Loyal Minions!
I hope you enjoy this little tidbit I dug up.
I dedicate this to everyone out there who has ever felt insecure with their bodies.
Let's not forget that there is more to love than just what you look like.
Peach out.
=)
A hot summer day beat down on the inhabitants of Magnolia.
Sweltering heat waves rolled over the Fiorian landscape like frothy waves on the beach, yet in a much less appealing manner. With every hammering stroke, a new bead of sweat rolled down the tanned skin of Fairy Tail's iron mage.
This, however, was not what bothered him. Gajeel could handle the heat, a blessed condition obtained through training with the Salamander, but what irked him was the prohibition put in place by his very own script mage that he could no longer sleep in the same bed as she. A rule she had set in place that morning when he, apparently, became too handsy.
He had been banished from his own house and forced to labor outdoors.
It was more than just sleeping, though. Being near her seemed to put her on edge, touching her was simply out of the question. He was not overly verbose and she continued to cut off his means by which to confront their problem: physical contact, no matter how small, was forbidden.
That's not to say his son was off-limits, though. They were practically inseparable. With the exception of the current moment given that his boy was taking a nap.
Wasn't a man allowed to touch his wife anymore? He had given her time, months even, to heal and recover. Yet she kept him at arms length.
He suspected something had changed. But what? He couldn't figure it out.
He recalled the first incident she had started acting strange:
Neither Levy not Gajeel had slept those first few days after their son's birth, both steadfast in their duties to watch over their new charge.
The first strange incident occurred when he insisted Levy take the first shift to sleep. She was reluctant to comply, but eventually caved under his sound reasoning that nothing would happen in the twenty minutes she would be gone to bathe.
She left and five minutes went by before something did happen.
The child woke with a sullen disposition, mewling distraught sounds over the loss of his mother. A telepathic trait, no doubt.
Being the first on the scene, Gajeel lifted the waking child in his arms, awkwardly tucking him into the crook of his elbow. It was a strange feeling, and still weird having to hold the squirming bundle. He could sense the explosion of tears soon to come if he didn't think of something quick.
His first instinct was to run to Levy, as she was what the boy wanted in the first place. But after considering what she had just gone through not two days ago, all she wanted was to bathe in peace. He could give her that. He could handle this.
Gajeel was unsure about which plush toy would calm the child as there was at least a hundred scattered about their home. The infant had been changed, fed, and burped, so what more was there that he would need to go back to sleep?!
Despite the baby's threatening tears, Gajeel marveled at the minuscule hands that flailed. Gently, he unclenched one tiny fist, and placed his forefinger within the child's grasp. The baby squeezed tightly, evoking a proud smile from his father.
The contact was immediately welcomed by the infant and Gajeel took to swaying in the middle of the room. The motion silenced the child, but he was not convinced it was safe to sleep just yet, as his mother was still not present. Young crimson eyes searched his father's face. Using his least scary voice, Gajeel reassured his baby that all was well and he was safe. As an impromptu decision, he began humming a simple lullaby he had heard Levy sing.
The sincere timbre of his father's voice soothed the boy into slumber, and Gajeel watched on in sheer amazement that whatever he had just done had worked in rendering the child unconscious again.
Excited by the new development, Gajeel rushed to the bathroom as smoothly as possible, with sleeping child still in arm, to show his wife what had happened in her absence.
In his haste, he opened the door without knocking; an oversight on his part. The sight of his wife naked was one matter, and not a particularly strange one. What struck him odd were the tears in her eyes as she scrambled to clothe herself. She had even kicked the door shut, startling the child awake.
It was the first of many incidents and Gajeel was starting to take her reticence personally.
He had been resting against the newly planted fence lining the front lawn. He had finished, feeling satisfied with its completion and took to looking at their upstairs bedroom window as he thought. The curtains hung straight until the edge flickered open and closed. His little wife was checking on him.
He stabbed the spade of his shovel into the ground, the handle remaining upright.
He took the steps to the porch two at a time, removing his work boots before entering. Once inside, he climbed the stairs to the second floor, casting a glance into their son's nursery. The dark haired child slumbered peacefully, laid flat on his back in a snug onesie and muslin blanket. Gajeel's partner was curled in the nearby rocking chair, opening one eye in greeting to the dragon slayer.
If Pantherlily was on watch duty, that meant Levy was elsewhere.
He slipped around the corner to their bedroom, entering the dark space and peeling the sweat stained shirt from his skin.
Steam, lit by the bathroom light, drifted out from under the crack of the bathroom door.
Out of courtesy, he rapped his knuckles against the wood twice before opening it. The air was lightly perfumed by the scent of an unlit vanilla candle.
His script mage stood with her arms crossed over her chest, one hand clenching the opening of her robe closed.
