#I can understand concern but don’t go in hostile out the gate

[ratsandfashion]

Things I dislike: people over feeding a pet and ignoring the health risks

Things I also dislike: people attacking a rodent owner with accusations of such when the rodent either has a coat color linked to obesity/weight issue or the owner has explained the animal has a benign fatty deposit disorder.

[shanastoryteller]

happy holidays! could you do mdzs for prompts? thank you c:

Wei Wuxian knows he should be grateful that Lan Xichen is here now, smiling at them from behind Lan Wangji’s shoulder, that they’re not going to be forced to wait outside the entrance of Cloud Recesses in a humiliating manner. But mostly he’s just pissed off, at Jin Zixuan for being a jerk, and at Lan Wangji for the same reason, for thinking forgetting an invitation was an appropriate reason to treat them like this. Shijie and Jiang Cheng are clan heirs, just like Lan Wangji is. He’s pretty sure the idea is for them all to get along here.

It’s an insult, plain and simple, and Wei Wuxian isn’t willing to let the Jiang enter Cloud Recesses like this.

“You are most generous,” he says to Lan Xichen, making a subtle hand gesture behind his back that causes all the Jiang disciples to freeze and fall back, no longer walking towards the entrance. He can practically hear Jiang Cheng grinding his teeth from here, but he doesn’t protest. Rank is a tricky thing with them and the disciples and the best solution they’ve found is to never, ever contradict each other when it counts, even when they think the other person is being an idiot. “However, before we enter, I must request you put up your regular wards. I understand the entrance is currently being guarded,” he inclines his head to the two Lan at the gates like he hadn’t been giving them shit thirty minutes ago, “but that’s no reason to be complacent.”

Pointing out Cloud Recesses nonsensical security system is petty, and a bit of an easy target, but it’s better than nothing.

Except Lan Xichen raises an eyebrow and asks, “What do you mean?”

This is just asking Wei Wuxian to trash his clan’s decisions, which makes no sense. Or he genuinely doesn’t know what Wei Wuxian is talking about, which is concerning enough that this is no longer about making a token protest. “You shouldn’t put up weaker wards just because you have guards here now. Even if it’s an energy drain, you should always have your strongest wards up.”

Lan Wangji is giving him a super bitchy look, which is at least what he’d been expecting. Lan Xichen’s voice is still perfectly pleasant when he says, “We do not alter the wards for shifts. I assure you that our wards are constantly set up to provide maximum protection.”

Uh.

Um.

He looks behind him, partially to hide whatever his face is doing, and partially to look at his siblings. Jiang Cheng shrugs and Shijie presses her lips together and gives a slight shake of her head. Okay, wards are his thing, he hadn’t exactly expected his siblings to notice, but from Shijie’s reaction the Lan brothers aren’t messing with him right now.

“I can’t let my shijie stay here if this is your maximum protection,” he says apologetically. He will march them all down back to Caiyi and put them on the first boat to Lotus Pier.

Lan Xichen’s smile becomes a little fixed. “Our wards are put in place by our clan elders. You have nothing to worry about.”

He could stand here and argue with them about it, but. He sketches a talisman in the air, not even bothering to ink it on paper, and sends it forward with an arrogant flick of his hand that he learned from Madam Yu.

As soon as it hits the wards it fizzles, then it all dissolves, the barrier breaking down like a string being cut.

The Lans all turn to it, incredulous. He didn’t know they had facial expressions, but that’s shock if he’s ever seen it. “They are inadequate. They are ancient and predictable and weak.” He starts sketching in the air again, and this is something that he should grab talisman paper for, but it’s easier for them to see this way. “You use silver as your grounding base, right? The air around it tastes like it. Copper is basic and old and resists meddling better, although iron will give you more flexibility for modifications. Your also weakened by using a continuous line rather than a feedback loop. Once one section breaks, the rest follow suit, which means someone only needs to find one weak spot to bring it down.” He has to put his weight into this one, shoving the glowing characters into the nearest pillar and watching his red spiritual energy flare across it. The warding barrier is back up, but different than it was before. Better. “That’ll do for now. The Jiang are happy to provide aid in updating your wards.”

If they don’t accept that help, they’re going home. He cannot handle the stress of being worried about all his martial brothers and sisters all the time because the Lan haven’t updated their practices since Lan An.

They’re all staring at him now. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, not liking their stares, because he’s not sure what to do with them. They’re not hostile, he doesn’t think.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Shijie says, voice sweet and full of false politeness. “We may have neglected to introduce ourselves properly. This is Wei Wuxian.”

Those stares are sharper now. “Wei Wuxian,” Lan Xichen repeats slowly. “The Jiang’s first disciple is Wei Wuxian.”

“That’s me,” he agrees cheerfully.

“You are – young,” Lan Xichen settles on finally.

“The invitation said all disciples below twenty one,” Wei Wuxian says, blinking. “I’m fifteen, so I’m here. I distributed my duties among the senior disciples before I left.”

“I encourage you to accept his aid. Senior Brother Wei is a master of talismans.” Ooh, Jiang Cheng must have been more pissed off by all this than he let one. He never calls him Senior Brother.

Lan Xichen looks back at the barrier he’d just put up and says, “I see that.” His smile when he looks at them is somehow both more fixed and more genuine. “I will discuss it with my uncle, but perhaps we do need a bit of an update.” He bows and gestures to the gate. “We welcome the Jiang to Cloud Recesses.”

Wei Wuxian falls back enough so he can walk side by side with Jiang Cheng and tries not to let Lan Wangji’s heavy gaze bother him.

[condorclaw]

Waiting.

It's what Sam Nook was the best at.

The large mechanical creeper spent his days standing outside the towering structure of the Big Innit Hotel, keeping watch for potential customers, or potential troublemakers.

"Don't you ever get tired of standing here?" Jack Manifold had asked one day after a hostile confrontation between the two employees.

The answer was always no. Sam Nook never got tired of guarding the hotel. The task was never as boring as his peers made it seem. In fact, it was an exciting experience.

Sam Nook had been downloaded with the basic information of every server member, learning their names, heights, and basic personality traits with ease. However, the simple information couldn't compare to all he had noticed while speaking with them himself.

They all had their own stories to tell, and their own experiences to share. While standing guard, sometimes somebody would stop to speak with Sam Nook. Regardless if it was out of pity or for a genuine conversation, Sam Nook appreciated the gesture.

Captain Puffy would tell Sam Nook tales of her adventures, going into great detail when describing the scenery. It gave Sam Nook a thirst of adventure, making him feel like he was actually experiencing the harsh waves of the sea or the burning rays of the sun.

Eret regaled Sam Nook with history stories of their home. They would especially emphasize the horrible bits, including their traitorous actions as a leading cause for so much pain. Sam Nook could tell Eret still felt guilt after all this time, so as soon as Eret would finish their stories, Sam Nook offered the king a hug, which was gladly accepted.

Ranboo and Tubbo didn't have as many stories to share about the past, preferring to discuss what was happening in current moments. It was how Sam Nook became so fine-tuned to the social dynamic occurring, able to recognize specific actions relating to specific causes.

Even Sam himself would stop by frequently, checking up on his creation and making sure that Sam Nook was at tip-top shape. Sam Nook appreciated these check-ups, wanting to perform at his very best for his tasks. As Sam would make adjustments, he would tell Sam Nook small things about his life, and revealed quite a bit that he kept hidden to his other friends. Sam Nook swore to never tell anybody else unless Sam gave him permission. It was the least he could do for his creator.

Even though he was surrounded by such a colorful cast of characters, Sam Nook always looked forward to one in particular:

The big man himself, TommyInnit.

Tommy was loud and brash. He was young, yet experienced with conflict and war, masking it behind crude jokes and fragile confidence.

According to most others, Tommy was annoying and often unwanted. He was the source of problems and too impulsive for his own good. Sam Nook had occasionally heard mutterings of people wanting to ignore him or just shut him away somewhere. To an outsider, it sounded like Tommy was just some rabid stray animal who couldn't be caught.

But Tommy was more than that, and Sam Nook could see it firsthand. Tommy was passionate, loving to show off his accomplishments to his friends and being proud that he was the one able to do them. He took pride in the little things, and would frequently hype himself up when requested to perform tasks. Sam Nook was surprised at how quickly Tommy was able to get hotel materials, the boy being quite passionate to finish the build.

Outside of hotel work, the two had nice conversations. Tommy would curl up at Sam Nook's side, watching the stars in the sky and venting about his feelings. Tommy would always deny it whenever Sam Nook would bring his words up after that point, but it did warm Sam Nook's circuits to know how much Tommy trusted him to tell the robot these things in the first place.

After all, Sam Nook was built to be Tommy's guardian, and he took pride in that.

So Sam Nook was fine to wait.

--

Waiting.

It was a lovely day, with animals gathering in groups to scrounge for food. The sun was shining as bright as ever, and the few clouds in the sky twisted into funny shapes.

Sam Nook activated his cameras, taking a couple shots of the gorgeous scenery. He mentally stashed the photos away in a specific directory, one meant for Tommy.

Ever since Tommy had become trapped in Pandora's Vault, Sam Nook found himself recording his surroundings every minute of every day. Tommy was missing so much being trapped in a gloomy place, so Sam Nook was determined to show him everything he missed.

As Sam Nook stashed away his last photo, he heard the faint sound of arguing. Turning his head 90° to the left, Sam Nook spotted Jack Manifold speaking to Tubbo, the two deep in some sort of conflict. Ranboo was towering over the two, but remained quiet, listening. The enderman spotted Sam Nook gazing in their direction, giving a nervous wave and a shrug of confusion. Sam Nook returned the wave before shifting his head back forward.

It felt like there was a lot more aggression since Tommy was gone. Normally the kid was so blunt that it made it hard to argue against him. He wasn't always right, but he could end conversations quickly when they weren't worth having.

The heated discussion only got worse as minutes stretched on, Sam Nook catching bits of it, but remained still. It was only the final shout of "FINE!" that caused Sam Nook to look over once more.

Jack Manifold passed in front of Sam Nook, his teeth clenched and his eyes narrowed as he made his way to the entrance of the hotel.

"WHAT BUSINESS DO YOU HAVE HERE, JACK MANIFOLD." Sam Nook questioned as the hotel cats started gathering by the robot's feet.

"Relax," Jack Manifold snarled, rolling his eyes. "I'm just doing a bit of redecorating. If Tommy doesn't like that, then he can tell me himself." Before Sam Nook could formulate a response, Jack Manifold had gone up the ladders in a hurry.

Sam Nook let out a huff of steam, focusing his attention on some of the cats that wandered around the hotel. Jack Manifold wasn't a good employee. He was only focused on keeping the hotel to himself, which didn't belong to him. It belonged to TommyInnit, as much as Jack Manifold tried to deny that.

Thankfully, Tommy was scheduled to be released in a few days. The news had initially made Sam Nook upset when Sam had told him, but Sam Nook immediately cheered up at the thought of Sam being with Tommy. Sam liked Tommy a lot, Tommy wouldn't be alone!

So Sam Nook was fine to wait.

--

Waiting.

It was a stormy day, rain pouring down from the sky, almost as if the clouds were crying. Sam Nook didn't understand why it had to be such a gloomy day. After all, Tommy's first days out of prison should be happy!

Sam Nook hadn't seen Tommy once since the boy was scheduled for release, but that didn't worry him. Tommy was probably very busy reconnecting with all his friends. Eventually he'd come see Sam Nook.

The sound of Sam Nook's own shuttering cameras snapped the robot out of the slight daze he was in. The image was lovely, with red and white flowers spread all along the grass at the side of the path. Sam Nook didn't understand where these flowers were coming from, but they were very beautiful. He could only imagine Tommy's reaction to the gorgeous plants. Tommy would pretend to hate it at first, but would later go and water them all himself.

Out of the darkness of the rain, Sam Nook saw Ranboo and Jack Manifold emerge from one of the buildings. The two didn't appear to be engaging in conversation, and appeared rather sad. They continued walking until they stopped at the gates to the Big Innit Hotel, Jack Manifold opening them slowly.

Ranboo gave a slow wave to Sam Nook, who gave one in return. Ranboo had changed over the last few days. His normally colored eyes were slightly duller, and in his jacket pocket, a purple flower peaked out. Sometimes the enderman's hand would go to it, lighting stroking the flower's petals as if it were a pet.

Sam Nook was very curious about it, but there was still time to ask Ranboo about it in the future.

The more urgent concern was Jack Manifold, who was approaching the front of the hotel. Sam let out a few clicks, shifting his trident in his hands threateningly. Jack Manifold had been vandalizing the hotel lately, and Sam Nook wouldn't allow him to do it again.

Despite all the other times Sam Nook had threatened him however, Jack Manifold looked up at Sam Nook, looking weaker than ever. His eyes were glazed over too, and his form was drenched with rain. When he spoke, his words were soft. "Sorry, Sam Nook. I broke something yesterday. I'm just here to fix it."

In shock, Sam Nook didn't even reply to Jack Manifold as he climbed up the ladders. Jack Manifold was a liar sometimes, but that there had been the honest truth. It didn't make sense. Why now?

"Sam Nook."

The robot turned quickly, coming face-to-face with his creator. Sam's green had paled, and his armor no longer looked as shiny as it once had. It worried Sam Nook too, but Sam knew what he was doing. He could take care of it easily.

"HELLO, AWESAMDUDE. WELCOME TO THE BIG INNIT HOTEL."

Sam flinched at the hotel's title, perplexing Sam Nook even more. Did he not like the name? He was the one who chose it, though.

"Don't you get tired, standing here?" Sam asked softly, his voice hoarse. "What if Tommy-"

"I COULD NEVER GET TIRED OF MY JOB, AWESAMDUDE. IT IS A GREAT PLEASURE TO WORK ALONGSIDE TOMMYINNIT AT HIS AMAZING HOTEL. WHEN TOMMY COMES BACK, HE WILL BE VERY HAPPY."

Sam shut his eyes, his fists clenched at his side as if he was in pain. There was silence between the two for a couple of seconds.

"Yeah," Sam croaked out, tears starting to well up in his eyes. "He'll be very happy with this. Thank you, Sam Nook."

Sam Nook had never felt happier. Tommy would be very happy with his hotel, and together they could beat out the competition! Sam was right!

"THANK YOU, AWESAMDUDE. PREPARE FOR THE BIG INNIT HOTEL TO RULE THIS SERVER."

Sam nodded slowly, his mouth open, with only short puffs of breath coming out. Exhaling, he looked up, gave a polite bow to Sam Nook, and departed. Jack Manifold left shortly after Sam as well, only giving a quick farewell to the robot.

The sky may have looked like it was crying, but that didn't change Sam Nook's mood. The sky was crying out of joy, surely! The server couldn't wait for TommyInnit to return to his hotel, and neither could Sam Nook.

So Sam Nook was fine to wait. 

[demon-slayage]

The first time you and Cove Holden get into an argument is when you’re in college

-femme reader

-high affectionate Cove, long term dating

-post step 3

-some mild angst but mostly fluff

-hi I haven’t written anything in years and this just popped out at me. Sorry it can get a little specific I based the sorority stuff on some of my own experiences so it does come from a femme perspective as well as my own experiences in the game w a high affectionate sporty Cove.

-hope you enjoy!

————————-

You opted to go to a university on the opposite side of the state. You generally didn’t come home to visit all that often just because your schedules didn’t always line up that way but you and Cove made it work. He knew this would happen and you tried to make a point of visiting at least once a month. However, you had joined a sorority because you wanted to make more friends. You could tell your longtime boyfriend was a little wary since your high school and friend group was never into partying like Greek life was known for.

Once you made it into the sorority in late fall you were finally able to attend one of these said ragers that Cove was worried about. You partook in some underage drinking and sent your boyfriend a couple of Snapchats of you hanging out with some sisters who he’s seen before as well as some unknown frat brothers. He simply told you to be safe, have a good time, and call him if you needed him. Knowing full well he’d drop everything to come get you if needed. Even though your drive/flight was hours away. You told him you loved him and not to worry.

But knowing Cove thats all he did over the weekend. Then the week after you had to deal with midterms so you were even busier and had less time to chat with your boyfriend as you were busy studying in the library with your friends and sisters. But regardless of that fall break was coming up and you had planned your visit to see Cove after midterms.

You made sure to text Cove to tell him you weren’t going to be as available but you knew he’d be a little sad but understanding knowing how clingy he was. However being in this situation you didn’t have time to focus on that.

Friday rolled around and you’d opted to fly home instead of taking the 5 hour drive. You’d planned it to be a surprise getting there earlier instead of the usual time. You had your moms pick you up from the airport and they smothered you with hugs and kisses once they saw you walk out of the gate.

You told them about how the semester was going and told them about your organization and they were just happy you were home. They took you family condo and you immediately got dressed to surprise your-probably-worried-you-hadn’t texted-him-for-a-bit-boyfriend. You sent him a text you saying were leaving in the morning which was normal but you’d always sent a follow up once you took a stop in your usual road trip.

You made your way to the tropical place restaurant where he worked and had even stopped by a local candy shop to pick up some fudge for him.

You swung the door open with a jingle and you’d somehow caught Cove conveniently at the host podium but unfortunately the moment he saw you he started immediately choking on the water he was drinking. His boss rushed over to check on him and noticed you and started laughing.

They said “Oh Cove, ever the smooth one. Why don’t you go take a long lunch since your partner is back.” They patted him on the back as he was still hacking pretty hard but you could see tears forming his eyes. You were unsure whether they were from being excited to see you or because he was in pain from choking.

You quickly pulled your dying boyfriend outside and let him finish recovering. After clearing his throat a few times he brought you into a big hug. And kissed your face all over.

“I didn’t expect you back so early!”

“I know I flew instead of driving since I wanted to see you so bad since I have more time! Fall break doesn’t end til Wednesday so you’re stuck with me until then.”

He puts a hand to his heart and says “oh what shall I do with you for that long.” He says it with a sly look in his eyes. But you also notice a bit of sadness in his voice but choose not to comment on it. You will later but not when he has to eventually go to back to work.

“So, do you want to eat here or find somewhere else to go. I guess I have a longer lunch but I don’t want to push it.”

You both opt for eating at his workplace but sitting outside around back away from the customers. You quickly fall into your normal conversations and you tell him about the midterms and your initiation into your sorority, telling him for the first time you have a secret he can’t know. He tries to get you to spill jokingly but you won’t budge. You also sense his sadness rising but again you won’t push until you’re in private.

Eventually your hour comes to a close and you tell him you’ll see him at his apartment later. You wave the spare key he gave you when he moved in and start your 15 minute trek back to your home to grab your belongings which you had left with your moms before they dropped you off to see him.

You ran inside and gave them a quick hug, popped over to Mr. Holden’s house to let him know you were back, who was just as shocked and then made your trek to Cove’s one bedroom apartment.

His complex was actually rather close to your family homes, he now had his independence but was still close enough to pop in on both families. You’d appreciated it since you’d stay at both places when you were in town and if Elizabeth was in town you got to stay with Cove. Though there was still a room available it was mostly just a weak excuse but your families never minded.

You opened up the door and inhaled and felt at peace. The citrusy-ocean scent you were used to hit you and made you tear up slightly. You walked your bag to Coves bedroom and then grabbed your entertainment of choice and headed into the living room to wait for him to get back. Since he was working a morning shift you expected him home in about an hour.

While you waited you remembered the fudge bought for him and made sure to grab it and display it on his coffee table.

Like clockwork when the clock struck 3, your tired boyfriend walked inside. All of the exhaustion on his face completely melted away at the sight of you and in two steps, thankful to his long legs he was holding you in his arms. Very enthusiastic for someone who’d already greeted you.

“You just saw me though!”

“I know but I didn’t get to do this earlier” he brought his lips to yours and the world stood still and all felt at peace. After a few moments you broke apart and you motioned to the fudge on the table.

“I bought some of your favorite to surprise you!”

You saw tears start to form in his eyes and then tears started to form in yours and you both hugged each other again before settling in a tangled pile of limbs on the couch.

However you were still aware of the subtle sadness he was giving off and decided now was the best time to bring it up.

“Hey.”

You looked at him with worry and he immediately went wide eyed.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“No, you tell me? I could tell you weren’t all there today when I saw you at the restaurant.”

“Oh,” he sighed. “Yeah. I’m sorry. It’s nothing.”

You looked at him and he immediately broke.

“No you’re right, sorry I don’t know why I sometimes do that still, you can read me like an open book.” He pulled you closer.

“I guess I was just feeling a little insecure.”

You were surprised. The Cove Holden. Insecure? You both trusted each other with the utmost care and neither of you had ever done anything warranting an insecurity to rise but you let him continue speaking.

“You looked like you were having so much fun in those photos, but seeing you with all those guys i didn’t know kind of got to me. And then you were busy the whole week, which I know you couldn’t help. But we couldn’t even talk about it and it just weighed on me.”

Oh Cove. You put a hand up to your mouth and tears started to form in your eyes. You pushed your face into his chest then looked up at him. He looked back at you with a deep intense love.

“I’m sorry I didn’t even think about that! Those guys joined their organization around the same time as me so we’d been getting to know each other and since it was the first time we got to drink I wasn’t even really conscious of what was happening! They’re just some good friends.”

At that he seemed to stiffen.

“What do you mean not conscious? You didn’t drink that much you blacked out?”

You were not actually a drinker at all and felt a little stung by his assumption. You weren’t even allowed to drink your entire new member process until you got initiated into the organization either so that was a first and you knew you didn’t pass your limits either.

“No Cove. I didn’t. I was fine, i didn’t mean it that way. I meant that those guys had just become part of my routine. Not that I had blacked out.” Your tone came out a little more hostile than you meant.

He looked away and cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I know you’re responsible.”

He looked at you and picked up your hand and started massaging it.

“It’s just with alcohol, I worry about it since we never really drank in high school. You’re free to do that of course! You’re free to do whatever you want I just was worried since I’m not able to be there if anything bad did happen.”

Oh. He was right. It’s not like if you did get sick he’d be right there to be able to hold your hair back. Of course he was concerned. You were living different lives right now and it worried him that he couldn’t be a part of some of your firsts.

“Cove, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about that. You’re always on my mind that it kind of felt like you’d be able to instantly come to my aid if I needed but you are actually 5 hours away and 3 if you fly.” You smiled sadly at him.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I trust you I really do, you know that but I’ve been realizing it’s hard for me at times watching you live this different life than me after we spent 10 years doing the same thing. I’ve never felt that insecurity before. In the back of my head I worry you’ll get bored of your boyfriend from your small hometown and want to move on to different things.”

You sighed at that, but not with any malice.

“Cove James Holden. You know you are the only one for me. Like you said, I’ve been with you for 10 years! You’re not getting rid of me that easily! And I’d never get bored of you!”

That elicited a chuckle and you pressed your lips to his cheek and then his lips.

Once you pulled apart he stayed looking at you with a soft gaze.

“I want you to have fun, have the whole college experience. I know you won’t always have time to talk to me. Thank you for sticking with me and riding out these insecurities I feel. You are my person and I know I’m yours.”

“Exactly! You are my absolute person.” You replied happily. Poking him in the chest.

“I love you,” he said as he pressed another kiss to your forehead.

“I love you two Cove Holden. Forever and always.”

——

Bonus:

You then spent the rest of the evening cooking dinner, catching up, and eventually having the nicest, deepest sleep you’re had in a while being back in the arms of your boyfriend. He had taken the weekend off so you didn’t even need to worry about waking up early in the morning.

When the sun peaked through the blinds you smiled up at the sleeping beauty who’d encased you protectively in his arms all night knowing someday you’d be doing this every day for the rest of your lives.

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 09 first part

(Masterpost) (More Canary Funsies)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

This episode features so many eternal minutes of zombie shambling that I thought I could fit everything into a single post. HA HA HA HA nope. 

Zombie Temple

The trio do their best to fend off the not-zombies in the temple. Lan Wangji tells Wei Wuxian that he can’t go carving them up because they’re not actually dead, and drops a callback to their very first meeting at the gate of Cloud Recesses, when Wei Wuxian caught his attention with his pillowy lips comment on the not-dead cultivator. 

Lan Wangji: You said it in that golden moment that will be seared into my memory for eternity, where I heard your voice and laid eyes on your angelic face and lost my heart forever, remember? Come on, babe, it was our very first zombie! How baked were you?

Wei Wuxian: I jerk off to the sword-fighting memory, not the zombie memory, you weirdo.

Nie Huaisang’s fear of the definitely not undead has apparently gotten him the rest of the way over his fear of Lan Wangji, because he’s now yelling “Lan-Xiong!” right along with “Wei-Xiong!” as he struggles. Note that although he later mentions that his fan is made of some fancy metal, we don’t see any evidence that he wants to fight with a fan any more than he does with a blade. I don’t hate anyone’s fan-fighting NHS headcanon, but my take is that he just isn’t a physical fighter, and that’s ok. 

This is a good time to remember that our entire experience of the Nie clan so far in this story is 1. Clever but hopelessly combat-unready tiny artiste Nie Huaisang 2. Quietly helpful, absurdly pretty sidekick Meng Yao. 

We don’t know yet that Nie Huasang’s gege and Meng Yao’s sugar daddy is literally the toughest motherfucker in the entire cultivation world. But his friends do! Which makes me love these dynamics even more, because not one of them criticizes Nie Huaisang for being the person he is. 

(more after the cut!)

Never Let Me Go

This scene is where Wei Wuxian gives his tacit consent to being used as the eventual agent of Nie Huaisang’s vengeance....ok not really.

But he does make it clear what Nie Huaisang should do when he’s in a pickle. And NHS doesn’t forget things.

Priorities 

Meanwhile, Lan Wangji isn’t nearly as patient as Wei Wuxian, and he drops a silence spell on Nie Huaisang basically out of annoyance. It’s not like they’re trying to be sneaky. 

Lan Wangji: How about you have an exquisitely crafted ceramic cup of shut the fuck up?

Flute Girl

Wen Qing comes to the rescue by summoning all of the not-zombies, who happen to be her extended family, to come toast some marshmallows. 

She’s another person who unwisely demonstrates, where Wei Wuxian can hear her, the power of flutes over zombies. 

This move doesn’t seem to do anything important but it looks cool. 

Brother Dynamic: Bad. Really Bad. 

Jiang Cheng shows up in the temple and trolls everyone, because this is a great time for childish antics. Wei Wuxian is super happy to see him and runs over to hug him, which earns him a shoulder slam. 

This is a regular part of their body language with each other. Wei Wuxian covers his hurt reaction very, very quickly, with a smile that doesn’t involve very much of his face. 

Ow

Wei Wuxian is so good at pretending his feelings aren’t hurt, he probably convinces himself. 

Then he gives a too-honest answer when Jiang Cheng accuses him of...daring to enjoy himself, basically.

