Red Reminder

A finger softly traced his face. Even with closed eyes, he could feel Erza's steadfast gaze on him, watching his expression and counting every breath he took. The nail ghosted down the line of his jaw and down to his chin and when her touch made its way to his lips, it paused.

Jellal continued to breath evenly; he understood that these moments required time and reassurance. He let her have it, content in the way she simply took to stroking his lips again and again. Her every caress was more than welcome; it was a part of what he could now call home.

Months passed since he had been absolved of his repute as a highly-wanted renegade in the eyes of the law. But the novelty of holding and having Erza day in and day out, without consequence, still overwhelmed him. Her body was warm and solid against his in a way that he never dared to imagine many years ago; not with his track record of destruction and devastation across countless lives and fugitive status.

Her feather-light touch moved up his cheek and he had to resist flinching when it brushed into the microscopic dip of the scars framing his right eye. She froze once more and this time, Jellal held his breath. He knew Erza noticed the minute reflex and trying to hide from her was a lost cause. Passions aside, they functioned best through studied gazes and measured touches.

For as long as he could remember, Jellal knew that the mark on his face was not something he had since birth but neither was it a tattoo. It was sensitive, with nerve-endings that caused it to ache some days and tingle or burn on others.

The farthest he could recall into his memory was being inside a rickety old ship. It was cramped with too many people branded with the same mark, smelling of sweat and sickness, the salt of rough seas seeping in through the cracks of the hull. The iron cuffs jangled with the violent, rocking motions and were not only tight but cold against his limbs. Yet they compared nothing to the pain of his face, the searing of the fresh scar intensified by the saline droplets of sea water that sprayed onto him from the tiny window above every time the ship lurched. His head throbbed as it hit the wooden wall behind him over and over again; he had to bite back a painful cry every time.

Jellal couldn't remember how many days he was on that ship or how many people around him nearly died on the journey before they reached that godforsaken island. All he knew was that the scar was not one meant to heal. Ever.

Like so many aspects of his life, he was left with little choice but to burden its shame openly yet with the little dignity he had left. It wasn't until he met her – bright, hopeful, and resilient – that something good came out of the scar.

Her entire hand went to cup his face. She ran her thumb tenderly against his cheek, just short of the mark above it. "I'm sorry," Erza whispered into the quiet of their blanket-cocoon, her gentle words fanning his face. It was extremely reminiscent of the first time she ever touched it, in the corner of their cell during one of many sleepless nights.

Jellal opened his eyes to her solemn, searching gaze and moved the hand at her waist to envelope hers. Erza anxiously continued to stroke his cheek and when she sighed – she was asking him politely, a wordless please – he knew the question sitting in the knit of her brows would not be easily moved. He turned to press his lips into her palm, the touch as soft and soothing as his stare.

"I'm fine."

She stared a second longer, making sure his words comprised more of honesty than reassurances. Finding hint of both, she nodded in wary acquiescence. Erza curled her arms around his head and drew him in, tucking his head under her chin. Jellal happily complied, relishing in the silent lullaby of her fingers combing through his hair and winding his arms around her, too.

Erza was also branded. But hers was one of new beginnings, adventure, choice, and hope. The moment she received her mark, she took her first step to freedom.

Jellal meant to her more than words could offer. However, there were parts of her life, hours and days, that belonged solely to her. Her first days in Fairy Tail; the time she spent mastering swordsmanship and combat; or staring out at sunset from the shores of Magnolia lake to think of her friends, absent-mindedly divulging her secrets to the sand as she doodled her most vivid memories of the boy who unwittingly made a home in her heart.

Both she and that boy had grown up too hard, too quick because of a world hell-bent on seeing to their subjugation.

Looking down at him, cheeks pressed to her chest and absent-mindedly tracing the outline of what she knew to be her guild mark. The slight furrow of his brows told her he was deep in thought and she had an inkling why. It was bright blue in contrast to his scored red; the coincidence was not lost on either of them. However, she was taken aback when he suddenly got up and leaned over to press his lips on it. She blinked owlishly at him, watching as he then settled himself back against her chest without a word.

"What was that for," she mumbled, playing idly with a few strands of his hair.

He peered up at her, staring long and hard as he mulled over the answer. Colour filled her cheeks and she concentrated her eyes on the wispy locks between her fingers. "I did it because I just wanted to, I suppose."

"Oh." This time Erza was the one staring at him and Jellal was left to look away in embarrassment. "Alright." She took the response in stride; not everything had to have rhyme or reason, after all. Which was why she cupped his face and leaned down to kiss him.

"And what is this for," he asked, eyes closed as she did it twice, then thrice more. Her breath was warm and minty. Nails ran across his scalp and Jellal all but purred. A familiar thrill shot up her spine at eliciting such candour from him.

"Myself, of course," she quipped, enjoying his puzzled expression as she shifted under his weight, eyes devious, "and how I settle for nothing less than what I want." Erza rolled their bodies over and the bed creaked loudly under them, the thick blanket falling away. She sat on his hips, legs astride his body, and flashed him a smug sneer.

"How sly of you, Erza," he said, eyes twinkling playfully. Then, he reached out only to pull her body back down on him. She was all too willing.

Their mouths indulged in soft, slowly movements and heated breaths. The slow burn left Erza pining and she slanted her lips intently over his, fueling that fire between them with the hopes that the flames would consume them entirely. Warm fingers kneaded her hips and she rolled them, humming softly. But when Jellal smirked against her mouth, she pulled back and nipped his lips with a sharpness that made his insides flounder excitedly. They grinned at each other and shared breathless laughter between fluid pecks.

It was apparent that what was meant to be a peaceful night would not go as planned – not when they were resolved on leaving their respective marks on each other.

A/N: A future fic for Day 2 of Jerza Week 2016, for the Tattoos prompt that I tweaked for my own benefit to be scars or marks. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I'd love to hear from you, get feedback, and anything else you might like to comment on, so don't hesitate to let me know what you think!

...::: Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ :::...