#partthree

Adrien flopped back onto his bed, filled with relief at the knowledge that his soulmate--Marinette--was alright.  That she wasn't hurt.  That he didn't have to transform tomorrow, call Ladybug, and somehow convince her to help him organize a search party for his missing beloved.  At the same time, he was surprised at the aching that remained in his chest--a kind of longing he hadn't felt since his mother's disappearance was still fresh--and he realized he wanted more.  Now that he had carried out a full conversation with his soulmate--Marinette, he reminded himself; that would take some getting used to--which was now saved in his phone as a collection of new photos, he realized he wanted to know her.  He didn't want to continue life, content to watch her doodles, content simply to know that she was there.  Because he wasn't content.  Not anymore.  He wanted to hear her voice, see a room lighten by her presence as she entered, make her scoff at his dumb puns the way Ladybug did. 

Ah, Ladybug.  What would she say when he told her about his Marinette? She'd always been so indulgent to him, laughing fondly as he gushed over her latest doodle, giggling at his determination to remain silent on his end, assuring him that any girl would be lucky to catch a guy as genuine as he.  She was certainly a true friend.  She would be so proud of his onslaught of bravery--but not before she laughed at his crippling fear that something had happened to her.  He could imagine her words now.  Oh, Chaton.  There are going to be days when she's too busy to pick up a pen and draw on herself, you know.  But he knew she secretly cared.  Secretly she sympathized because she knew what it was to be without a soulmate.  She knew, from this lack, the feeling of true loneliness--and she understood that his soulmate's presence was the only thing saving him from succumbing to that loneliness completely, just as her personal relationships with others protected her from the same. 

Maybe he could reassure her now.  After all, hadn't Marinette assumed he was dead because he'd never written to her before? Maybe her soulmate was just shy.  Shy like Adrien. 

Adrien was struck the next morning by another wave of intense longing when, at the crack of dawn--a time that no one should be up yet, mind you--he received a brief, 'Good morning, Sunshine! :)'  This time, she'd drawn a tiny ladybug; a tiny dotted line stretched out behind it to show where it had been, forming a delicate frame around the message.  This was followed by her trademark smiling sun, an inch down and to the right of the message.  He wanted so badly to respond, but he knew his father would have his head if he blatantly disobeyed his rule just to greet some "stranger" in the morning.  He'd gotten up extra early to scrub away his end of their previous conversation before his first photoshoot; he was lucky to have gotten away with that at all. 

"Plagg, we have to do something," he muttered as the crew broke apart for the day.  Thankfully, the absence of his fear for his girl had allowed him to focus more fully on posing just so, and his work for the day had been mostly painless, if not a little boring. 

Plagg flew out from Adrien's pocket to take hold of the cheese he offered.  "'bout what?" he mumbled around the snack. 

"About...me! My entire existence.  Plagg, I can't stand it anymore.  I have to meet her.  I have to." 

"I thought you wanted your identity secret," Plagg drawled.  "So you could be her sunshine child." 

"I do not want to be her sunshine child!" Adrien scowled at the kwami, who gave him a look until he thought over what he'd said.  He rolled his eyes.  "Alright, fine.  I'll give you that one."  Plagg grinned.  "But that's not the point.  The point is...my girl...Marinette, jeez I can't believe this is even real--Marinette is just...so great.  And I can't even talk to her.  I can't answer her when she says good morning.  I can't draw her flowers or sunshine or ladybugs.  My father would throw a fit! But I can't just...doing things one-sided isn't enough anymore.  We have to do something." 

Plagg regarded his Chosen for a few moments, munching thoughtfully on the last of his cheese.  "What about school?"

Gabriel Agreste was less than thrilled about Adrien's idea of attending public school. 

"Please, Father.  I promise, I'll be safe.  Chloe will be there; the mayor can make arrangements to make sure--"

"Adrien, this isn't something on which I'm negotiating.  My answer is final."

"But--"

"Final."  His father fixed him in his trademark stare, the one that scared his lesser and reminded his equals that they were, in fact, not so equal after all. 

Adrien searched his expression for the slightest weakness, and when there was none, he sighed and turned away.  "Yes, Father."  They stood there for another moment before he cleared his throat and requested his leave, as he had a piano recital to practice for the next week. 

"Excused," his father stated, never dropping that formal tone. 

Adrien sank into his desk chair staring at the Ladyblog session that was still open on his screens, hoping that maybe there would be an akuma just for an excuse to get out and let off some steam.  When he'd sat there staring for a full half-hour, he took up his pen and a deep breath, and began a quick message to Marinette. 

Marinette was just leaving an ice-cream place with Alya and Nino when she felt the still-new sensation of a pen on her arm.  She yelped and nearly threw her ice-cream cone at the passing flurry of pigeons. 

"Whoa there, girl! What happened to you?" Alya laughed and nudged her with her shoulder. 

