giggled as your tongue darted out to lick at that duct again to entice it out.

“Oh-ooh,” Jaxon giggled in turn as the duct and his penis and gonads emerged again, the head spearing your center easily as you wriggled down to seat yourself on it as a little of his own nectar dribbled out of the duct before you licked it up and sucked to get more, sticking your tongue into the opening to get it bigger and Jaxon groaned and bucked up into you and made you moan in turn as all of his hands stroked your body, from your breasts to your back to your hips, waist and ass as if he couldn’t get enough of you as he pinned you beneath him to really drive into you and before you knew it he had knotted you and then he buzzed and it his entire penis felt like one giant vibrator and it was the best thing ever and you were cascading down into your own release as you drank down his nectar greedily as you felt your belly distend again from getting pumped full, the discomfort you felt yesterday had lessened immensely last night and any discomfort now completely gone and your body welcomed it this time, the sensations only making your own climax more intense and longer lasting.

“Does that feel really good to you when I play with this with my tongue?” You asked as you gently touched the duct which made him shiver as you both rested and recovered.

“Yes, very much so, um, I believe the human equivalent is ‘erogenous zone’.” Jaxon tried to explain.

“Ah, that does explain it. Is that the only erogenous zone you have? Is there anything else I can do to help you feel good or feel better?” You asked curiously.

“Honestly this is the most physical contact with anyone I’ve ever had before. As a non consort to a queen, I could never hope to copulate, ever, with anything or anyone. It wasn’t until my brother realized that he could mate with Dr. Kimble that I had a hope of this happening for myself.” Jaxon explained.

“Oh, so do others just..masturbate? To please themselves sexually?” You asked.

“No.” Jaxon shook his head no.

“Do Jika get sexually frustrated then?” You asked.

“Honestly I never noticed anything until you came along.” Jaxon admitted.

“And if I didn’t smell the way I do and send your body and instincts into overdrive, you never would have considered it?” You put to him.

“Probably not no, my other brother Kin, he has no attraction to his female scientist, Dr. Wads- whatsoever.”

“Well Dr. Wads is in her 60’s and well passed menopause and a fridgid bitch whereas Dr. Kimble is in her early forties and probably approaching it, Dr. Wads is not sexually viable anymore and her body probably doesn’t give off the pheromones that mine does.” You explained as he looked at you in surprise.

“I didn’t realize that human women had such limits.” Jaxon countered before you had a very lengthy discussion about human reproduction as you learned more about Jika reproduction as well. But you soon began to fear that once you yourself went through menopause that Jaxon would no longer be interested in you and wouldn’t love you anymore and would likely move on to someone younger if you were still together by then. Many human men did that, had done that since the dawn of time. Maybe your own wishful thinking and hopeless romantic tendencies were making this out to be more than it was. But Dr. Kimble should be approaching menopause, so you supposed you would have to watch her and her relationship with her Jika closely.

When the storm passed you finally emerged to eat and restart your fire, Jaxon eating a few more coconut crabs all by himself as you used the glass bottles you collected earlier and filled them with water from the water canopy and were delighted when it worked perfectly. The next few days were a delightful blur of just eating, drinking, sex and sleep with a super big dose of you and Jaxon drawing even closer and getting to know each other much more intimately. Part of you almost didn’t want to be rescued from this paradise.

But you were...

#exophilia #alien boyfriend #monster boyfriend #alien lemon #monster lemon #Isthantari #Lemon #enjoy

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everlarkbirthdaygifts · 7 years

Text

Happy Birthday, que-sera-sera88!

Today, we wish a huge happy birthday to EBG’s own @que-sera-sera88! We hope you’re having an awesome day, and an awesome holiday, too! To add further birthday cheer, the incredible @herainab has written a story just for you.

Title: Come Away To The Water

Gift For: que-sera-sera88

Rating: Mature

AN: Happy Birthday Millie. I hope you enjoy your special day. There will be another part to this hopefully in the coming days. Millie asked for a Canon AU story about a marriage of convenience. I had a few ideas but this one stuck. I hope you enjoy Part 1. It’s quite a monster coming in under 13,000 words.

---

The reaping for the 72nd games is hot. The families watch from the sides fanning themselves from the heat. Babies cry in their mother's arms. Small children whimper as they hide behind their mother's skirts. They stand red-faced and sweaty hoping for the whole thing to be over so they can return to the shade of their homes.

And the rest of us stand like lambs waiting to be slaughtered. There's fear amongst us all. We get impatient waiting to see who will be called for the slaughter.

It basically felt like a slaughter.

Effie Trinket appears on stage with this energy that doesn't inspire us. We stare back at her. We wait. She frowns slightly but moves the show along. She moves the impending slaughter along.

In another District, one that was proud, the escort would call a name and there'd be plenty of lambs, fat, proud lambs ready to make their District proud. Lambs from good breeding stock. Here, we were all timid lambs born from poor breeding stock. Scared lambs who could smell the blood. We knew what was coming. We weren't raised by a good quality farmer who had fat, strong lambs. We were kicked to the side and dragged up to the stage when we were called for slaughter.

She calls for a girl. She's from The Seam. She's 17, scrawny and takes care of her brothers and sisters. Her father killed in a mining accident two years before. She sells herself to Cray as her mother sits vacant in a rocking chair in the living room. She was kind of pretty and stood out for The Seam. She also went to the Slagheap often with Merchant boys for favors like food or things she could trade to feed her siblings. If she dies, they'll end up in the community house.

No one volunteers for this little lamb.

"Peeta Mellark." Effie Trinket calls.

14-year-old Peeta looks around shocked and tries to walk on his shaking legs.

Until a brave lamb volunteers for his place.

"I volunteer." That lamb is Bannock Mellark. Peeta's 18-year-old brother.

He kisses his little brother on the head and makes his way up to the slaughter. This lamb might have a chance.

"What's your name?" Effie asks.

"Bannock Mellark."

"And I bet he's your brother."

"Yes."

"What an honor to volunteer for your District." Effie tells Bannock.

Bannock looks to his brother who shakes in the crowd, comforted by his other brother. Bannock nods his head at Rye Mellark and Rye nods back.

This little lamb has been spared. The brother's holding a pact between them to protect the little lamb for as long as they could.

---

"Papa, will Peeta be OK?" I ask. We're on our way home from the meadow having gone and paid our respects to Bannock Mellark. It's getting on to dinner time and Mom and Prim are at home preparing dinner for us.

Bannock Mellark did our District proud, he ranked high, survived within the arena, even started to figure out the logistics and outsmarted the game makers. But it wasn't enough and the lamb was torn to shreds by a creature that he didn't see coming.

Bannock's body, or what remained showed up in a pine box on a train early this morning. His coffin lowered into a plot he'd share with the 17-year-old girl he went to the games with. There was a special place in our cemetery for those who were in the games, it's just as the years went on, we had more pine boxes returning than Victors. They were slowly running out for room for our tributes.

"It'll hurt for some time." He tells me as we walk towards the square. "He'll feel pain, he'll cry and have bad dreams. He'll be angry and sad a lot of the time."

"What can I do?"

"Be there for him. Make him laugh. Make him forget about the pain. Distract him. Just be a good friend."

I nod and we come to the square. It's silent, people shutting themselves inside of their houses tonight as a way of respect. As a sign of mourning. Tomorrow trading will start back up and 12 will try to get back on their feet. The girl's siblings were taken to the community home this afternoon, their cries sounding throughout the District. The cries of another family let down by the Government.

Father stills, stopping me. His hunter instincts are on alert.

Then we spot a spark, smoke coming out of the Mellark's bakery.

"We have to help them." I demand. The Mellark's had been in their home since this afternoon.

He runs into the flames, breaking a window to get access. I watch on in horror. I can hear the screams coming from inside. The screams for help.

The whole upstairs is on fire, they're trapped. No matter what I do, help won't arrive in time.

Merchant shop owners come out to the square, they watch on as the flames engulf the Mellark's bakery.

There's an explosion inside the house, the crowd outside falls to the ground and the screams fall from my mouth.

"Dad!"

Darius holds me back as I go running for the bakery.

"Katniss, no!" He tells me, holding me tightly in his arms as we watch the roof cave in. There's only silence. No more screams for help. Just the smell of burning flesh, bread, and fire.

But there's a cry for help.

"Dad."

And besides the bakery, Dad is putting out the flames that burn Peeta Mellark. Peeta is unconscious but alive.

He becomes the only surviving Mellark in District 12.

---

Madge asks me a question that I don't answer. My attention isn't on her. It's on him.

He's scowling as he eats his lunch in the schoolyard.

He has a lot to be pissed about in this world. I allow him the scowling. The moodiness. The temper. The anger.

He's allowed to be angry.

I watch him. I always notice him.

But he never notices me. Or pretends to not notice me. He tells me it's for the best that the kids don't notice him watching me.

A ball rolls towards him, hitting his leg but he doesn't flinch. He doesn't even feel it.

"Throw us the ball, tool!" One of the kids yells at him.

He barely flinches, puts his head down even more and eats his lunch.