That’s more truth than Jiang Cheng was looking for, and he raises a hand to Wei Wuxian, who hides behind Nie Huaisang. This move is interesting because on one level it’s just clowning; obviously Nie Huaisang can’t protect WWX from anything, and WWX doesn’t need protection from Jiang Cheng. 

WWX can easily beat JC in a fight, as he’s let us know before. On another level, this retreat signals WWX’s harmlessness, his childlike-ness, in a semiotic dance that has been playing out for over a decade between the brothers.  NHS is taking on Jiang Yanli’s role in the choreography, this time.   

All of this troubling hostility doesn’t make Jiang Cheng a bad person. He’s young and he’s still under his parents’ control and subject to their abuse at home. It takes time to develop mindfulness about this stuff and learn to treat people beneath you differently than the way you are treated. 

Jiang Cheng isn’t ready for that yet, any more than he is ready to say out loud that he cares about his brother. 

Leave My Boyfriend Out of It

This interaction is noteworthy for Wei Wuxian defending Lan Wangji to his brother, before Jiang Cheng even has a chance to blame Lan Wangji. 

Wei Wuxian says that following Lan Wangji was his own idea, and then gives LWJ the sweetest, warmest smile.

Lan Wangji also gets a pair of totally unearned, delighted smiles of thanks from his two besties when he lifts the silence spell on Nie Huaisang. 

Being mildly dickish all the time works out fine, I guess, if you only make friends with people whose brothers are legendary grouches.

Grilling Wen Qing

Wei Wuxian finally decides he’s had enough of Wen Qing’s crap, and gets slightly aggressive in questioning her.

He’s not actually roughing her up but he is approaching her as a near-enemy for the first time, rather than as someone who wants to be her friend. Once Wen Qing tells him what’s up and agrees to a sort of temporary alliance, he goes back to being his normal slightly awkward self with her. 

I don’t romance-ship WQ and WWX, except maybe as corpse-mountain era FWB, but I do like their chemistry. And their friendship is really refreshing and interesting, based on sharing goals and working together, not on emotional intimacy. It’s nice to see people with a lot of barriers around their hearts, building a strong, trusting bond without having to actually open up very much.

The idea of perfect sharing between people is a nice one, but it’s pretty alien to many of us who are recovering from trauma, or people who just aren’t wired that way, and it’s good to see other models of friendship and love. 

Wei Wuxian, at Lan Wangji’s direction, parts the Red Sea drops a cage on the other 3 cultivators before going to hunt the dire birdy.  

Jiang Chang is, predictably, pissed off about it, in spite of Wei Wuxian’s “you’re good at this” parting words, and says, according to the subtitles, “you bastard!”

“Bastard” is a pretty specific epithet, in English. In the current century, it’s generally used to mean “asshole,” more or less. But it still does carry the meaning “of illegitimate birth,” and since The Untamed is often concerned with legitimacy it seems pretty strong for JC to use with someone who is rumored to be his own Dad’s by-blow. 

Let’s have a look and see what he really is calling him... 你混蛋 =  Nǐ húndàn = “you bastard” per Google translate. Wow, Jiang Cheng, you really went there, huh. 

Wen Granny

Wen Qing and the others in the golden cage watch as the not-zombies try half-heartedly to get to them. Wen Qing is super sad about it, as opposed to the two guys who are just annoyed (Jiang Cheng) or scared (Nie Huaisang).

The first time I saw this, it was just - oh, Wen Qing sympathizes with this poor random woman, she feels bad about what's happening, this is to show us she has a heart.

Now though --  that's HER granny. Maybe not her bio-grandma but clearly a granny of her clan, who she knows well, who later cares for A-Yuan when he's a child, so may very well have cared for A-Qing and A-Ning when they were small, too. Owie.

Dire Bird Hunting

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian run off to hunt the smoke bird together. They are quickly trapped in cool-looking fog. Kudos to the Director of Photography.

They spend some time being confused and also being peak Wangxian 1.0 as they help each other out. 

Lost in the fog and unable to summon talismans, Wei Wuxian is mainly about checking on Lan Wangji, making sure he’s ok, making sure he’s near. ��He doesn’t spare any worry for himself.

(We get a rare instance of seeing an actually glowing sword here, instead of just having a character say “I saw the beams of swords!” to save money on VFX.)

Lan Wangji, meanwhile, understands the mental attack they are under, explains it to Wei Wuxian with only a little snark about Wei Wuxian’s overly busy mind, and teaches him how to handle it.

Lan Wangji is super disciplined in mind, body, and sword - his fight moves don’t change, really, throughout his life, but he gets better and better at execution. Wei Wuxian isn’t exactly undisciplined, but he’s super creative and busts out a new skill in nearly every encounter. Lan Wangji sees this and is learning to make use of it.

After Lan Wangji helps Wei Wuxian overcome the confusion that is blocking his talisman use, he tells him which talisman to use. 

This isn’t a talisman that LWJ uses himself, it’s just that he’s paying very close attention to WWX’s battle moves, and has a great memory, so he knows which ones will work. In a pretty short timespan he’s moved from thinking like a solo swordsman to thinking as part of a team with a broad range of battle skills. Very soon, he’ll be starting to use Wei Wuxian’s talismans himself. 

WWX takes a hit from the flying death chain, but uses it to his advantage, as in so many encounters. He’s not just self-sacrificing--he is definitely that--but he’s also a chess player, knowing how to use a sacrifice or an injury to his advantage. Cue Lan Wangji being worried for the entire rest of his life.

Part Two is here!

[officialleehadan]

West and South

At the Sign of the Silver Rose

+++

“I need your phone.”

“No you don’t.”

“I do if you want me to help hide us. Hand it over.”

Jax did not want to give Tanglethorn his phone, but he didn’t have much choice, all things considered. Lydia would rally quickly and when she did, they would have the full force of her fury on their tails. He did not want to find out what she would do to him if she managed to catch up with them. He grumbled and took a hand off his truck’s wheel to dig in his pocket for his phone. He unlocked it and passed it to the Fae beside him.

“Unexpectedly cooperative,” Tanglethorn muttered. Jax hadn’t expected him to understand technology. Many of the residents of Underhill viewed most tech with. At best, hostile suspicion. Tanglethorn, however, seemed comfortable with it. He dialed a number in quickly, and held it to his ear. Jax could hear it ringing. It must have been a little loud for Tanglethorn’s Fae ears, but he didn’t turn it down. A courtesy, maybe, so Jax could listen in. A sleepy male voice answered and Tanglethorn breathed a sigh of relief. “Mucker. It’s me. I need help.”

The growls Jax could hear starting on the other end of the line silenced abruptly and were quiet for a long minute.

“Anything,” he, apparently named Mucker, replied. “Where are you?”

“About four hours out from your farm. Is your land still cross-plowed?” Tanglethorn asked, apparently aware of the dirty tricks to keep Underhill’s residents away from someone. Some of the Good Folk couldn’t cross a cross, cut into the earth. Something about the parting of ways. Jax didn’t know exactly how it worked, but it did. Cross-plowing cut the land into deep furrows that crossed each other over, making thousands of deep crosses. It made crossing such land very difficult for the Good Folk. “I have a need for protection, at least long enough to arrange a proper escape.”

“Yeah. All but the road, and I can cross it over easy enough. You have someone after you?”

“My sweet cousin wants something I don’t care to give her.”

“Aye, that’d do it. I’ll get the plow out and meet you at the gate.”

Mucker didn’t say goodbye when he hung up, and Tanglethorn passed the phone back.

“Take the highway west and south,” he instructed Jax as they made the main road, going a little faster than was safe. “Don’t worry about police. I’ll handle them if we get pulled over.”

“I bet you will,” Jax muttered, but he didn’t doubt that Tanglethorn was as good as his word. He would have wrapped Jax up in glamours if Jax wasn’t warded against them. A normal human would belong to him between one glance and the next. “Who’s Mucker?”

“A friend,” Tanglethorn said, oddly fond. He fiddled with the layered silks of his scandalous robes and showed far too much leg for decency. Jax did his best not to look. Tanglethorn might not be able to glamour him, but he was as vulnerable as anyone to old-fashioned seduction. “A better friend than I deserve, certainly. I helped him escape a vicious fate a long time ago. He knows I would not call for less than a threat to my life.”

“Can he help us?” Jax was considering how and where to hide Tanglethorn. It wouldn’t be easy. Lydia was very powerful and she had a lot of connections. It wouldn’t take long for her to call in any of the other hitters she liked to work with. Jax wasn’t the only one on her payroll, and he didn’t look forward to fighting one of his own. “I have a few bolt-holes, but it’s gonna take time to get to them.”

“Mucker’s land is cross-plowed, and the road is seeded with iron shavings,” Tanglethorn laid out a description of his friend’s home with a wry smile. “His fence is of rowan boards, with living rowan trees and holly along the inside of the fence-line itself. He grows Saint John’s wort and red verbena.”

It was a serious protection. As close to a fortress against the beings of Underhill as could ever be wished. Jax was impressed, although he did have some concerns. “How do we get you onto the land? That will repel you as much as any other Fae.”

“It will. You’re going to have to do something I would rather you didn’t to get me inside,” Tanglethorn said, and grimaced, his lovely face twisted at the very thought. “You heard Lydia use my Name. I assume you already knew it, and I thank you for not using it to bring me to her. Now, I need you to use it to force me across the property line.”

It was a trust, and one that Jax hadn’t expected, even with their current situation. The use of a Faerie’s Name was either a sign of deepest affection, or a cruelty beyond any other they could imagine. Most Fae would rather be buried alive in iron sand than have their Name spoken aloud. To use it to force Tanglethorn across a Fae-repelling line like the one he spoke of would be torture.

He must truly fear what Lydia would do to him to not only allow, but to request such a thing.

That kind of trust needed a trust returned. Jax understood all the things Tanglethorn was saying, and all the things he wasn’t.

So he reached down to his belt, and slid his thumb over the edge of his long hunting knife just enough to break the skin. It barely stung, and he let a single drop of blood run free before he closed his finger over the cut to seal it again.

“I will never use your Name without your explicit consent,” he promised on his own blood. He didn’t take his gaze off the road, but he saw the way Tanglethorn gaped at him. “I’m a murderer, but not a monster. So I’ll use it to get you to safety, but I’ll never speak it again unless you give me permission.”

“It’s dangerous to make an oath to someone like me,” Tanglethorn said softly, but he gave Jax the first genuine smile Jax had yet to see out of him. “I accept your oath, Hunter. It’s a kindness I did not expect, when the road yet to come is so dark.”

“When you’re hiding, sometimes the dark is a friend,” Jax said, and pushed his truck to go a little faster as he merged onto the highway. “So, west and south. I can do that.”

+++

At the Sign of the Silver Rose:

Cold Iron Buckshot

Troll Market 

Strike a Pose  (Subscriber Only!)

For My Life  (Subscriber Only!)

Reach the Door (Subscriber Only!)

Iron Spike (Subscriber Only!)

West and South (New!)

+++

MASTERLIST

[evarcana]

I See the Moon

Oh when you are looking at the sun

Ev wears some very impractical shoes and learns that she does not know the city quite as well as she thought.

characters: the usual cast of Ev and consul Valerius

words: 2,4k

warnings: none!

notes: I wanted to write something short and sweet to act as a placeholder between the previous part and what is coming next, but I think I got a bit too emotionally attached in the process. The title is from “Be the One” by Dua Lipa and I will leave it open for interpretations.

Darkness strikes Ev’s eyes as she steps out of the theatre doors and for a moment she is completely lost in time and space, staring at her surroundings as if seeing everything for the first time - the disorientation which comes with returning to reality after the magic of the theatre wears off.

A few myopic street lanterns glimmer faintly and the moon, pitched extraordinarily high, is covered by the ragged organza of thin clouds and barely available to light the streets below. Passing groups of people turn into clusters of dark silhouettes, and Ev watches the collars being lifted and scarfs wrapped tighter, as the theatregoers hide themselves from the wind moist with the cool evening dew and disappear into the shadows, leaving only trails of soft footsteps and animated chatter behind them. It is this time of the year when night falls suddenly and way quicker than anyone anticipates.

The impatient tug on Ev’s arm cuts through the hazy darkness. “Are you going to let me leave or what?!” Valerius sounds desperate in his exasperation.

“Just a moment and you are free.” Still watching the dark street, Ev reaches for her bag and throws a pair of flat pointy mules decorated with golden beads and tassels on the ground in front of her. Using Valerius’s arm for support, she lifts one leg to untie the ribbons on her ankle. Somebody behind them helpfully holds the theatre door open, letting the light out, and they both stare at Ev’s bright red toenails as she steps out of her shoes. Ev frowns to herself and curls her toes - it is hard to be an intimidating opponent when you wear a cute sparkly little ring on your fourth toe, when she feels another tug and catches her breath in surprise, losing her balance. The arm slips from under her hand causing her to immediately crash into Valerius. Well, no chance of looking like a menace now. At least Valerius can’t run away, she thinks, because her entire face is smashed into his chest. “So impatient,” Ev rolls her eyes and tucks her heels in the bag.

Valerius hurries to brush off something invisible from his coat and then looks down at Ev’s feet with cynical interest, “Going on a hike?”

She contemplates telling that it took her a very detoured walk from the palace and four nervous circles around the Town Square to finally burn all that destructive energy her body generated in their morning argument, and that right now she is dying to rub her sore ankles, but decides against it. After all, wounded animals are easy prey. “Looks like it,” Ev says, shifting her weight from one foot to another. She scans the road once again and clicks her tongue. There is a carriage pulling away, two people inside, and another one rolling on towards the theatre, the coachman already waving to somebody, but most of the theatre crowd chooses to walk. They all must be locals, or heading to the closest tavern, Ev realises.

“Don’t tell me, -” Valerius’s voice says and Ev looks up, surprised that he is still standing there, “you don’t have a carriage because you were hoping to find a date to continue the night. You shall forgive me for ruining this little plan of yours.” His words are dripping with distaste.

She realises that Valerius must have been following her eyeline. The nervous lough blasts out of her but she manages to catch it and it turns to sound like a cough. A lucky guess on his part? Or did he take inspiration from his own plans? Ev refuses to think about the whole theatre fiasco. The sinking feeling in her chest has started and she puts her hands on her hips in annoyance. “I thought there would be carriages waiting,” she manages to say.

Valerius arches his brow in response, “...how pathetic.” Ev gives him her best withering look and turns away.

The last carriage departs with the din of wheels hitting the worn edges of the stones. Valerius’s eyes are still set on Ev’s face and his brow begins to crease slowly. He is clearly deliberating something but Ev cannot see it. She is watching clouds moving slowly across the moon. “Where do you live?”, he finally asks.

“By the Town Square,” Ev responds automatically, squinting at the sky above her.

“Not in the Heart District?” It sounds like a genuine question at first but the edge of his mouth lifts in a wry grin. “Didn’t you say I wasn’t the only one with the money here?”

“Too close to you,” she smirks back, “the urge of leaving a dead fish by your gate at least weekly would be -,” she leans in closer, turning her voice into syrupy sweet hush, “- irresistible”. This is getting weird. “Anyway,” Ev hurriedly looks behind her shoulder at the theatre doors, “I think it is going to rain later. Have a good night,” the words come in a flat orderly row, she is already concerned with something else, “I will see whether the theatre director can fetch me a carriage.”

“My carriage is waiting down the road.”

“Mm good,” Ev mutters to herself but then the realisation hits and she turns to the consul, eyes wide. “Are you offering me a lift home?” A ‘thank you’ sign lights inside her head but she crashes it with a wave of suspicion. It’s Valerius out of all people. He has no reason to offer her a ride in his carriage besides plotting to murder her and then ditch the body somewhere in the forest. Ev gives him a hard stare.

Valerius breaks the staring game first - his eyes flash with the new unidentified emotion before he regains his usual dismissive look. “Not home,” he snorts, “to the Town Square,this should suffice for a favour.”

“No no, hold on,” Ev raises her hand in protest. “I haven’t asked you anything yet, and hospitality is not a favour.”

“What hospitality are you talking about?”

“You repeat that it is your city all the time! Technically, I am still a guest.” Inside her head Ev is thanking all the available gods for her ability to just keep talking, regardless of whether it makes sense or not, because she definitely has not processed what happened yet.

“Yes, well, just keep your mouth shut,” Valerius says and walks off without a backward glance, his back soon disappearing in the darkness of the narrow lane.

Ev’s eyes follow his path and then she throws another look at the theatre building. The light in one of its rounded windows goes down. She watches the emptying street and feels the goose bumps scatter her forearms. The air is beginning to chill. She looks down at her feet. Ev decides that the consul is the kind of man who would rather pay somebody if he wanted to get rid of her than being involved himself and for the second time this evening she rushes after Valerius. This is so weird.

She is about to call him out to slow down because the sound of duck feet that her ‘emergency’ shoes make is getting on her nerves when she hears a loud thud and a curse. In the darkness of the path Ev is not sure how close Valerius is to her but she knows that he stumbled and it makes her giggle in delight. She stretches her hand out glancing at the strips of warm candlelight coming from the gaps in the window shutters and the ivory glare of the moon. A small globe of light, the size of a plum, forms above her hand. Its light is delicate and warm, as if filtered through the frosted glass, but bright enough to fill the space between the two of them.

The consul straightens up quickly, “Why -”

“I don’t know about you but I like my toes all intact,” Ev walks over to him. “It’s only a small trick, here,” she raises her hand and the light gets brighter, “you can touch it, it’s not hot.”

Valerius takes a step back, looking at the ball of light suspiciously. “You are full of tricks, aren’t you?” he says.

“Don't even make me start on what you are full of.” She bunches her hand in a fist and the light sphere drops down but, before hitting the ground, it bounces back in the air like a small ball and splits into a dozen of smaller lights, startling Valerius. They hover in the air along the path similar to a garland of lanterns as they walk in silence until the lane ends, opening to the canal, and Ev asks, “Is it your carriage there?”

***

The servant opens the carriage door and much to Ev’s astonishment, Valerius waits for her to get in first. She gives him a confused look but complies. There is no evening chill inside and the cushioned seats are invitingly soft, so Ev’s immediately decides that regardless of what is going to happen it was a good idea not to walk home. Valerius takes a seat opposite her and reaches to unbutton his coat and pull his long loose braid from under the collar. His head rolls gently to the side and Ev sees a couple of inches of the neck, soft lines and the glowing skin. She feels her cheeks beginning to heat, suddenly remembering the warmth and the bitter almond fragrance she breathed in every time she got too close to the man, and gods did she get too close tonight.

This is about as far from the real world as Ev can imagine. The carriage is small and the little triangle of her beaded slipper somehow ended up between the consul’s leather boots. If she was to stretch her leg, the bareskin on the side her foot would brush along his shin. They have never sat this close together. Ev thinks about the old lady from the theatre. How would she feel if she knew that she was the only thin barrier stopping them from recognising each other and fully succumbing to the mutual hostility, claiming at least half of the theatre as casualties in the process. This could have been a disaster.

Ev looks at Valerius again and tries to understand how could she not recognise these features straight away. The signature crease between the dark brows and the sulky mouth. Valerius sits in silence, and his eyes are definitely not the ones she knows. They are so wistful and lonely, and so golden under the lamp light, Ev has to look away.

She puts a hand under her chin and leans to the window. A fine mist of rain has started to grit on the glass, and behind the sparks of its tiny drops - a bridge arches over the canal’s silver curve, both ends of which are clipped by infinity, which, in the dim light of the early night, is only ten feet away. The backdrop is all in flashes of the lit windows and the black outlines of pointed rooftops, round cupolas and slender towers, all together resembling a crown adorned by a single grand jewel of the moon, burning bright white. Then, the skyline and even the moon gets momentarily obscured by the huge wall, deprived of any lights, looking ghostly in the tempered gloom.

“That massive rounded building, what is it?” Ev is surprised with herself for striking a conversation.

“Have you not seen it before?”

“No, I have not really been to this part of the city,” she says, turning to Valerius, “What is it? A hippodrome?”

“It's the coliseum. The count’s favourite place,” he gives a chuckle which sounds bitter. “The man loved... performances.”

“What kind of performances?” Ev asks, watching his mouth twisting in distaste. Something about his look makes her frown.

“Gladiators. Bloodshed which lacked any order or purpose besides the count’s own entertainment,” Valerius rubs the bridge of his nose and glances to the window. Ev cannot tell whether he is looking at the moon or the looming coliseum, considering something. “But it’s not what this place was intended for,” he pauses. He turns back to Ev and the expression in his eyes is softer. “It was built before Lucio became a count, although it was slightly less grand back then. The rituals and ceremonies were conducted there during the festivities and the previous count used to reenact scenes of the famous battles there, using the actors. It brought the whole city together. Nobody wants to remember those days anymore.”

Ev feels a weird tremble inside and she is not sure what has caused it until she realises that it is a strange, unusual affection in his voice. She crosses her arms and seats back to contain the feeling. It’s so freaking strange to talk to him when his face is not a mask of boredom. “Did you use to come to watch?” she asks.

“Only when I had to. As if I would mix myself with the roaring crowd of plebeians. Besides, it was terribly distatestful and the smell inside was disgusting.” His mouth tightens, and a strange shadow clouds his expression this time. “Pointless waste of human life.”

“Oh,” is all Ev can manage. She cannot stop staring at Valerius. There is some kindness beneath this asshole facade, human decency, fairness even. It is not the perspective that she has been prepared for. “I meant before that,” she adds faintly.

“Yes I did, when I was much younger.”

“I cannot believe I have never heard of it.”

“Did you do any research before you came here?” The consul is back to his dismissive tone.

“Honestly? I had other things to worry about.” Ev turns back to the window, suddenly unable to look at him anymore.

She hears an irritated snort from Valerius but then, after a brief silence, he starts talking again, and it is not about Ev’s inadequacy. He talks about the canals named after constellations, traditions which Vesuvia used to have, and what you could find in the city before the plague. His voice is calm and steady, and has this velvet quality to it, which fits the night perfectly. Ev closes her eyes and thinks that maybe if she asked Valerius, as that favour she got from him, to continue his stories sitting by her bedside, she would finally be able to fall asleep before the sunrise.

[razrbladekiss]

TYRANTS | Chapter Eight - Angels Or Devils

WORD COUNT: 6.3k

WARNINGS: mentions of death, grief, tig, usual SOA shit

MASTERLIST

Irked, Chibs stuffed his cellphone into the pocket of his cut with a prolonged fuck to accompany the squelch of glass against leather.

He couldn’t get a firm grip on anything this morning.

Jax was at large, Isla and Tig had rolled onto the lot together looking much, much too comfortable, and Gemma was chewing every goddamn soul’s ear off about her son.

To say that he wanted the day to be over—before it had even commenced—was the understatement of the fucking year.

“Where the hell is he?” Clay barked from the front of the garage, turning to eye Isla directly. “You sure you haven’t seen him?”

“If I knew where he was, I would’ve told you by now.” Her retort was just as curt, prompting Tig to tense in his spot beside her.

He twined his hand around her bicep in order to calm her, but it was no use.

“Well somebody must know where he is—“

“You tried callin’ Tara?” Chibs cut the president off, hoping he’d be able to take some of the heat off of his daughter—the one that seemed to get all of Clay’s Jax-fueled frustrations launched atop her these days.

He just glared at the Scot.

“I can swing by his place? Make sure he ain’t there?” Tig offered.

“He isn’t. Wendy would’ve said.”

“Alright,” the sergeant smacked his lips together. “We’re gonna have to go without him, then.”

Isla hummed, agreeing with Tig.

That forced a vexed snarl from Clay, and she wanted to throttle him for being so fucking haughty today.

“What? He has a point. If we wait around for him, then we’re gonna be late and the other Sons will get to the cemetery before us. Jax knows where we’re going, and what time this fucking funeral starts, so just trust that he’ll be there!”

Her outburst was completely uncharacteristic. It was brash and loud, and Clay realized that her emotions were running a hell of a lot higher today than what they usually would have, so he allowed it to pass.

He cut her some slack because that was what she needed. Isla needed to blow off some steam, to raise her voice and yell out her frustrations because she would’ve let them bubble over, otherwise.

Plus, unbeknownst to him, she had started to take the Mirtazapine that had been prescribed to her, and she still didn’t know how to feel about it.

It was odd. Everything about today, was just fucking odd.

“Kids right.” The rasped acknowledgment came from Happy this time, nodding in her direction with that signature stoic expression he was known to host. “Jax wouldn’t miss this.”

“Alright.” Clay waved a hand tersely before gesturing to the sea of Harley-Davidsons parked side-by-side. “You heard ‘em. Let’s go.”

Tig grabbed at her hand as she went to slip away—exactly like she did to him last night—and pulled her toward him.

The moment didn’t go unnoticed by Clay and her father as they mounted their bikes, sharing the same look that’d been meshed with confusion and concern.

“You good now?”

She nodded, using her pointer finger to twist the crucifix that was sat against her neck, feeling a foreign heat prickle against her cheeks because all eyes were on them.

After turning up together today, people had their suspicions, too.

And those suspicions were mostly held by Chibs and the pres, but it was partly unrest because they both knew what Tig had done—though, Chibs wasn’t officially privy to Clay pulling the strings.

He would be, though. In time, he would find out for himself.

“Gemma and Wendy are heading out in the SUV. Are you going too?” He squinted underneath the sun, pulling his sunglasses from the neck of his shirt.

“I am.” Isla smiled, squeezing Tig’s hand. “Ride safe.”

She stood straight—not having to shift onto her toes because her heels provided some more height—and pressed a dulcet kiss to his cheek.

“Please don’t get into another fight today.” She expressed sadly, lightly ghosting her fingertips over the bruise sitting uncomfortably against his cheekbone. “I don’t think I have it in me to take care of you again.”

“I can’t make any promises.” Her lips curled upward, expressing some sort of smile—though, what with the forthcoming event, she didn’t feel too good about it.

But she remained silent, after that.

Isla got into the car without saying a single word.

The lull was of course grim, but stillness was what the three women needed. It was good for them to sit in complete silence—the only sound coming from the din of the car engine and outside of the vehicle—because it allowed them space to think.

She needed to collect her thoughts this morning, especially after what she had learned last night. Isla didn’t want to think that Jax would have flipped on Tig like that, but it was Jax.

He was unpredictable.

Never once had she felt a sense of outrage that she wasn’t sure how to quell whenever thinking of her best friend, but she was beginning to understand just why Clay was so pissed at his rashness lately.

Even if he was acting on instinct—using his conscience to rule his decisions—Jax was still acting recklessly. His desire to do the morally sound thing outweighed the need that his club had for him to carry out the act that would result in the greater good.

And he was right to stop Tig from pulling the trigger on that girl, but Isla was wary of how he had decided to handle it.