"I--uh...just...thought I saw a spider on my cone! Crazy scary!"

Alya laughed and continued walking, and Marinette rubbed at her arm, grateful that the note was hidden at the moment by her jacket.  Alya would never let her hear the end of it if she found out her soulmate was alive and kicking--and hiding behind the alias of 'Sunshine'--the thought of that still made her blush.  Not to mention, she would start setting her up with all of the guys in their class to see if they were it--and if that didn't work, she'd move on to the rest of the school, and eventually, somehow, the rest of the city. 

That raised the question though...was Sunshine from Paris at all?

Marinette tried to sneak a look at the message when Alya was distracted by Nino, who had "bumped into them" about a half-hour ago.  The thought made her laugh.  She knew there was nothing accidental about Nino's sudden appearance at the same parlor; he'd heard them making their plans at the beginning of Ms. Mendeliev's class earlier, and--though the girl didn't know it--had the biggest crush on Alya.  Marinette thought this was fitting, as she'd realized the two were soulmates within a month of Alya's arrival at their school.  She didn't think the two had realized for themselves, but she enjoyed watching things play out. 

This train of thought was interrupted as soon as she got the gist of Sunshine's message: I'm hurting and I need someone.  Though he didn't say it in so many words, electing, instead, to scrawl a quick, 'Hey there, Marinette! I hope you had one fantastic day! Sorry for the silence today.  I thought I'd try to stick to my dad's rules but now...well I'm starting to realize it isn't worth it.  Funny how that happens sometimes, isn't it? Anyway! Hope things are dandy.  How's it coming with those designs?'

"Hey, guys?" Marinette glanced around for a quick escape.  "I...just got a text--I have some stuff to do at the bakery today.  Maman and Papa took on another order and they need someone to man the front.  Mind if I leave you to it?"

For once--thank heavens--Alya didn't notice the odd undertone in Marinette's voice, too preoccupied by Nino, who was now leaning into her bubble--hehe, pun; Nino's always had a thing with bubbles--to show her a new playlist he'd put together the other day. 

"Yeah, sure, girl.  Text you later?"

"Sure!"

Marinette turned and ran as fast as she could the other way, ducking into a familiar alley to rake her sleeve up her arm, baring it to the point of her pen.  She ignored Sunshine's greeting, apology, and question--basically she just ignored everything he'd said and jotted down, instead, a quick, 'Sunshine, are you okay? What happened?'

Then she stood there, waiting.  But his response didn't come.  Maybe...maybe he'd fallen asleep? But no, that wasn't right.  It had hardly been five minutes since he'd written the message.  Maybe he was thinking over a response.  Maybe she'd imagined his distress? She read through his words again and pondered them for a minute.  No, there was definitely something wrong.  She knew, even from their short conversation the night before what he sounded like when he was okay, and this was not okay.  She waited another moment before scribbling a prompting, 'Sunshine? Come on, are you okay?'

She paced in the alley for another ten, fifteen, twenty minutes.  Where was he? A glance out at the street told her it was getting dark.  Maybe she'd best head on home. 

But she'd barely made it two steps toward the opening of the alley before an uneasy feeling had her retreating back into the darkness.  No, she couldn't just go home when Sunshine was so upset.  It wasn't right.  It didn't feel right to just sit there and do nothing when she could have been--could have been--could have been what? Searching? Yelling? Hoping someone out on the streets would answer to the pseudonym 'Sunshine'? No, those things were plausible.  But she had to--she had to do something!

She wrote another message on her arm.  'Sunshine, please say something.  I need to know' she paused as her throat constricted with another wave of fear.  It took her a moment to finish.  'if you're okay.'

Still no answer. 

"Hey."

Marinette screamed and flailed her arms at the sudden voice behind her, turning with wide, frightened eyes to see the familiar glowing green eyes of her partner.  "Chat Noir! Thank goodness, Chat Noir, I need your help!"

"I'd say," he agreed flatly, and Marinette, in the back of her mind, realized that wasn't his usual tone either.  "What are you doing out here all alone? You could get hurt walking the streets this late at night." He placed a careful hand on her shoulder and turned her back out toward the street.  "Come on.  I'll escort you home.  Mind giving me an address?"

"What? No, I can't go home! I have to--"

Chat Noir jerked to a halt.  "Can't go home? Have you run away? Look, girl.  I understand not having the greatest life at home--believe me, I do--but if you're going to run away, you should probably find a better place to stay than some creepy alley in the dead of night."  He started pushing her again, "Now come on.  Address.  Let's get you home." 

"What? No!" Marinette yanked herself out of Chat Noir's reach.  "Chat Noir, I haven't run away from anything.  I--I--I'm trying to find someone.  Please, I need your help.  He could be in trouble, and I--I can't lose him."  Marinette glanced down at her feet and then met his eyes.  "I just got him, Chat.  I can't lose him, and he needs me." 