"Didn't realize you were deaf as well, Cripple." The 12-year-old kid says to him as he collects the ball, kicking Peeta's ankle before he runs off.

He barely flinches and just continues to eat his lunch.

He's had a rough few years. After the fire, his leg was taken. My mother cared for Peeta, took him into our home and nursed him back to health. She comforted him from the nightmares, the pain and the loss. She became a mother figure he never had. He became a part of our family for those few weeks he recovered with us.

Until his Uncle came for him. His Uncle was a bitter man. He despised Peeta much like Mrs. Mellark did. He saw Peeta as another mouth to feed. His uncle preferred Bannock or Rye over his youngest nephew. His Aunt barely spoke a word to him. His cousins stared, pointed and laughed. He wasn't liked in the family. He was only taken in because his Uncle felt obliged and his sister would have done the same.

Peeta worked hard, was pushed hard and neglected in every way possible.

He kept his head down and just kept going. He kept surviving the way he knew too. The little lamb was impressing me every passing day.

Even if he was yelled at and abused, he kept going. The entire District knew Peeta was suffering but no one did anything to help and those who tried were rebuffed, Peeta not wanting anything in return. He felt like he didn't deserve the help.

And I'm scared the youngest Mellark boy. The sweet baker boy will turn into his mother like the children say he will. Will turn bitter. Will be angry and mean.

And the older we get, the more he alienates people. The less of a chance he will have to marry, to have a family and live the life he always dreamed of.

He doesn't want to drag people into the drama, to make them see what is happening to him, to bring them down to the level he is feeling and affect everyone around him. For someone who used to inspire a room he barely has the inspiration to turn up to school.

He turned 18 a month ago and ever since then, he's wage has been cut and constantly threatened that the second school finishes; he'll be out on his arse. He'll work the 12 hours a day in the mine, will return home to the Miners boarding house and hate the world even more.

His Uncle constantly reminds him that he'll fit in with the Seam folk as they are nothing more than useless scum.

In six weeks, he might not have to worry about finding a job in the mines or a house in The Seam if he is reaped.

Our last reaping before we age out.

I hope we age out.

I hope the two innocent lambs can grow up.

I find him after school, he is pushed and knocked about by those who race past him laughing and giggling at him. Calling him all the names under the sun.

"Hey." I greet him.

"Hi." He still gives me the time and day. He is always genuine and friendly towards me. He saves all his smiles for me.

"We're having a dinner for my birthday on Saturday if you wanted to come."

"I'll be there." He tells me with a smile. He usually turns down dinner offers.

"Great, I'll let Mom know." I tell him.

I walk home with him, Prim having already headed home, walking with Rory Hawthorne.

"Are you ready to finish school?" I ask him.

He shakes his head. We still have four weeks left of school and two weeks later is the reaping. He'll be homeless in four weeks.

"Me either." I tell him. "But I think I've lined up a job with Mayor Undersee. His gardener is getting quite old and he doesn't think he'll last another winter. Mayor Undersee recommended me. Dad doesn't want me in the mines."

"I wouldn't either."

"But I might not get the job."

"They'd be silly not to give you the job." He tells me with a smile that makes my skin break out in goosebumps. That makes me blush and my heart race. This smile is the one he saves for me and it's when I know he truly means it. His eyes shine and the light reappears.

"Thank you."

We near the florist and I see him hesitate.

"Do you want to hang out in the meadow?" I ask him.

"I'd love to but…"

"That's ok, another time." I smile. "See you tomorrow?"

He nods and heads on into florist. He hobbles, limping slightly. His prosthetic must be giving him grief.

He's shot up in the last few months, becoming just a little bit taller and broader.

I wave goodbye to him, notice the change in his body language. I can see his shoulders have dropped, the lines on his forehead have appeared and a scowl on his face. I know he hates stepping foot into that house especially with the days passing by.

I walk on home, my hands in my pockets and kicking a loose stone.

I wish I could do more for Peeta Mellark.

---

Peeta shows up to the house early on Saturday. I wasn't expecting him for another hour.

"Hey, wasn't expecting you so soon." Mom and Prim are at a delivery and Dad still at work.

"I finished early, thought I'd come around."

I nod at him. I'm still not ready. I haven't showered and I smell like the woods. "Could you watch dinner, I was just about to get ready."

He tells me to go and get ready and he sets up in the kitchen watching the turkey and preparing the rest of dinner.

I bathe, washing my hair and scrubbing my body. I scrub so hard my skin is red and raw.

I pull out the dress Mom gifted me with this morning, telling me she wore this on her 18th birthday. The night she broke the baker's heart and ran off with my father. My father proposed to my mother in this dress under the stars in the meadow and promised that no matter what happened in the coming months, he'd love her forever. My mother was spared from the reaping and happily moved to The Seam with the coalminer. She left behind her easy life for love. She gave up everything, her friends, money, job, and house for love. For my father.

She could have had fat, healthy babies with the baker and baked for the rest of her life but couldn't resist the charm of the coal miner who she had met only previously at the Harvest Festival, falling in love with his voice, the way he told stories, his crooked smile and hearty laugh.

I always wondered why you could do something like that. Give up your entire life for a man. Move to another part of town. Say goodbye to your friends. Your house. Your job. I never understood this when I was young. But as I grow older, I can understand why my mother did it. I can understand how she fell for the charm of my father and wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.

And despite my desire to not want to marry or have children, I'd do the same as my mother if it was for a man who made me feel the way my mother feels about my father. Who made me smile and laugh all the time. Who accepted me for who I was. Who kissed me deeply and passionately every day. Who held me close to his body at the end of the day, making up for the time we were apart during the day. Just someone who I couldn't stop smiling about.

The dress is almost like the color of the sunset and hugs my body. The light coming in from the window catches on the fabric and it almost looks like the dress is catching fire. I leave my hair out of its usual braid, doing two simple braids to keep my bangs out of my face and let my curls fall down my back.

Peeta has his back to me when I come downstairs and he chats with my mother and sister. Prim spots me first, smiling at the sight of me.

"You look beautiful." She tells me.

Mom nods, gushing proudly and this makes Peeta turn around.

His jaw drops and it's the first time I've seen him speechless in my presence.

"That… you… You should wear your hair out more." He stammers and I smile, touching my curls nervously and thanking him.

"I knew that dress would suit you." My mother says. "I wore that dress on my 18th birthday." She tells Peeta.

"It's a beautiful color." He smiles. "It's my favorite color."

"Soft like the sunset." I add, remembering him telling me that years before when I screwed my nose up thinking of a bright orange color.

My mother must notice the way Peeta and I are looking at each other and she shoos us away, telling us to take a walk to the meadow.

I tell her we'll be back shortly and we walk to the meadow. Kids play in the street, playing games of tag, kicking rocks to one another and dodging their mothers as they fold washing and sweep their front steps.

Those out in the street notice us, stop and gawk and I know what they're thinking.

The oldest Everdeen is now 18. She's to find herself a suitable prospect, move into a house and start popping out baby after baby.

But they're also gawking over the fact that it's Peeta Mellark. They always assumed I'd end up with Gale Hawthorne.

He had other suitors on his mind like quiet Madge Undersee.

I had other things to worry about at this moment before I worried about the other things. I had school to finish and a reaping to survive.

The last reaping, I could protect my sister.

But we'd be fine. That's what Prim kept telling me.

"Are you scared for the reaping?" He asks.

"I'm scared for Prim."

"Would you volunteer for her?"

"I've got to protect her, just like Ban did for you."

"It cost him his life."

"He knew what he was doing." I remind him. "Do you miss him? I mean your family?"

"Every day."

"Does it get easier?"

"Slowly."

I reach out for his hand, squeezing it with my own hand. I did this when he lived with us for those four weeks. I held his hand when he had nightmares, when he silently thrashed or when he trembled slightly as he was sedated. I sang him lullabies and songs and constantly told him he was safe. I counted the freckles on his nose under the soft candlelight. I noticed how golden his eyelashes were. I noticed every little feature of Peeta Mellark.

He holds my hand as we sit in the meadow that afternoon and barely move. He wraps his arm around my shoulder, bringing me closer to his body. He smells of sugar, spice, spring and fresh flowers.

He places something in my palm when I'm not looking.

"Happy birthday." He whispers and I open my palm.

It's a gold locket. One that would have cost him a fortune.

"It's beautiful." I tell him. "But I can't have it."

"It's a gift, you have to take it."

"Peeta, it's too much."

He shakes his head. "It's the one thing I saved from the ashes. It was my grandmothers. My father always wanted me to give it to someone special."

I study the locket, see on the back there's a Mockingjay that's been carved into the locket and trace my finger over the delicate work.

"My grandfather gave it to my grandmother on her 18th birthday." He smiles.

"It's beautiful. I love it."

He puts it on for me and I admire how it sits on my chest, catching the light of the afternoon.

"It's perfect."

We walk back home together, hearing the whistle from the mine signaling the end of the shift.

Dad arrives home just as Mom dishes up dinner and we all sit crammed in the kitchen eating the turkey I caught.

Mom has gotten me a cake from the government-run bakery and we delve in.