“You didn’t call me last night.” Gemma whispered as the car pulled up to the cemetery gates. “You said that you’d call me.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Genuinely, she told her. “When I got in I just went straight to bed, but then Tig turned up at my place and he needed my help, and then—“

“You let him stay.” She finished Isla’s sentence with a hum, providing her with an unusually somber glance. “If there’s anything going on between the two of you, then it’s okay—“

“There isn’t.” Isla shot her down, impatiently waiting for the all-clear to leave the vehicle. “He got hurt last night, needed patching up and didn’t wanna go to the clubhouse in case he saw Jax again, and so he came to me. And, because I’m nice, I let him stay the night.”

“Why wouldn’t he wanna see Jax?”

Wendy’s qualm came unexpectedly. She hadn’t thought that the blonde was listening to the little back and forth.

“Because he was the reason that Tig needed his face fixed.” She spat bitterly when Wendy just blinked at her, hoping to God that they’d be able to get outside soon.

Her irritation with the VP was palpable, and Gemma couldn’t help wondering whether Jax’s stunt had a part to play in why she was so galled when his name was brought up before they left the garage.

Regardless, Isla was getting along with it today. For the sake of Opie and his kids, she was putting her hostility aside and paying her respects to Donna the way that she had always been taught to.

“Woah, what a turn out.” Her admiration for the Sons grew with every single member—every Nomad—that she saw riding along the winding road.

Isla moved between Chibs and Tig, holding tightly onto her father’s hand as they walked toward Donna’s casket.

“Still no Jax.” Almost relieved, Tig noted. “Wonder if he’s gonna ride over with Tacoma.”

“Doubt it.” The Scot added. “He woulda followed us. Dunno where the fuck he’s gotten to.”

“He’ll be here.” She promised hopefully, breaking away from the two men—shaking Chibs off when he held on a little bit tighter, not wanting to let her go.

The black dress she’d thrown on was hardly funeral attire, but the tights hugging her legs underneath the cotton made it a bit better.

Tig watched her pad across the grass and toward Opie, trying to sniff back his own tears at the sight of her taking a long-stemmed blue flower, kissing the petals, and placing it atop the coffin.

It was horrible.

“I’m sorry, Ope.” Isla pressed a kiss to her fingers and ghosted it over the wood, feeling her eyes dampen. “Anything you need—anything at all that you can think of for yourself or your mom or the kids—I’m here. Always.”

He couldn’t quite find the words to thank her, but she knew that he was grateful. Opie didn’t have to say anything for Isla to recognize his appreciation for her, for his family, and for everybody that turned out today.

Jax wasn’t there, though. Not yet.

And, perhaps, Isla being at his side during a time of such harrowing distress was her way of trying to comfort him because his best friend was nowhere to be seen. But she would’ve done it for anybody.

She just wished that it wasn’t Opie.

“I love you…So much.” She whispered through a smile when more people began to filter in, backing away to sit beside Gemma and in front of Tig.

The cool metal of his rings were against her shoulder in an instant, anchoring her back to earth after floating much, much too high above the ground.

She was in a distorted haze, so to speak. Isla’s head wasn’t particularly in the right place today, and it could’ve been down to a multitude of things—but she wanted to simply pin it on her grief.

Chibs saw the way she gnawed into her bottom lip, the way she continually pulled Diane’s crucifix across the golden chain as means of comfort—or, maybe, it was just out of remorse.

He noticed that his daughter—his little girl—peered at Opie’s children sitting beside their grandmother as they said goodbye to the woman that brought them into the world.

He wondered if they understood the weight of it all. They were so young, so impressionable, so innocent, and he saw a lot of Isla in those two kids.

The dull throb of Isla’s heart almost slowed to a halt when the funeral commenced, and Jax was still completely out of sight. Juice held his cut while he stood beside Tara, feeling his chest tighten.

It was difficult to understand just why Jackson Teller didn’t show for such an important moment in Opie’s life.

“I can’t believe him.” Tig hissed out in a whisper, completely ruffled. Isla looked up at the man behind her, holding a dainty hand on top of his. “I can’t fucking believe him.”

He didn’t know what to say. Clay didn’t, either. As he stood beside his Sgt. At Arms and peered down at the disheveled blonde, Clay Morrow struggled to find the words to elucidate his disdain for the lack of action from his step-son.

Donna was family. Opie was family. Family was meant to be there for one another, not purposely ignoring such a pivotal event.

“He’ll be here.” Isla repeated her promise, melting into her space as Tig leant over to kiss the top of her head.

Her eyes glazed over instantaneously, coercing her to turn away before she broke down.

But she leaned backward into his embrace, and watched the ceremony commence.

And it only took a handful of moments for her mood to perk up—as much as it could have under the circumstances—but she was conceivably happier at the sight before her.

“I told you.” She mumbled. She refused to let up her grip on Tig, though, holding onto him firmer now.

It was comfortable. He was comfortable.

“What the fuck…”

Jax looked like hell. Still wearing last night’s clothes—still bloodied and bruised from his scuffle—he sauntered over the grass and made a beeline for Tara.

Isla’s throat hitched.

“Did you do that to him?” She mumbled in reference to the slit in his lip, craning her neck to eye the blue-eyed man.

“Yeah, probably.”

She just shook her head with a tiny smirk, shifting her focus back to the asshole that was taking his sweet fucking time.

It didn’t upset her as much as she thought that it would’ve, watching him go back to her like that. If anything, she was glad that they had managed to reconcile because she made him happy.

But, for a reason unbeknownst to herself, she felt bad for Wendy.

To watch the father of her newborn take his cut from a woman that’d only been back in his life for five minutes, to hold and kiss her in front of everyone, was something she shouldn’t have had to witness today.

They weren’t together, but she knew how that was bound to hurt—to sting and incapacitate her because it was all still so fucking raw.

Poor Wendy.

He took one of the flowers away from the sparse pile, holding it to his lips, and placed it atop Donna’s casket.

Jax glared over his shoulder, shooting the two guilt-ridden men a look that read fury. He made sure that Isla wasn’t looking at him when he did that, though.

He refused to look at her.

And he didn’t stay, either. He paid his respects for all of thirty seconds before stalking away, and leaving the most egregious of tastes on the tip of each tongue.

The funeral flew by, after that.

Before Isla knew it, she was dismounting Tig’s bike outside of T M—again—and stumbling over her heels when she couldn’t quite find her footing. She’d been in a world of her own for the last fifteen minutes.

“You want me to get you a beer?” She asked, handing him her helmet. “Or did you want some of that wine you like?”

He snorted at her taunt, taking it from her. “Beer—but none of that shit Bobby drinks.”

Isla chuckled, backing away from the bike and Tig.

“You want a drink, too?” She asked Clay when he strode over, hands in his pockets.

He nodded, waiting for her to slip out of sight before turning his attention to his Sergeant.

“What’s going on with you two?” Clay asked him accusingly, snatching Tig’s attention from the blonde who was ambling into the clubhouse.

He waved the pres off, lighting a cigarette. “Nothing, man. She’s just been helpin’ me out—“

“That’s what you’re calling it now, huh?”

“That’s what it is.” Tig shrugged, exhaling the smoke from his nostrils. “Y’know what she’s like. She sees someone that needs patchin’ up, and she does it. That’s all.”

Unconvinced, Clay leaned closer to him—striving for the little moment to go unnoticed by those that shrouded the lot. Jax and Tara, for one.

“That’s Chibs’s kid. You be careful.”

“Ain’t nothing to be careful about, brother.” Tig ground his lips together, squinting upward as he rested against his bike. “We’re just friends.”

“You stayed the night with her.”

“Yeah—“

“Twice.”

“Clay—“

“In the same fucking bed!” He snapped, running a hand over his face.

His desire to protect the women in his life—to assert the dominance he had, or his authority—was remarkably overbearing at the best of times.

Isla and Gemma didn’t particularly need to be coddled the way that they’d always been at the hands of Clay Morrow and his club, but they were.

And the thought of his sleaziest, loathsome, savage brother getting closer and closer to that woman churned his stomach. Because he knew what Tig was capable of—what he did—and would be damned if anything were to happen to her at the hands of Tig fucking Trager.

Chibs would kill him, too.

“Nothing happened, nothing’s currently happening, and nothing will happen.” He guaranteed. “Clay, I swear.”

“Alright.” Dubious, the older man responded. “But, if there is, then you be careful. Jax is onto us, and it’s only a matter of time before Isla puts two and two together—‘cuz she ain’t stupid.”

Be careful. Be careful. Be careful.

How about you shut the fuck up?

“I know she isn’t.” Almost irked that Clay would assume he thought that, he retorted. “But she’s got shit going on too, man, I don’t think she’s gonna be focusing on this right now so you don’t gotta worry.”

“Alright.” Clay repeated himself.

He didn’t think that his right-hand was telling him the truth, but he couldn’t exactly do anything about that until an issue arose.

What he did know, though, was that Tig Trager would’ve had some serious hell to pay if he had ignited something with Isla right now.

Or ever, really.

“Keep Jax away from her.” He told Clay, flicking his cigarette to the ground. “She’s pissed at him for what he did to me last night.”

“What’d he do?”

Tig pointed at the cuts on his cheek, grimacing. “She’s fucked off, and if they talk she’s probably gonna throw something at him.”

“Eh. Let her.” Clay waved him off, hastily shutting himself up when he heeded her heels clicking across the gravel toward them. “He needs to be humbled sometimes.”

The rivalry between the two had only intensified since Abel was born and Jax’s priorities shifted from the club.

His family came first. His biological family came first.

And maybe Clay didn’t understand the implications and responsibilities that came along with fatherhood because he’d never had that bestowed upon him, but Jax did.

He knew that he had to provide for his kid, for the one being that was solely dependent on him, and he would never compromise or jeopardize that.

Things weren’t going to be made easy for the man, however.

“Budweiser for you.” Isla smiled, handing a bottle to Tig. She passed one to Clay, holding onto it a little firmer as she offered it to him. “And one for you—but you need to take this, and go see your wife.”

“Why?” Hesitantly, he accepted the alcohol.

Isla shrugged. “She just wants to see you. Seems important.”

“Shit.” Clay hissed, taking a long swig before striding away.

She watched him stamp toward the clubhouse, heeding the change in his mood, and wondered why Gemma was so determined to talk to him at that specific moment.

It could’ve been anything with that woman, really. It could’ve been something so minor, completely insignificant, that Gemma had to get off her chest.

Or it could’ve been something along the lines of elucidating the bone-crushing lament that she held for both her husband and Tig.

Whatever it was, however, Clay wasn’t excited to face her.

“What’d he chew your ear off about?” Isla asked, struggling to open her beer. She sighed, suddenly remembering why she loved her screw-top bottles of wine so much.

“Pass it to me.” Tig took it from her, using his own bottle cap to pop hers off. He chuckled at her grimace, handing it back.

“Thanks.” She groaned, lifting it upward. “So…What did Clay want?”

Budweiser blanketed Tig’s tongue and lips as he pulled the drink away from his mouth, using the back of his hand to rub at the excess.

Quickly, he wondered whether lying to Isla—fabricating the truth and downplaying his superior’s concern—was in his best interest.

But she was perceptive. There was no doubt that she’d realize he was lying to her.

“He thinks that something is going on between us.”

She rolled her eyes, taking a pull.

“What?” A little nervous—on edge, perhaps—Tig asked her. “Did you already know that he felt that way?”

“No.” Instantly, she retorted. “I didn’t know about Clay, but Gemma feels the same. D’ya think they’ve talked?”

“Oh, definitely.” With a small glower, he told her.

They absolutely talked about the two, and that was what worried Tig.

There was nothing wrong with them colluding against the pair, as a rule. He wasn’t offended at the thought, he felt quite honored actually.

But it was the connotation that came alongside those conspiracies. The idea that Tig was only so friendly—so supportive and loving—toward Isla because he wanted one thing from her.

And, really, Tig hadn’t pondered that thought before. Well, not before last night, anyway.

For the first time—possibly ever—sex wasn’t on Tig’s agenda with Isla. Enticing her, breaking her heart, and sending her on her way was not something he wanted.

But Tig was renowned for that, wasn’t he? He was known for being a hapless bachelor. A man whose priorities were neither here nor there.

Everyone just expected that. They saw him with her, and came to that one conclusion.

Maybe Isla expected it a little bit, too. Because she’d known him long enough to understand the kind of man that he was—or had the propensity to be—and she could hardly lie and say that this version of Tig didn’t confuse her.

He’d always been the same with her, though. Perhaps that’d been the difference between every woman that entered and left his life, and Isla Telford.

He wasn’t interested in her. Like that.

“Does that bother you?” With an almost undetectable twinge of hurt, Isla asked.

As if it was a basic instinct, Tig shook his head. “Nah. They talk shit all the time. Stuff like that don’t bother me.”

She nodded, refusing to add anything else. Isla sipped her beer, hoping that the ground would open up and swallow her fucking whole.

There wasn’t a single word in the English language that’d ascribe her feeling at that precise time, but ashamed was possibly the closest she could’ve gotten.

And, still, that was a little bit further off the mark than what she would’ve liked. Because she wasn’t entirely ashamed for reacting the way that she had, more so the way that she fucking felt.

Isla’s heart took a blow when Tig told her that.

For why, though? She wasn’t sure.

It might’ve been the nonchalant expression. The complete colorless response that stirred a foreign emotion within her—striking hard against her chest.

Or, it might’ve been what he had said. It was such a casual proclamation. Something that didn’t mean anything, but everything simultaneously.

She didn’t feel anything for Tig. She didn’t particularly want to feel anything for him, either, but that hurt. A lot.

“Same, to be honest.” She lied, forcing her lips upward in a smile. “Gemma is always on my case about this sorta thing. But I just let it go over my head.”

“Always?”

“Yup. Always.” Isla mentioned around the protruding lump in her throat. “If she’s not talking about me and you—like there is a me and you—she’s talking about me and Jax. And if it isn’t that, she’s bitching about Wendy, or Tara, or just anything she can think of.”

Like there is a me and you.

Tig sniffed a little, nodding. He didn’t want Isla to think that bothered him, but it did. A bit, anyway.

“She’s so overbearing, sometimes.” Genuinely slumped, she stated. Isla leaned against the railing beside Tig’s bike, finally looking at him. “Don’t tell her I said that?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He chuckled, taking another swig. “I’d never purposely get you into shit with your mother—“

“She’s not my mother.” Her eyes rolled. “She acts like it, and I love her like one, but she is not my mother.”

Tig knew. He knew all too well just how Isla felt about that, and he wasn’t exactly sure why he said that to her, today.

Gemma was the best woman she knew and the one that, strangely, brought her all of the comfort and prosperity that she’d craved.

But she wasn’t her mother. She wasn’t close to being Diane, and maybe the comparison between the pair hurt a little. Because Gemma Teller-Morrow was nothing like Diane Telford—and the sooner everybody knew that, the sooner Isla could rest.

“I feel bad talking shit about her. All she’s done is help me.”

“And parent you.” He reminded her, tipping his bottle upward. “She parents all of us, but what I mean is she treats you like a kid sometimes. Jax, too.”

“Yeah. I know.” Peeved, she conceded. “But, what can I do? if I wanna keep her around—keep having her so close to me—then, I guess I’ve gotta make a few sacrifices. And, I mean, it’s not all bad.”

“No?”

“Absolutely not. I’m glad that she’s the woman that took a shine to me. If Luann ended up being the one…”

Tig smirked, sizing her up. “You’d probably be doing porn right now.”

“Exactly.” Without shame—not even feeling slightly bashful at the glance she was receiving—she said. “I don’t think I’d hate doing porn, but I don’t think SAMCRO would be thrilled.”

“Absolutely not. Chibs would kill you, for one.”

“And Gemma.”

“Clay, too.” Tig added, withering at the thought.

“What about you?” A little too bold, she asked.

Though their relationship was of the lighthearted nature, Isla wasn’t certain that the habitual riposte was a thing as of late. His response would probably jar her, she thought.

“I wouldn’t hate it.”

She halted, blushing at his words. Her ears prickled with heat, too.

“It’d be hot.” He shrugged, putting his empty bottle against the ground. “I’m sure Juice would love it, too—“

“Oh, get fucked.” She snorted a laugh, throwing the red cap at his chest as he got to his feet. It bounced off the fabric of his shirt, coercing a chuckle from Tig.

“It was only one time.” He taunted, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “That’s still one more time than most chicks ‘round here.”

“He wasn’t awful.” Isla shrugged. “He knew what he was doing, and I had fun. But, like, he hasn’t got any hair…”

“Hair?” Tig began to gesture downward, chuckling when she grabbed his hands to stop him.

“I don’t mean that. I mean hair on his head, Tig.” She calmed her laughter, letting go of him. “I like to tug on it, I guess.”

It felt somewhat illegal, obtaining this information from her.

He already knew that she was a sex fiend, that she liked it rough, and now that she had some kind of hair-pulling kink.

Tig’s chest tightened. So did his pants.

“Duly noted.” Like usual, he quipped. Tig motioned for Isla to head inside with him when he heeded things heating up between Jax and Tara.

She, as always, made a mental note to grill her friend later. Or, maybe, her friends. Because she and Tara were on that level, now, and she felt that things could’ve sailed smoothly between herself and the doctor.

Isla just hoped that she’d open up to her.

“Are you gonna talk to him?” He asked, reading her fucking mind. “I know that you two talk a lot.”

“Probably.” Her shrug was insouciant. “But I’ll leave it a while, I think. Leave the dust to settle over before I approach either one of them.”

Tig’s heart began to thrash. It battered viciously within the constraints of his chest, thumping at an unsteady rhythm the more Isla babbled on as they neared the clubhouse.

It was maiming him, having to keep this to himself.

He knew that concealing it—the weight of it all—was for the best. It’d guarantee peace and conformity within the club and Isla’s life, but it was also a crippling guilt that not even Tig was sure he’d be able to hold forever.

Clay was heartless, though. The nefarious leader hadn’t a single problem with lying through his fucking teeth, and Tig was more than aware that Clay would continue the charade if and when he decided that he could no longer.

He supposed he could thank him for that.

But, then again, he was also the reason that Tig Trager had found himself tangled within yet another web of lethal falsehoods. Thanking Clay was the very last thing that he wanted to do.

“Oh, shit.” Isla stated through partially gritted teeth. She gestured to her father and Happy’s scorned glares. “Why do I keep getting this fucking look from everyone?”

“It’s not you. It’s me.” He snorted another laugh, taking her hand and walking her further into the room after she stopped completely dead.

Really, Donna’s wake was as vibrant as it could’ve been and nobody—aside from Isla’s old man and the Tacoma Nomad—had their sights set on the Sergeant and Chibs’s daughter.

The atmosphere was strangely spirited, hearty and animated as everybody came together to celebrate the life of Opie’s wife…The way that they always had.

But Isla was still on tenterhooks. She loathed the thought of her dad disapproving of her, today, but she didn’t desire the castigation that would’ve come hand in hand with her need to talk to him.

“Tequila?”

“I’ll get back to you on that one.” She smiled at Tig, making a beeline for the bar when she saw Kip. He followed her.

“You’re turning down free alcohol?”

Isla scoffed. “It might be free, but the effects of it would cost me my fucking reputation here.”

Tig’s eyebrows raised. “How so? You don’t not drink, Isla.”

“I know.” Her lips pursed, watching Kip pop the caps off of six beers. “But I never drink tequila. It makes me…uh…it makes me feel a little hot—“

“Tequila turns you on, is what you’re saying.”

“Well, yeah.” A crimson blush bled over her cheeks, her nose, and even across her forehead as her entire face burned red. “It’s no big deal. Just something I discovered after getting black-out drunk when I’d barely turned twenty-one.”

If Tig wasn’t feeling aroused before, then he definitely was at her admission. He had to think of anything to throw his brain off of that mental image.

“I don’t tend to drink the strong stuff.”

“Unless it’s whiskey.”

She pointed with a smile, nodding her head. “That’s right—“

“Hey, what did you want?” Kip interrupted sheepishly, gesturing to the half-empty bottle she had between her fingertips. “Another Bud?”

“Yes, please.” Again, she smiled.

“Same for you?”

Tig nodded.

“Kip,” she began, “and you take something, too. You’ve dealt with these assholes for long enough, now. Take a break. I’ll man the bar if you’d like.”

“Oh, no, I can’t do that—Gemma’ll kill me—“

“With all due respect, fuck Gemma.” She heard Tig chuckle beside her, shrugging when the prospect glanced at the pair nervously. “She won’t say anything if I tell her that I’m the one that told you to take ten minutes away from the bar.”

“Yeah.” He backed her up, grinning. “She never gets mad at Isla.”

It was completely uncharacteristic of him. But she brought something out from the very chasms of Tig Trager’s cold, black heart, and he lauded that.

Not many people had managed to scrape beneath the surface that way, not even Colleen.

God.

Tig shook himself out of the daze he’d slipped into, watching Isla and Kip trade places as she stepped behind the bar, and he made a beeline for a stool.

He’d been standing for a while, now.

“Are you gonna join me behind here?” She asked, drawing Tig’s attention back to her. Isla held up another bottle for him, twinkling underneath the yellowed light above the liquor shelves.

She looked, almost, angelic.

“Sack—“ Tig grabbed at his arm when he tried to leave his seat, feeling the prospect go rigid under his grip.

Isla’s eyebrows bunched together.

“Take two beers for Hap and Chibs.” He released the grey shirt, grinning as he saw the man sweat—clearly anticipating something more than just doing a simple favor.

“Oh, sure.” Kip breathed a sigh of relief, taking the two bottles that Isla had slid toward him. “That all?”

“Yep.” She added, gesturing for him to get on his way and enjoy the break that he’d been appointed.

He headed toward the two men beside the pool table, handing them their beers and pointing toward Tig. He waved with a small smile—hoping to come off as genuine, rather than scheming.

Because that’s what it was, wasn’t it? Giving the two men a couple of beers to throw them off the scent—or, at least, to distract them from making a fuss—was just a ploy to defer attention from the two nestled amongst the alcohol.

And it seemed to work, too.

As Tig walked around the bar to join her on the other side, Isla popped a few bottle caps, mixed a few drinks, and talked to every person that stopped off in front of the oak, without being so much as glanced at by her father.

Gemma hadn’t noticed the change, either.

“You want anything?” She asked Tig, mindlessly pouring a glass of whiskey for one of the Tacoma guys. “Some tequila?”

Indifferently, he shrugged.

“Okay, well that was helpful.”

“Alright,” he chuckled, grabbing two shot glasses, “I’ll take one, if you do, too.”

“Tig.”

“Isla.” His tone was deriding, though she couldn’t help but smile.

She pushed the whiskey toward the unfamiliar Son, thanking him for showing his face today, and turned her attention back to Tig.

In the thirty seconds in which her focus had been diverted, he’d poured two shots, grabbed some salt, and two lime wedges from underneath the counter.

She swallowed thickly, hoping to god she’d be able to play off the effects of that liquor.

Because it was only the one, wasn’t it? She was only going to have one single shot of tequila and, surely, that wasn’t enough to intoxicate her…

Right?

“Aw, fuck.” She slurred, pushing the empty bottle aside. “I really—“ she hiccuped. “I really need to stop drinking.”

“Why?” Just as garbled, he responded.

“‘Cuz I feel like I’m gonna puke.” She snorted a laugh, pushing all of the limes strewn across the redwood into the bin. “And my breath stinks of tequila.”

He waved her off, looking at his chest as he wiped the alcohol from his leathers. “Tequila don’t smell that bad.”

Isla blushed, though she fished around her purse for some gum, regardless.

And her heart fucking plummeted to the pit of her stomach when she noticed the bottle of antidepressants in the smaller compartment, suddenly realizing that her excessive alcohol consumption tonight was for sure going to mess with her.

Shit.

“Water?” He asked, holding two empty glasses. He heeded the dread in her expression, how she looked like she’d seen a fucking ghost.

“Please.”

Tig handed her one of the glasses, slinging his free arm over her shoulder—mainly in an attempt to stabilize her—and padded over to the kitchen.

The clubhouse was a little more sparse, now. Jax and Tara sat alongside Juice, Chibs, and Happy, meanwhile Gemma and Clay were meters apart from one another.

But nobody seemed to notice the lack of manpower behind that bar, which was a wonderful thing. Because Isla feared that she might’ve collapsed had she not hydrated herself.

She feared that she might’ve said, or done, something that she might’ve regretted, too.

Tequila did make her feel “hot”, after all.

“God, I need this so bad.” She practically moaned, twisting the cold water tap, haphazardly holding her glass underneath it.

Isla didn’t even shut the water off, she just chugged that slightly lukewarm—strangely beautiful—liquid like her life depended on it.

“Fuck.” She gasped for air, putting her glass atop the draining board. “Oh my god, that was so fucking good.”

Tig watched in awe.

As droplets of water trickled from her lips, and chin, to her chest, Tig subtly groaned to himself. He stifled a reaction, however.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, hell yeah.” She nodded.

Tig held her glass underneath the tap again, filling it half way. “You want some more?”

Isla took it from him, cocking her head a little when he didn’t let go of the glass. “What?”

“How’d that tequila make you feel?”

“What?” She repeated herself, forgetting about what she told him earlier. “Oh…”

“How’d it make you feel?” He pressed, releasing his grip though lifting his hand to brush his thumb underneath her glossy lips.

“Good.” Isla stumbled over her words, watching his eyes flick over her features. She gulped, though she put the glass straight back down. “Really, really good.”

Tig jolted, though relaxed when she let her hands rest against his shoulders. He hadn’t expected this today. Or ever, really.

“How good is really really good?” He asked, twisting a couple of ringed fingers through long, loose curls.

Her heart was no longer sinking to the pit of her stomach, but fluttering wildly within her palpitating chest.

“Pretty good.”

“Right.” He caught her bluff, nodding. “I could think of something that’d make you feel really, really, really good, y’know?”

“You think?” Isla leaned into him when a hand pressed into the small of her back, and the other holding onto the nape of her neck. She shivered. “Because I think you could.”

Confidently, he bobbed his head. “Oh, I could.”

She was a bundle of nerves, frankly. Tig was so nonchalant, so breezy, and she was just so fucking fraught.

But he didn’t seem to notice—or care—while he surveyed her face, grinding his lips together in anticipation. He lowered his head a little to meet her height, though she still stood on her toes.

“Make me feel really good, Tig.” She whispered, the citrusy scent of tequila permeating his senses, quickening the rate of his pulse.

Isla’s sweet, soft lips ghosted over his own as she exuded a satisfied sigh, loosening up at the feeling of their noses brushing over one another.

It was so gentle. She hasn’t expected a man of such stature, such hunger and animosity, to be capable of something so soothing.

An unmistakable burst of desire started to seep through her, humming against his lips as she opted to wrap both arms around his neck while he backed her up against the sink.