Chat regarded the girl more closely, eyes widening as he took in the raw emotion in her expression.  This girl--she was terrified.  He thought for a moment.  "Well...alright, I'll help you.  But only if we get you home safely.  And soon.  Your parents will be worried sick if you're out too late."  He knew only too well about parents worrying sick.  His father worried sick enough for the both of them--and his missing mother.  "Who are you looking for?"

Much to his surprise, the girl blushed.  "Well, I...I don't know his name...exactly?"

Chat's eyes widened. "You don't know his name? How are we going to find him if you don't know his--" He broke off when he spotted the girl's devastated expression.  "Sorry.  Sorry, I'm--We can find him.  Don't worry.  Hey, don't worry.  We'll find him, I promise.  Now.  What do you know about this boy? Where was he seen last? How does he know you?"

The girl sniffled a bit.  "He...He said he's kinda famous--that's why I don't know his name.  He said he didn't want me to think of him differently."

Chat nodded slowly; this he could understand.  Perhaps that would make it easier to find the boy.  Being able to think like he did.  "Alright, and...?"

"He...his father is...strict? I think? It seems like his father is strict, and he's lonely."

Check and check.  Chat's spirits raised infinitesimally.  He was sure to find the boy for this girl.  No problem.  It was like they were the same guy! "Okay, good, this is good.  What else?"

"I...Well, he's my soulmate, and I just met him yesterday, so there's actually not a lot I know about him.  But he wrote to me maybe an hour ago, and he sounded different--like he was sad or something--and so I was worried about him but he won't write me back and I'm afraid maybe--maybe--well, I don't know, but people do crazy things when they're upset and I'm just scared he's gotten himself into trouble." The girl caught him in those wide, teary blue eyes.  "I wrote him back as quickly as I could, Chat.  Why won't he answer me? Please, please, I can't--I can't lose him.  Not now."

"Hey, hey, shh."  Chat pulled the girl into his arms, tucking her head safely under his chin and purring a bit--he knew his purr was soothing; it was one of his favorite ways to calm Ladybug when he'd had another close call with an akuma for her.  He didn't speak again until the girl had gone still in his arms, her sharp gasps and sniffles slowing into a steadier pattern of inhale-exhale.  "We'll find your boy, I promise.  Now...what else? I need everything that might help us find him.  We're off to a pretty good start as it is, if I do say so myself."  Chat winked. 

The girl tried to smile, and his heart broke just a little.  He'd find that boy tonight if it killed him.  "Well...I call him Sunshine.  He says...he says I'm his sunshine and...he's mine now, too."  She wiped at the tears on her face and held out a shaking hand.  "I'm Marinette, by the way.  Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

Chat nearly fell over the chock was so great.  It felt like he'd been literally struck in the gut and was now floundering about like a fish out of water.  "M--Marinette?!" Her words echoed through his mind: He says I'm his sunshine and...he's mine now, too.  He  thought he might cry he was so excited! He scooped her up and spun her around, laughing loudly.  "Marinette! I can't believe it's you!"

"Chat!" she yelped.  "Chat Noir, wait, what's going on?"

He set her back down on the ground, catching her as she stumbled.  "Marinette, I'm your soulmate...s friend!" The excited pounding of his heart took on a more panicked note.  "Your soulmate!" he blurted.  "He's my friend! And I know for a fact that he's perfectly fine."  He grinned down at the girl proudly, taking the moment to look at her--really look at her--and appreciate, now that he knew he belonged to her, how adorable she was.  There was no other way to describe her.  Those child-like black pigtails, the barely discernable dusting of freckles across her nose and cheekbones, those big, beautiful blue eyes...His heart skipped a bet.  Wow. 

Oh, her eyes were narrowing.  "You know my sunshine?" the girl--Marinette!--repeated.  Less than convinced. 

His heart gave another painful squeeze when she called him her sunshine.  "I do.  I promise, I know him, and I promise he's safe." 

She studied him for another moment before allowing herself to visibly relax as she saw he was telling the truth.  "Oh thank goodness.  I...I was so..." Her breath hitched again and she pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes.  Only then did he notice the sleeve of her blazer, pulled back to her elbow, revealing his message to her, and her worried response. 

A wave of guilt crashed through Chat's celebrations, and he wondered briefly how she could tell.  From their one conversation, how could she tell he'd been upset? He'd rehearsed his message to her for the sole purpose of sounding normal! But then...what did he know about normal?

He stepped closer to her again, taking her wrists gently into his clawed fingers and pulling them away from her face, which was blotched again with tears.  He brushed the moisture away with the pad of a thumb as he tugged her sleeve back down to her wrist with his other hand. 

"Come on, Marinette.  Let's get you home.  I'm sure Ad--er--Sunshine just got caught up by some of his dad's orders again.  No worries."