It's not the same as a Mellark's cake and we force it down, bite after bite.

"I don't know about you all but I sure miss Mellark's." My dad says.

"Me too." Mum adds.

"Have you thought about what you'll do after school, son?" Dad asks him.

"Work in the mines. I won't pick anything else up."

"It'd be great if you could reopen the bakery. The town desperately needs it."

"I don't have that kind of money."

"You could do it out of your home." Mom says. "Start small and sell to the district. Build from there."

"Or the Hob." Dad suggests. "They have the ovens there."

"I don't know. Maybe in the future."

"I'd be your first customer." Dad tells him with a smile. "And I'd order four cheese buns."

Peeta laughs. "You all love your cheese buns."

"They were beautiful."

I can see Peeta getting a bit upset and I change the subject quickly.

"I caught Prim kissing Rory yesterday afternoon."

"Katniss." Prim whines, blushing red as Mom and Dad jokingly interrogate her.

And Peeta silently thanks me with a smile as they focus on tormenting Prim.

Mom and Prim clear the table and Dad presents me with one last gift.

"I don't need anything else."

"I know but it's a special occasion."

I'm gifted with a new bow, one that is much different to Dad's old wooden one. This one is lighter, sturdier, the string tighter and would be much more powerful.

"Where'd you get this?" I ask.

"I know people."

"It's beautiful." I tell him. "I love it."

"I knew you would. Do you want to test it out tomorrow?"

"Yes please."

Peeta and I go and sit out on the front step of the house and watch the world, watch the sun slowly set in the distance.

"Peeta, where are you going to live?"

"I'll find somewhere. Maybe in the cottage."

I screw my nose up at him boarding with the single men. They are rough, have no respect for personal space and Peeta would be a target.

"I was talking to Mom and Dad and they suggested you stay with us."

"Your family has already given me enough. I can't owe you anymore."

"It's the right thing to do." I tell him. "You'd do the same for us."

He knows I'm right and kisses my temple. "I'm forever grateful for your family. I'll never be able to return them what they've given me."

"It's what we do and we don't need debts repaid."

"One day I'll repay your family, that's a promise."

He kisses me for the first time that night.

It's short, sweet and nothing more than a kiss that is the start of everything. It's the springtime, stars, the smell of flowers and the sweetness of chocolate. It's the beginning of love.

I kissed him one night when he was unconscious. He had had a bad night of nightmares and was in pain. His leg had been amputated that morning and stitched to heal and hopefully fit with a prosthetic. That night he was in pain, despite the morphling he had been given. I kissed the corner of his lip and watched his face soften and he woke briefly, whispered my name and went back to sleep after I ran my fingers softly through his hair and sang to him.

I watch him walk on home and imagine all the other kisses we'll share.

---

Four weeks later, he's waiting on my doorstep with nothing but a bag over his shoulder. School only finished 20 minutes ago. His uncle wasted no time in kicking his nephew out.

Mom and Dad invited him to stay with us. They insisted. And he couldn't turn down their offer when he'd have nowhere to sleep for two weeks.

And he found solace with us, the only people who didn't turn their back on the youngest Mellark.

"Hi." I greet him.

"Hi."

He follows me inside, placing his bag on the floor next to the worn couch that he'll sleep on. Everyone is out of the house. Leaving us alone.

And his lips are on mine quickly.

The last two weeks, our relationship blossomed quickly.

He backs me into the wall, steadying both of us as we kiss, the hunger overcoming us both.

The front door swings open and we're caught.

"We do have a bedroom." Prim groans, covering her eyes.

Our lips are both red and we blush having been caught. We'd been quite discreet with our affection in front of my family and in public. We'd usually meet behind the ruins of the bakery, making out before he had to return home. Or he'd come and find me late some nights and in the shadows of the house, we kiss as the stars shone down on us.

"Be thankful it was me and not Mom or Dad." She chuckles heading into the kitchen with Rory tagging behind.

Ground rules are put in place when Mom and Dad return home. "You are both adults but this is our home. If we respect each other, we'll all be fine."

Peeta starts baking again, selling his creations to those who stop by and I've never seen the people in the District so happy. Despite the dark cloud that hangs over with the upcoming reaping, everyone is enjoying the simple things like Mellark's bread.

One night, he makes us cheese buns as a thank you and I am brought back to those Sunday mornings when Dad and I would go hunting. The Sunday where the baker would trade a rabbit for some cheese buns.

I thank Peeta with a big kiss. Kissing him in front of my parents.

My mother kisses his forehead, my father shaking his hand and Prim embraces him.

He brought our family tradition back and it's been a long time since we've all enjoyed cheese buns together under this roof.

"You'd be silly to not open a bakery." My father tells him.

"I'll think about it." He tells Dad, rubbing the back of his neck.

And I know, I have to protect Peeta. He is starting to shine again. Only a week after he moved in with us.

Maybe he feels safe. Maybe he feels protected. Maybe he feels love. Maybe he feels like he is home. He has found a home. A new family.

The afternoon before the reaping, we picnic in the meadow.

We feast on cheese buns, some fresh strawberries, and goat cheese.

Peeta is looking so much healthier and is much happier. He smiles now, he speaks to people and he is baking and painting again.

He is Peeta Mellark.

"We should get married." I propose.

"What?"

"Let's get married." I say. "I don't want you going into the mines. I want to protect you."

"I can protect myself, Katniss."

"I know you can but you can't work in the mines. I forbid you."

"I can make my own decisions." He tells me offended.

"I know you can but I won't forgive you if you step foot in the mines."

"Do you want to me to remain home, wrapped in cotton wool and do nothing? I'm not an invalid." He tells me. I've made him angry.

"I know you're not." I tell him. "I just think, it'll be best if we get married. It'll help us both out."

"You want a marriage of convenience?" He asks. "I thought we had something."

"And we do." I tell him. "If we marry, we'll have better benefits. We can get a house together because I know despite appreciating my parent's hospitality, you don't want to be sleeping on our couch forever." I say. "You can remain out of the mines and I'll work for the Mayor. This can work." I tell him. "I know deep in your heart you want to open the bakery, build a home to live in, we do this and it'll work. We can make it work. We can make your dreams come true."

"What do you want, Katniss?"

"For you to be happy." I tell him.

"No, what do you want? I don't want you to ruin your dreams by being married to me. You're not the girl who dreamed of being married and having a family. You just want to keep your family alive. You don't want to have children because you don't want to watch them starve and be reaped. I don't want to force you into a life you don't want."

"You're not forcing me. It's the right thing to do."

"No, it's not." He shakes his head. "I can't force you into a life you don't want just so you can protect me."

"I want this, Peeta."

"Sorry, Katniss. I can't-do this."

---

It's a quiet morning as we prepare for the slaughter. Hopefully the last slaughter. We hardly eat. We shower, dress and wait for the call. I'm wearing the soft orange dress I wore on my 18th birthday. Prim has fitted into Mom's blue dress I wore two years ago.

Mom is sure to embrace us, holding us in her arms and trying to send out nothing but positive thoughts.

We walk to the square, check in and go to our holding area. Go to possibly our final place before we're called for the slaughter. The new lambs, they tremble in fear.

The older ones, they're hopeful it's anyone but them. They hope to leave the slaughter today for the last time. I can smell the fear in the younger lambs and wish I could comfort them.

But they've smelt the blood already.

I find Madge who is as pretty as a picture in a new dress and her signature gold pin pinned to her dress. She hopes to leave the slaughter today as well. She's got a taste of life and she's not ready to go to the slaughter.

Effie Trinket comes to the stage in green get up this year. Her hair is a bright green. Her outfit a mix of greens with puffy sleeves, flares, and cut-outs. She wears sky-high heels that she can barely walk in.

She taps the microphone, begins her usual spiel before we watch the same video we watch every year. The video that tries to inspire us to be great. District 12's involvement is always laughed at and no one is ever inspired. The lambs aren't ready.

Haymitch Abernathy is surprisingly sober this year.

He has been almost sober since Bannock's involvement in the games and is beginning to show he wants to fight.

Haymitch has actually extended his kindness to Peeta since Bannock's death. Peeta hasn't told me this but Haymitch had been supplying him with a small allowance and has always kept an eye on Peeta. A parcel always makes its way to Peeta on the first day of the month filled with mostly money or anything else that he finds applicable.

I don't know if he's up to something and I'm not too keen on his intentions with Peeta. But Peeta accepts his help.

Haymitch looks out at the crowd, looks amongst the lambs and tries to not show emotion as the call for slaughter begins.

It'd be hard to have the death of nearly thirty kids on your hands.

"Ladies first." Effie Trinket announces.

She reaches into the bowl, searching for a slip.

I haven't taken out any tesserae. Either has Prim. Dad didn't want us putting our names in there in exchange for food. He always ensured he had something we could trade. We never had to put any extra slips in.

I know Peeta has though. His uncle forcing him to put his name in for extra food. He was constantly pressured into doing so. He thinks he has over 40 slips in the bowl.

"You deserve to die in that arena just like your brother did. Your brother who sacrificed his life for you."

Effie finds a slip and turns to the microphone.