With the support against her lower back, Isla wound a leg around his waist as the kiss amplified and Tig began to grind his hips into her whilst simultaneously moaning.

She didn’t know how badly she needed this tonight.

Pink nails wound into his unruly curls, mindlessly nudging through the hair—pushing him to hasten. He slipped his tongue into her mouth, then. Lauding the flavor of tequila and cigarettes.

But Isla promptly froze at the sound of footsteps—heels, precisely—clicking across the tile.

“Tig, wait.” She jerked her head a little, urging him to stop. “I can hear Gemma—“

“You can see her, too.” The matriarch stated, rounding the corner and immediately coming into Isla’s line of sight.

Both Tig and the blonde shifted to look at her.

“Am I interrupting something?”

[the-sympathetic-villain]

You Belong With Me - Chapter 43

AO3 | First | Previous | Epilogue | Masterpost  

Description: Much to his surprise, after being released from prison for a crime he didn’t commit, Logan has been appointed as a the prince’s new advisor.  

Word Count: 8846

Chapter Warnings: Prejudice, Mistreatment based on profiling, Mild violence, Mentions of weapons, Flirting, Kissing (Let me know if I need to add anything!)

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     A sudden bitterness hit the roof of his mouth as the intimidating towers of the gatehouse came into view. Sensing hostility in the air sent shivers down his spine and his dread only seemed to deepen as they approached the sealed portcullis and Roman increased his pace towards the castle entrance.

     Their journey back to the castle had been swift. Remy had conjured a mysterious dark brew from his jacket that had allowed them to move through the night through the night despite their exhaustion, but the ragged breath of his companions made it apparent their rush had not been without cost.

     Logan slowed his pace, taking in the anxiety of the faces around him as the reality of the situation began to settle over them. The light drizzle in the air wrapped around him in gentle comfort as he looked to the cracks in the sky. Subtle, white light shined through the shattered barrier between the realms  blurred by the haze of rain dropping from the few clouds hanging in the sky.

     He could have stared endlessly at the breathtaking sight, but his attention was abruptly drawn back to his friends as Roman ducked his head and pushed through them towards the guards at the gate.

     “What is the meaning of this?” Roman demanded as the guards straightened into a salute. “The castle gate is only meant to be sealed in times of war, so explain yourself."

     “This gate has been sealed by order of the king, your royal highness.”

     “What?” Roman's expression faltered as the guard bowed her head respectfully and turned to present him with a letter bearing the royal seal. He paused, skimming the document as confusion spread across his face. “Why would he—”

     “With all due respect, sire. The castle's been in disarray since the sky broke yesterday, sire.” The narrow frame of the guard stiffened as he turned his stare to her and she bowed her head as she continued. “Certain folks been acting out like they sudden grudge against their neighbors. Reports all across the countryside that people been changing—”

     “More like they’re being transformed to beasts,” The guard on the far side of the gate interrupted. His lips pursed as his nose flared with disgust. “If you ask me, the troublemakers should be rounded up and—”

    Logan’s skin prickled at the man's harsh tone, but his discomfort was short-lived as Roman turned to snap at the man.

     “If I hear a single word advocating the mistreatment of our own citizens, I'll have the speaker arrested.” Roman gritted his teeth, radiating a cold authority that sent chills down even Logan’s spine. “Spread that to the rest of the guard. I will not be lenient twice.”

     “Yes, sir.” The guard’s eyes dropped as his body stiffened and shrank back.

     “Open the gate.”

     The man's eyes darted up at him with surprise in his eyes. “But, sire—”

     “It is not your place to question me.” Roman cut off the man's protest. His eyes flashed over at the female guard’s surprised expression as she looked up at him. “We have information crucial to my fathers’ understanding of yesterday’s events. This cannot wait for the shutdown to be lifted.”

     “Of course, sir.”

     The guards’ moved swiftly  to lift the heavy portcullis from their path, giving a stiff bow at him as they stepped out of his way. Roman returned a quick nod at them as he entered the archway, lingering underneath the stone arch for as he ushered the rest of their group through the gates.

     Once through, Roman paused, allowing them to circle around him in the open space of the empty courtyard between the exterior walls and the castle. The usual hustle and bustle of the castle’s residents had entirely gone, leaving the usually lively space in an eerie silence.

     “This is creepy.” Virgil muttered, shoving his hand in his cloak. “Place shouldn’t be empty like this.”

     “We'll sort things out, Virge.” Roman stated. His natural air of authority hadn’t yet faded as he stood tall in front of them, staring down the stone walkway towards the castle. “People are scared because they can't explain what is happening. Shutting down the castle must have been the only logical solution to temporarily settling the unrest.”

     “Cool logic, princey.” Virgil muttered with a huff as he glanced over his shoulder. “Still creepy.”

     Remy stepped forward, ignoring Virgil’s apparent discontent. His usually carefree expression held an uncharacteristic degree of anxiety as he addressed the prince. “I need to visit the fae before anything else. They need an explanation before anything gets out of hand.”

     “Remy,” Roman hesitated. His shoulders were stiff as he looked back to Logan and Janus’ uncertain expressions. “We cannot proceed without you. Without my fathers’ memory, our explanation will be meaningless.”

     “Sorry, Roman.” Remy muttered. “I’m not putting your father's understanding above the needs of the Fair Folk who are trapped in their homes, scared of the second coming of a war no one wants to remember.”

     “I’m inclined to agree with Remy, Roman." Janus nodded as he shared a look with Remy. “Unlike the humans, most of the fae in this realm were around when the war began. We cannot delay in reassuring them that this will be different, otherwise they may become restless.”

     “Talking to my father is in their best interest.” Roman straightened up. “We need to clarify what’s happening before our courts start pushing for more stringent action. I don’t want to further strain the relationship between our people any further.”

     “I can go.” Patton piped up, his voice chipper as he interrupted their stern conversation. Their eyes turned to him and his bright smile softened the harsh tension for a brief moment as he continued. “The Fair Folk of the castle know me. I know they'll accept my word until Remy and Janus are able to visit themselves.”

     Remy’s eyes landed on Patton as he considered his offer. “You would have to visit all of the fae, not just those under the Seelie court.”

     “I can visit everyone.” Patton reassured him with a gentle nod of his head. “Danu introduced me to the Fair Folk of both courts in the castle. I’m sure they’d be willing to take my word.”

     “Fine, kid. You convinced me.” Remy muttered with a quick flourish of his hand toward Patton. “The task is yours but make sure you mention that both Janus and I are in negotiations with the human king. With any luck, that’ll keep the lot of ‘em from acting up ‘til we can come to an agreement.”

     “Sure thing!” Patton beamed. “You can count on me.”

     “Hold on, Pat.” Roman interrupted, holding up a hand as Patton turned to go. “The castle is under lockdown. You can’t be wandering around alone.”

     “I’ll take him.”

     Roman glanced up as Virgil stepped forward, nodding as his friend came up behind Patton. “You’re sure, Virgil?”

     “You don’t need me to talk to Thomas,” Virgil shrugged without a second thought. “and you know the guards won’t dare mess with Pat if I’m around.”

     Roman paused, turning back to Remy. “Will Patton be able to approach the fae if Virgil joins him?”

     “Yeah, kid’s fine.” Remy smirked. “Even if he don’t know it, Virgil’s met most of the fae in the castle. They know he works for me.”

     “Very well.” Roman hummed his approval as Remy nodded at him. “Both of you need to move quickly though, and I expect you to report to the courtroom when you’ve finished.”

     “You got it, kiddo.” Patton nodded, already taking a few steps off their current path. He took Virgil’s arm, pulling him along. “We’ll be along as quick as we can.”

     “Stay safe.”  

     Logan watched as his friends took off across the courtyard as Roman called after them. The pair sprinted towards the gates of the castle’s southern point where the majority of its residents resided and silence settled over them as Roman nodded at Remy and Janus. He gestured for them to follow him as he turned back to the path.

     “I need all of you to stay close to me.” Roman stated in a quiet, reluctant tone. His voice dropped as he turned over his shoulder to stare at each of them in turn. “With Janus’ scales and the new blue hue of Logan’s scars, Remy’s the only one of you who might pass for human right now. I'm certain no one will touch you while I’m around, but all the same, today’s not the day I want to be taking chances.”

     A faint smile made it's way across Roman’s face as the fae surrounding him nodded their acknowledgement and his expression softened as his gaze focused on Janus.

     “Janus, I want you in particular to stay right next to me.” Roman added with a quick wave to the fae for him to move closer. “There’s still a pretty hefty bounty on your head and I don’t want to take any risk of losing you. Okay?”

     The fae’s scaled face tipped up to meet the genuine concern in Roman’s eyes. Logan watched the brief hesitation in Janus’ eyes as he wrestled away the disbelief at the prince taking initiative to protect him. The moment was brief and the subtle shock faded from his amber eyes as he nodded at Roman, moving to the prince’s side in a show of silent acceptance of his help.

     “Thank you.” Roman’s voice became a whisper, biting his lip, as he turned to lead them to the royal court.

         Logan's chest tightened with dread as Roman navigated them through the empty corridors. The prince's reassurances echoed among their hollow footsteps as they climbed the stairs, and despite the prince’s reasonable explanation, the lack of signs of life in the castle was unnerving.

     Despite Logan’s own reservations, he could see that Roman seemed unbothered, passing down the hall without a second thought, ignoring the movements of the few unhappy guards milling about on patrol as they leered at the fae passing through the halls.

     Logan stared back, holding their gaze without a waver of fear. The anxiety the lingering stares of the guards once caused disappeared as he called forth on the power coursing on his veins, feeling it playing at his fingertips as he met the guards’ eyes with a piercing stare.

     Their discontent at the Fair Folks presence hung in the air, burning in the back of Logan’s mouth as reached the peak of the last set of stairs and the imposing, double doors of the courtroom came into view. Immediately, the knights on either side of the doors crouched, reaching for the weapons at the sight of the fae. Logan reacted defensively, biting his lip as lightning crackled between his fingers, but Roman quickly lifted an arm to stop him.

     “Drop your hand from your weapon immediately.” Roman growled, straightening up with an air of authority and he stepped toward the two knights. His stare intensified as the knights bowed their head uncertainly, glancing at each other as they continued to hold their weapons. Roman’s disapproval grew as his voice became threatening. “That was an order. Take your hands off your weapons.”

     “I’m sorry, sir.” The first knight stated, gripping the hilt of her sword as she held up a hand to stop Roman. “You are traveling with a wanted criminal. We can’t be certain you are in the right state of mind. These creatures can control—”

     “They are people, not creatures.” Roman chewed his lip as he stepped in front of Janus. The woman hesitated, unwilling to draw her sword on the crowned prince, yet still not convinced by his conviction. “This man is in my custody and my father and myself alone will pass judgment on him. That is not your place.”

     “Your Royal Highness—"

     “Stand down.” Roman commanded, not allowing the woman to finish. “Your prejudice is misguided and that sort of thinking will no longer be tolerated in my court. The Fair Folk live within our borders and we will protect them as we do our own citizens. Understood?”

     The woman and her companion remained hesitant. “Sire, I still cannot let you pass. The court is sealed. No one is allowed to enter—”

     “That rule clearly does not apply to myself.” Roman interrupted with a swiping gesture, cutting through the woman’s excuses. “You are preventing me from delivering crucial information to the kings. This is your last chance to stand down before I have you arrested for treason.”

     “Aisling, come on.” The woman’s companion took her arm, pulling her from the door she remained hesitant. They looked down at her with a gentle guidance as she lifted her hand from her weapon. “Don’t push this.”

     “Very well, sire. I apologize for my interference.”

     Logan watched as the woman stepped away from the door. His heart dropped at the nervousness in the woman’s expression as Roman’s stood over her. The  prince’s demeanor shifted and immediately dropped to a sincere sympathy as he spoke again.

     “Your diligence in defending my fathers is noted, but I assure you that you are acting in the country’s best interest by allowing us to pass.” Roman stated plainly in a tone that remained firm, yet less forceful than before. “Now, I need you both the spread the word to the rest of the guard. If a single fae in the castle is hurt, the perpetrator will answer directly to me. None of them are to be harmed and there will be no exceptions. Understand?”

     “Yes, sir.”

     “Then, go.” Roman finished, gesturing for the guards to leave as he turned to the door. He glanced back at Remy as the guards rushed away, waiting until the guards had left the area before speaking openly to Remy. “In order for you to give my father his memory back—”

     “I need to be able to touch him, babes.” Remy ran his finger through his hair as he crossed his arms and returned Roman’s questioning gaze. “No way around that and we need to be alone if we’re gonna make any headway with Tommy boy.”

     “Leave that to me. ” Roman nodded with a slow breath as his hand rested on the handle of the door. “No more stalling. All of this ends now.”

     Swallowing as Roman pushed open the door, Logan followed close behind him as the opening grew wider. A calamity of voices beyond the threshold that seemed to be immediately doused as Roman stepped into the middle of the courtroom. The silence continued as Logan joined the other fae in the courthouse, hyper aware of the dozens of eyes that fell on his scars as they glittered a faint blue hue.

     “Roman!”

     A familiar voice filled the air as Logan’s attention was drawn forward. He looked up just as a set of arms folded around Roman’s neck and his heart stalled in his chest the man suddenly fussing over Roman as the crowd turned to watch.

     Thomas.

     Logan froze in place as Thomas ran a hand through Roman’s hair, leaning back to look over him as he whispered to his son in hushed tones. He watched in silence as a second man came up beside them, resting a hand on Roman’s shoulder. The man’s dark hair lifted to reveal an equal glimmer of worry in the man’s eyes as he stare at Roman.

     “Where have you been?” The man stated as he squeezed Roman’s shoulder. His voice was quiet and soothing as Logan listened to him let out a relieved breath as he looked to Roman. “You and your brother have both been—”

     Logan bit his lip at the mention of the kings' lost son and guilt start to ache in his chest as Roman continued, gently guiding them back to the matter at hand.

     “I’ll explain everything. I promise, but first—”

     Roman's voice was immediately drowned out by sound of shuffling footsteps and adrenaline flooded Logan's body as a bruising grip closed around both his arms. His eyes flashed a bright blue and the air around his skin started to crackle in self-defense. A loud yelp from behind him was all the excuse he need to kick out of the aggressor’s grip, spinning on his heel to face the guard.

     Logan’s heart dropped as his sight narrowed past the guard to the defeated look on Janus' face as he allowed the other guard to force him to his knees. Fury filled Logan’s lung as the fae’s gaze dropped and he immediately lunged to his friend. His attempt came to a quick stop as the another guard caught him around the waist, but he resisted the guard’s entanglement. Anger burned in his chest as a charge started to build in the air around them, but a loud voice interrupted them, echoing in the chambers as the world came to a halt.

     “Enough!”

     The hall stilled as Logan tipped his head up to the booming voice. The firm expression on Thomas’ face didn’t falter as he held his hand up in a commanding gesture for the guards to stop their advance. The air shimmered behind Thomas, giving Logan pause until he spotted Remy whispering  Thomas’s ear. The sight was unlike anything he seen before. Light itself seemed to bend around the shadow fae and Logan guessed the crowd around them couldn’t see the fae interfering with their king’s decisions.

     “Let them both go immediately.”

     Logan felt a shift in the room as the guard’s arm pulled back from his waist. Shock lingered in his mind as he hesitated, glaring over his shoulder at the menacing stare of the guard, but his anger quickly dissipated as Janus’ soft  groan jarred him from his thoughts. Giving one last nervous look at Remy and Thomas, he turned to rush over to his friend as Janus lifted himself off the ground. Logan caught his shoulders as the shaking man swayed, barely concealing the fear in his eyes as the crowd leered at him.

     “We must speak alone.” Roman breathed with a resolute look in his eyes as he stared up at Thomas and the other man. “We can make a formal announcement to the court after our private conference, but the crowd will only aggravate the issue.”

     “Agreed.” Thomas nodded. Logan sucked on his lips, nostalgic at the familiar understanding tone in Thomas’ voice as he listened to his son. He watched quietly as Thomas met each of the noble’s eyes with a determined stare. “The court will adjourn for a temporary recess. Members will be summoned again once I’ve cleared the information that Prince Roman has to present to Nico and myself.”

     Thomas’ tone left no room for argument, but all the same, Logan blinked in surprise as the members of the court automatically filtered toward the exit at their king’s command. The act was clearly not one made  of benevolence. The heightened tasted of bitter discontent burned at the back of his throat until the last noble closed the door behind them,  but they were soon gone all the same. After a moment, Logan turned back and shared a shocked look with Janus as Remy stepped out of his hazy reality and hooked an arm around Thomas’ shoulder.

     “Heya, babes. Been gone a bit too long this time, wasn’t I?” Remy purred with an insufferable grin. “Things really gone to the dogs around here.”

     “One of these days, I’m going to be dethroned when a member of the court notices me whispering to myself, Remy.”

     “That could be fun.” Remy’s grin widened as he leaned into the kings mock anger. “I might just make a mad king outta you yet, girl.”

     “I have no doubt you could fell my reputation before I even took a breath, if wasn't so useful.” Thomas smirked, eyeing the fae with a playful glimmer in his eyes. “The thought would keep me up at night if you were half as corrupt as you pretend to be.”

     “Oh, hun.” Remy purred, coaxing a reluctant smile out of the king.  “Keeping you up at night’s might as well be my life’s purpose.”

     “Well, you do well to keep me on edge.” Thomas chuckled, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. “Can I assume that your appearance mere hours after the sky breaking means—”

     “You know what it means, girl.”

     “It’s over?”

     “This disaster is finally over, so long as we come to an understandin’ on how the fae are going to be treated from here on out.” Remy muttered as his smile soured, pointing at the door the guard had left through. “Which starts with not allowing that kind of shit to happen again. Another one of your guards lays a finger on a fae and all bets are off. Got it?”

     “Understood, Remy.” Thomas nodded sheepishly. “Retraining the guard will be my first priority.”

     Remy snorted. “If I get my way, you'll dismantle their ranks altogether.”

     Thomas blinked. “Are you serious?”

     “Dead serious, girl. They do more harm than good.” Remy muttered, eyes flitting to Roman as his grin widened to a sharp-toothed smirk. “But for now, we got some reintroductions to do since you even get to keep yer memories this time, babes.”

     Thomas’ expression went blank as Remy’s words turned gears in his head. His voice dropped with concern at the lack of explanation in the fae’s eyes as he tried to find his words. “Logan?”

     Logan let out a sharp breath as Thomas muttered his name. His chest suddenly ached as the freshly resurfaced memories rushed to the forefront of his mind. He dropped his arms from Janus, pulling his hands to his chest as tears threatened at the corner of his eyes.

     “Is that?”

     “That’s the kid, babes.”

     Tears blurred Logan’s vision as slow footsteps approached him. He startled as a hand rested on his shoulder, looking up to see Thomas’ soft, brown eyes staring down at him.

     “Logan, may I—”

     Thomas’ voice was cut off with a soft grunt as Logan rushed into Thomas’ open arms. Gratitude washed over Logan as the king surrounded him with warmth, whispering hushed reassurances to Logan as he composed himself. The gentleness continued until Logan felt well enough to step back, bowing his head with embarrassment as he noticed everyone’s eyes on him.

     “I—I never got to thank you.” Logan breathed, feeling light-headed as he avoided Thomas’ concerned expression. He swayed as he stared at the ground, struggling to string together the right words in his head. “Remy had to take me away and I never—I never—”

     “Take a breath, Logan.” Thomas whispered, resting a hand on each of Logan’s shoulders. “There’s no need to rush .”

     Logan forced himself to draw a long breath, following the breathing technique the Virgil had taught him as he tried to push past the melancholy clouding his mind. He crossed his arms, vaguely feeling his fingernails digging into his arms as he stared at the ground until he felt Thomas’ hand close around his own. Logan blinked as Thomas pulled his hand away and he found himself staring at the red marks on his arm until a choked breath escaped from his lungs.

     “Say what you need to, Logan.” Thomas whispered, gently gripping Logan’s hand as he watched his reaction. “Whatever you need to get off your chest is okay. I can take it.”

     “I—I never got to say goodbye.”

     Thomas paused as his expression softened to a smile. “Logan—”

     “I know Remy had to take me. Both of you didn’t have a choice. I know that, but—” Logan stopped, barely containing his emotions as Thomas’ grip tightened on his hand. “—but it bothers me that I never got to say goodbye.”

     “Logan,” Thomas whispered. He glanced back to Remy’ apologetic gaze, feeling his heart sink at the guilt in the dark fae’s eyes. His voice dropped as he squeezed Logan’s hand and met his gaze. “You deserved a proper explanation from me before I sent you off with a stranger. I can’t imagine how you must have felt, even if you trusted Remy, but—” Thomas paused with a gentle smile as Logan looked up. “—I also knew there was never any need for you to say goodbye.”

     Logan’s breath caught in his throat as his gaze lifted from the ground to Thomas.

     "Remy was always going to bring you home, Logan.” Thomas smiled as tears glistened in his own eyes. “We needed you to be safe, but I knew when the time was right, I knew you would come home.”

     “I—” Logan’s knees went weak as he leaned into Thomas’ arms, biting his lip as the king pulled him into his chest. “Thank you—Thank you for everything. You were so kind to me—”

     “You deserved every ounce of kindness and more.” Thomas whispered, curling his hand around the back of his head. “I was honored to give you a place to call home.”

     “T-thank you, Thomas.”

     “You always have a home here, Logan. Always.” Thomas whispered, gently rubbing Logan’s arm as he stood up off the king’s chest. “No matter what happens, you are part of my family.”

     “I appreciate that and everything else you did for me,” Logan whispered, wiping the tears from his cheeks as Thomas wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “More than I believe my words could possibly convey.”

     “It’s only been a pleasure to be a part of your life, Logan.” Thomas whispered as he guided Logan back toward the head of the courtroom. “Remy?”

     “I’ve got him, girl.”

     Logan’s world shifted as he leaned back into Remy as the older fae pulled him underneath his shoulder. His head was swimming with an overwhelming mix of emotions, but he was grateful for the grounding touch of Remy’s arm around him and the warmth of Thomas’ hand on his back.

     “What do you think, kid?” Remy jostled Logan lightly, winking as Logan turned up to him. “Tommy boy’s still pretty much a babes. Don’t you think?”

     Logan’s memory of meeting Remy came rushing back and he flushed as Thomas raised an eyebrow. He reached wrist to his cheek, closing his eyes as he ducked to hide his blush. “Shut up, Remy.”

     Thomas blinked his confusion at the growing redness in Logan's cheeks as he watched Remy chuckle in Logan’s ear.

     “Nah, I’ve been waiting years for you to realize how endearing that was, kid.” Remy laughed as Logan groaned at the memory. “I ain’t gonna let go of that so easy.”

     “I didn’t know what I was saying.” Logan whispered, feeling the burn in his cheek intensify.

     “I hate to inform you that’s what made it totally adorbs, hun.” Remy cooed in his ear, swaying with him as Logan’s stomach twisted.

     “Should I ask?” Thomas chuckled as the Logan curled into Remy’s shoulder with a flustered groan.

     Logan let himself go limp, pinching the bridge of his nose as Remy hummed happily. “Please, don’t—”

     “Hush, kid. I ain't done embarrassing you yet.” Remy purred as Logan ducked his head away. He ran a hand through Logan’s hair as he turned to smirk at Thomas. “You see, that night you tried to return little Logan, I planned on just taking, but Logan insisted you was a babes. So, ‘course I had to meet the king the kid was so sweet on."

     “Is that so?” Thomas raised an eyebrow at Remy’s wide grin down at Logan.

     “‘Twas the way it went down. I swear on my cold, black heart.” Remy giggled as Logan’s bright red face disappeared deeper into his shoulder. “Little Logan was so convincing I couldn’t walk away without meeting yours truly.”

     Thomas chuckled as his smile toward Logan softened. “That’s actually rather sweet.”

     “Remy—” Logan groaned as he leaned away from his shoulder, taking a long breath as he avoided Thomas’ eyes.

     “It’s my gods given duty to embarrass you, kid.” Remy chuckled, rubbing his arm to comfort him. “Sorry, not sorry.”

     “Fine, just— Can we move on now?” Logan let out a long, feeling a new wave of embarrassment as he looked up to Thomas’ amused smile. “I’m inclined to believe if you continue, I may be have to shut myself away and never return.”

     “Aww, look at that.” Remy hummed in a chipper tone. “Yer finally taking after my own flare for the dramatics—”

     “Remy, please—”

     “Alright, alright. I’m gonna quit tormenting you, kid.” Remy grinned, looking up to Thomas. “After all, we got a lot of ground to cover today before we’re able to shake this tragedy for good.”

     Thomas’ smile faltered as Remy’s own expression turned serious. “What do you need me to do, Remy?”

     “We’re done with that bit, girl.” Remy muttered. “You can't just rely on my for answers anymore. We’re onto the hard part now.”

     “What do you mean?”

     Remy grinned as he guided Logan and Thomas back to the others. “Means the world’s a clean slate now and we gotta make some new rules, which is why this has got to be a mutual decision. Your people need you to be their advocate this time.”

     “Certainly.” Thomas nodded, standing up straighter. “Where would you like to begin?”

     “For now, some introductions are in order. So, Nico. Girl, you’re up.”

     “Oh, um. Certainly, Remy.”

     The man whose hand previously rested on Roman’s shoulders stepped forward and Logan looked up at the man’s wavy brown hair and gentle smile as realization finally dawned on him. “You’re Nico.”

     “Yep, that’s me. I suppose it’s about time we were introduced.” Nico smiled, extending a hand out to Logan. “You’ve made quite the impression on my husband and son. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the man everyone’s been fussing over.”

     “I imagine so. I'd think they’ve had a fair amount to say after all the trouble I’ve caused them.” Logan smiled timidly as he took Nico’s hand, but the man only seemed to beam brighter.

     “Their words have been nothing less than adoring. I promise.” The kindness in the man’s warm smile melted away Logan’s own nervousness. The king chuckled quietly as his white smile gleamed down at Logan with bright eyes “In fact, I have to admit I’m excited to get to know the man who’s captured their hearts.”

     Logan chewed his lip as his eyes flitted to Roman’s soft smile. “I only hope I can live up to their expectations.”

     “I’m certain you will.” Nico whispered gently, eyes following Logan’s to Roman with a curious glance.

     “Great,” Remy grinned, giving Janus a gentle shove forward. “Alright, Jan. You’re next—”

     Logan felt Nico’s grip stiffen slightly as the king looked over his shoulder, and though his gentle smile remained, Logan felt the hair on his arms started to rise as both king’s gazes latched onto Janus. The fae’s eyes darted to both of the king’s for a moment as he regained his balance from Remy’s attempt as forcing his introduction. His movements slowed as he stood up, crossing his arms across his chest as he dropped his eyes to the ground with a frown. Janus’ dark hair fell over his cheek, partially obscuring the scales on his cheek as the kings continued to stare intently at him.