Realizing, now that the panic was gone, that she was completely exhausted, Marinette mumbled her address to him, and he vaulted her there over the rooftops of Paris.  Her parents were, as he'd predicted before, worried sick when they arrived.  The two of them were posted dutifully at separate doors; Tom--as he'd learned was her father's name--had had his pone at the ready, waiting for Sabine's okay to call their friend, Roger Raincomprix.  Chat Noir was glad to have saved them the trouble. 

He touched down at the main entrance to a bakery he had never seen before, despite its proximity to his own home--now that he thought about it, there were many places he wasn't familiar with in this part of town; usually he avoided the area.  He didn't like the way the Manor loomed constantly in the background.  But now...there.  Was that Marinette's school? It had to be.  He had to go there!

Tom and Sabine came racing out of their separate doors, meeting the superhero and their daughter almost simultaneously. 

Chat Noir greeted them as politely as he knew how--which was pretty polite considering his stuffy upbringing--and they thanked him profusely for bringing their daughter home, scolding her for leaving her friends under false pretenses.  Chat had to agree with them there.  What if something had happened to her? No one would have known where to find her--or where to even start looking.  And if he hadn't been there...Would he have woken up the next day to a missing citizen report? A girl named Marinette and the heartbreaking fear that she was his? Out there lost and alone? He couldn't bear the thought. 

He left the family with another stern warning to Marinette to be more careful. 

What had possessed her to run off like that? Why would she lie to her friends about what was going on?

Marinette settled into her mattress with a heavy sigh, lungs still trembling from her tears earlier.  She'd never been more grateful for her partner.  Maybe she'd make him some cookies or something to thank him for his help.  Right after scolding Sunshine for scaring her so badly. 

Speak of the devil.  There were the first signs that he really truly was okay.

'I'm sorry!' his message read.  'I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to worry you.  My dad had some stuff for me to do.  Sorry.'

Marinette wiped at her eyes and gave another sigh.  'It's okay.  Just' she paused for a minute, thinking. 

' Just...?"

'Just...Sunshine, are you okay? You seemed upset earlier.'  It was easier for Marinette to forget that awful, heart-wrenching fear if she focused on him instead of herself.  That was a coping mechanism of hers.  She didn't notice her own insecurities as much when she was helping others to overcome theirs. 

'I'm okay,' he wrote quickly.

She frowned at her arm, rereading his first message.  Pondering, again, its tone.  'Sunshine.'

She could sense his hesitation even with the unknown distance between them.  'I'm okay now,' he amended.  'I wasn't.  But I am now.'

'What happened?'

'Just my dad.  He tends to be...overprotective.'

'Yikes.  What' she hesitated again, wondering how best to word this. 

'What what' he responded immediately.

She laughed shakily.  'Have patience, Sunshine.  I'm thinking.'

' :P '

She laughed again, wholeheartedly this time. 'Dork ;)  I just' a short pause 'was wondering' another pause 'what' Marinette scowled at her arm.  There was no tactful way to ask this, but she wanted to know, 'he denied you, I guess.  How was he overprotective today?'

Sunshine paused again before answering.  'Marinette' he paused again, and Marinette was beginning to appreciate his impatience just moments ago.  Waiting for a finished thought wasn't so much fun.  'I'm not' he paused 'a normal' pause 'kid.  I've never had normal kid opportunities.  I've always just been' he gave an extra long pause this time, and she sensed he was battling with himself on whether or not to be honest with her about something.  His next word confirmed that he would, 'alone.'  He added a quick, 'You know?' she guessed to detract from the painful reality of the word.  'But I've always had you, even if I didn't exactly' pause 'acknowledge you directly, I was always aware of you, and I was always grateful to have you.  You're the only thing I can count on to always be there for me.  It's like' he paused again 'you don't even have to try.  And after last night, when we were talking for real I just' he gave another long pause.  'I wanted that to last, you know? I knew I couldn't risk responding to you everytime--my father would go ballistic if I did--and so I started brainstorming ideas and'

After a very long pause, it was clear that she would have to prompt him to continue.  'And...?'

'I don't know.  Now that I think about it, it's kinda silly.'

'It's not silly if its important to you.'

There was another long pause, and Marinette wondered what he was thinking about.  She was about to ask him just that when he finally continued.  'I thought if I could convince him to let me attend public school, maybe I could find you.  I could look or your doodles, an listen for your name.  I could find you somehow, and be with you, even if you never knew it was me.  Marinette I' he paused again. 'I just want to know you.'

Peter woke the next day feeling relaxed and happy. He could do whatever he wanted for the day since he helped Yondu capture the stone. He didn’t have to deal with Taserface or any of the other jerks.

Rolling over, he smiled at his Walkman. Hopefully tomorrow will be another successful day.

Sitting up, Peter stretched his arms and yawned. It was about ten in the morning, so Peter got a lot of extra sleep, which he rarely got.

With the extra energy, Peter pushed himself from the bed and dressed. He pulled his Ravager clothes on and just as he was putting a boot on, he noticed something.

A jacket.