"Esme Banner." She calls. It's a 15-year-old girl from the Merchant class. Her parents own a clothing boutique.

No one volunteers for the lamb. Her mother cries. She stands before the district knowing that this is where she leaves us, it's time to head to the slaughter.

Effie moves on to the male bowl and dips her hand in. I can see Peeta tense up. He believes it will be him. The extra slips in the bowl make him a target. Make his odds higher and higher.

Effie smiles when she finds the slip. I grasp Madge's hand tightly and close my eyes.

"Jonah Green."

My eyes open when I realize it's Peeta's cousin who has just aged into the reaping. The first year he's stood before the slaughter. It's rare but sometimes the baby lambs are picked at the reaping. Those lambs make for great entertainment.

The crowds step back from Jonah as Effie calls for him.

"Fred, no." I hear someone cry. "Don't do this."

"Volunteer you, coward!" Frederick Green calls out from behind the crowd of children. "Volunteer!"

And we know who he is telling to volunteer. He wants Peeta to sacrifice his life for his cousin.

Frederick pushes through the crowd towards Peeta.

"He volunteers. Peeta Mellark volunteers."

"I do not." Peeta calls back as he is pushed by his uncle.

"Sir, please." Effie tries to calm him down.

"Move that crippled leg of yours and volunteer." He grabs Peeta by the collar and forces him to move, Peeta trips over onto the ground. "If you had any values you'd volunteer for your cousin. He's only 12."

"I'm not volunteering." Peeta tells him from the ground. He doesn't want to. He has been set free from the slaughter. Frederick falls to the ground, fists flying in the air. He gets one good punch in before the Peacekeepers pull them apart. Fred kicking and his fists flying. I run for Peeta.

"You're scum. I hope you burn in hell." Frederick tells his nephew. "You're nothing like your brother's. You have no family values. You're rotten. You should have died in that fire." He yells. "You don't deserve to breathe. Go and live your life in the Seam with that fucking Everdeen girl you have a permanent hard-on for. You're not my family you piece of…"

The butt of the gun hits him in the temple, knocking him out and silencing him.

The crowd looks at Mr. Green's unconscious body and then at his eldest son who stands up on the stage shaking from what he's just witnessed. He's smelt the blood. He can sense the fear. He knows this is it.

It could have easily been a bullet put into Fred Green's head but they're allowing the lamb the chance to say goodbye.

The public humiliation will likely cause the business to suffer for a short while. Despite the son being in the games, no one will step foot in the florist.

A few of our classmates' comfort Peeta, ensuring he's alright as Effie finishes the reaping.

We send them off to the slaughter and watch as the doors to The Justice Building close them in.

Peeta's prosthetic has broken, cracked in half. Most likely from the fall or the fact it's too old for him.

"We'll have to get you a crutch." I tell him. My father has found us. "His prosthetic is broken." I tell Dad.

Dad reaches down, helping him up off the ground. "Will you be right to hobble back to the house?"

Peeta nods and they head on home. Dad leading us away from the slaughter. I carry his broken prosthetic and watch as the crowd slowly disappears back home. Some go to say goodbye to the tributes but we don't dare step foot in the Justice Building.

But I am safe from the slaughter. And Prim, she'll have to face it alone next year.

"I don't know how we're going to fix it." Dad tells Peeta.

"It's alright, I can use some crutches for a while until I can afford a new one." He replies, holding a cold press to his eye.

That night, Peeta and I sit on the couch together, Mom, Dad, and Prim all gone to bed. They play the reaping over and over. District 12 incident has been cut and edited to seem like it ran normally, you can only notice that Effie is slightly flustered. Only the District 12 residents will know what happened that day.

Peeta reaches for my hands, squeezing them with his hands and resting them on his lap.

He plays the game we started four years earlier when he healed with us.

"We've aged out, real or not real?" He asks.

"Real." I tell him. "We're safe, real or not real?"

"Real." He answers softly. He kisses my temple and brings me closer to his body. "I was so scared I'd lose you today."

"Me too."

"I think we should get married. It'll be the only way to survive." He says. "I won't survive working in the mines and I don't want to live in the boarding cottage. If we marry we'll have our own house. I can work from home, I can bake and paint and create things. And you can work for the Undersee's." He says. "We'll make it work."

"When do you want to sign the papers?"

"As soon as we can."

He presents me with an engagement token, one he pulls from his luggage.

"Katniss, will you marry me?" He asks with a purple colored pearl. It's beautiful.

"Yes."

It's a pearl he tells me he found at the Hob last week. Greasy Sae let him have it and he carefully turned it into a charm to hang from the locket he gave me.

He kisses me and that night, we break mother and father's rule by sharing a bed. We only hold each other, our legs entwined, my head resting on his chest and his arms holding me to his body.

Mom and Dad congratulate us on our engagement the next morning.

"When is the toasting?"

"As soon as we're assigned a house." I tell her.

There's a knock on the door after breakfast, a Capitol attendant with a package for Peeta.

"Peeta Mellark." The attendant says. "Package." He tells him, holding out the package.

Peeta opens it. "Who got me a prosthetic?"

The attendant shrugs his shoulders and is gone after he is sure it fits Peeta well. It's better made than his previous one. This one fits him better, doesn't rub or pinch his skin.

"How is it?" I ask him.

"Perfect." He tells me, smiling from ear to ear.

We go to the Justice Building to book in our wedding and organize our house. The Government issued families with a house for free. If you were single, there was a small fee involved and most people couldn't afford the house and ended up in the single boarding cottages. Most married for the sake of marrying.

But what Peeta and I are doing, it's something different. There's genuine love and even if we're not there yet, we will be.

It was always bound to happen. I always think we would have ended up together.

We can move into our house by the end of the week and our wedding is planned for that same day.

"What cake do you want?" He asks me on the walk home.

"Whatever you want to make me."

"And bread to toast?"

"Bread filled with raisins and nuts." He smiles at me, remembering the loaf he gifted me years before in the rain.

It's ultimately the bread that started our story. His generosity is what brought me to want to save his life three years later. To offer him the same type of compassion he showed me.

Hope began that day. And hope is continuing to grow between us.

We go and check out our home. It's right by the meadow with a blooming garden. It's one of the biggest houses in the Seam.

"Plenty of room for us." He tells me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. There'd be room for a studio for Peeta and somewhere to bake. I always loved this house when I was a child, always dreamt of living in it. Now, my dreams were coming true.

I turn to him, wrap my arms behind his head and smile at him. "Thank you for making me the happiest person in the world."

He kisses me in front of our future home and everything feels right.

---

"Katniss." Mom calls.

I see her enter the room from the reflection of the mirror. Peeta is getting ready at the Hawthorne's, Dad helping him get ready. Peeta has bought a suit and a tie to wear for the occasion. Hazelle and Mom have mended Mom's wedding dress instead of me renting one. It's bohemian with vintage lace, short sleeves and backless. It's beautiful and I want to cherish it forever.

"You look beautiful." She tells me. She has a proud smile on her face and I smile back at her.

She helps me do my hair, braiding my hair up into an updo. Prim had picked some flowers earlier, that Mom carefully places into my hair.

"Peeta is going to love it."

I can't help but smile. I never imagined this day, never imagined getting married and having a family but I can't help but love the idea.

"There are a few things I wanted to give you." She tells me. I hadn't noticed she brought in a box filled with items.

It is filled with sheets, crockery, vases, a copy of the plant book, a nightgown, a brooch and photo frame.

"And there's one last thing." She tells me handing me a diary, a bag of herbs and contraception. The form that only Merchant people can afford.

"I know we've talked about this but you're getting married. There are expectations and things that happen in a marriage. I know you haven't spoken about kids but this gives you and Peeta a chance to settle into your life and not worry about any added stress of children." She tells me. "The diary is to keep track of your cycle when you're intimate with each other, moods, emotions and everything else. If you need anymore come and ask."

"Thanks, Mom."

"And don't put too much pressure on yourselves when you both decide to share your first time together. You will make the decision when you are both ready. Don't rush it either. Enjoy being together, enjoying falling in love, enjoy the privacy and being adults. Enjoy sneaky kisses, touches, and gazes. Just enjoy each other's company. Fall for each other and grow together slowly, learn about each other and how your body responds to different things. It's now your time to live and grow and have some fun."

I blush a little. My mother and I had never spoken to each other like this before. After she sat me down and told me all about the birds and the bees, I ran to the woods and hid out for the afternoon, too embarrassed to think and consider the changes my body was going through. I hadn't at 13 even considered a boy touching me let alone considering having sex with someone.

And since then, I've always blushed at the thought, even talking to my mother about it. But she deals with this daily, she's always patient and accepting. And now that I'm an adult and have found someone she likes, she wouldn't judge me. And I feel like I could be open with her.

"Just enjoy your life. You've finally got your dandelion in the spring."

She kisses my forehead and does a final check.

Prim is downstairs holding a bouquet of flowers for me. This is a little over the top for a District 12 wedding but my mother always told me about her wedding, how my father brought her a bouquet of flowers to hold during the ceremony. Flowers that they pressed in a book to preserve for years to come.