Despite his knock, she still appeared startled and wary.
"What're you doing?" her voice was tinged with accusation. For what, Gajeel had no idea.
He closed the door behind him, intentionally cutting off her escape. He removed the tie and headband from his hair, setting them on the vanity.
"I need a shower," he stated nonchalantly, noticing the way her eyes shifted away from him.
Her cheeks puffed in their usual way when she was irritated, but she didn't voice her argument. Instead, she ducked around him to let him have the first go at a bath. Except, he never let her get that far. He sidestepped her, standing in her way. When she attempted the other direction, he blocked that path too.
She heaved a long suffering sigh, "Gajeel, move."
"No."
She glared up at him, "Please move?"
He crossed his arms, taking a stance against her, "No."
She shuffled her feet, weighing her options of force. She didn't stand much of a chance physically, but she might with magic.
Gajeel reached out and took her hand in his, turning her around to face the mirrors hanging over the sinks.
He wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his weight on his elbows against the marble. He watched her through their reflection.
She was trying to feel uncomfortable. She did not look at him in the mirror and she intentionally stiffened as though she were turning away. She did not release her white-knuckled grip on the bathrobe either.
"Levy," he spoke softly, nuzzling the soft skin of her neck, "something's wrong."
She opened her mouth to say she was fine and everything was okay, but when she met his piercing eyes in their reflections, she could see he knew they were lies.
It wasn't a problem easily explained, but she definitely didn't want to show him.
Instead, she relaxed, letting him hold her. In truth, she missed him. She missed the way he made her feel: strong and beautiful.
In that instance, he took full advantage of her lax state, trailing his hands over her hips and down her back. She gave a slight squeak of surprise when he pinched her rear, and his chuckle reverberated through her body. His hands continued their delightful teasing, drawing pleasant sighs from his little wife, while he analyzed every expression she made.
Her eyes had become dilated and he could smell the familiar scent of arousal in her blood. It wasn't him that made her uncomfortable. In fact, she welcomed his caresses.
He unfolded her hand, pinning it to the white marble. Her robe opened enough to reveal the swell of one soft breast and he moved his fingers into the opening.
When the coarse pads of his fingertips touched her bare skin she shuddered, violently, and jerked the fabric closed.
His hands hovered for a moment in a state of uncertainty before taking hold of her robe collar and pulling the cloth apart at her shoulders. She refused to look at him or acknowledge him. She tightened her grip, clinging to the covering like a life line as her shoulders were bared.
He ran his thumb over her white guild mark outlined in black as his was outlined in white.
He pulled cloth down, attempting to bare more of her, but the adrenaline made her strong and she resisted.
"Levy," he warned in a deep baritone.
Her eyes fluttered as tears accumulated beneath her lashes. He caught the first droplet as it fell to her cheek.
"I look...," her voice wavered, struggling to spit out what needed to be said, "...different."
"Different," he repeated, not understanding.
She nodded, trying to swallow the humiliating sobs that threatened to escape.
She knew what was coming next. She braced herself for rejection and for the disgust. There was no doubt in her mind that this was going to ruin their relationship.
She didn't look when she parted the bathrobe. She didn't want to see the horror on his face. But despite her oath to not look, she did when his fingers began to trace the angry and jagged red grooves that her soft belly now sported.
She hated them, hated how soft she had become, and hated how much the markings stood out. She looked as though a demon had raked its unforgiving claws through her skin.
They were scars of her pregnancy, forever engraved into her flesh.
She had prepared herself for his disgust, but what she received was love in its purest and most accepting form. He fingered the markings with curiosity, his other hand coming up to join its pair. He outlined the length of them until he reached the edge of her underwear.
He didn't shy away from her appearance, but embraced her tightly, planting a sweet kiss on her temple.
"Do you regret them?" he asked.
His question was innocent enough and caught her off guard, but she supplied an honest answer, "No, but they're ugly."
He smirked, "Scars aren't meant to be pretty. And these," he pressed his fingers into the slack flesh of her womb, "are a testament to life."
He turned her to face him, placing one of her hands over his heart and one of his hands against her cheek.
"Even if you don't think they're beautiful, I do. Because they are a sign that you gave me something equally as beautiful to treasure."
Her eyes were wide with wonderment and the tears that built from fear and hate now fell as droplets of hope and love.
It would take time for her to get used to the newfound acceptance he had for her new body.
His banishment from their bedroom was removed, and while she was still baffled that she could still turn him on, he frequently reminded her of that fact whenever they had a moment alone together (or almost alone).
Despite the hardship she endured for him, her body was something he honored on a daily basis. Even though Levy could not see the amazing things she could do, Gajeel did.
He would continue to remind her of that.