Surprise crept onto his face. He turned it over to find a note.

Good job boy. Yer a Ravager for sure.

It didn’t say who it was from, but Peter knew. Grinning, he pulled it on and watched the ends of it brush the floor.

A little big, but Peter didn’t care. He was now like Yondu. He’ll grow into it.

Peter stopped in his tracks. Now like Yondu? Why the hell did I think that? he thought.

Shrugging, he crumpled the note up and tossed it into the trash can. Who cares, I have a sweet jacket now, he told himself.

Making his way down the corridor, voices touched his ears. Yondu’s and Kraglin’s.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Peter crept closer and leaned in. The door was open, so Peter made sure he was out of sight.

“He has no idea, cap'n,"Kraglin was saying.

"Good,"Yondu said. "We don’t need him ter know ‘bout his celestial side just yet. As long as the electricity doesn’t get any stronger, we won’t need ter worry 'bout teachin’ him ter control it.”

“What if it does?"Kraglin asked.

"Then we have ter spend hours teachin’ him. If we don’t he could kill 'imself. Or somebody on this ship. I don’t need a lawsuit, Kraglin.”

“Is that what this stone is for? You didn’t say much to me about it,"Kraglin said in an accusatory tone.

” 'Course I didn’t. We were too close ter the others, Kraggles. If they knew, I’d have a mutiny on my hands.“

Peter frowned. So they knew about his electricity. Leaning closer, he listened harder as their voices lowered.

"Do you think he’ll become too strong? Dangerous on this ship?”

“Possibly,"Yondu answered, sighing. "But the boy is too good. He’ll be able ter control it.” He paused. “Must get it from his mom. 'Cause he sure don’t get it from me.”

Kraglin snickered. “You saying your his dad?”

Peter’s eyebrows shot up. What!!

Yondu grumbled. “All I’m sayin’ is, Quill won’t become a danger. I just know. I don’t know how, Kraggles. But I just do. He’s just not ready yet ter know. Would be too much. 'Cause then I’d have to ter tell 'im who his father is and why we didn’t deliver 'im. Too much information for a twelve-year-old Terran.”

So he knew his age and actually cared that it’d be too much for him? Peter couldn’t handle all the new information he was learning. He knew he had electricity, but what the hell is a celestial and who is his father? Did Yondu really consider himself Peter’s dad?“

Footsteps echoed down the hall. Peter jumped, realizing he had to hide before being caught by the captain.

Running back to his room, Peter lifted his jacket so as not to trip. As soon as he got there, breathing heavily, he closed the door and fell into his nest.

A/N: I feel MUCH better about this. Thank you all for your likes or reblogs, I am so humbled that I dont *totally* suck at getting this from my head to paper-though I am sure I still have plenty of room for improvement. I appreciate everything you beautiful readers do! 3-5 Little Llamas :)

Warnings: Uhm...language...panic attack...

               I returned to my apartment, defeated, only an hour after I left for what was meant to be a ‘mind clearing jog.’ Ha. I didn’t even make it out of the lobby when I saw a strikingly beautiful woman. I am not sure what about her caught my eye-her sparkling round eyes, or the way she was commanding the space around her. Though no one seemed to notice her but me, she gave off a strong energy that nothing would ever stand in her way. When she smiled I nearly lost all sense of direction, feeling intoxicated at the happiness immediately radiating from her. I was paralyzed and she was the drug suddenly pumping through my veins holding me immobile.

                                                               …’sir’

                               …’sir’

…”Sir?”

  I hear someone calling and realize they are caling to me. I shake my head trying to force myself out of the tunnel world I am in with this remarkable being holding me captive from the opposite and  eventually my focus zooms back to reality and I see Earl standing next to me, concern written all over his face.

“Are you okay Mr. Stan? You seem a bit out of touch today.”

               “What? Oh, uh, yea, yes. Yes, Earl I am okay, thank you for asking. May I ask, who is that?” I respond, motioning toward the opposite side of the lobby where the woman had been beaming and realize that him and I are the only ones in the lobby.

               “Sir?” he responds growing more confused.

               “Uhhm-I’m sorry Earl, I am having a weird day. I’m headed out to clear my head, you have a good day alright?” He nods politely in response and I wave as I push through the revolving door out into the crisp spring air. Looking around I decide to run my normal route the opposite direction. I didn’t make it half a mile before I saw her again-this time sitting at a local ice cream parlor at one of the little outdoor tables. She was far to underdressed for the weather. I decided then to go and talk to her but someone bumped square into me and by the time I regained my balance and apologized to the stranger, she was gone again.

               What the literal fuck is going on? I debated turning back or pushing through with my run. I pushed through a few more blocks but could not get that woman out of my head. I felt like every time I looked around she was there, even if it was only for a fleeting moment. My breaking point came when I saw her sitting down a dark alleyway, sobbing. I ran down to console her but tripped and she was gone again. Just *poof* vanished.