They said a few words in the meadow on their way to their house for the toasting. Words shared in private before crossing the threshold into their marital home.

Mom, Dad, and Prim walk with me to the Justice Building.

Peeta has his back to us when we enter the Justice Building. He is looking at the paintings on the wall, admiring the sculptures and architectural work. He had no family coming to watch. No friends. No one. He didn't invite anyone.

But a few of his friends show up. Delly, Carter, and Lincoln. Their friendship fell out after the fire but they don't fault Peeta for that. They've had a lot more to do with him in the last two weeks than in the last four years.

And I invited them to witness their friend get married which they told me they didn't want to miss.

Peeta is speechless when he sees his friends enter the Justice Building. He hugs them all and thanks them as they congratulate him.

And then he sees me enter behind my family.

And he is even more speechless.

"You look beautiful." He tells me, reaching for my hand.

I smile at him, blushing and admire him in his suit and forest green tie.

We kiss after we sign our forms and pose for a photograph.

"Congratulations to Mr. and Mrs. Mellark." The official announces, handing over our certificate. "May your lives be filled with happiness and love."

Our mother directs everyone to meet at the house at 4 pm when we'll cross the threshold and gather for some food and cake. Where we'll build the fire and toast.

Peeta and I make our way to the meadow but we're stopped by his uncle who comes charging out of the florist, headed directly for Peeta.

My father and all the Hawthorne men protect us from Fred Green.

He hasn't handled things since Jonah left on the train. He's been making a nuisance out of himself in the square. Has been drinking and passing out. The peacekeepers have been returning him home quite often.

"You get married and not invite me? Not invite your family? You are useless, Peeta. Hope your new wife doesn't mind having a dud like you."

I push my bouquet into Peeta's hands and step between Gale and Rory Hawthorne.

"You know what, you don't even know what Peeta is like. You say he's all these things but he is because you made him. You didn't care to see who he truly was. You don't care about him. You tried to turn him into something he's not. But I cared about him. I got to know him. I nurtured him to be who he is. I love him, something you failed to do. He is my dandelion in the spring." I tell him. "And I know it sucks that Jonah got reaped but don't go taking it out on other people. Go and be with your family because they're hurting just as much as you. They need you at this time." I say gently. "I'm going to go and be with my family, just like you should be."

He looks at all of us, his eyes welling with tears before he steps back. He doesn't say a word, looks at his nephew for a long while before he turns around and returns home. His wife waiting at the front of the shop for him with their two youngest hiding behind her legs.

I comfort Peeta when we get to the meadow. We go and find the big willow tree. He kisses me softly on the lips, brushing the stray pieces of hair away from my face.

"I will never be able to thank you." He tells me.

"You don't have to." I tell him. "I want this."

I rest my head on his chest and he kisses the top of my head. Trees dance in the breeze, the dandelions sway and the birds sing their best song in the afternoon light.

"Here I am, just a guy standing in a suit, wishing to promise you whatever you want." He says.

"And I'm just a girl standing here in a white dress." I repeat. "Wishing to give you a good life."

"What do we want to promise each other?" He asks.

"To be patient." I add.

"Kind."

"There for each other."

"From this day on." He finishes. "This is our promise to each other." He says. "We're just two people standing together in a suit and a white dress, pledging the rest of our lives together."

"Will you stay with me?"

"Always." He tells me after a brief silence. We share another kiss before we retreat from the willow tree and head to our home. We can see it from the meadow and I can't wait to grow old in this home with Peeta.

Our family is waiting for us at the house. They smile at us and Peeta picks me up, surprising me and carries me down our footpath and over the threshold.

There's music played throughout the afternoon as we eat food and share the cake Peeta made. We dance in the living room around the bodies that sit and stand in our presence. In District 12, when there is music, we dance. The few instruments that have made its way play folksy tunes and we all dance. Peeta sits out for most of it, watching Prim and myself dance until I drag him up. It's a slower tune, one that Peeta can keep up with and we sway from side to side. Everyone has someone to dance with. I am just overwhelmed with the feeling of love that is filling this home. I hope love always fills this home.

It's late when we go to build the fire to toast the bread.

Peeta builds the fire and I slice a piece of bread. Our guests leave us to be as the fire catches and give us our chance to have our toasting. We kneel in front of the fire and together toast the nut and raisin bread before we share it together with butter melting into the toast.

He feeds me a piece and I feed him a piece.

And that's when we feel married, right then after our toasting. We share a long kiss in front of the fire, sealing our future as the flames flicker.

He carries me to our bed and places me on my feet at the foot of it.

"Katniss there doesn't have to be anything happen tonight." He tells me. "I don't want there to be any pressure on us."

"Me either." I admit.

"Do you just want to hold each other?"

I nod, smiling at him.

He helps take the flowers out of my hair, laying them out on the dresser. He undoes my hair, shaking my braids out and lets my hair fall in waves down my back. He unzips my dress for me and turns his back to allow me to dress into my nightgown. He has stripped out of his shirt and suit pants and pulls on a pair of pajama pants. He sits on the edge of the bed and goes to remove his prosthetic but I stop him.

"Let me." And I remove it for him, laying it beside the bed. I kiss the scar of his stump and help him swing around into the bed. He pulls me beside him and holds me in his arms.

"Today was amazing." I tell him.

"I thought so too." He smiles. "I haven't had that much fun in a long time."

"Did you ever picture your wedding to be like that?"

He ponders for a while. "Not with you. It would have a been a lot less of a celebration and more of a quiet affair. A chore. There's just not the same amount of life in Town as there is here in The Seam."

"We don't have a lot but we make up for it in other ways." I tell him.

"You all have big hearts and know how to party."

I feel safe. I know, I won't be able to sleep apart from him for the rest of my life, he settles me, calms me, wards away bad dreams and inspires only the good dreams.

And I know, he now only has good dreams. He told me the other night how he hasn't slept this good since he lived with us during his recovery. How he constantly had bad dreams and nightmares. But now, he feels safe.

"I am your husband, real or not real?" He asks me. It was tedious for us to still be playing this game. Childish even but it got us by. It will get us through tough times.

"Real." I reply. "You are home, real or not real?"

"Real. Home is wherever you are."

---

Peeta's cousin dies two days later. He dies during the first night, killed at the hands of the careers. It's a pain-free death but Peeta still mourns.

I give him his space but am close by if he needs me. He takes a loaf of bread to his Uncle as a sign of respect. He embraces his aunt and hugs his cousins who don't really understand that their brother has died. He leaves them to mourn as Jonah's death is played over and over.

It's the first time in the history of the games that I've witnessed the Careers actually stop and wait for the hovercraft to take the body away. They kiss their three fingers and hold it up in the air as Jonah is lifted away.

Something has shifted within the game. The dynamics, the way it's played out, the tributes. Something is different this year and I can't quite put my finger on it.

When we return home, he wants to just sit on the couch and hold me. We sit together in the silence of our home.

I cook us dinner and we eat together at our kitchen table. He cleans up and I give him his space, going and having a bath and going to bed with a book Madge leant me.

I must fall asleep before Peeta comes to bed. I wake to find him taking the book from me, tucking me into bed and switching the light off.

In the darkness, we kiss, our hands roaming over each other's bodies slowly and tenderly.

He touches my breasts over the material of my nightgown, squeezing them gently as he kisses me. His lips wander from my lips across my cheek and down to my neck. He sucks the skin there, causing my back to arch in response. His lips move further down, along my collarbone, the hollow of my neck and down my chest.

I tug at my nightgown, letting the straps fall down over my shoulders and exposing my breasts to him.

"You're beautiful." He whispers to me. And I believe him.

---

He is up before dawn every morning baking bread which he sells to the neighbors in The Seam. He drops some loaves to the Hob, trading for some cheese and nuts.

Word catches on and from early in the morning, people are lining up outside of the house waiting for bread. Even those from Town venture all the way in. The demand is so high that he always sells out.

"They love your bread."

"They all grew up eating Mellark's bread." He tells me as we clean up.

I've started my job gardening for the Mayor and Peeta has focused his energy and time into creating things again.

He is drawing and painting again which is a huge feat. We grow together, learn to live side by side and under the same roof. In just a short amount of time, I know I love him.

After 12 days, The Games ended with a mass suicide from the Careers at the end, leaving Esme Banner from our District the winner.

Our District has been in celebration. It's the first time in 26 years that we've had a winner. The district prepares for the celebration for when Esme returns home at the end of the week and the focus turns to us as the cameras will capture her arriving home.

Peeta and I had some wine the night she was crowned. A bottle we were given as a gift for our wedding. We shared a glass together and fooled around on the couch.

We're becoming more daring, more loving and hungrier for each other. We're learning about each other's bodies, taking turns pleasuring each other and seeing more and more of each other's bodies.

He traps me between the counter and his body, pressing his body close to mine before he lifts me up onto the bench kissing me. He unbuttons my pants, tugging at them slightly.

"We should clean up." I tell him as he kisses my neck.