     “Perhaps a little tact would have been warranted given the circumstances, Remy.”

     “Not if we want this to move quickly.” Remy muttered quietly as Thomas stepped between his family and Janus. He let out a short breath as he moved in front of Janus and held up a hand to Thomas.

     “Relax, Thomas.” Remy muttered, looking tense. “Jan-Jan don’t mean no harm. You got my word that he’s on his best behavior.”

     Logan watched as Nico stepped in front of Roman and he glanced nervously at Thomas before turning back to Janus. His body tensed at the sight of Janus' nervousness. A bead of sweat dropped down the fae’s face as Remy stepped in front of him.

     “He’s the fae who—”

     “I am the fae who kidnapped your son—” Janus finished as his amber eyes flashed up to the kings. He held their gaze for a moment as he chewed his lip before allowing his eyes to fall back to the ground. “—and honestly, that’s hardly the worst thing I’ve done to you.”

     Remy looked up to meet Thomas suspicious gaze and raised a hand to reassure him before flashing a warning glance at Janus. “You’re not exactly winning yourself any favor with that remark, Jan—”

     “Well, quite frankly, I’m not here for their approval.” Janus stepped forward, reaching forward to rest a hand on Remy’s shoulder. Logan’s stomach twisted at the guilt in Janus’ slitted eye as he stepped forward toward the suspicious kings. His shoulders slumped with surrender as he bowed his head. “My actions towards your family were inexcusable and I have every intention of atoning for my mistakes.”

     The silence hung between them. Logan’s heart strained in his chest as Janus offered himself up for the kings’ judgment. The fight seemed to leave his body as he brushed his dark hair off his scales and he took in the kings’ hesitant expressions.

     “You need not fear my interference any longer.” Janus continued with a frown. “Given the circumstances, I only ask you to allow me to serve my purpose as a representative of the Seelie Court until they’re able to provide a replacement . After a representative has been appointed, I will humbly submit myself to judgment by your court for whatever punishment you deem necessary.”

     Logan bit his lip, ready to protest when Roman’s voice filled his ears.

     “Janus, you’ve earned my forgiveness.”

     Thomas and Nico’s gaze followed Roman as he stepped past their defensive stances. Their body language seemed to change as Roman reached out a hand to Janus’ shoulder in a moment of soft comfort. Logan smiled as the prince turned back to his fathers with a determined glimmer in his eye.

     “Janus was an indispensable ally in ending the suffering of the fae and bringing my friends home safe.” Roman stated with a quick glance at Logan before turning back to his fathers' eyes. “I do not wish to see him punished for his actions.”

     “Roman, you cannot interfere on my behalf.” Janus whispered, pausing briefly. He glanced at Roman with appreciation in his eyes, but his tone remained flat as he eyed the kings' cautious stares. “Whatever penance asked of me, I will accept so long so long as the Seelie Court retains a seat at the negotiations table.”

     “That’s not fair.” Roman protested, stopping as Janus held up his hand.

     “Trust me. Whatever punishment I serve from your court will be a mercy compared to what awaits me in my own .” Janus stared at Roman without blinking, willing the prince’s silence. “You are not responsible for my well-being. I alone am responsible for my actions.”

     “Are you expecting an easy out for your crimes?”

     Janus tipped his head up and quickly withered under Thomas stern glare. Biting his lip, he held up his hands in surrender as he straightened upright away from Roman. “Rest assured, I will answer to the Seelie Court for my crimes. I cannot dodge their punishment. I merely answer to your will before theirs.”

     “Perhaps, then I should just turn you back to your own people.”

     “That would be your prerogative.” Janus held Thomas’ gaze as Roman looked helplessly between them. “I am not asking for your mercy.”

     “Then, tell me.” Thomas paused. “What are you asking for?”

     Janus hesitated at the neutral expression on Thomas’ face, glancing quickly at Roman’s own confused expression as he chewed his lip with uncertainty. “What kind of question is that?”

     “One that I expect you to answer before I pass my judgment on you.” Thomas stated, gesturing for Roman to return to his side. The prince hesitated uncertainly, before giving a final, cautious look at Janus and moving to his father’s side.

     “I hope you do not expect me to beg for my life.” Janus hissed, baring his teeth. “If that’s what you’re expecting, I won’t sacrifice my dignity—"

     “That is not what I asked you.” Thomas interrupted. He shared a cautious glance with Nico, waiting for his affirmation before continuing. “I asked you what you want out of this arrangement.”

     “I—” Janus paused, curling his hand to his chest in confusion at the subtle communication between the kings. “—what?”

     “I do believe Tommy boy’s offering you a choice on yer punishment, Jan.”

     Janus turned over his shoulder to stare at Remy’s smirk. His eyes lingered on his friend for a moment before his expression darkened and he turned back to Thomas, looking up and down at the king with suspicion. “Why would you do that?”

     Thomas shared another charged look with Nico as his husband’s arm wrapped around Roman’s shoulder, watching him carefully.  His gaze lingered on Roman’s concerned stare for a moment before turning back to Janus. “If Roman is able to forgive you for what you did to him and his friends, I don’t see why I shouldn’t be able to do the same.”

     Janus bit his lip, nearly drawing blood in shock. “Why the hell—"

     “Now’s not the time to be making enemies, babes.” Remy reached forward, resting a hand on Janus’ shoulder. Slowly, the man’s defensiveness fell away as Remy reassured him. “Thomas is a good guy. He's not going to pull the rug out from under you.”

     “So, tell me.” Thomas continued, watching them carefully. “What do you want to come out of this?”

     “Nothing.” Janus whispered, allowing Remy to rub his shoulder in gentle comfort. “I—I didn’t expect anything from your court.”

     Thomas smiled at the gentleness in Remy’s eyes as he let out a long breath. “I can only assume that negotiations between the courts are going to be grueling. Quite honestly, if you’ve established rapport with Roman, I’m inclined to grant you a pardon given that you continue your duties of representing the Fair Folk’s court.”

     “What?” Janus looked up in shock.

     “I hope that should keep you out of too much trouble with your own court as well, though I won't pretend I know how the Fair Folk operate their politics.”

     “It'll help, Thomas.” Remy smiled as a tinge of relief flickered in his eye.

     Janus blinked, staring up at the king in disbelief. “But why?”

     “Logan and Roman were willing to defend you,” Thomas paused. His tone softened as he chuckled his amusement at Remy running his finger through Janus’ hair as the fae grumbled. “and Remy is clearly sweet on you—”

     “That doesn't even cover half the story, babes. Known him for years and I can vouch that you’re making a good call, Tommy boy.” Remy grinned at Thomas as Janus turned his head away to hide the light dusting of redness growing on his cheeks. “Not only is he the best representative you could ask for from those bastards of the Seelie Court, but this bastard in particular, may be the only one willing to talk both the courts down from imprisoning yours truly for the next century for keeping Logan a secret from ‘em.”

     “Well, I'd hate to lose such a powerful ally.” Thomas laughed as the tension dissipated out of the air. He smiled as the nervousness in Logan and Roman’s faces faded away. “Janus, you are granted a pardon for your transgressions against the crown, given that you continue to aid in negotiations—”

     “—and that you continue to put up with me, love.”

     “That was not one on the conditions, Remy.” Janus muttered, barely concealing his amusement behind a relieved sigh.

     “It is now.” Remy purred, tipping his eyes down to Thomas with a glimmer in his eyes.

     Thomas rolled his eyes glancing back at Nico before giving a nonchalant shrug. “I don’t make the rules.”

     “You’re the king.” Janus protested, gesturing to Remy. “No one should ever let him make rules. It's unconscionable.”

     “Too late, hun.” Remy grinned. “I already run this joint, whether you like or not.”

     Logan smirked and was about to turn away when a loud crash of the double doors interrupted Remy’s thought. His head shot to the door to see a heaving Patton, trailing through the door behind a panicked-looking Virgil. He froze in place as all attention was directed to him and he stuttered, struggling to find the right words.

     “Outside! There’s—There’s something going on in the sky!”

     The room was quiet for a flash before the entire group rushed to the windows. Logan followed the stampede of footsteps as a subtle flashing of light flickered in the window. He followed close behind Roman as they stepped out onto the balcony and his breath left his lungs are he stared out over the castle walls to the purple hue of the sky as sections of the subtle white cracks in the sky grew flashed brighter before fading away. The sight sent shivers of power down his spine as he stared out across glowing sky, feeling magic pouring forth into the world.

     “That’s just an aftershock of the barrier breaking. Sky's returning to normal and all.” Remy whispered, unable to pull his eyes from the shimmering shy. “Ain’t nothing to worry about, Virgil, but damn if it’s not beautiful.”

     The smell of dust filled the air as Logan leaned onto the stone railing of the balcony, watching the bright light of the of the sky faded back to its normal color as the sun hovered over the horizon.

     He smiled at the scent of fresh rain as water drizzled from the clouds above them, refracting the bright light in bright bursts of colors as the rain hit the surface of the land. The air drifted over his skin and Logan pulled in a peaceful breath as Roman came up beside him.

     Logan smiled, glancing up at the prince as his warm shoulder leaned against him. Happiness spread across his chest as he hesitantly took Roman’s hand in his own. “It’s all really over. Isn’t it?”

     Roman hummed happily as he looked up to the sky with an optimistic smile. “I’d like to think that everything’s only beginning.”

     Logan blushed as Roman’s fingers intertwined his own.

     “There’s really no limit to what we can do now, Logan.”

     “Well, even if all options are now on the table—” Logan whispered, squeezing Roman’s hand. “—there’s no place I’d rather be than here with you.”

     Logan reached his hand up to Roman’s cheek and flushed as the prince turned down him. Bright light filled the sky around him like bursts of shimmering starlight as Logan closed his eyes and the prince pressed a gentle kiss to Logan’s forehead.

     “You’re—”

     The quiet sound of someone clearing their throat filled the air behind them and Logan’s head spun around. Thomas and Nico staring back at them as Remy smirked at them from behind the kings.

     “I can explain.”

     Logan turned over his shoulder to witness  the nervousness that had flooded Roman’s eyes as his fathers stared at him. He frowned, squeezing Roman’s hand as the prince stepped out in front of him.

     “Then explain, Roman.” Nico whispered, sharing a look with Thomas as he came up beside him.

     Logan could feel Roman’s determination in the air as the prince raised his head to the kings.

     “My responsibility to my kingdom has always come first and foremost in my life. I've happily done anything you’ve asked of me, because I know the importance of my position.” Roman paused with a look of melancholy in his eyes as his eyes flitted to Virgil briefly before his gaze returned to his fathers. “I’ve never asked for anything in return, but this is the one time I have to make a request for myself. I can't keep my head if I continue to deny my heart.”

     Thomas let out a sharp breath, sharing a knowing look with Nico before tipping his head to Roman. “Make your request, Roman.”

     “I know that the law compels me to court someone of royal blood to maintain my status,” Roman’s grip tightened on Logan’s hand as he continued. “but I’ve fallen for Logan and to court anyone else would feel like a betrayal to myself and to him. Please—I’m pleading for you to convince the court to allow me to pursue what my heart desires.”

     “Roman—”

     “It will not interfere with my duties.” Roman sputtered out without thinking. “I’ll work twice as hard—”

     “You work too hard already, Roman.” Thomas stopped him, holding his hands out to reassure his son. “Even if the court was going to oppose you on this matter, Nico and I would whole-heartedly fight for your right to court for love rather than gain. I'm sorry if we ever made you feel like we would do anything else.”

     Roman blinked, taken back by Thomas’ response. Their silence was deafening as his word echoed in his ears. “What do you mean ‘if they were going to oppose?’”

     “Girl, even the most stuck-up tools the human court ain’t about to start off negotiations by snubbing the Fair Folk.” Remy interrupted, stepping around Thomas. His eyes flashed to Logan, smiling as the kid returned a knowing smile. “In fact, I hate to break it to you, but I think you’re the only one hasn’t figured out there’s an easy solution to yer problem.”

     “What—” Roman furrowed his brow until a familiar, melodic chuckle filled the air behind him and he was drawn back to Logan’s sweet smile. His brain stalled at the relaxed expression on Logan’s face as the man stepped forward.

     “I’ve known since I regained full access to my memories.” Logan whispered, staring down at their intertwined fingers for a moment. He was quiet as a warmth spread across his chest as he looked up to Roman’s soft, brown eyes. “There’s nothing barring us from being together anymore, Roman.”

     Roman blinked. He looked to his fathers for confirmation, and to his surprise they merely nodded, further increasing his confusion. “But I thought —”

     “Logan’s the child of an actual goddess, babes.” Remy cooed as Roman eyes turned to him. “If anything, he outranks you. No chance your court's gonna want to piss off the entirety of the Fair Folk by claiming our nobility is less valid, ‘specially when the humans start realizin’ how many of us are left.”

     Roman blinked as his shoulders relaxed and he looked at Logan. “And you knew?”

     The corner of Logan’s lips twisted into a guilty smile as Roman stared down at him. “I only realized after regaining my memories. The time wasn’t right to mention what I’d learned until the danger everyone was in had passed.”

     “But just now, you could have—”

     “You’re right. I probably should have stopped you,” Logan admitted sheepishly. “but hearing you speak from your heart was actually quite endearing.”

     Roman let out a sharp breath as his shoulders dropped and he laughed. “My chest felt like it might burst from the anxiety, but I’m glad you got some enjoyment out of my misery.”

     “In all fairness, this is hardly the worst outcome that could have occurred.” Logan’s eyes flashed with gratitude as Roman stepped forward, wrapping his arms around him. He relaxed into Roman’s chest, letting out a long breatg as the prince’s warm grip settled around his shoulders.

     “May I suggest that the rest of us give them their space for a while?”

     “Aww, Jan-Jan.” Remy cooed, leaning into Janus. “You’re no fun."

     “I’m sure you will force the details out of Logan eventually, Remy.” Janus sighed, forcing him to the door as Remy resisted his guidance. “Besides, you have work to do. Negotiations are waiting for us.”

     “Boring.” Remy sighed, winking at Logan as he ducked through the door.

     “I can live with that.”

     “Thank you, Janus.” Logan whispered as the older fae filtered their friends back into the courtroom. He smiled as Janus nodded back before following the others, leaving Roman and him standing together in peaceful silence.

     Logan leaned against the balcony as Roman relaxed. He smiled down as his fingers intertwined with the prince’s soft hand. The brilliant lights started to fade from the sky as muted colors filled the sky as the sun dipped below the horizon. A deep feeling of contentment spread across Logan’s body as Roman reached up to brush the hair out of Logan’s face. He let out a long breath as the prince’s gentle touch sent a pleasant tingling across his skin.

     “This is very nearly perfect.”

     Roman chuckled as he dropped his hand. “Only nearly?”

     Logan’s smile faded slightly as he looked up at Roman, acknowledging the carefully hidden sadness behind the prince’s eyes. “I can tell you’re still upset about your brother, Roman.”

     Shock flashed in the prince’s expression and he tripped over his words, unsure how to respond to Logan reading his hidden emotions. “That isn’t your problem to worry about, Logan. Not with everything he—"

     “The Remus that hurt me was not your brother, Roman.” Logan interrupted. He stood up straighter, staring into Roman’s eyes as they flashed with guilt. “I want you to have your brother again and I’ll help you make that a reality. Whatever it takes.”

     “Thank you, Logan.”

     “There’s no need to thank me.” Logan raised a hand to Roman’s cheek with a smile. “I only want you to be happy.”

     “I still have to tell my fathers about him.” Roman whispered. “I should have before, but—”

     “We can tell them together, Roman,” Logan reassured him. “and Remy has already offered to help us bring him home. It will hurt them, but there is a solution ”

     “I know.”

     Logan stepped forward, raising both hands to the prince’s cheeks. Calmness radiated from his voice as he comforted the prince. “Right now, you are doing everything you could be to bring him home. We’ve broken the curse, and as soon as the negotiations have reached a point of agreement, I will go with you to fetch him from the Other Realm. I promise.”

     Roman sighed, nodding into Logan’s hand as the man’s voice soothed his nerves. “You are unlike anyone I’ve ever met, Logan. I’m so glad to have had the opportunity to meet you.”

     Logan scoffed as he dropped his hands sheepishly and turned to face the castle. “I’m only glad you stuck around long enough to see me become more than the shell of a person I was when we met.”

     “You were never less than you are now.” Roman whispered as Logan looked away. “Even if the pain was too much to handle at that point, the amazing person I know was always there.”

     Logan let out a sharp breath as Roman’s arm rested around his shoulder. “Buried deep below the surface, perhaps.”

     “I don’t think so.” Roman’s lips curled into a smile as he pulled Logan close to him, shielding him from the cold wind of the night. “From the moment I talked to you in your cell, I you showed me that you were kind and honest. The changeling may have taken your confidence in yourself, but he was never able to steal from you the things that really mattered.”

     An uncharacteristic giggle pulled from Logan’s throat as he leaned into Roman’s chest and he whispered up to him as he listened to the man’s heartbeat. “Thank you for believing in me. It’s funny. I feel like my happiness should be pouring out of me but it seems I have no more tears to cry.”

     “I plan to keep it that way for a long time, Logan.” Roman smiled as he raised and had to Logan’s cheek, tracing his fingers along the blue scars with adoration. “The world is my gift to you and there are no barriers to keep you from what you want anymore. I’ll do anything to make it so.”

     “You’re all I need, Roman.” Logan let out a breath as reached a hand up to the prince's cheek and placed a gentle kiss on Roman's lips. A burst of happiness swelled in his chest as the prince pulled him closer. He couldn't stop smiling as he curled into the prince’s arms, hand resting on his chest. Peace settled over him as they embraced each other and watched as the sun dipped below the horizon and the first stars began to appear in the night sky.

     By the time Virgil had finally come to usher them ins for the night, he was nearly falling asleep against the prince’s chest, but he was grateful all the same. Though this night was ending, he knew many more would follow and he was excited to see what the future would bring.

---

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[something-very-special]

In the original Nier, Weiss and Papa muse about how the shades are slowly "becoming smarter" and better organized. Through the lore, we learn that some Gestalts have relapsed into mindless monsters, while others retain their sentience. Of the bosses, field enemies and sidequest shades, which Shades do you see as being sentient and which ones have relapsed?

According to the lore, all Gestalts before the Shadowlord underwent relapse, so there was actually quite a broad swath of mindless monsters out there (the ones that attack during the prologue are all therefore relapsed). After he pacts with Noir he’s the first stable Gestalt, and his body is harvested for the maso particles that he generates, which are somehow distributed to the other Gestalts as they are made in order to stabilize them. There are still a lot of Gestalts that aren’t given this treatment and thus result in the ‘feral’ Shades, but I believe that by the time the game happens most of them have gone extinct. The stable Gestalts were put into stasis to wait out the destruction of the Legion and Red Eyes monsters, to be carried out by the Replicants. The feral Gestalts were still out and about during this time, presumably also engaged in an incidental war with Legion (that is, they’re mindless and violent and these other things are mindless and violent, let’s you and him fight). The prequel game long ago proposed by Yoko Taro involved specifically a small squad of Replicants led by their android overseer going in the kill Red Eyes and end the scourge once and for all. This was basically a sentence-long pitch but my read on the full context was that Legion was the monster du jour and whatever relapsed Shades were out there had largely been eradicated already. There are, of course, still relapsed Gestalts in present day. It’s fairly clear before the game starts that Shades are considered very dangerous, to the point that settlements must be kept small and far apart and walled for their own protection... but they’re still pretty uncommon. That rarity is in part what leads to them being so feared, and that fear is probably stemmed from the main encounters with Shades being with violent, relapsed Gestalts that would randomly attack humans. The stable Gestalts mostly kept holed up in their homes waiting for the promised conclusion of Project Gestalt. There are indications of Shades that are just seen wandering around minding their own business and people retreat and shutter up in fear, but active attacks from Shades are uncommon enough that all of the settlements leave their gates wide open and, other than the Aerie, and there are plenty of conversations about how Seafront and the Village in particular are pretty much untouched by them-- even the three hanging out at the northern entrance are considered ‘concerning’. All that said, I think, over the course of the game, you don’t actually encounter any relapsed Gestalts. The violence in the game starts with an attack on the three child Shades outside the Village. The attack on the bridge crew the next day is likely in retaliation for this act. The next level of Shade activity comes after you free Weiss from the Lost Shrine and indicates that unification will be occurring soon. Some Shades start appearing in the Northern Plains-- they’re hostile but not significantly aggressive unless you attack back (or you’re carrying a fragile package); contrast to later in the game where your appearance on the map basically causes any currently-spawned Shade to start charging your position. The ones in the Aerie are doing their own thing but under a unified goal of trying to forcibly reunite with their bodies-- violent, but still sentient. There are a few out on the Southern Plains as the game progresses, including that big guy who’s killing the deer and is pretty much guaranteed to one-shot you the first time you see him, but if my theory about the sheep killing transfers over this is also a resource deprivation tactic. Seafront has significantly greater resources than anywhere else with its direct access to the ocean, but even they by the second half of the game are talking about the difficulty in getting food. There are a few Shades mentioned in specific sidequests that seem to be acting in peculiarly violent ways, but the two I’ve re-encountered so far -- the bridge Shade and the Seafront postman-eating Shade -- are positioned at choke points where they can easily disrupt trade and correspondence. Their methods are noted as being peculiar, but they’re still intelligent tactics, not random violence. I admit I might simply not be remembering other Shades from sidequests, but by and large, I don’t think so. There are some random Shades just chilling in some weird locations like the Barren Temple-- not really accomplishing anything there-- but if relapsed Gestalts are inclined toward violence it wouldn’t really make sense for them to stay somewhere that nobody actually goes. It’s certainly a possibility, but their behavior is overall consistent with the aggression we see from Shades in the second part of the game, where the Shades are acting under orders and organizing their attacks. The bosses are pretty well confirmed to be stable given the revelations of the Route B, with the only possible exception being Hook-- and I think Hook would be less ‘relapsed’ and more -- to use the scientific vernacular -- ‘bugfuck nuts’. (Tyrann isn’t relapsed -- although he’s kind of a weird case overall -- and he just really likes killin’ people so it’s not out of the realm of possibility for certain Shades to just really like killin’ people.) It has the intelligence to try and trick Kaine into embracing death, and carries out an active conversation to that end so it’s not just mindlessly parroting words even at that point. The only other consideration I might make is the Shades in the weapons facility, less because of their tactics and more because it feels like that would be one of the few places in the game where relapsed Gestalts could theoretically survive. But that also could have been a major location for Gestalt stasis, and either read leaves them all understandably pissed that nobody could figure out how to open the front door, so the difference between ‘relapsed’ and ‘stir crazy’ is negligible at best. So overall, while I believe there are still relapsed Gestalts in the world, I think the game only ever has you fight against any during the prologue (and, technically, during the flashback dream with the fortune teller).

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch22: I Don’t Like People Touching My Stuff

Summary: The Avenger’s search for the sceptre reaches a dramatic conclusion meaning Katie and Steve finally get the breathing place to start planning their future. But when another girl takes a rather obvious shine to Steve, Katie is not particularly pleased…

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW) No Under 18.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: And so we head into Part 4 which covers the Age Of Ultron and surrounding time period for Katie and Steve- HENCE THE NEW BANNER!!! And this edit has to be my favourite to date. @angrybirdcr​ you are a genius!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 21

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

 April 2015.

It was apparent when The Avengers landed in the snow-covered forest that this was the heaviest guarded base they had hit in the 6 months they had been searching for Loki’s Sceptre. The guards were positioned a mile out, complete with barbed wire fences and road blocks and the minute Thor, Tony and Katie took off from the back of the jet all hell had broken loose. This was instantly a Code Green, and Banner transformed into the huge Hulk and with his help the group managed to commandeer a jeep and a motorcycle, Natasha driving the jeep supported by Clint and Steve was on the bike, obviously.

One of the HYDRA agents managed to leap up at the side of Steve and he swerved sharply to the left, landing a kick to his chest, knocking him away. The Captain surged the bike forward as another Soldier ran towards him and he leant over and grabbed his leg, dragging him along before tossing him into another approaching hostile, knocking them both unconscious. As he continued he flung his shield forward where it bounced off a tree along with a few more Hydra soldiers before he caught it again and secured it on his back, swerving the bike to avoid another oncoming jeep. The Hulk caught said offending jeep and tossed it aside easily, before continuing on his own rampage

Ahead of Steve, Katie shot downwards so she was 3 feet at most off the snow covered forest floor and spiralled straight into a group of soldiers like a bowling bowl into a set of pins, scattering them across the ground.

“STRRRRIIIKKKEEE!” she heard Tony quip and she laughed as The Avengers began to advance on the barricade that was the only defence left from keeping them out of the base. Steve sped his bike up, propelling himself over the barbed wire after Tony and Katie, Natasha swerved the truck behind him hard to the left and her and Clint jumped out, legs extended, kicking anyone they came into contact with.

“Up high Kiddo…” Tony called and the siblings sped forward, taking out a few more in their path before climbing up towards the base. Katie closed in, but suddenly hit a force field, which reverberated and sent her spiralling off to the side.

“Shit!” She exclaimed, righting herself whilst she looked round

“Language,” Steve reprimanded, the familiar joke telling-off slipping past his lips without him really thinking about it. “JARVIS what’s the view from upstairs?”

“The central building is protected by some kind of, energy shield.” JARVIS responded easily through the communication devices. “Strucker’s technology is well beyond anything of a HYDRA base we’ve taken.”

“Loki’s sceptre must be here,” Thor said as Steve saw him swing his hammer, fighting off more Hydra soldiers. “Strucker couldn’t mount this defence without it. At long last.”

 “At long last is lasting a little long, guys.” Katie’s voice echoed along with the sound of her beams as she aimed them at another bunch of soldiers who were shooting at her and Tony from the top of the fortress.

"Yeah,” Clint scoffed “I think we lost the element of surprise.”

“Wait a second,” Tony interrupted, “Is no one going to deal with the fact that Cap just said ‘language’?”

“I know,” Steve sighed speeding head on in the direction of one of the trucks. He pulled the brakes on the bike, launching himself forwards, his hands on the handlebars throwing the bike over his head watching it crash into the truck. “It just slipped out.” He finished with a sigh. It had been a joke, but he knew full well the joke was going to be on him now.

“Sir, the city is taking fire.” JARVIS informed them as Katie dodged the fire that was being aimed at them from the top of the fortress

“Well we know Strucker isn’t going to worry about civilian casualties,” Tony responded, “Send in the Iron Legion.”

“How do we get this force field down?” Katie asked

“There has to be a source.” Tony mused, as they circled the fortress again. “JARVIS…” “Working on it, Sir.”