               My chest begins to tighten as I turn to leave the alley, I steal a glance back feeling like leaving this alley will leave her alone, scared, crying. Pressure builds steadily in my chest and my head starts to spin. Taking three deep breaths in an effort to re-center myself, I turn and sprint back home. I make it back to the revolving front door as my vision starts to spot over black and, officially, I’m hyperventilating. Somehow  I am able to keep it together outwardly enough to stumble through the lobby and into the private elevator Earl had shown me when I first moved here. He explained that the elevator only accessed a few of the apartments when they were ‘penthouse’ suites for the hotel that occupied the building previously.  I lean against the back wall until the doors close then slide down the wall into fetal position and hit the light switch Earl installed specifically for me, darkness, stillness, and quiet immediately surrounding my body and mind. He had introduced me to the private elevator after I took a major role in what was ultimately a box-office-hit across the world. The role called for me to play a dark, tortured soul and I found myself slowly slipping into anxiety fogs after long weeks of intense filming.

               When the elevator came to a stop I reached out for the familiar ‘Emergency Stop’ button, knowing that it would not trigger any alarms just lock the lift in place and turn on a small light Earl had installed so that he would know if I was in here. If the light stayed on too long, he would use the key I gave him to come in and check on me. Usually I had fallen asleep in the floor of the elevator and he would kindly help me up and into my apartment, encouraging me to shower and sleep in the comfort of my own bed. He never stayed longer than what it took to get me up on my feet and out of the elevator and he would typically take the lift back to his office floor.

               The small size of the private elevator and the total darkness it provided was the first blanket of calm I could embrace. I took the private space to focus on steadying my breathing using whatever exercise I could remember to slow my heart rate. I didn’t even attempt to open my eyes until all the tension had left my body. Ironically the intense workouts needed for my last role defined my muscles in a way that was more obvious now to feel myself relaxing away from the panic attack. Sometimes my body reacted quickly to the calming devices and other times it took hours, either way I lost all sense of time.

               Eventually I was calm enough to make my way to my bedroom. The heavy curtains were still drawn so I still had no idea what the actual time may have been. I changed into loose sleep pants, crawled under the covers and drifted off from the energy drain of the earlier panic attack.

               That night I had my first dream of her.

I woke up around 2 AM and couldn’t go back to sleep because my stomach was hurting so badly. I really love milk, but lately every time I drink it, my stomach reacts badly. I’m starting to think I might be becoming lactose intolerant as I get older. 😭

The restroom was outside the room since it was shared. At first, I was a little scared to go out alone at night, but it turned out fine because the whole area was well-lit, so it didn’t feel scary at all.

After that, I couldn’t sleep anymore, so we just woke up early and had breakfast before heading to the beach. The morning beach felt so calm because there weren’t many people yet.

I wore my pink OOTD that day. Honestly, I was a bit shy because I’m not used to wearing colorful outfits or bikinis since I don’t like standing out too much—but I still tried my best. Hahaha. 😆

We also went up the tower where you could see the whole resort from above. After that, we went swimming again, but skipped the beach since it was already low tide. Instead, we stayed longer at the pool and just enjoyed the last moments of the trip.

We left the pool around 9 AM because we suddenly got hungry again. Hahaha. Check-out was at 12 PM, but we decided to leave early at around 11 AM and called the tricycle driver to pick us up. He brought us back to the bus terminal.

From Calatagan, we rode a bus to PITX, which cost ₱280 per person.

We were so hungry and sleepy during the trip because all we had eaten was bread. 😭 We arrived at PITX around 4 PM and immediately had dinner at a Japanese restaurant because we were starving.

After that, I booked an Angkas ride going home since I was already too tired and sleepy to commute. This trip was really fun. I told myself I wanted to spend more time in nature this year, and I’m really happy we made it happen this month.

I would definitely go back to this place and highly recommend it to my friends as well. 🤍 Bye for now… and let’s see where our next trip takes us this year. :)

—

Written by @Sox_Goose_Tech.

Vishous leaned against the bar, the low thrum of the club buzzing around him like a swarm of bees. The intoxicating mix of scents—sweat, perfume, and the faint tang of blood—filled his nostrils, but his mind was far from the revelry. It was locked on her: Zaerael. She had slipped away like smoke, leaving him alone with the electric tension that still crackled in the air. His heart raced, a primal hunger coiling in his gut. He didn’t like it; he didn’t like her.

A shot glass filled with a deep, dark liquid sat in front of him, untouched. He stared at it, willing his mind to clear, but the truth loomed larger than any drink. She knew him—knew his name, his vision, his darkness. It made his skin crawl and yet… there was something about her, a magnetic pull that was impossible to ignore.

He pushed off the bar, his tall, muscular frame cutting through the crowd with purpose. The pulsing beat of the music thrummed through him, a relentless reminder of the chaos that surrounded him. But he was far from chaotic; he was a predator in control, a master of the dark arts. He needed answers.