"That can wait." He tells me, lifting me up off the bench and carrying me to our living room. He lays me on the couch, pulling my pants down my olive legs before he kneels between my legs, pulling my panties down.

I never knew this type of hunger existed and now we crave this, crave each other's bodies like it's a necessity. And this has become Peeta's favorite thing, his head buried between my legs.

There's a knock on the door and a voice.

A voice that sounds a lot like my sister.

I push Peeta off of me. "Prim's here." I tell him as he looks at me confused. "I told her we'd have lunch." I inform him.

"And you forgot to tell me?"

"Sorry, we've had other things on our mind." I tell him and he laughs, handing me my clothes.

I redress as Peeta goes to answer the door.

"Hey, Prim." He asks her slightly out of breath.

Prim comes inside, notices how hot and flustered we are but doesn't say anything. She shrugs it off like it's nothing and sits down at the table. She's brought along some cheese from Lady.

We have sandwiches and fresh lemonade before she heads off to meet Rory for the afternoon.

She's so smitten." Peeta comments as we watch her head down the street.

"Say's you." I tell him, pinching his butt and smirking. I run on off, heading back to work.

"You'll pay for that tonight."

I giggle and blow him a kiss as I head on back to work.

I end up at the station to look at what needs to be done for tomorrow. I sit in the shade writing a plan and hear the station attendants speaking.

"They're not happy in the Capitol." One of them says.

"Why?"

"The careers showed them up. The Capitol hates being showed up."

"So, what's going to happen?"

"Nothing, they have a winner and they will turn her into something she's not."

I feel a shiver go down my spine. Winning the games looked wonderful but in reality, you never owned yourself. You couldn't step foot out of line and make Snow look stupid. You had to be a puppet and do everything he says. Peeta told me this just the other night when I asked about Haymitch. Haymitch showed up the Capitol, paid for it with his family being killed. Much like Peeta's family paid for Bannock's actions.

A lot of the Victor's do what the President says or they lose the ones they love. It's happened to a few of them. Most oblige to keep their family safe.

"Esme will be fine. Abernathy will keep an eye on her." The attendant says.

A few days later, Esme's train pulls in. She stands on a stage, waving at the crowd who welcome her home with wide arms. We celebrate with a feast in the square. There's music, lots of food and some wine. We dance, eat and celebrate the extra food.

Peeta and Haymitch chat in the distance and I try to read lips, try to figure out what's going on.

Peeta and I walk on home, cutting the celebrations short. It's the anniversary of the fire and his cousin was brought home in a pine box, buried earlier this afternoon before the party begun.

Peeta attended the funeral and then laid flowers for his mother, father, and brothers.

I comfort him that evening, letting him cry and grieve for his family. He used to not be allowed to mourn them when he lived with his Uncle. He wasn't allowed to show emotion.

This year, I allow him to mourn and the chance to grieve after all those years he was refused.

I'm there for him.

---

"How are you feeling?" Peeta asks me. I've gotten a case of the flu that has been going around the District the last few weeks and lucky me, I've gotten it a second time.

I groan, rolling over to cuddle him. It's our anniversary. Two years of being married and living together.

Peeta is a whole different person. It's like he's been reborn. And he much resembles the dandelions in the spring. He is a wonderful husband, he loves me, cherishes me, is patient and kind.

He's successfully running a bakery from our house, selling mostly bread but also creating special orders like cakes. I always have a constant supply of cheese buns.

He is also painting again. He is drawing. The house is covered in his drawings and paintings and I love coming home to the bright colors of his creations. Most of them are of me but I like seeing the way he creates me on the paper. He constantly draws the people of The Seam. Those on their way to the mines, backs bent and bodies aching, he draws the kids as they play in the meadow, Prim falling in love with Rory, my parents and anything else he can get his hands on.

And every morning, there's always a flower waiting on his pillow for when I wake up. It's the little things, the simple gestures of romance that make me smile.

The second bout of the stomach flu has come from the kids Peeta and I watch a couple afternoons a week. The kids aged 3 and 6 months old both had the flu, giving it to me. Peeta had a bread run and I watched the two of them by myself. Their mother insisted she stay but I shooed her off.

And now I was paying for it again. 6 weeks later.

My stomach lurches and I go running, emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet. Peeta rubs my back, holds my hair back and ensures I'm fine.

He offers me water and wipes my mouth with a cloth.

"Happy Anniversary." I say to him.

He laughs gets me settled back into bed before he gets ready for the day.

He sells the bread when the miners go underground. There's enough bread to go around now and nobody misses out. He does a bread run after lunch, delivering all around town before he returns home and starts preparing dough for the next day. With the money he had made, he bought himself a big bakers oven which keeps up with the demand. Next plan was to buy a bakery with his earnings.

It's nice having a house that smells like fresh bread, sugar, and spice.

I must sleep as he trades because when I wake it's midmorning and he brings me toast and a cup of tea.

I manage to stomach that and he sits up with me in bed.

"I'll make you sick again." I tell him.

"I don't mind." He replies.

We were in no rush to have children. I've slowly come around to the idea but we wanted to enjoy our time together while building up a successful business and steady careers. Peeta had plans to have a bakery running within 12 months, opened by his 21st.

For now, we were enjoying our lives.

But I know the way Peeta looks at me when I hold baby Brielle, how I am around Cade.

"You'll make a great mother someday." He tells me. Truth be told, he'd also make a great father.

But we were in no rush.

He leaves me in bed to tidy up. The reaping had taken place last week, a girl from the Seam was reaped and a boy from the Merchant side reaped. They were both 16. They had better odds but stranger things have happened for the lambs who attended the slaughter.

I sleep most of the afternoon with just an unsettled stomach. I've had a few close calls and have resorted to sitting beside the toilet bowl.

My mother has sent over some herbs to put into my tea and a reminder to drink a lot of fluids.

He tickles my back as I lay in bed. A cup of herbal tea drunk and some water to sip on. He hums songs to me and I just rest my eyes. I feel protected and safe in his arms. No matter what will happen, he'll have my back.

The next morning, I spring out of bed and go to the woods with Dad. I hardly go out anymore except for on Sunday's with Dad. We meet well before dawn and make our way through the woods returning just after sunrise with our haul. We always have a cup of tea and a cheese bun before we go back through the fence. Dad going to do the trading and me going home to Peeta.

We usually make love when I return from the woods. He has usually finished for the day and is usually waiting for me at the front door. He closes the door behind us, takes off my coat and leads me down to our bedroom where we usually spend most of the morning under our sheets. Our bed sheets always smell like the woods, sugar, and cinnamon.

Today we check our snares and traps, reset them and try our luck at some game. We end up with a good haul, fat rabbits, squirrels and fowl birds. Dad gives me a bird and he goes to trade quickly before the games start. My stomach still feels a bit queasy but I manage to make it home.

"You alright?" Peeta asks.

"Just feel a little queasy." I tell him.

"Go and lay down and I'll bring you a cup of tea."

I lay down on the couch and Peeta brings me my tea. The Games have just started.

"Should I get your Mom?"

I shake my head. "I'm fine."

He stays at my side as the Games play out. No one is killed in the bloodbath. The Careers give the rest of them a head start as they stand on the pedestals. It's bizarre watching a game that used to be so bloodthirsty resorting to this. I'm confused if this is their tactic but the rest of the tributes run for the safety of the thick bushlands.

A knock at our door wakes us up and its Mom, Dad, and Prim. They've come for lunch and we sit around the table enjoying a spread. Jas comes over with the kids after lunch and Prim plays with Cade out in the garden. Brielle happily sitting on Peeta's lap.

"Are you sick again?" Mom asks me.

"Yeah, I've got that stomach flu again." I tell her, handing Brielle her wooden toy she's dropped.

She studies me for a second and then leaves it. She'll have something to say later on when we're alone.

Prim comes inside with Cade crying.

"What happened?" Mom asks.

"He fell. I'm so sorry, Jas. I was watching him and he…"

"It's fine, Prim. He's a boy who is into everything." Jas assures her as she takes Cade, comforting him. "Hey big boy, let me have a look."

"He'll need it stitched." Mom tells Jas. "Come on, I'll take you back to the house and take a look at it."

Peeta and I stay home with Brielle. She sits on my stomach clapping and giggling. Peeta sits in the chair sketching and occasionally looking over at Brielle and me.

"I know we said we'd wait but that really suits you."

I smile, pulling a silly face at Brielle. "We have a bakery to open first." I remind him.

"I know we do." He smiles. "One day."

I didn't admit to him that I had dreams about our children constantly. Children we'd take to the meadow and watch play. Chubby, blonde haired babies who laid amongst the daisies and sung songs to each other. There were two little babies hanging out in the meadow together. Brother and sister. But I hoped to gift the world with more Mellark's. One's who took the words of the song for granted, who danced in the meadow, painted and baked. Who were the dandelions in the spring.

---

My stomach flu lingers for a few days. The Games play on but are slower and not as gritty as they usually are. The game makers intervene, creating drama and obstacles. The tributes are killed off by game maker devices rather than by each other.

Little Cade shows off his pirate patch that covers the three stitches he needed.