“Clint!” Natasha’s frantic shout made both Tony and Katie pause, and that pause cost her as a flash hit the side of her suit and sent her ricocheting to the side, colliding heavily with one of the walls of the fortress. Her suit clanged heavily with the force-field and she once more dinged off the side.

“We have an enhanced in the field.” Steve reported, as Katie shook her head, flying back up after Tony. 

“Clint’s hit.” Natasha spoke again “Somebody wanna’ deal with that bunker?”

Katie looked down, scanning to find where Natasha was referring to but before she could do anything the Hulk gave a mighty roar and she turned to see him crash through it.

“Thank you.” Nat spoke again.

“Stark,” Steve grunted, and Katie turned her head to see he was fighting half a dozen or so agents. She shot towards them, taking two down with her repulsors as Steve’s shield flew from his arm in an arc and connected with another two. “We really need to get inside.”

“I’m closing in.” Tony responded as Katie landed by Steve, shooting at another soldier. More were approaching and as she shot and flew at them, she heard Tony’s triumphant voice in her ear. “Drawbridge is down people.”

Thor landed nearby with a flourish of lightening that took down the last set of soldiers for now. “The enhanced?” He questioned as Katie slid back her face plate.

“He’s a blur,” Steve said as he jogged towards them. “With all the new players we’ve faced I’ve never seen this. In fact, I still haven’t.”

“Clint’s hit pretty back guys,” Natasha’s concerned voice came through coms again, “We’re gonna need evac.”

“I can get Barton to the jet, the sooner we’re gone the better.” Thor glanced around. “You two and Stark secure the sceptre”

“Copy that.” Steve responded.

Katie looked around and suddenly noticed that a line of soldiers were approaching, with a tank directly behind them.

“Errrr boys…”

Thor and Steve both looked around and Thor titled his head to one side, curiously.

“Hmmm looks like they’re lining up.” He said,

“Well they’re excited.” Steve huffed holding up his shield and bracing himself while Katie took a step back and ducked. Thor brought his hammer down on the shield where the force reverberated off and hit the soldiers knocking them all down. A perfectly executed move, fresh from the training room.

“Find the sceptre.” Thor instructed, taking off.

“And for gosh sake’s watch your language.” Tony exclaimed sarcastically into the coms.

“That’s not going away anytime soon.” Steve sighed, looking at Katie. Even though half his face was obscured by his helmet she could see the look of exasperation on his face and grinned.

“Yeah, Tony is gonna bring that up at every opportunity he gets” she shrugged as they began to make their way to the entrance of the building.

**** Katie looked at her brother who was staring at the console of the jet, a faraway look in his eyes.

“You sure you’re alright Tone?” she asked him

“Yeah just you know, little bit relieved it’s done…finally” he said, flicking some more switches. Whilst Katie wasn’t sure she believed him, she knew she wasn’t going to get anything else out of him at the moment so she stood up and made her way over to her fiancée who was now stood with Thor, the pair of them looking at the Sceptre.

“So you think what powers this is a similar force to the tesseract?” Steve asked, breaking the silence between the two men who had, up until that point simply been staring at the thing, unable to believe they had it. He moved his arm gently, as Katie slid comfortably underneath it, dropping a kiss to the side of her head but other than that his attention was fully on Thor.

“Yes.” Thor pondered, his fingers skating over the glass it was encased in. “The power they both give off is immeasurable…”  

“Thor!” came Nat’s voice loudly, and all 3 of them turned to face her “Report on the Hulk.”

“Oh, err the gates of Hell are filled with the screams of his victims.” Thor smiled, raising his fist triumphantly but dropped it when Nat turned to look at him in disbelief as Katie hit him on the arm. Steve supressed a smile, looking upwards whilst shaking his head, both his hands dropping to his buckle.

“But not the screams of the dead,” Thor spoke again, quickly trying to correct himself as Bruce put his head in his hands and groaned as Nat shot the God another filthy look “Of course. No, no, wounded screams. Mainly whimpering, a great deal of complaining and tales of sprained deltoids and errr gout.”

 “Gout?”  Katie looked at him as Steve shook besides her with supressed mirth. 

“What?” Thor shrugged and was about to open his mouth again but thankfully he was interrupted by Tony.

“Hey, Banner, Dr. Cho is on her way in from Seoul.” He cut in from the cockpit. “Is it okay if she sets up in your lab?”

“Yeah, she knows her way around.” Bruce responded quickly.

“Thanks.” Tony told him shortly before going back to the controls on the jet.  He muttered something, before he spoke a bit louder instructing JARVIS to take the wheel.

“Yes sir, approach vector is locked.” The disembodied voice responded as Tony moved to join Katie, Steve and Thor around the sceptre.

“It feels good, yeah?” Tony began placing his hand comfortably in his pockets as he looked at Thor “I mean, you’ve been after this thing since SHIELD collapsed. Not that I haven’t enjoyed our little raiding parties, but…” he trailed off.

“But this, this brings it to a close.” Thor finished for him staring proudly down at the sceptre.

“As soon as we find out what else this has been used for.” Steve looked at the sceptre curiously. “I don’t just mean weapons. Since when is Strucker capable of human enhancement?”

"Banner and I will give it the once over before it goes back to Asgard.” Tony assured glancing at the item then back at Thor “Is that cool with you? Just a few days till the farewell party. You’re staying, right?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Thor looked back to the sceptre, placing one of his hands on the box with a smile “A victory should be honoured with revels.”

“Yeah, who doesn’t love revels?” Tony spoke lightly. “You guys?” He asked looking at Katie and Steve as Steve slid his arm round his girl’s waist. Seeing as they lived at the tower, it was kind of a given they would be there anyway, but Tony had aimed the question at Steve more than his sister, still giving him the chance to avoid a hectic social gathering if he so wished but on this occasion he didn’t. Despite the fact he enjoyed a quiet life on the whole, he also quite enjoyed socialising on occasions too. And Thor was right, this called for a good party.

 "Hopefully this puts an end to the Chitauri and Hydra, so…yes, revels.” Steve replied smiling slightly as he used the arm around Katie’s waist to squeeze her hip as Tony turned to speak to Thor, outlining his plans for the Sceptre.

Katie spun her body so she was facing Steve, both his hands locking at the base of her back. “Sooo, Captain America going to let his hair down?” She grinned.

“No, Steve Rogers is.”

“Steve is definitely my favourite.” She nodded, running her hands up his chest, feeling the solid material of his Uniform. “Cap’s an asshole. And a bossy bastard.”

“I know, you tell me this a lot” He quipped, leaning down to give her a peck on the lips.

A few hours later they arrived home. Natasha and Bruce wheeled Clint out first, passing Maria Hill as she walked onto the jet, addressing Tony, moving out of the way as Thor also left, the sceptre tucked under his arm.

“Lab’s all set up, boss” Hill spoke.

Tony pointed at Steve who was crouching down putting a few things back in one of the equipment crates. “Uh, actually, he’s the boss… I just pay for everything, and design everything and make everyone look cooler.”

Katie smiled to herself as Steve sighed; pretending to be irritated, but the shine in his eyes told a different story. He thrived in his role as leader.

“What’s the word on Strucker?” He asked Maria, straightening up.

“NATO’s got him.” She said, pressing something on her tablet.

“What about the two enhanced?” Katie asked, “Anything on them?”

“Wanda and Pietro Maximoff. Twins.” She said handing Steve the tablet. He swiped across the screen and the image sprang to life. Katie watched the tablet in Steve’s hands as the two kids were partaking in some kind of demonstration.

“Orphaned at ten when a shell collapsed their apartment building. Sokovia’s had a rough history. It’s nowhere special but it’s on the way to everywhere special.”

Together the three of them strode across the landing pad, leaving Tony behind on the jet doing his usual post flight shut down controls. 

“Their abilities?” Steve quizzed as they headed through the locker area heading towards the elevator at the end.

“He’s got increased metabolism and improved thermal homeostasis. Her thing is neural electric interfacing, telekinesis, mental manipulation.”

Steve looked at her, his eyebrow raised.

“He’s fast and she’s weird.” Katie said, rephrasing it for him. Maria let out a small smirk.

“Well, they’re going to show up again.” He said, pressing the button for the elevator.

“Agreed. File says they volunteered for Strucker’s experiments. Its nuts” Maria said as Katie and Steve stepped in to the elevator and turned to face her. Katie looked down at her feet, smiling before she glanced sideways at Steve who was looking at Maria.

“Right. What kind of monster would let a German scientist experiment on them to protect their country?” His voice was ladled with sarcasm. He knew Hill hadn’t meant it like that but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to jibe her.

Maria realised what she had said and looked at him, taking a deep breath. “We’re not at war, Captain” she responded.

“They are.” He said, and then the lift door shut.

“Turns out Cap is Bossy and sarcastic…” Katie raised an eyebrow, not looking at him.

He paused for a second, smirking, before he turned to her, gently pushing her shoulders to back her into the wall of the elevator as his lips crashed onto hers, body pinning her into place. He kissed her, hard and his hand slid up to grasp her chin, holding her head in position as his tongue tangled easily with hers. It took Katie a second to catch up with what was going on, he’d surprised her slightly, but once she did she kissed him back, hungrily.  The elevator stopped and he stepped back, leaving her breathless and hanging as he exited the lift wearing a huge smirk, tablet still in his hand.

Whilst Steve headed off to find a quiet corner in which to study the tablet some more, Katie, once she had managed to calm her spiking libido, walked into the lab area. Tony was coming down the steps, out of the room Clint was in. Bruce was stood just outside, looking through the window.

“How is he?” Katie asked.

“Well he’s still Barton so…”

“That’s terrible.” Banner shook his head.

“He’s good, he’s thirsty so…” Tony shrugged. Banner smiled and headed into the lab as Katie held back, looking at Tony.

“And you, are you sure you’re alright?” She asked. “You looked a bit peaky before.”

“Just the amount of stuff that was in Strucker’s lab.” Her brother murmured “There was a tonne of it Kiddo, a fuck tonne. We didn’t do as good a job of cleaning up after the battle here as we thought.”

“We did the best we could.” she said, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“Yeah maybe, anyway I’m going to go fix a drink so…”

He wandered off and Katie watched him go. Something was telling her that her brother wasn’t being completely honest with what was bothering him, but she knew better than to press him. He’d tell her when he wanted to.

As she walked into the room where Clint was led, Natasha was stood beside him, Dr Cho’s machine working on the wound in his side.

 “So is he going to be okay Doc because pretending to need this guy really keeps the team together” Natasha teased. Clint muttered back a response that Katie didn’t quite catch whilst Banner bent over the kit that was currently mending his wound together, his nose centimetres away from Barton’s side as he studied it, a look of astonishment and awe on his face.

“She’s creating tissue.” He spoke incredulously, looking at Natasha then to Katie.

Helen Cho smiled, and checked the wound and the machine before looking at Banner “If you brought him to my lab, the regeneration Cradle could do this in twenty minutes.”

“Oh he’s flatlining.” Tony returned to the lab with 7 plastic cups full of his power green smoothie that had become a bit of a post mission ritual. Katie took one from him as he continued to pass them around whilst teasing Clint. “Call it. Time?”

“No, no, no. I’m going to live forever. I’m gonna be made of plastic.” Clint glanced up.

“Here’s your beverage” Tony handed him a cup.

“You’ll be made of you, Mr. Barton. Your own girlfriend won’t be able to tell the difference.” Dr Cho assured him. 

“Well, I don’t have a girlfriend.” Clint swallowed the mouthful of drink he had taken, sharing a glance with Katie and she smirked.

No, just a wife.

“That I can’t fix.” Helen Cho smiled, before looking at my brother “This is the next thing, Tony. Your clunky metal suits are going to be left in the dust”.

“Well, that is exactly the plan. And Helen, I expect to see you at the party on Saturday.”

“Unlike you, I don’t have a lot of time for parties.” She paused, looking down at her clip board “Will Thor be there?”

“Oh yes…” Katie placed the empty cup on the tray and picking up the remaining two. “He’s a big fan of revels.”

She headed out of the lab and down the steps into the living area to find Thor and Steve, smiling when she spotted them both stood looking out at the City below.

“You would hardly know a battle had occurred at all” Thor was saying as he accepting the cup Katie held out to him as she moved to stand between them both. Thor dropped a large arm round her shoulder in a friendly manner, the two having grown even closer over the last six months as she’d taken it upon herself to help him get to grips with living on Earth as much as she could. “It never ceases to amaze me how you people just carry on.”

“We’re a resilient species.” Steve took the drink Katie offered him, his eyes straying to Thor’s arm. He didn’t mind the God’s protective nature over his girl, he knew there was nothing more to friendship, but he wasn’t overly keen on his tactile nature with her. 

“Yes, just like Ramularts.” Thor’s arm moved from Katie as she looked round at him and he noticed her blank faces “Big, grey animals, huge horns, purple eyes. You don’t have those on Earth?”

“Err no.” Katie shook her head, as this time it was Steve’s arm which curled round her shoulders. “No we don’t.”

“Oh.” Thor said, before shrugging “Well they are hideous. A bit like this green concoction your brother insists we drink”

“It’s good for you…” Katie grinned “Contains Two of your Five a day. I should know, I drank enough of it after my little vacation in Canada”

“Don’t.” Steve sighed, his arm pulling her a little closer. He hated it when she made jokes about her kidnapping.

Thor raised his eyebrow. “Five a day of what?”

“Never mind.” Katie chuckled “If you don’t like it, tip it into the plant pot. He’ll never know.

*****

It was a bit strange the following few days, waking up and knowing there was nothing that needed to be done. Whilst not every single day of the last Six months had been spent running around on or planning missions, even when she was at work in SIP, there had always been that part of Katie’s mind that would not switch off, knowing they had a job to do, not to mention Steve had been like a coiled spring constantly waiting and searching for the next lead.

With SHIELD all but gone to the public and off doing God knows what, the Avengers were more important than ever, and Katie knew that Tony and Steve had been discussing expanding, recruiting a whole team of support staff and scientists. However, that was all to come and for the time being it was pushed to the back of her mind, and Steve’s it appeared. Katie didn’t think she had ever seen him so relaxed. He slept in, lazed around the apartment, was happy to have duvet days. It was, frankly, great and she couldn’t help but hope that this could be the start of a relatively ‘normal’ life for the pair of them.

That particular morning, Thursday, the clock on her bedside table informed her that it was gone 10 am when she woke. Steve wasn’t in the bed besides her, but that wasn’t surprising. She stretched and turned over onto her side, instructing Jarvis to retract the blinds in the bedroom to reveal the large ceiling to floor windows that looked out over the New York Skyline. In her opinion their floor really did have the best view the building could offer, something which made her Super Soldier very happy, as he loved to spend his down time drawing the skyline from the art room she had gotten Tony to convert one of their spare rooms into for him at Christmas.

She also had another surprise for him up her sleeve. Steve had recently been researching into getting a place in Brooklyn for the pair of them, suggesting it would be nice for them to have their own place when they got married. So as a surprise she had made an appointment for later today in the afternoon with a Realtor Tony had recommended to look at a house they had both really liked on the internet. She hadn’t told Steve that yet, it was a surprise and something she was strangely excited about.

Steve heard Jarvis respond to Katie’s request and smiling he got up from where he had been watching the news on the TV, made her a coffee out and headed into the bedroom. He immediately noticed her eyes scan him up and down, grinning to himself as he raised an eyebrow as she took in the fact he was in nothing but a grey pair of sweats that hung off his hips casually as he crossed the grey carpet towards her.

“You know if I looked a woman up and down like that in the street I’d be called a pervert.”

“Yeah well…” She said, pulling herself into a sitting position “We’re not in the street, and you’re my fiancée so I can perve as much as I want.”

He snorted as he set the mug of coffee down on the bedside table and she moved over so he could sit on the edge of the bed.

“Morning, Gorgeous.” He grinned, dropping a kiss gently onto her lips. 

“Been in the gym?” She asked, taking in his hair which was still damp from the shower.

“Running. I popped in to see Tony and Banner on my way back up.”

“They still running tests on the Sceptre?” Katie took a sip of her drink.

“Yeah, I think they’ve been there all night!” he said, running a hand through his damp, tousled hair

“Wouldn’t surprise me. Tony’s relentless once he gets the bit between his teeth”

“So, what do you want to do today?” Steve’s nose buried into her hair. “Fancy heading down to the Pier?”

“Well…” Katie said, setting her mug down and taking his hand in hers, lacing her fingers with his “I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” He asked, raising his eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face.

“mnmmmhmmmm” she said, nodding.

He tried his best to get her to tell him where they were going but Katie didn’t. She had a suspicion he would guess as they made their way there however. But still, it was fun. They set off just after midday and cruised over Brooklyn Bridge, the sun bouncing off the Hudson as they left Manhattan. Katie drove her Camero through the various neighbourhoods, occasionally Steve would point things out from his past, as they came to him, enjoying his little nostalgia trip. And then when she turned left at one particular junction he immediately figured out where they were going.

“You are unbelievable.” He chuckled.

“What?”

“We’re going to see that house, the one in Clinton Hill…” Steve’s eyebrow raised as he shot a glance at her.

“Might be.” Katie smirked.

They carried through the neighbourhood and Katie eventually pulled into a pair of open metal gates which led to a large, red brick three storey with an immaculate garden area to the front and stopped behind a gold, BMW convertible.  To the left of the front door the drive way sloped down under an arch to a large garage and the sprawling grounds at the back. Steve had liked it immediately when he saw it. The architecture inside and outside was quirky enough to appeal to the artist in him, it was in a quiet enough neighbourhood and the location and plot meant they could easily up the security. It all came at a hefty price tag though, not that it mattered to Katie.

“You do know this was the poshest place to live in Brooklyn.” He turned to look at Katie as she undid her seat belt.

“Still is. But then, I’m a very posh kinda woman.” Katie grinned, climbing out of the car. Steve did the same and made his way round to her side, dropping an arm round her shoulders.

 “What do you think?”

“Looks even better in real life.” Steve looked up at the huge, elegant mansion. As they stood looking at the façade of the building, the large oak door opened and outstepped a tall, thin, very good looking woman dressed in an extremely tight grey dress, high Manolas with her blonde hair pulled up into an immaculate bun. 

“Hi.” She was crisp, and business like. “You must be Miss Stark and Captain Rogers?”

“Yeah, sorry, Danny?” Katie frowned. When Tony had set her up with his Real Estator friend Danny, She had assumed it was a man.

“Danni with an I!” She held out her hand, clearly clocking the look of confusion. “I get that a lot.”

She turned to Steve, and looked at him appreciatively, her whole body language changing from one of business to friendship as she shook his hand. Katie rolled her eyes. Steve, as ever, was utterly clueless as he beamed at the woman.

“So the way I normally do this, is I’ll walk you in, show you round, give you a bit of history, then we can have a chat after…” She said, as they followed her up the steps, Steve stopping to allow Katie to go first, his hand gently in the small of her back. They entered into large, wooden floored hall way, which was cool but welcoming. To the right was a huge staircase which swept up and round in a dog leg.

“So the house was impeccably restored in 2007 by the present owners with close attention given to the preservation of historic details.” Dani spoke the sales patter as the pair of them looked up and round. “There are five floors, seven bedrooms, three full baths, three half baths in 3 of the bedrooms, including the master, front and rear gardens, parking, double garage and a pool house.”

She turned round and looked at Katie “And if you’re anything like your brother you’ll appreciate one of the 5 floors is a wine cellar-slash-party room. We all know Tony likes his parties, lord knows I’ve been to enough.”  she winked at Steve and besides him he felt Katie bristle.

Uh-oh.

Katie frowned slightly, unable to decide if she was making a joke or referring to the fact this woman and her brother had once, well, you know. Fixing the woman with her best passive face she smiled.

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember you.”  Katie’s voice was thickly sweet “I’m normally pretty good with faces.”

The two women looked at one another, Dani-with-an-I’s face slipped slightly but she recovered and turned to Steve.

“So if you want to follow me…” She beamed, a mouthful of perfect, white teeth.

“Please, lead the way.” Steve smiled at her, ever the gentleman and Katie gave another roll of her eyes as she led them from the room, hips swinging exaggeratedly.

As they walked round, despite the fact she was openly flirting with Steve and completely ignoring the fact Katie was there, it was clear the woman really did know her stuff. She’d obviously researched this house down to the ground as no detail was missed.

Frankly the house was stunning, and as they moved from room to room, taking it all in, Steve noticed the way Katie’s smile grew wider the more they saw. He could tell she’d fallen in love with it already.

“All of the electrical and plumbing was updated and central air-con and heating was installed throughout the house” Dani-with-an-I said as they made their way back down the stairs “And the facade was redone as well as the roof.”

“I’m not going to lie…” Steve nodded as they made their way into the huge kitchen again, “It’s every bit as stunning in real life as it looks on the internet.”

“It’s gorgeous isn’t it Steve.” She flashed those pearly whites at him again as her hand dropped to his forearm, giving it a small squeeze. Katie took a deep breath and grit her teeth. Steve didn’t so much as bat an eyelid although Katie could have sworn he shot her a sideways glance, the glimmer of a smirk playing across his handsome face. But when she looked back his face was utterly passive.

“How big is the land span?” He asked, striding to the back door

“Couple of hundred feet. The pool is roughly 20 by 40 so you can gage it from that.”

 “May I?” He asked, gesturing to the door which led out of the kitchen to the rear.

“Please, go right ahead.” Sh smiled, stepping forward to unlock the rear door. Steve stepped out and strode down the lawn area of the property to inspect the gardens looking for what security improvements they would need to make. They weren’t overlooked either which he really liked. No, he could definitely see them here together, maybe raising a family in a few years…a dog… a smile crossed his face as he looked around. Yeah, he liked it.

Katie watched as Steve looked around the garden, and Dani-with-an-I excused herself and pottered off to answer a phone call. Katie turned her head, nosily listening in and caught one line which instantly pissed her right off.

“Yes, I think he likes it. It’s a good sign… he might yes. I know, right? Captain America…who knew!? And he’s even more gorgeous in real life! Yeah, tell me about it…”

Whoever she was on the call to was clearly speaking back and Dani laughed before saying she needed to go and Katie heard her heels clicking as she walked back to the large kitchen. Katie glanced at Steve who was walking back towards the house, and figuring she had enough time she decided to pull the daft bint up on her attitude.

“And do you think I like it?” Katie asked as Dani walked into the room.

“I’m sorry?” Dani frowned.

“Do you think I like the house?” Katie shrugged “I mean you seem overly concerned about whether Captain America does just curious if my opinion counts?”

Dani floundered for her answer, as Katie continued. “I’ve watched you for the last hour or so eyeing him up.” Katie glared at her.  

“Katie…I didn’t…” “Miss Stark, thank you.” Katie interrupted, not once breaking the eye contract. “And if you touch my fiancee again, I will snap your hand off.”

Dani swallowed nervously and looked away for a split second. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause any offence.”

“Everything ok?” Steve asked, stepping back into the kitchen. You could cut the tension between the women with a knife. He couldn’t help but feel slightly sorry for Dani as Katie was utterly frightening when she wanted to be.

“Yes, absolutely, me and Dani were just discussing the price and maybe how she’s going to broker us a good deal with the vendor…” Katie said sweetly, before she turned to Dani, raising an eyebrow. Steve had to bite back his laughter.

“Yes.” Dani cleared her throat, “Absolutely. So it’s currently on the market for offers in the region of 3.3 million, but I think with some good negotiation I’ll get them down to around the flat 3 mark.” 

“Try again.” Katie smiled at her and Dani swallowed again, her smile slipping slightly.

“Miss Stark, this is a very good price for this area…” “I’m not disputing that.” Katie shook her head, her eyes never once leaving the woman in front of her “But we would be cash buyers, with no chain…obviously if you don’t think you can get it any lower I would be happy to handle the negotiations myself.”

Steve bit his lip and became very focussed on examining the ceiling. “I’ll see what I can do.” Dani-with-an-I said after a short pause.

“Thank you.” Katie smiled.

They all exchanged pleasantries, Katie’s handshake was especially firm, and then Steve and her left, exiting down the steps.

“You’re scary when you’re angry” he said into her ear.

“I’m not angry, merely slightly irritated.” Katie snorted “Her attitude left something to be desired. Here, wanna drive home?” she tossed him the keys.

He didn’t say anything else, just expertly caught the keys in his left hand, but the smug look on his face was enough to let Katie know she had been busted. As they drove back down the tree lined avenue towards the main road, their conversation turned to how beautiful the location was and Steve pointing out how far away the area was from where he grew up. As he spoke, however, something in his stomach tightened. It was a really far cry from the life he had known before the war, when he had been lucky just to be able to afford the rent every month in the small four roomed apartment. He’d always dreamed of being able to afford a nice place in his future, keep a roof over his family’s head, but here well it would be a joint effort. And he was surprised to find that he felt a little bit inadequate about that.

 “Do we really need 7 bedrooms?” he asked suddenly.

“Does Tony really need 6 cars?”  Katie shrugged “They don’t all have to be bedrooms. The smaller rooms on the top floor could be an art studio and a cinema room…”

Steve fell completely quiet. Katie glanced sideways at him. There was a solemn look on his face. A look she knew meant he was brooding over something.

“Soldier, what is it?”

“Nothing…”

“You can’t lie for shit. Try again.”

He shifted and looked straight out of the window ahead, biting his bottom lip gently. He took a deep breath and as they stopped at a traffic light he turned to face her.

“It’s a lot of money, I’m just not sure I can afford it…”

“Maybe you can’t, but we can.” Katie waved his comment away. “Plus you’re on the Stark payroll now…”

“That’s not the point…” he sighed

“Then what is?” “I know this sounds old fashioned but I always wanted to provide for my girl, you know.”

Katie watched as he shrugged gently eyes not straying from the road.

“Yeah you’re right…it is old fashioned.” She rolled her eyes. Normally she had a lot of time for his ways but not when it came to things like this. “Does me having a lot of money bother you that much?”

“Of course not…” he said.

“So why are we even having this discussion? We’re going to be married at some point, it doesn’t matter who has what. It’s not an issue.” she took a breath “You know, considering you’re not all that bothered about me taking your name when we get married this seems like an odd thing to get caught up on.” “Hang on, I never said I wasn’t bothered about you not taking my name.” He corrected, shaking his head. “I’d love nothing more than for you to be Mrs Rogers. What I said was that I understand your reasons for being a little bit…hesitant about it, with the business and all.”

“I’m not hesitant.” She shot back, and he looked at her, raising an eyebrow snorting.

“What was it you said?” He looked at her briefly “You can’t imagine not being a Stark especially when your business is called Stark Independent Publishers?”

She stayed silent, looking out of the window.

“I got news for you, Sweetheart, you’ll always be a Stark. Name or not. You’re too much of a pain in my ass not to be.” Steve concluded, shooting her a look. She gave a small smile as he pulled the car up 5th towards the tower.