As he moved deeper into the club, he spotted a familiar face—a contact from the Brotherhood known for his connections within Caldwell's underbelly. Sael was leaning against a wall, a thin, wiry man with a penchant for gossip and a nose for trouble. Vishous approached him, his presence commanding respect, the air around him shifting with an unspoken authority.

"Sael," Vishous said, his voice low and steady. "I need information."

Sael's eyes flicked to Vishous, widening slightly at the urgency in his tone. "About what? You know the price, brother."

Vishous felt the tension coiling tighter in his gut. He was willing to pay whatever price was necessary. "Zaerael. What do you know about her?"

The change in Sael’s demeanor was immediate. He straightened up, the casual bravado slipping from his features. "You’re asking about the Black Widow? Dangerous territory, my friend. She’s not just a pretty face."

Vishous folded his arms, leaning in slightly. "I’m aware. Tell me everything."

Sael swallowed hard, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "She’s a siren of sorts, Vishous. Draws people in with her beauty, but there’s more—much more. She’s got power, a kind of magic that’s twisted and dark. The kind that leaves you… changed."

“Changed?” Vishous echoed, his interest piqued despite the warning bells ringing in his mind. "How so?"

"Those who get too close often don’t return the same," Sael continued, his eyes darting around the room as if afraid of being overheard. "Some say she can weave fates, manipulate dreams. She’s rumored to have visions of her own. Some even think she can see into your soul."

Vishous felt a chill run down his spine, the weight of Sael’s words pressing against him. This woman was more than just a passing intrigue; she was a force to be reckoned with. The connection they had felt—was it a bond, or a trap? "And what’s her endgame?" he pressed, not wanting to let the unease settle in.

"Power, control, influence. It’s all a game to her, Vishous," Sael said, his voice barely above a whisper. "She wants to be at the center of it all. And she’ll use anyone—or anything—to get there."

Vishous' jaw tightened, the growing sense of unease blossoming into something more visceral. This was exactly what he didn’t need—a powerful woman who could manipulate him or worse, make him vulnerable. He needed to tread carefully.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Zaerael reappeared, gliding through the crowd with an ethereal grace that made it hard for him to breathe. Her presence filled the space around them, a dark magnetism that drew the eye. She looked right at him, her gaze piercing and knowing, as though she could see through the layers of his defenses.

"Vishous," she said, her voice a silky caress that sent a shiver down his spine. "I see you’ve been busy."

He could feel Sael retreating into the background, the energy shifting around him as he faced her. Zaerael stood closer now, her dark aura palpable, a seductive darkness that wrapped around him like a cloak. "I don’t play games," he stated, his tone edged with warning. "What do you want from me?"

Her lips curved into a tantalizing smile, one that spoke of secrets and seduction. "I want you to understand the connection we share. The bond that was forged in the vision."

"You can’t just waltz into my mind and take whatever you want," he countered, crossing his arms tightly. "What you did was… invasive."

She stepped closer, her presence overwhelming. "But it was necessary. You needed to see, just as I needed to find you. We are entangled in ways you cannot yet comprehend."

Vishous held his ground, refusing to let her invade his space, even as his body betrayed him with the urge to pull her closer. "You think you know me? You don’t know a damn thing about the darkness that resides within me."

Her gaze darkened, an electric tension sparking between them. "And you underestimate me. You think you can resist this—this pull between us. But it’s futile."

His heart raced, the primal hunger threatening to overwhelm him, but he fought against it, determined to maintain control. "Why should I trust you? You’ve already proven you can manipulate my visions."

Zaerael tilted her head, an amused glint in her eyes. "Trust? Such a fragile thing. But think of it as an invitation to explore the darkness together. You may find that you enjoy the descent."

As she stepped even closer, he could feel the heat radiating from her, the intoxicating scent of her perfume wrapping around him like a drug. The hunger inside him surged, and for a moment, he was torn between wanting to push her away and pulling her closer, merging their fates in a whirlwind of desire and danger.

"You think you can control me?" he murmured, voice low and dangerous.

Zaerael's eyes flashed with something primal, and in that moment, it was as if the air between them shimmered with possibilities. "I don't want to control you, Vishous. I want you to embrace the darkness we both hold."

Just as their lips were mere inches apart, the atmosphere shifted—a crackle of energy that sent an electric thrill down his spine. He knew they were standing on the edge of something profound and dangerous, a precipice from which they could either soar or plunge into the abyss.

With a last, lingering gaze, Zaerael stepped back, breaking the spell that bound them. "The choice is yours, Vishous. But remember, every choice has its consequences."

And with that, she turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving him alone in the swirling chaos of The Black Widow’s Web, the echoes of her words lingering in the air like smoke. The pull of her presence remained, a dark, seductive reminder of the fate that awaited him.

Written by @SinsSecondComin.