"You're the coolest little pirate." Peeta tells Cade as he sits upon our kitchen bench. We're having dinner, something that has become a normal thing in the two years we've lived next to each other. We usually have dinner after we watch the kids.

Peeta usually bakes a nice loaf of bread or dinner rolls to go with our meal and some type of dessert he makes with Cade. Tonight's was a flaky chocolate creation. One that had my mouth salivating.

Our TV turns on automatically and we know something has happened. Some type of breaking news.

It couldn't be the games, there was still 8 contestants left. Something bigger had happened.

"We interrupt your current screening with breaking news." The newsreader begins. "Reports are coming from the Mansion that President Snow is dead. I repeat, President Snow is dead."

"What?" Peeta asks, coming into the living room.

"President Snow was found by mansion staff this morning unresponsive. Despite numerous attempts to revive him, he could not be revived. He leaves behind his daughter and granddaughter." She states. "There are no words on the games and there will be a press conference held 5 pm Capitol time."

"I did not see that coming." I admit.

"Katniss, he was old. He was probably close to being well into his 90's. It was bound to happen. And his appearances in the public were declining as the years went on."

"Let's just hope his replacement is decent." I say to Peeta, holding Brielle close to my body.

We eat dinner and dessert and play with the kids. Brielle sits on her mother's nap nursing and Cade tucked beside his father.

The games have come to a bit of a standstill and the kids have a moment to breathe. The press conference starts and some young, up and coming politician is appointed after a unanimous vote.

He's in his mid-thirties and has a lot of potential.

"Someone new to ruin our lives." Des adds with a frown, looking down at his two children who he can't really protect.

The games will continue as normal.

"He might do a good job." Jas adds.

"If he keeps our children from starving and sending them into those terrible games then that's when I'll say he's doing a good job." I say.

The next day, the four remaining careers end their lives in an act that is almost similar to last year. A mass-suicide. It leaves District 7 to become the winner of the game.

Johanna Mason appears on screen, slightly pleased that they've won but I see the worry in her eyes. There's uncertainty of what really will happen now that President Snow is dead.

I don't watch anymore as I go running for the toilet.

I leave Peeta to head to my mothers with the baked goods that afternoon. I'll see him for dinner with my parents.

Mom is in the kitchen, putting together salves and lotions.

"Hey, how are you feeling?"

"Still a bit queasy." I tell her. Something that she is making makes my stomach start rolling.

She sits me down and does a quick examination.

"You don't have a temperature." She tells me. "Stomach flus don't linger this long."

She asks me all these questions, mostly about my body and my cycle.

"Don't freak out just yet but could you be pregnant?"

"What, no? Peeta and I have been safe."

"Were you two intimate when you had your first stomach flu?"

"Yes."

"There's a chance that the contraception failed."

"What?"

"If you were sick, it might not have been effective."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"Because it rarely happens." She tells me.

I rub my temples at a small headache that's coming along. "I can't be pregnant." I tell her. "We're not ready."

"You might not be but let's see."

She examines me, checking my cervix and gets me to take a test. We wait patiently together. Mom holding my hand.

I watch my mother. She's always had this incredible patience and non-judgemental attitude when it comes to her patients. And now, with her 20-year-old daughter sitting in an examination chair, she's calm and I think she's secretly hoping it'll be positive.

"It's time to see the test." She informs me. I exhale a deep breath and she goes to collect my test. She studies it for a long while I start to have doubt.

I had built up in my head in the few minutes of sitting, holding my mother's hand, images of my baby. Images of being pregnant. Of preparing for the baby. Of growing this being inside of my stomach. I caressed my stomach with my free hand and imagined what it would feel like to feel flutters and kicks inside of my stomach. I even imagined Peeta's reaction. Could picture his smile. Could feel his hands on my stomach.

And I fear that it's negative.

"Mom?"

She turns around, tears streaming down her face and I notice the smile as she holds the test.

"You're pregnant."

And I'm not as shocked as I thought I would be.

She embraces me, holding me in her arms tightly and squeezes me. "I know you didn't want this to happen but things happen for a reason."

She wipes the tears from my cheeks, kissing me and smiling at me.

"How do you feel?"

And I smile at her, my lips curving upwards into a beaming smile. A smile that I can feel right down to the tips of my toes.

I touch my stomach and hug my mother once more.

I help her with dinner and we wait for everyone to return home. There was a mandatory viewing tonight and our attention was needed in the square from 7 pm.

"How will you tell him?"

"I don't know." I tell Mom. "Maybe at the meadow."

The front door bursts open, Peeta running inside with Prim following behind.

"What's wrong?" We ask him.

"The peacekeepers left this morning."

"What?" I ask.

"What does that mean?"

"We're not going to the square." My father says running into the house.

"What's going on?"

"We're leaving."

"For where?"

"The woods. Now!" It's just after 6:30 and it doesn't leave a lot of time to get to the woods. To save our district.

Peeta and I run home, dodging those who are panicking and running in all different directions. We tell Des and Jas to pack a bag.

Peeta throws some clothes into a bag. I stuff my game bag with our possessions, the plant book, wedding photo and his drawings. We say goodbye to our home and go to find our family. Our friends.

The first bomb drops, coming over us from the west and dropping close to town.

We try to herd people to the meadow but some are scared of the tales they've been told and head right for the firing line.

We hide in the dense trees and try to remain undetected as we escape the district. I help them through the fence, Peeta carries kids who have lost their parents, Dad drags people towards the meadow as bombs fall on our district. Those who went to town had no hope of surviving.

And less than a thousand people make it to the woods. The rest lie under the rubble. We watch from the protection of the woods, our beautiful little town destroyed in a matter of minutes. Our houses were gone, our businesses, our memories all gone.

And we were made an example of. An example towards the other districts to not step out of line or this will become your home.

I'm still unsure what we did to deserve it. A bigger statement would have been to bomb District 1 or 2, not 12.

The fire burns but we're still breathing. These lambs escaped the slaughter.

For now.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #everlarkbirthdaydrabbles #everlarkbirthdaygifts #fan fic #by herainab

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nomettesbizzareadventure · 6 years

Text

3 card spread/ the king of wands

Part of a ongoing series! Read Chapters 1-3 here.

Chapter 4 will be posted in full this Sunday!

It’s bad form to speculate on the way to a fight, but Jotaro’s mind keeps circling back to the memory of Kakyoin’s bleeding body. Kakyoin’s chest had made an awful wet noise with every breath, and his blood had been warm and sticky on Jotaro’s clothes as it dried. By the end of the night, Jotaro had been shivering, draped in a cold layer of Kakyoin’s discarded life. He quickens his pace. He’s almost to the school.

His goals are clear: to find and defeat the stand users, and to rescue Kakyoin, who has probably been fighting against superior odds for some time. Kakyoin is experienced, intelligent, and strong-willed, but there’s only so much one person can do against two people. Jotaro will find and retrieve him. He refuses to consider any other possibility. To do otherwise would be an insult to Kakyoin’s strength.

The last gasps of sunset are fading from the reddened sky when he reaches the school. It’s never really night in Tokyo; the light pollution smears the night sky into a blood-bruised shade of grey. The school gates are smashed open, and a dark splash of blood is visible in the incriminating glare of the streetlights. Star Platinum retrieves a single scrap of torn green fabric from the gate. This is a piece of Kakyoin’s school uniform. Only a few nights ago, Jotaro had this same fabric spread on his bed as he kissed Kakyoin and unbuttoned his shirt. Kakyoin’s red hair was so brilliant against the emerald background, and his mouth was so warm against Jotaro’s. Jotaro never wants to see his uniform stained with blood again.

He strides forward into the building, Star Platinum at the ready, all senses on high alert. The front of the school is a mass of shadows, and Ryu’s already proven his ability to move unseen. The front door of the school is open and in the distance Jotaro can hear the faint sound of voices borne by the wind. The hallway is dark, and the lights flicker, casting a strange light across the bloody hallway before flaring into life.

Jotaro looks over the blood splatters and thinks. Someone, probably Kakyoin, ran down this hallway, dripping blood as they went. They weren't badly hurt- nothing more than a superficial slice, probably to their left arm. Someone else pursued. The pursuer wasn’t in a hurry. They took care not to step in the blood, but slipped up in one spot and left the outline of a heel.

Movement at the edge of Jotaro’s vision. There’s a saccharine anti-bullying poster plastered on the wall, depicting a smiling face with the caption, “If you see something, say something!” The face and body of the poster are normal, but the eyes- the eyes bulge out from the paper, the pupils square, the iris moving as they turn to stare at Jotaro.

“Ora!” Star Platinum says, and rips the paper into shreds. The next poster on the wall blinks, and suddenly they’re all looking at him, every poster animated with the same malevolent gaze.

Star Platinum tears through the corridor, ripping the posters to shreds, but the feeling of being watched persists. The eyes are everywhere. He can feel their attention on him like a spotlight, tracking his every move. This must be Mei’s stand. Jotaro didn’t want to believe that she was involved. But he’s seen this malevolent gaze in action before- no action, no matter how small, ever escapes the class representative’s attention.

“Good grief,” Jotaro mutters. Just what he needed- another gossip.