“And you’ll always be my Soldier. My safe-place, regardless of whether you solely provide for me or not, which by the way is a fucking stupid notion anyway, didn’t your Ma bringing you up alone teach you anything?”

“Wow.” Steve raised both his eyebrows “That’s harsh.”

“But fair.” she countered “Are we arguing now?” He looked at her, the corner of his mouth twitching as he pulled up and waited for the entrance to the underground car park open as it recognised the plate.

“No, I’m just pointing out that you’re being an old fashioned dork about something that really isn’t that big a deal. I want to share my life with you, Steve and that means everything that comes with it.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re right.” He shook his head. “You’re absolutely right, I’m sorry.” he took a deep breath “I suppose since coming out of the ice this is the first time I’ve really had to think about where I’m gonna live and not had it all planned out for me.” He cut the car engine and Katie looked at him, softening slightly as he turned to her, his blue eyes locking onto hers.

“Baby, there’s no rush.” She looked at him, fully understanding what he was saying. “There’s plenty of other property to look at.”

“Yeah, perhaps I should give Danni-with-an-I a call, see what else she has on her books. I mean she did give us a good tour.” Steve nodded, a small smile playing on his face.

Katie narrowed her eyes at him. That’s not all she wanted to give you. She was flirting with you.”

“She probably flirts with everyone”

“She wanted you.”

“Well, she can’t have me.” Steve grinned, raising an eyebrow at her, that annoying smug grin spreading across his face.

“Damned right.” She pushed on his shoulders gently as she clambered over onto his lap. “I don’t take kindly to people touching my stuff…” “Yeah, you really didn’t you learn to share as a child did you?” He teased, his hands sliding up each of her bare thighs, underneath the hem of her jersey dress

“Not when it comes to the important things, no…” She murmured, pressing her lips to his. Her tongue slid into his mouth, tangling easily with his as he flexed his hips up groaning as the growing bulge in his trousers pressed against her spot as she pushed down hard against him, a moan brewing in her throat.

“Baby we’re in the garage.” he said softly, more of a reminder than a protest. 

“I know…” She kissed him again as she began to undo his buckle and then the buttons on his jeans. He tilted his hips slightly so she could manoeuvre his trousers down and he shifted so he was in the right position as she leaned forward again to kiss him, his lips gently trailing down to pepper her neck with soft, warm kisses, as he pushed up against her again and again, his erection pressing at the thin barrier of her underwear. Her hands moved from his chest and she slid the garment to the side and his hands rested on her hips as she pushed down, taking him in. Both of them let out a groan and Katie began to work up and down, rocking her hips.

The darker side of Steve found the risk of someone coming and finding them, all be it pretty minimal, a fucking big turn on and his hands pulled Katie further down as he thrust upwards, fucking her like a greedy, horny teenager. Her head banged against the roof of the car, but Katie didn’t care as his hands crept up the front of her dress, sliding under the cups of her bra. His hands tweaked at her nipples and she groaned louder, the familiar pull in her stomach getting more and more prominent. As she pushed down again he let out a groan and sat up slightly, so his lips were on her neck nipping her skin with his teeth as he thrust upwards, and she let out a cry, tilting her head backwards.

“Stevie, I’m gonna…” she stuttered and as he thrust upwards again, she was gone. Her cries loud as he too let out a loud groan as he shuddered, wrapping his arms around her back, pulling her to him as she rode out wave, after wave, and he emptied himself inside her, laying his head back against the seat, eyes closed in bliss. She fell forward and lay her forehead against his, both of them breathing deeply as their noses began their familiar dance.

“You know…” He chuckled, cracking an eye open as she grinned cheekily. “I’m glad you weren’t taught how to share…”

***** Chapter 23 Part 1

**Original Posting**

[robininthelabyrinth]

Pastime (with good company) (ao3) (aka NMJ/WWX/LWJ) -  part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, past 5, part 6, part 7 

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Wei Wuxian still wasn’t sure how Lan Wangji had convinced him to come to Qinghe in the middle of the night, even flying through the middle of a thunderstorm to get there.

Possibly he’d still been thinking with his lower half at the time that he’d agreed – he’d been so close to the edge, skating on it, holding himself back intentionally so that the eventual peak would be even better, and to have it snatched away at the last moment had been brutal.

Or maybe it had been the panic in Lan Wangji’s eyes. The worry, the fear.

The realization that someone knew.

He hadn’t been all that concerned with pleasure after that.

“You can’t tell anyone,” he’d begged, desperate. “Please, Lan Zhan – not anyone! No one can know!”

Lan Wangji had wavered, seeing how much it mattered to him and wanting to honor his wishes, wanting to help him - Lan Wangji always wanted to help him - but also needing to share the unexpected burden. In the end he had insisted: “One person. Wei Ying, a marriage cannot be founded on a lie.”

Nothing else in the world would have worked to convince him, given the risks of disclosure, the risk that if more people knew that the secret would get out, that Jiang Cheng would find out, but that – 

That did. 

Lan Wangji was right: it was one thing to enter a marriage for convenience, for political gain; if that was all there was to it, then Wei Wuxian wouldn’t have needed to say anything. He could have hidden it forever, refused to dual cultivate beyond acting as a passive vessel; he could have presented himself in the marriage not as Wei Wuxian but as the Yiling Patriach, with all the benefits and disadvantages that came with it, and that would be that.

But it wasn’t just that.

Maybe it started out that way, but it wasn’t that way now. Not with the way Nie Mingjue had smiled at him, the way he’d looked at him, intense and serious, after that spar – the discussion they’d had afterwards, when he’d raised his proposal again, serious this time, that they would all marry, the three of them. When he had made clear that his offer could be rejected at will without insult, that he meant it as something that was not for politics, not for need, just…to be married. To be together, the three of them, all three of them, to exchange bows and vow to live together as husbands for the rest of their lives, simply because they wanted to. 

Nie Mingjue and Lan Wangji both - they’d been clear about what they wanted, and they wanted a marriage with Wei Wuxian, and not his reputation.

Lan Wangji was right.

A marriage like that – a marriage like the ones his parents had, when his mother had picked an outstanding servant over all the other more promising or well-respected men she could have had simply because he made her laugh, the type of marriage he’d always dreamed of, the type he’d always wanted for himself – couldn’t be founded on a lie.

And so they were on their way to Qinghe.

The journey was long, even by sword, even for someone with cultivation as high as Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian had not enjoyed flying on a sword since the he’d been thrown into the Burial Mounds, refusing Wen Qing’s occasional well-intentioned offers; he tried to get some enjoyment out of the fact that his arms were wrapped around Lan Wangji’s waist, his front pressed up against Lan Wangji’s back (he wondered if Lan Wangji would let him rut up against him like this, put himself between those white thighs until they were dirty –) but even the most sexually charged fantasies faded away into the cold reality that he was going to need to talk about this.

And that was before it started raining.

The last shichen of the trip was in complete silence, and only the warmth of Lan Wangji’s hand against his, his spiritual energy flowing calmly between them, kept Wei Wuxian from true panic. And then they were in Qinghe, landing in front of the door, and the guards at the gate were letting them in and then – 

Nie Mingjue was there, waiting the entry hall.

Beautiful Nie Mingjue, who was only half-dressed, his hair unbound and with only an outer robe over his underclothing that he’d thrown on but hadn’t bothered to belt before rushing to the doorway, concern clearly written all over his face.

“What happened?” he asked.

“There’s no emergency,” Wei Wuxian said, and when Lan Wangji turned to glare at him, he raised his hands. “There isn’t! It’s been like this for months, Lan Zhan, and nothing will change if we let Mingjue-xiong get some sleep; we really didn’t have to fly here in the middle of the night –”

“To confirm – no attack has broken out, and no one is imminently dying?” Nie Mingjue interrupted.

Even Lan Wangji was forced to nod at that.

“In that case, you can come inside and have some tea while you explain,” Nie Mingjue said, waving his hand at one of the deputies that was lingering there. “I don’t mind being awake at this hour, but our sentries saw you coming through the storm and I thought it might be a situation where we would need to raise the army.”

Wei Wuxian’s shoulders hunched up. He should have thought about that, they both should have thought about that: Nie Mingjue was not merely a sect leader but a general, not merely a general but the leader of the Sunshot Campaign, the general that had given orders to generals; of course he would think first of war. “Nothing like that.”

“My apologies,” Lan Wangji said. “Our urgency was only my eagerness.”

“Don’t apologize,” Nie Mingjue said briskly. “Matters can be urgent even without a battle; it’s only a question of scale. Follow me.”

He led them to a small receiving room – it wasn’t the one usually used for guests, which Wei Wuxian had been to before, but something more intimate, warmer: the wooden furniture was sparse in the way it always was in Qinghe, with a restrained sort of charm, but there were intricate metal whorls on the walls that caught the eye and soft tapestries that made the cold stone feel less hostile.

“All right,” Nie Mingjue said as he strode into the room. “There’s tea in the corner; one of you can prepare it. Now tell me what the matter is.”

Wei Wuxian looked at him.

“…perhaps Sect Leader Nie would like to get dressed first?” he suggested, a little desperately. 

It was a stalling method, yes, but also – really. There was a certain amount of stress a man could be under at one time, and trying to actually tell someone about everything that had happened would be bad enough without having to also figure out how not to stare at the part of Nie Mingjue’s white under-robes that had started gaping open at the chest, a glimpse of supple flesh and the barest hint of pink –

Nie Mingjue huffed, though it was unclear whether it was out of annoyance or recognition of the effect he was having. “Very well. Wangji, the tea?”

The second he left, Wei Wuxian turned to Lan Wangji. “I know we’re here for a very serious reason and we’re going to need to talk about things and all that, but you saw that, right?”

Lan Wangji’s ears went red.

“Oh, you saw it all right,” Wei Wuxian said, and grinned. “Did it make you want to bite?”

“Wei Ying.”

“All right, all right, I’ll stop. And yes, I’ll – I’ll explain. To both of you.”

A marriage cannot be built on a lie.

Wei Wuxian wanted this marriage to work. He wanted it to be a partnership, like the one his parents had, not – not what Uncle Jiang and Madame Yu had.

The only way he could get what he wanted was if he told them the truth: that he had lost (given up) his golden core during the war, that he could no longer cultivate the orthodox path of the sword, that demonic cultivation was not only a choice but a mandate.

(They didn’t need to know about Jiang Cheng.)

When Nie Mingjue returned, now fully dressed and his hair pulled back in the simplest possible crown, no braids or anything, Wei Wuxian didn’t hesitate.

Nie Mingjue and Lan Wangji were mercifully silent during his explanation, interrupting only long enough to ask some questions – good ones, thoughtful ones. Some were aimed at understanding more of what he went through in the Burial Mounds, while others gently pointed out flaws in his story, sometimes embarrassing ones; if he were ever to tell this story to others, he would need to cover those up better.

They knew he was hiding something, but they let him hide it.

They trusted him.

(Maybe he would tell them about Jiang Cheng after all. But – not yet.)

When he finished, they were quiet for a long moment.

“Thank you for telling me,” Nie Mingjue finally said, and he meant it, too; he was Nie Mingjue, he didn’t say things lightly. If he was angry, he would have shown it, just as he had when Wei Wuxian had described what Wen Chao had done to him before rushing ahead and making clear that Wen Qing had helped him (a deliberate blurring of the timeline, but there was nothing he could do about it) but now there was no anger anywhere on his face, just thoughtfulness. “It explains – a great deal.”

Lan Wangji nodded in agreement, and Wei Wuxian felt the stickiness of guilt: would Lan Wangji think of all those times he’d begged Wei Wuxian to come with him to Gusu, to stop using demonic cultivation, and think himself a fool? Would he think Wei Wuxian had been laughing at him, knowing it was impossible?

He wouldn’t, of course, but Wei Wuxian felt guilty regardless.

“Not to get stuck on technical matters,” Nie Mingjue continued, “but curiosity compels me to ask. What forging are you using as the channel?”

Whatever Wei Wuxian might have expected Nie Mingjue to say, whether scolding or sympathy or even pity, it wasn’t that. 

He didn’t even understand that.

“What?” he said blankly.

“Is it that seal of yours? Or something else?”

“Forging?” Lan Wangji asked. He looked as confused as Wei Wuxian. “Wei Ying uses his flute to cultivate.”

Nie Mingjue’s frown deepened. “Resentful energy corrodes the protections of the souls if used for too long without a venting channel – without a proper outlet, the corrosion will build up in the meridians and dantian, and will ultimately lead to a backlash…are you saying you aren’t using one at all?”

“Are you saying you know about the effects of resentful energy?” Wei Wuxian asked, eyes lighting up. “I’ve never heard anything about venting, corrosion, or build-up – though it makes sense, actually, given some of the other aspects of resentful energy that I’ve observed or theorized. Gathering resentful energy has an exponential effect, the reason why a bunch of drownings in one place don’t just make more water ghouls, but a Waterborne Abyss, and why a battlefield is easier to raise than a single grave…everyone says demonic cultivation affects the temperament, but there’s never any detail. I haven’t been able to find any books on it.”

“Nor I,” Lan Wangji said. “Even in the forbidden portion of the clan library.”

“There aren’t many books,” Nie Mingjue agreed. “Demonic cultivation is well known to be forbidden, so most of the knowledge is handed down orally.”

Lan Wangji’s back got even straighter, if that was even possible, and Wei Wuxian understood the implication a second later: the Nie sect had always been a bit of an outlier from the other sects, Qinghe with its reputation for oddity, with its strange rituals and bizarre customs, its pride in having descended from butchers, a bloody profession associated with resentment, rather than gentry –

“You use demonic cultivation,” Wei Wuxian breathed.

“Not the way you use it, we don’t,” Nie Mingjue said dryly. “Let us not take away from the magnitude of your achievement in creating an entirely new cultivation path, Wei Wuxian, and one that can be used by those who cannot cultivate in the traditional fashion no less. We do not cultivate the ability to manipulate fierce corpses through their resentful energy, I’d never even heard of such a thing before, but we do utilize resentful energy in a fashion that other sects do not.”

“What do you use it for?” Lan Wangji asked. He looked as fascinated as Wei Wuxian was – really, he wasn’t that hard to read at all, once you had an idea of what to look for. All of his expressions were in the little things, the way his eyes curved or narrowed, the redness of his ears, the corners of his lips.

Nie Mingjue’s fingers flicked, a seemingly casual movement, but only a few seconds later the door slammed open as his saber flew into the room, hovering for a moment before whistling through the air as it made its way to Nie Mingjue’s hand.

Wei Wuxian turned to stare. 

“The personal quarters of the Nie clan aren’t anywhere near this hall,” he said slowly. “You clearly left your saber behind when you came to greet us, which I appreciate as a gesture of trust even though we wouldn’t have taken insult if you did…you summoned it all the way from here, and it came on its own? How could you guide it through all those hallways without using hand seals?”

“For something so straightforward, Baxia does not require guidance,” Nie Mingjue said, and held the saber out lengthwise for them to look at. “You asked what we use resentful energy for: this is the answer.”

“Only the most powerful spiritual weapons have enough awareness to recognize their masters,” Lan Wangji said, leaning forward. His eyes were bright with curiosity, with not a trace of judgment for the unorthodoxy they were discussing, and Wei Wuxian would spare some time to think about how beautiful Lan Wangji was in full scholar mode if he wasn’t equally entranced by Nie Mingjue’s revelations. “Much less find their way through a complicated series of hallways when their master wants them, without even a single hand seal acting as a summon…the Nie sect’s sabers have always been regarded as the finest weapons one can use against resentful beasts.”

“Very good as always, Wangji,” Nie Mingjue said, and Lan Wangji looked pleased at the recognition. “The founder of our sect was a butcher as well as a cultivator. As you know, occupations that require blood are notoriously considered bad for cultivation, the resentful energy from the work affecting their temperament and potential – take the traditional example of the fate of the executioner, who might arise as a fierce corpse despite lacking any resentments of his own. But my ancestor realized that the resentful energy of the beasts he slaughtered could be channeled not in the wielder of the saber, but the saber itself, and in doing so it would grow more powerful in its own right – power that could then be used to supplement the traditional orthodoxy of the dao of the sword and saber.”

Wei Wuxian’s brain was bubbling full of new ideas that had never even occurred to him before. The approach wasn’t as unorthodox as his own cultivation, nor perhaps would it be as reviled – the resentful energy of yao would be far less pernicious than the type he used, which came from humans, and using it as a whetstone to sharpen a sword’s spirit was far less intrusive than manipulating it directly as if it were spiritual energy – but it was fascinatingly different from everything he’d grown up hearing.

“What’s the cost?” he asked, because that was important. There had to be a cost, something the Nie sect was willing to pay that others weren’t, or else the secret would have gotten out at some point and become widespread.

“The difficulty in managing the process as the saber strengthens,” Nie Mingjue said. “The saber can store resentful energy, but we are the ones to cultivate it; it passes through us, and in time the strain will become too much unless we break through the limits of our cultivation and reach the heavens in a single bound. We trade the latter half of our lives for the power to make a difference in the first.”

“Qi deviation,” Lan Wangji murmured. All the Nie sect leaders had died of it, eventually; the fact of it was well known.

“Every generation tries some new means to mitigate it, some of which work better than others,” Nie Mingjue said with a shrug. “I had meant to make it clear to both of you before the wedding, but chances are high that the two of you will outlive me – though with luck the time is still some distance off.”

Wei Wuxian’s fingers curled together into fists in his lap, and he sees the stiffness in Lan Wangji’s spine that has nothing to do with pride; he didn’t need to share glances with him to know that they were both in violent agreement that something would need to be done about that.

After all, neither of them were interested in becoming widows, and together they could do marvelous things, unthinkable things – especially if Lan Wangji were willing, as Wei Wuxian for the very first time thought he might be, to help him research the more esoteric possibilities, to delve into the mysteries of his demonic cultivation and find out its reaches, the benefits and the costs that could be extracted from it.

If Nie Mingjue thought his husbands would just placidly accept a future without him, he would just have to wait and see what they would do.

“The tendency towards qi imbalances cause by our way of cultivating is aggravated by the hereditary Nie temper, which is said to be aggravated by the cultivation style in turn,” Nie Mingjue said, his voice a little dry; he was clearly well aware of his faults. “That’s one of the reasons I want to leave my sect to Huaisang in the future – he might not be the strongest cultivator, whether due to his naturally weaker talent or just because of how lazy he is, but he’s calm and thoughtful instead of temperamental, capable of great patience, and he cultivated a golden core using our traditional methods without losing those qualities.”

“I mean, I guess I’ve seen him with his saber,” Wei Wuxian said, a little doubtfully. “Not to be rude, but has he ever used it?”

Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes. “Not as much as he should, but yes, he’s even cultivated the spirit within it. Unfortunately, the saber and the master reflect each other, which means his saber turned out to be a lazy plonk that would rather act as a paperweight than actually stab someone.”

Wei Wuxian tried, and failed, to hide his smirk. He wondered if he could somehow use Nie techniques to regain control over Suibian, despite lacking a golden core – how wonderful it would be, if that were possible!

He thought there was a good chance Nie Mingjue would agree to teach him what he needed to know to do it, too.

“I had assumed you were using the Stygian Tiger Seal as a channel in a similar manner to the way I use my saber,” Nie Mingjue continued, frowning again. “That’s clearly not the case, and that means your demonic cultivation is even more radical an innovation than I had previously considered it to be. However, with your consent, I would like to build you a channel for you to try to start processing your cultivation through, in the hopes that it will work to ease the strain of it on you. My clan uses forging, a mixture of metal and qi, to create a base that can be built up into a saber, though I suppose in your case it doesn’t have to be. Tonight, if you’re not too tired.”

Wei Wuxian nodded. He’d known that backlash was a possibility, had already accepted that he’d likely have an early death as a result of it, had arrogantly assumed he’d be able to come up with something to prevent it, but just because he was doing something new didn’t mean he couldn’t try to supplement it with something that had been practiced for generations – especially since given how he’d used demonic cultivation so far, any backlash would probably end up with him ripped to pieces by a thousand fierce ghosts. 

Not really his ideal death.

Especially not before he managed to marry these two!

“I don’t want other people to know, though,” he said, his fingers twisting in his robes at the mere thought. The same anxiety as before: the more people knew his secret, the more chance there was of someone slipping up, of someone finding out – of Jiang Cheng finding out, and his shidi wasn’t stupid, merely too trusting to those he loved; he’d figure it out as soon as the pieces came together. “How many do we need to tell to do it?”

“None,” Nie Mingjue said, and Wei Wuxian started in surprise. “Are you not my intended husband? I can do it myself.”

He paused a moment, and then smiled. “Thank you.”

Wei Wuxian blinked at him. “For what?”

“For allowing me the opportunity to finally get Huaisang off my case about picking your betrothal gift.”

Lan Wangji huffed in amusement, as if some guess had been confirmed, and Wei Wuxian thought that maybe there was a chance this whole thing wouldn’t be a disaster after all.

[thefanficmonster]

Your Enemy

Connor Walsh & Michaela Pratt (How To Get Away With Murder)

Warnings: Angst, Eating Disorder, Swearing, Trauma, Anxiety, Spoilers for HTGAWM Season 1, Mentions of Murder

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Relationship

Summary: Following the most stressful events she’s ever had to deal with in her life, Michaela is forced to face a demon she thought she had left in her past. Luckily, this time she doesn’t have to deal with it on her own and has the support of a person she deemed least likely to ever come through for her.

Requested by Anon. Hello darling! I’m so happy to be hearing you’ve completed a full year of ED recovery! I’m very proud of you for having fought such a tough battle and came out of it a the bravest, strongest winner. Hope you enjoy the fic and hope it doesn’t trigger any bad memories. If it does, please let me know wo I can change it up. Love and care about you lots, Vy ❤

It’s been almost a month now. Almost a month since she was involved in the murder and dismemberment of her professor’s husband who her and her classmates were sure was the killer of a college student by the name of Lila Stangard. A month and she still can’t stomach any of it - a month during which she hasn’t stomached much else either. 

It all started the morning after the murder when she was still a distressed and disheveled mess, a nervous wreck that refused to leave the confinement and safety of her home and face the world out of fear of getting that stamp and punishment she knew she deserved. She knew she was basically a criminal in hiding. They all were and it was frustrating as all hell to see them all putting up with it so well like that murder wasn’t their first or their last. They almost came off as though they felt they did the right thing - rid the world of one more disgusting prick which Sam undoubtedly was, but that still wasn’t on them to decide. What they did was still a crime, they were still killers and would get charged as ones if this was ever to be found out by any law enforcement.

And Michaela Pratt could barely live with herself.

That first week her stomach was in constant knots that would tighten at the mere mention of food. Therefore, she lived solely on liquids that supplied her with faux energy and nothing nutritious that her body could work with. Then it became a habit. Well, it had more so to do with the fact that she looked in the mirror one day after showering and noticed the sudden change in her body, how it seemed smaller and, in her eyes, prettier than before. She liked the ‘improvement’ and wanted to hold onto it, linking it to her new eating habits she decided to stick to them. Though, they can’t really be called ‘eating habits’ considering she spent a great deal of time not eating anything at all, leaving large gaps between each tiny meal and drinking significantly more black coffee. She even developed the bad habit of smoking - a way for her to get out of the room whenever the rest of the Keating 5 were on a lunch break.

She hated the familiarity of it all, but there was also a certain dose of comfort to it. She had faced this demonic entity that resides within the very mind of the troubled person and that’s why she wasn’t scared. It felt more like opening the flood gates she had barely managed to shut and keep closed in the first place. Hell, it was almost relieving to open them up again, allow the inevitable to finally happen.

Having to lie about eating, having to renew her wardrobe with clothes of a smaller size - and some larger ones to hide the sudden change in - and dealing with dry and cracked skin, chipping nails and thinning hair were only few of the hiccups Michaela started facing when her weight loss became more significant and apparent, so much so that the Keating 5 were starting to worry. She was used to lying and making up stories about it. After all, this wasn’t her first time going down the dangerous lane that is undereating and abruptly losing a ton of weight. As mentioned, she dealt with it as a teenager for almost two years. Eventually, her lies started becoming see-through, causing her family to force her into recovery which eventually worked - took her a while to cooperate, but she managed to be convinced her life was to be lived properly. Her success was to be earned in more ways than boney limbs and vertigo every time she stood up. She came to the realization that the world was a crueler place than she had anticipated. It was a warzone she needed to be strong to face and, having become thin as a stick and mentally rattled she was terribly underprepared for facing and battling any of it. 

Michaela Pratt decided she deserved better - chose to toughen up and take the bull of her life by the horns and control it properly. She finally became the one really in control - not her self-destructive side, but her rational, fighter side. The warrior in her decided enough was enough.

However, for her, there’s never such a thing as enough.

Sensing it was a delicate and rather triggering subject, the members around the Keating household were more than reluctant on touching the topic and asking at least one of the many questions they always had in mind.

Why do you suddenly wear such wide clothes?

Why do you no longer put sugar in your coffee?

What’s with those bags under your eyes? You haven’t been getting much sleep?

How come you always have a big breakfast even when you wake up late?

Why do you never eat?

Those and so many more questions swarmed the heads of her friends but none of them were brave enough to say anything. No one went to look for her around lunchtime to see where she goes to hide during that period. No one mentions their suspicions and doubts about her statements. No one dares to point out that she’s become a ghost of the Michaela they previously knew. She’s not as fierce as she used to be - not the same way. She just snaps at people, throwing empty insults at them. Her focus has dropped significantly and she often times falls asleep while on the clock, working on the case. They all see it but they all choose to be passive on-lookers, by-standers, no one sporting the guts and bravery to bring it up and ask her or express worry.

Well, no one except the brutally honest and straight forward Connor.

“And here I was wondering where our Shooting Star had fallen.“ He says, making his presence known verbally only after he snatched the pack of cigarettes from Michaela’s hand, startling her to no end. “Since when do you smoke, by the way?”

“None of your goddamn business.“ She hisses back at him, reaching for the stolen pack like an angry tigress. “Give them back, asshole.“

She’s stopped in her futile yet hostile attempts of retrieving the stolen cigarettes when Connor grabs one of her arms and develops a downright terrified look on his face: eyes wide, mouth hanging slightly open, confusion, shock and concern in his gaze. That’s a rare combination for him - someone who’s supposedly super laid-back and careless. That concern is what hits her the hardest. It catches her so off-guard she puts her movements to a halt and just stares back at him for a few seconds, both of them deciding what to say.

“Michaela, what have you done to yourself? What are you doing to yourself?“ He asks her, still not letting go of her arm which feels tiny in his grip. His fingers loosen their hold instinctively, as if afraid that any more pressure could break it. “Are punishing yourself for what happened to Sam?“

Michaela returns to her senses, shaking her head and frowning as she yanks her arm out of his grip. “Nothing happened to Sam!” She whisper-yells, narrowing her eyes, glaring at him with a fiery intensity, “Don’t talk like he died of a heart attack or in a car accident. We happened to him. We fucking killed him, Connor! Come to terms with that already!”