The night draped over Caldwell like a heavy cloak, suffused with the primal scents of decay and desperation. Rehvenge prowled the labyrinthine streets, a ghost in the darkness, his movements fluid and silent as he navigated the city's underbelly. The neon lights of ZeroSum pulsed like a beacon in the night, casting an ethereal glow that illuminated the damp pavement below, drawing in the lost and the forsaken with its siren call. 

As he approached the club's entrance, the thumping bassline reverberated through his bones, a visceral reminder of the raw energy that thrummed within its walls. The bouncers, mere sentinels in the realm of chaos, nodded in recognition, parting the crowd to allow him passage into the heart of the storm. Inside, the air was thick with a heady mixture of sweat, arousal, and something darker—an unspoken tension that crackled in the atmosphere like electricity. Rehvenge's eyes, twin pools of amethyst flame, swept over the crowd with predatory intent as he wove his way through the throng of bodies. Each patron was a pawn in his game, their desires and motives laid bare before him like pieces on a chessboard. He could feel the tension building, a palpable sense of anticipation that hung heavy in the air like a storm on the horizon. 

Ascending to his office in the upper echelons of ZeroSum, Rehvenge's mind churned with the twisted fantasies that awaited him in the hidden chamber below. In the depths of his depravity, he relished the thought of what was to come, a dark hunger gnawing at the edges of his sanity. For once, he was grateful for Xhex's absence, her absence sparing him the prying eyes of his own security detail. He craved the solitude of his sins, the intimacy of his darkest desires laid bare. 

An addiction had taken hold of him from the moment he laid eyes on Drake, a man destined to pay for sins he had yet to commit. Unlike Slohane, Drake would not have the luxury of salvation at the hands of Rehvenge's allies. No, Drake would face the full wrath of his vengeance, alone and unrepentant.

As Rehvenge approached the hidden safe room within his office, he could feel the anticipation building like a crescendo in his veins. Drake lay bound and helpless upon the cold steel table, a symbol of everything Rehvenge despised. And in that moment, surrounded by the echoes of his own darkness, he knew that there would be no mercy—only the cold embrace of retribution, and the sweet release of his own twisted desires fulfilled.

As Rehvenge stood over Drake, his heart pounding in time with the sickening rhythm of his victim's screams, he felt a surge of raw power course through his veins. The safe room, a chamber of horrors hidden beneath the polished veneer of his office, seemed to pulse with a malevolent energy—a twisted sanctuary where the boundaries of morality blurred and the darkness within him reigned supreme.

The air was heavy with the scent of blood and fear, a metallic tang that clung to the walls like a miasma of despair. Every sound, every whimper and cry, echoed off the soundproof barriers with a chilling clarity, bouncing back to envelop them in a cocoon of torment.

Rehvenge's fingers danced with a macabre grace as he wielded the tools of his trade, each strip of flesh peeled away with a precision that bordered on obsession. Drake's screams, once sharp and piercing, had become a symphony of agony—a cacophony of pain that fueled the fire burning within Rehvenge's soul.

His eyes, once the cool hue of amethyst, blazed with a fiery crimson as he reveled in the exquisite torture of his victim. With each agonized cry, he felt a perverse sense of satisfaction wash over him—a primal urge that drove him ever deeper into the abyss of his own depravity.

But beneath the facade of control, there lurked a darkness that threatened to consume him whole—a gnawing hunger that could never be sated, no matter how deep he delved into the shadows. And as he stood amidst the carnage, bathed in the sickly glow of crimson light, he knew that he had become something more than what his kith and kin saw him as.—something monstrous, something beautiful in its own twisted way. 

As Rehvenge stepped into the scalding embrace of the shower, the hot water cascading over his skin like a cleansing baptism, he felt the weight of his sins bearing down upon him. The echoes of Drake's screams still reverberated in his mind, haunting him like a ghost that refused to be exorcized.

The steam filled the bathroom, swirling around him in a haze of heat and humidity, a veil to shield him from the harsh realities of the world outside. With each drop of water that fell, he could feel the tension in his muscles slowly begin to unravel, the adrenaline-fueled high of his actions giving way to a bone-deep weariness.

Leaning against the tiled wall, he closed his eyes and let out a ragged breath, the events of the night playing out in vivid detail behind his eyelids. The sensation of flesh yielding beneath his touch, the symphony of pain and anguish that had filled the air—it was a tableau of horror that threatened to consume him whole.

But amidst the darkness, there lingered a glimmer of something else—a flicker of doubt, of remorse, that refused to be silenced. For all his power and influence, Rehvenge was still a man haunted by his own demons, tormented by the choices he had made and the lives he had destroyed. As the water continued to cascade down his body, washing away the stains of blood and sin, he couldn't help but wonder what awaited him on the other side of this cleansing ritual. Would he emerge from this baptism reborn, purified of his sins? Or would he remain forever shackled to the darkness that lurked within his soul?