He steps forward, and the window shatters. Glass sprays into the hallway. Jotaro jerks backwards, Star Platinum deflecting the shards. In the midst of the sparkling shards, a single spent bullet lies smoking, but Jotaro didn’t hear a gun go off. The next window down the hall breaks, and then the next, and then the next, until the whole hallway is filled with smoking shards. It’s not an attack. It’s… a distraction.

Something grazes the side of Jotaro’s leg, spraying blood across the hallway.

Jotaro stops time.

He turns, and comes face to face with a bullet. A moment more, and it would be buried in his skull. In the darkened space beyond the hallway, a deeper shadow can be seen: an elongated shadow in the approximate shape of a man. Ryu’s stand. Star Platinum snatches the bullet out of the air and tosses it down the hall, but though Jotaro squints into the cavernous darkness, there’s no sign of Ryu. Jotaro hopes the bullet catches him in the forehead.

He needs to find Kakyoin, so he takes his remaining seconds and runs.

Time resumes once he’s around the corner, out of range of Ryu’s bullets. The wind is rattling through the broken windows, filling the school with a eerie howl. A pair of eyes track him hungrily from the photographic display on the wall. Star Platinum drives his fist into the glass, shattering the display, but the eyes only reappear in the next poster.

Fuck it. It’s just like a normal school day. Hundreds of eyes watching him, Ryu is being annoying, and he just wants to find Kakyoin and go home.

A voice speaks.

“Do you think you’re going to win, Kakyoin? Imagine that you do. You and your boyfriend beat me, and then you go home. You lose your stand, of course. But that doesn’t matter, right?”

Kakyoin is alive. Kakyoin is somewhere nearby. He must be. Mei’s voice is overpoweringly clear, but he can’t see her. He calls on Star Platinum to check the area, and his stand lets loose a barrage of punches, but there’s nothing there. Jotaro is alone in the darkened hallway, Mei’s words crawling down his spine. He sprints through the darkened hallway, heading towards the stairs.

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy living a peaceful life. When you get the news that Jotaro’s been killed in the line of combat, you won’t even be upset. By then, you won’t have seen each other in years. Kujo won’t have any use for someone who can’t fight by his side.”

Jotaro sneers. Kakyoin on his deathbed would be better company than Mei. In the following silence, he hurries down the corridor and up towards the stairs. He imagines that Kakyoin is making some sort of reply.

He’s almost to the stairwell when he hears Mei’s voice again.

“Careful,” she says. “Talk like that will make your mouth bleed.” Jotaro can only imagine that in the intervening silence Mei is hurting Kakyoin. He hurries into the stairwell, then pauses. For the first time, he can hear the distant sound of Kakyoin’s voice.

“Your punishment will be severe,” Kakyoin is saying. His voice is cold and haughty, composed in spite of whatever Mei is doing to him. Jotaro feels an unexpected stab of relief. He’s not one to worry. But Kakyoin’s parents died. If Kakyoin died, Jotaro would- Jotaro would-

No. Now’s not the the time to think about that.

“Someone who acts like an authority should be held to a higher standard,” Kakyoin finishes.

“Agreed,” Mei says. “Last chance. Kujo’s not going to save you. But he didn’t save you last time, did he? You were in the hospital, and he was back at school with his stand and his arrow, killing innocent people. Don’t die for him.”

“Don’t make threats you can’t carry out, Mei,” Kakyoin says flatly.

“I don’t need to carry anything out, Kakyoin. I just need to wait. How much longer can you maintain your footing? One minute? Two minutes? Your web is thinning.” There’s a savage triumph in Mei’s voice.

No response from Kakyoin. The light of the moon shining in through the windows flickers and dies as a pair of huge, dark eyes blot out the glass. The pupil of each eye is a second eye with a strange, cross-shaped pupil.

“Kujo,” Mei says. “Come to watch your boyfriend die?”

Star Platinum shatters the glass, and the eyes vanish. Through the broken frames, Jotaro catches sight of the distant shape of Mei’s silhouette. She’s standing on the roof, the full moon shining behind her, an arrow held in one hand. Between them, another silhouette stands, impossibly situated on empty air. No- as Jotaro’s eyes adjust, he sees that Kakyoin is standing on top of Hierophant Green, which has spread out, forming a vast, intricate web between the four buildings that encircle the school’s central courtyard.

“Electric Eye!” Mei cries out, and points towards Jotaro. Her legs are splayed wide, one hand on her hip, the other pointed up towards the sky. Electric Eye’s face is a humanoid stand, its face obscured by a series of wide, slowly rotating rings, each of them emblazoned with dozens of eyes. Some of them are watching Kakyoin, others watching Jotaro, others tracking the windows and walls. Mei has apparently tired of using others to gather information for her.

Jotaro moves, and something slices through his skin. It feels like a hundred simultaneous papercuts, like he’s standing against a wall of knives, but Star Platinum’s fists catch on empty. There’s nothing there but the moonlight and the shadow of the battle above.

“While she’s looking at you, every line becomes sharp,” Kakyoin whispers. He must be using Hierophant Green to project his voice. “If you try to move while under the shadow of Hierophant’s Web, you’ll be cut to pieces.”

“I can hear you,” Mei says. Her voice is low, as intimate as if she were whispering in his ear. It makes Jotaro’s skin crawl. “You should be more worried about yourself, Noriaki.” She hefts a shape- a bow- and Jotaro realizes what’s going to happen in the instant before Mei pulls the arrow back and fires. Kakyoin jerks backwards, an arrow jutting from his shoulder. A cold, furious rage builds beneath Jotaro’s skin as she reaches into her quiver and takes aim again.

“Good grief. You wanted to talk to me? So talk.”

“I tried talking to you,” Mei snaps. “I tried talking to Kakyoin. I tried talking to your mother. But you’d rather kill someone than make small talk, isn’t that right, Kujo?”

She pulls back, ready to fire another arrow, and Kakyoin strikes. The strands of the web break all at once, and Kakyoin plummets downwards, crashing through a window and into the school, away from the effect of Mei’s Electric Eye. Jotaro takes the distraction and runs. Kakyoin is now somewhere on the fourth floor, in the south corridor, directly beneath Mei, while Jotaro is across from him on the second floor.

He summons Star Platinum and runs, his body aching with each step, the stab wound from earlier reopened and bleeding sluggishly down his side. Ryu will probably wait for him in the stairwell up to the roof- there’s only one way up, and Jotaro will need to take it to get to Mei.

“New World Order,” Ryu whispers.

There’s something slithering through the shadows. Star Platinum drives his fist into the wall and hits only plaster. A faint sound of distant laughter as the shadows regroup and spread across the wall, devouring the windows and roof until the light from the moon is blotted out. Jotaro swings again, and wheels on empty air. The absolute darkness is disconcerting- he can’t tell the window from the walls, or the ceiling from the floor- he’s absolutely adrift in an endless void.

Someone is whispering something, but Jotaro can’t make it out. It fades and rises in tone, a distant murmur that makes Jotaro’s skin prickle with dread. A pair of eyes appears in the darkness, and then another, and another, until Jotaro is surrounded by a multitude of slickly-gleaming watchers.

“Is that supposed to impress me? More faces for me to punch?” He swings his hand forward, stabbing his finger into the darkness, and Star Platinum surges forward with a shout. The eyes of Mei’s stand vanish under a barrage of blows so fierce they crack the walls. It doesn’t feel like an effort to destroy things with Star Platinum. It feels like getting go. The world is made of glass, and Jotaro spends every day trying not to break its delicate pieces in his too-strong hands.

The ceiling shatters. A bullet cuts a red line of pain across the outside of Jotaro’s thigh, and he grins. Ryu is a terrible shot. Star Platinum retrieves the spent bullet and hurtles it back into the darkness as blood soaks down Jotaro’s pants.

“You won’t hit New World Order like that,” Ryu says. His voice is faded, like a radio with run-down batteries, barely able to send out a signal. Jotaro thinks about the way Mei’s voice rang out clearly across the rooftops, the way Ryu always knows what to say to direct the teacher’s attention where he wants it. This must be New World Order’s power.

With a shout, Star Platinum lifts Jotaro upwards, propelling him through the overhanging darkness and into the dusty space of the floor overhead. Like Ryu, New World Order can change appearances, but not reality.

“I don’t need to hit your pathetic stand,” Jotaro says, and walks away. Though the darkness slides out along the floor and ceiling, Jotaro continues to walk, propelled by years of muscle memory. Appearance is irrelevant. Only actions matter. Ten steps to the next classroom, and twenty to the second. He’s at the corner when the darkness lifts all at once, blinding him with the painful immediacy of the moonlight.

Kakyoin is silhouetted against the moonlight, his back to the four story drop and a gun against his head.

“Kujo,” Ryu says. “Come up onto the roof, or he dies.”

Jotaro gives Ryu the finger, but he goes.

#jotakak #joka #jotaro x kakyoin #three card spread #a nomette writes #jjba #i wanted to throw something up before i post the final version of this in a few days #i've been fucking dying but now it's finally done #jazz hands

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