“Scream that louder, will ya? A more perfect confession doesn’t exist.“ Subtly, he slips the pack in the back pocket of his jeans, the movement flying under Michaela’s radar since she’s so laser-focused on his face and the subtle changes in his expressions. “Seriously, what the hell are you doing? Is this the punishment you think you deserve?”

She rolls her eyes, “That’s fucking nonsense. It’s no punishment, I just wanna fit into my wedding dress come the time I have to walk down the aisle.“

“So fitting into your wedding dress is the priority? Tell me, what will your hairdresser and make-up artist gonna say when they see your cracked and bruised skin, your thinned hair, the massive bags underneath your eyes. Also, are you even gonna fit in the dress or is it gonna hang on you the way it would on a stick figure.“

“Shut up! Connor, my life, my appearance and my eating habits are none of your business. You can’t play the caring enemy and fuck with my head - hating me one minute caring about me the next. It really doesn’t suit you, in fact, it’s below you.“

“Michaela, I’m not your enemy.“ He taps her temple with his finger, getting his hand smacked away about a second later, “That brain of yours is currently your enemy, not me. You need to get rid of it.“

“But what if I can’t?!“ She snaps, her eyes glistening with tears Connor didn’t expect to see, “What if that’s all I have? That me who’s constantly whispering to me that I don’t need nor deserve food - she’s stuck with me longer than anyone else has. She’s been with me since I was fifteen, Connor. Fifteen! She never left, even when I tried to push her away and chase her out of my head. She stayed there, and now she’s helping me. You wouldn’t understand! You don’t have dresses to fit in, people to please, your own criteria to fulfill! You don’t even feel like you deserve punishment for what you did! You dismembered a human being, Connor! When are you gonna come to terms with the fact that you’re a murderer?!“

“When you come to terms with the fact that you’re killing yourself, Michaela!“ He too snaps, unable to control his emotions when faced with a literal life or death situation - one regarding his friend on top of all.

No, she’s not my friend. I’m just doing what any person would do in this scenario, he convinces himself. Turns out there are several facts Connor Walsh can’t come to terms with - caring about his biggest rival is one of them.

“She’s not your friend, Michaela! She doesn’t want anything good for you. She’ll end up leading you to your death if you keep listening and trusting her! That Michaela is the one deserving of punishment, not you. Don’t let her overpower the rational Michaela I met that day, the first day of class. The one I wanted to strangle for being so cocky and self-centered and was stealing my spotlight. The one who left me in the dust a few too many times for me not to respect her. She could kick the self-destructive Michaela’s ass. Let her.“

A choked sob escapes Michaela’s throat as a result of Connor’s speech. The last thing she expected was support and help - she was prepared for the mocking, the sympathy and pity, the ‘Seriously? Get over it, will ya?’ or the ‘It’s all in your head. Just eat, damn it.’ she grew used to hearing the first time she was dealing with an eating disorder. If she wasn’t still herself she would’ve probably even given him a hug - one she’d regret later - but she remained in her spot, arms folded over her chest, nodding slowly.

“Thank you, Connor. But it’s not as easy as you make it sound.“ She sniffles, her gaze wandering elsewhere, embarrassed by how she broke down in front of him just now. Lord knows she’ll be even more pissed later, but right now she’s got other things on her mind. Something she hadn’t even brushed upon before this conversation with Connor - recovery. She’s not used to seeking help from anyone for anything, especially not something she saw as her superpower until someone forced her eyes open. Forced the epiphany on her that she’s not living, she’s killing herself.

“Of course it’s not easy. That’s why no one does it alone, you know.“ Hesitantly, very very hesitantly, he lifts his hand, cautiously placing it on Michaela’s shoulder. “People reach out for support and go talk to professionals. You don’t have to do this alone. In fact, you can’t do this alone.“ He pauses, waiting for her gaze to meet his. When it does, he continues, “I won’t let you.“

Never did Michaela expect support from anyone, never did she want or need it. But here she is receiving it from the person she thought least likely to offer it. Never did she think there’d come a day when her arms, as if on autopilot would, wrap around Connor Walsh in a tight embrace of gratitude. While pretty startled, he manages to return the hug after blinking once or twice to comprehend the situation.

“Thank you.“ He hears her whisper and that’s more than he ever thought he’d get from her.

“Don’t mention it.“ He lets a small smile slip onto his face as his hold on her tightens ever so slightly.

[trashcanwrites]

Captains! Break Up Headcanons

► Sawamura Daichi, Bokuto Koutaro, Oikawa Tooru, Kuroo Tetsuroo with Gn!Reader

▸ 𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀!: Angst✨

♚ This took me ages to write lmao but I’m planning on making more of these with the other captains and vball members! I got too carried away with the Bokuto one •́ ‿ ,•̀ Hope you guys like it!! 💖

“We need to talk”

“Meet me at the park at 3”

“Sure”

Over the past few weeks you and Daichi’s relationship has been in a tight spot. Daichi barely having time for you because of volleyball and him going to cram school and such.

You, not having time for him either because of you preparing to move soon for college at the end of the school year.

You see Daichi, at the park sitting by the benches, waiting for you, looking a little worried, making you feel guilty for what you came there to tell him.

You walked up to him and took a seat next to him, exchanging pleasantries as an air of awkwardness surrounds the both of you.

“So, I’ve been thinking…”

“I think we should break up.”

Daichi flinched, he expected this to happen but even so, he still couldn’t prepare himself enough to hear it.

It pained him to let go of this relationship both of you built together.

But he eventually had to let go of it someday… Relationships don’t last forever after all.

He took a deep breath to compose himself and gave a nod in understanding

“Okay, if that’s what you want…”

You didn’t expect him to accept it so easily, then again you wouldn’t expect him to beg to stay together either.

“You know I still love you right?”

You told him, your voice quivering, as your eyes became glossy.

“I know…” Daichi reassured you his voice low, as his had reached out to grab yours.

His hand much bigger than yours, his were also littered with familar calluses and yours is softer in comparison.

You both stayed silent as the two of you basked in each other’s presence, knowing this was the last moment you would share together as a couple.

After the break up Daichi seemed fine.

He’s acting like his usual self, like the ordeal didn’t affect him at all

And that exactly what worried the team, especially the third years. They would always approach him and ask if he was okay and to that he would answer “I’m okay, really”

When in reality Daichi has been felling heartbroken ever since the recent event, thoughts of what he could have done better to save your relationship flood his mind, internally beating himself up for letting you go so easily.

But what more can he do than to just accept your decision and move on?

He had to be strong for the team, he had to show them that their captain can handle all this agony.

At home he would distract himself from the thought of you by studying but… flashbacks of the study dates you both used to have in his room would surface in his mind.

The laughs and the playful fights you two had, once good memories, would now cause his heart to twinge. 

In the end he gave up trying and he just thought that he’ll get over you eventually.

You both have part ways already, he can’t do anything but just accept it and move on.

You’ve lost interest in Bokuto.

It’s been a couple of weeks since you’ve realized.

You had been in this relationship for about a year or so, the cuddles, the kisses and the moments you two would have hasn’t felt the same as before.

It felt like empty actions to you. It’s not that Bokuto hasn’t given enough in the relationship ‘cuz believe me he has.

Once he even went out of his way to throw a gigantic party for your birthday, he would apologise to you when he’s done something to upset you and he would always, I mean always make time for you.

You’ve just simply lost all interest.

You hadn’t told Bokuto yet because you were afraid of how he’d react, knowing him he probably wouldn’t take it well.

But telling him how you feel is better than dragging the situation out and being dishonest.

You wouldn’t want to make it a big issue and hurt him a whole lot more than it was supposed to.

So you call him. Told him that after practice you’d like to see him.

“Hey, Kou? Can we meet after school tommorow? I mean if you don’t have practice, if you do though I can wait.”

“Anything for you, babe! I don’t have practice today so I’ll be early!” His voice through the other side of the phone was as cheerful as ever. Not knowing what was to come next…

“Great. Meet me at the school gates.”

The wait was long, as dusk came. Practice was about to be over and you prepared yourself what’s to come.

“HEY HEY HEY!”

Bokuto’s loud voiced disturbing the peace and making you jolt.

His was walking towards you, as the closer he got to you the more on edge your nerves were.

He was infront of you now, gazing at you with a big bright smile on his face.

God did that innocent smile of his made you feel bad

You grabbed his arm and pulled him to a more secluded place, away from crowd of students swarming the gates of the school.

“Kou, I’m sorry for doing this now but, I have to I don’t wanna lie to you anymore”

“Wha? What are you lying to me about?”

“I don’t love you anymore.”

With those words, you could hear Bokuto’s heart shatter into pieces as the phrase repeated over and over in his head.

“I’m sorry” You whisper to him, as he stood there, stiff as a statue.

“I’m so sorry, Kou” you gave him a hug, thinking it would make everything better.

Sniffles could be heard leaving his mouth as he hugged you back, savoring this moment because it’d become the last thing you experience together.

“I’m breaking up with you”

“Why?” He asked, wanting an explanation as to what he did wrong.

“It’s just that you seem like you don’t gave enough time for a relationship… I’d rather you focus on your passion right now. ”

In other words ‘Your too obsessed with volleyball, you don’t have enough time for us’

Oikawa Tooru is familiar with these words, it was always the excuse to break up with after all, the effect that it had on him dulled out with every partner he’s had. He’d rather focus on volleyball instead.

But this time it was different. The moment he heard those words come out of your mouth, he couldn’t help but feel his heart break.

Why is that the same old excuse had a different effect when it came to you??

It’s probably because Oikawa has loved you more than he’s loved any of his other partners, and he still does.

“Y/n please, don’t leave me. I’ll do better I promise” he begged, he was desperate not to lose you. You were way too important for him to let go.

“No, Tooru,” You put your hands on his shoulders for reassurance “I want you to focus more on volleyball. We can still be friends though.”

Those were the last words you uttered to him after you left him.

After the break up Oikawa was often seen spacing out or would sometimes become hostile towards others.

Whenever someone pointed it out to him he would just smile, scratch his nape and say “I had a bad day that’s all!”

The break up affected him to the point where Iwaizumi had to step in and show concern for Oikawa, giving him advice and listening to him ramble.

During breaks a school he would see you by the corridors talking to your friends, a bright smile on your face.

As if the break up never affected you at all.

And that fact hurt him, a lot

He would actively try to avoid you whenever he did see you though, both of you being in the same class didn’t help his situation.

The sight of you smiling and talking to everyone made his heart ache.

You look so happy, it’s a shame he wasn’t the reason why.

You would come up to him and try to talk to him from time to time but he would always give you short responses, not enough to make a conversation.

It made him feel bad that he would do that to you but, he just didn’t want you to be near him for the time being and see how much of a mess he is.

Even though he was in misery due to what happened, he still manages to put on his cheerful facade.

When he’s home however that facade breaks, he would often be seen cooped up in his room, his expression blank as he lay on his bed, as thoughts fill his head with regret and despair.

“You dumbass, how could you just let go of someone so important…?”

Were the words the came out of his lips, as a tear streamed down his face.

You and Kuroo had been fighting a lot recently…

It’s to the point where the arguments would get so overwhelming that one of you storms away in the heat of the moment, not wanting to deal with the situation in the state that the both of you were in.

Today was one of those days again, apparently…

You had ran out of Kuroo’s house wanting to cool down from the quarrel that the both of you were having. The reason for it this time was that Kuroo couldn’t make it to the date, again.

This was the fourth time he’s missed a date, his excuse this time was that practice had gone late today, so he couldn’t go…

You understood that he was busy but for his schedule to overlap with the date that you two had planned a week before and for it to happen for four consecutive times…

To make matters worse it was your one year anniversary date…

And he promised you that he would make it this time. Unfortunately, he didn’t.

You didn’t want to think of it but, you were considering breaking up with him. It was for the best though.

The constant fighting and emotional baggage that came with it was too much for you to handle, you weren’t prepared enough to deal with it…

You’re now currently at home bawling your eyes out on the sofa, as you were reminded of the dispute you and Kuroo had, causing new tears to brim in your eyes.

The thought of breaking up with Kuroo swarm your head, although hesitant you wanted to go through with it, you figured that the two of you aren’t ready for a relationship yet.

Even though the both of you have lasted for over a year…

The loud sound of a doorbell ring interrupted you thoughts, as you hurried to the door and composed yourself, your eyes still red but you tried to hide it the best you could.

You opened the door, only to be surprised by the person behind it, it was none other than your boyfriend, Kuroo.

“Hey…”

“Look, Tetsu, we need to talk.” I said my voice raspy from all the crying, yet stern enough for him to understand that this is serious.

He gave a nod to tell you he was listening, you guided him to the living room to sit, if you were gonna break up you wanted it to be a proper one.

The both of you sat across from each other, your face still a mess from all the sobbing you did.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Kuroo’s voice sounding worried.

“I… I want to break up”

He nodded “I understand, it’s fine…”

Even though it hurt Kuroo to do so, he just knew that staying in a relationship like this wasn’t good for either of your health.

Kuroo stood up from the chair he was sitting in to come and approach you, a hand reached behind his back, a rose hidden behind him now presented to you.

“I was supposed to give this to you on our anniversary, but now I guess there’s no use now,,, I’m sorry Y/n.”

Those were what he last said to you as he left your house, not knowing when you’ll see him again.

[jeranasblog]

The Virus

Notes:  If you have huge anxieties regarding Covid, please don't read this. It's an apocalyptic setting.

Rating: E

Pairing: Peter Parker/ Tony Stark

Summary:  Three years ago, a virus killed 99% of the human population. It came out of nowhere, taking over cities, countries, and continents. During two months, more and more people died until no one knew where they could bury all the dead bodies anymore. When the virus was finally eradicated, 1% of the population was left, 1% resistant or lucky, and those 1% started to build-up the world they knew again. Peter Stark was one of the 1%.

But even though Peter was considered ‘lucky’, he had lost everyone. His friends, his family, even his husband. Tony Stark died three years ago, didn’t he?

Warnings: Apocalypse, Post-Apocalypse, Virus, Death, Character Death before the story begins, Sensitive Topic, Smut, check the tags on Ao3, please

Read on Ao3

Three years ago, a virus killed 99% of the human population. It came out of nowhere, taking over cities, countries, and continents. During two months, more and more people died until no one knew where they could bury all the dead bodies anymore. Hospitals had closed because no doctor was willing to risk their life, supermarkets turned into battlefields and everyone was left on their own. What started with something that was compared to the flu, ended in chaos, despair, and death. 

 After a while, people gave up. There was no protection, no escape. A small part of humanity was resistant, but since the disease had destroyed too much to even think about an antidote, people accepted the world as it was. Virologists couldn’t even search for a vaccine because it spread too fast.

 The pandemic lasted a year before almost everyone was dead and the virus was eradicated as well. 1% of the population was left, 1% resistant or lucky, and those 1% started to build-up the world they knew again. Peter Stark was one of the 1%.

Happiness was rare these days. Peter had lost everything over the last three years. His aunt May was one of the first ones dying due to the virus, and his best friends Nat and MJ followed quickly after. His husband, Tony Stark, had been on a business trip in China when the virus spread, and Peter couldn’t even say good-bye to him before Tony died like everyone else around him, alone in a country with no one he knew. 

 Peter was a lucky man. He was resistant. He didn’t die, even though the virus had hit him too. But completely alone, Peter didn’t feel lucky at all. Instead, he clung to everything that connected him to his past. The necklace May had always worn, a friendship bracelet he had made together with Ned and MJ in second grade, and most importantly, his wedding ring that he didn’t even take off to shower. It was the last connection to his husband and he would defend it with his life.

 Every day was hard. He lived in a small settlement with 500 people. New York had been hit particularly bad, so there weren’t many people left. Peter needed them because he knew shit about hunting, collecting, and surviving in the wild. They needed Peter because he was an engineer and could help them get access to technology back. He had already built multiple generators that produced electricity for the most important things and communication devices for the people going out every day. 

 Mostly, Peter stayed for himself. He lived in a small hut, surrounded by all his engineer toys, and only came out if he had to. Peter knew he hadn’t adjusted well, knew he was one of the ones clinging to the past, but he couldn’t imagine a happy life without Tony. The only people he was talking to were Bucky and Steve, two married men who had magically survived both, and his inspector Nat.  

 Life was quiet. The settlement had only rarely problems with hostile groups, and conflicts were reduced to a minimum. It wasn’t like it had been before, but a lot of people got a second chance. A chance to survive and be happy again. But Peter couldn’t be happy. Not without Tony. 

 ~*~

 “Hey, Pete. What’s up?” Bucky asked him one day when he visited Peter in his hut. “Stevie and I went on an expedition and we found some stuff for you.” He placed a backpack in front of them that was filled to the brim

 Peter eyed it suspiciously. “Anything interesting?”

 Bucky gave him one of his bright smiles that made Peter’s gut clench and reminded him how lucky the other man had been. Steve was here while Tony was dead somewhere in China, probably alone in a fancy hotel room. Bucky still had his husband. Bucky only had to adjust to new circumstances because Steve was still by his side. Before Peter’s thoughts started to spiral again, he pulled himself back to reality. A reality without his husband. 

 “Let’s see, Petey.” Bucky rummaged in the bag and pulled out a few electrical devices. “We have another radio, headphones for wires, and an old laptop that still seems to work.”

 Peter raised his eyebrows. “How do you know it’s still working?” 

 The laugh Peter got in response was so carefree, it made him sick. “Stevie, the punk, had turned it on and the battery wasn’t empty. It worked. Trust me.” 

 Hot jealousy surged through his gut, but Peter forced himself to smile too. Bucky was so clearly in love, but Peter could only think about his own misery. What kind of friend was he? 

 “That’s great, thanks, Buck. I’ll see what I can do with it. Say hi to Steve for me. I still have work to do.”

 The mood shifted. It was a clear dismissal and Bucky understood it as such. Peter knew it wasn’t fair, but he couldn’t stand other people’s happiness on bad days. And today was a bad day.

 Thankfully, the other man didn’t take his mood swings personally and only gave him a pitiful smile. Before Bucky left, he put a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Peter, I really like you, but you’re killing yourself with that. Don’t you think it’s time to try to move on?”

 Bucky was right. Of course, he was right. But even thinking about taking off his wedding ring, even thinking about moving on, made Peter feel as if he would betray Tony. He once had sworn ‘forever’ to his husband and forever wasn’t over yet. Bucky couldn’t understand, he still had Steve. 

 So Peter forced his expression to stay blank. “One day, Bucky. Just not yet.” Both of them knew it was a lie. 

 ~*~

 The settlement they lived in was small. It was well structured and everyone had their specialized tasks, but they still depended on other settlements for trade. Especially when the winter came, and the food supplies had to be stocked. So Peter spent his days building communication devices to stay in touch with other settlements. 

 The things Bucky had brought him proved to be quite helpful, so around noon, Peter could bring a newly built communication device to Nat, the woman who was responsible for trade and his inspector at the same time. She and Steve were the leaders of their group. 

 Her so-called office was next to the gate of the settlement, a hut with a radio-station on a desk in the middle. It had been Peter’s first project, and thanks to him, they could now communicate with the settlement in Philadelphia and after a few upgrades, even with Boston and DC. 

 Nat sat on the chair in front of their radio station and turned his head when Peter entered the room. “Pete, do you have more of your toys for me?” Peter knew she was just joking. Nat had told him a while ago that she was grateful for his work.

 “Always, Nat. Bucky and Steve found a radio and even a laptop. It’s still working.”

 She whistled and gave him an impressed smirk. “You don’t see that every day.”

 Nat was right. After the virus, none of them had thought about electrical devices and when they actively started searching for them, most of them had already been useless.

 “I’ve rebuilt the radio into another communication device.” Peter placed the walkie talkie on her desk. “It’s improvised, but we can still sell it.”

 She gave him an honest smile which was rare for Nat. “Thanks, Peter. We can trade that for food. Helps us getting over the winter.”  

 He shrugged and tried not to think about the upcoming winter. They would make it through, they always did, but the expeditions would stop and therefore also his work. He always had something to do, but not enough to keep the thoughts away all day long. Last year, he had spent three months in bed, crying over Tony. 

 “Peter!” Oh, no. Her voice was filled with concern. Of course, she could sense his sadness. 

 Even though he tried to cover it with a fake smile, Nat wasn’t as easy to get rid of as Bucky. “I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

 She pressed her lips together and Peter could see the familiar frown on her face. “Peter, don’t you think it’s time to move on?”

 No, it’s not time to move on. It will never be time to move on, not without Tony. He was Peter’s husband, god damn it. Marriage! As in forever. Not for three years until Peter would find someone else. Why didn’t they all just leave him alone?

 “Soon, Nat. I’ll get over it soon.” Another lie, and just like Bucky, Nat didn’t believe him.

 “Peter, you’ll never make progress if-”

 Thankfully, a scratching noise interrupted her. “...-ello? Is there someo-...? Can you hear-...”

 Immediately, Nat let Peter go and gave the radio station her entire attention. “Hello? Is someone there? Here is settlement 513 in New York. Can you hear me? I repeat, can you hear me?”

 For a second, there was no answer and Peter had already thought the communication broke, but after a few seconds, the voice spoke again.

 “Hello? Do you hear me?” This time the transmission was better and Peter could hear that a man was speaking. “We are two, we need help.”

 Nat gave him a look that indicated he should stay but be quiet and Peter nodded to signal her he understood. Making contact with strangers was always a risk because there were a few outlaw groups in the wilderness that survived by hi-jacking settlements. Still, every now and then, travelers reached out to them for various reasons. 

 “Yes, we can hear you.” Her voice was neutral.

 The scratching flared up again, but Peter could still hear the voice clearly. “My companion is hurt. We need help. We can trade tech for our lives. Please, give us protection.”

 Nat hesitated. On the one hand, they needed more tech. The communication device Peter built secured their survival because they didn’t grow enough vegetables to get by themselves. Other settlements depended on them thanks to their tech and they always needed more. Still, trusting strangers was always a risk.

 In the end, Nat decided to keep their location hidden and sent people for them instead. “Where are you?”

 “Where the Passaic River flows into Newark Bay,” the scratchy voice answered. 

 That wasn’t too far away, maybe a six hours walk. Eight if they travel with baggage.  

 “We will see what we can do. Give us a day.”

 “Please, bring a doctor.” There was still hope in the man’s voice.

 ~*~

 In the end, Nat and Steve, the leader of the village, decided to send six people to look for the injured strangers. Dr. Cho to treat possible injuries, Peter to check out the usefulness of the tech and four warriors who would protect them, including Bucky. Peter was glad for the trip. Every second he had something to do was a second he didn’t spend thinking about Tony. 

 He grabbed his backpack, filled it with water, food, and tools like a screwdriver and tongs before he closed the door of his hut and walked over to the gate. They met there at dawn and Peter was glad he put on his winter clothes because autumn was coming to an end. Slowly, it became colder and colder.

 “You’ve packed everything you need?” Bucky asked him when he arrived and Peter nodded with a small smile. He was glad the man came with him because he trusted Bucky with his life.

 They kept walking and walking and walking. Through overgrown streets, bridges that had already collapsed, and past ruins that had once been houses New York had been so proud of. Now, it was just empty. Everything useful had already been taken, leaving behind a sea of waste, bones, and dust. 

 Peter swallowed when he walked through the streets. They reminded him of the life he had lost, of May, Ned, MJ, and Tony. Once, he had loved the streets of New York, loved the crowds of people and the busy atmosphere. Now there was nothing more left but death. 

 Bucky knew about his disgust, so he did everything to distract him from the city. He told him about the last time he went hunting with Steve, told him about the alarm clock Peter had given him for his birthday because it was a hardship to wake Steve up before noon. He actually managed to make Peter smile and when they finally took a break around noon, Peter’s mood had lightened up a little. 

 They ate and sat down for half an hour before they decided to keep going again. A few years ago, a group of the settlement had built a small shelter close to Newark Bay. If they wanted to get through the night safely, they would have to pick up the two persons and bring them there. It wasn’t safe to sleep under the stars anymore, so they had to hurry before it got dark.

 After humanity had disappeared, nature came back. The forests were green again, animals went back to their natural habitats and the country became quiet. But with nature came also the danger. Wild animals like bears and wolves so they had to be careful again. Raiders, so desperate, they didn’t back off from hurting them. The night was their greatest enemy. 

 “It’s not much longer,” one of the warriors announced and Peter exhaled in relief. “Just around the corner and maybe half a mile. Be careful now. We don’t know if we walk into a trap.”

 All conversations died down and they paid attention to the noises they made. The closer they came to Newark Bay, the more nervous Peter became. He wanted to tag along, wanted to go on expeditions, but there was always a risk and his stomach fluttered with fear. He was exhausted, the walk had been a long one, but if they would get more tech and save lives, it would be worth it in the end. Just a little longer. Maybe ten minutes. 

 When they finally reached the point the man had described, Peter could see two silhouettes in the distance. A woman that sat on the ground, her arms clutching her leg that was probably injured, and a man standing next to her, looking around with a concerned expression. 

 They walked closer, carefully looking out for possible traps, but there seemed to be no danger. Eventually, the man noticed them too. 

 “Oh, God bless. You didn’t leave us alone.”

 Peter immediately froze. He knew the voice. It was as familiar as his own. Bucky, who had walked behind him, bumped into him and cursed, but Peter couldn’t move an inch. That’s it. He was slowly losing his mind. Maybe Nat’s and Bucky’s concern was valid, and he started to go crazy. That couldn’t be true. He was dreaming. 

 The man kept talking. “Please, we need your help. Pepper is hurt. We were attacked by raiders. They shot her in the leg. It’s inflamed and doesn’t look good. Could you-”

 It was the moment the man raised his head and his gaze fell on Peter. The man’s eyes widened and he froze as well before he started to tear up and ran towards them. Bucky raised his gun and pointed it at the man, afraid they would get attacked, but it was a single word that made him lower it again. 

 Peter let out this one word before everything went black. 

 “Tony.”

 ~*~

 When Peter opened his eyes again, he thought he was dreaming. They were in a hut that looked like the settlement’s shelter next to Newark Bay, but he was embraced by his husband's strong arms. Tony was dead. There was no way Peter could be in his arms again.

 “Peter, are you awake?” It was Tony’s voice. Peter covered his ears with his hands because he couldn’t stand the soothing sound. He was going crazy for sure. 

 “Open your eyes again, baby.” Peter shook his head. “Please, Peter. Let me see you. I love you.”

 The words were too much. Peter crumbled. He opened his eyes and looked up, seeing the familiar face right in front of him. Tony looked older, a few more wrinkles around the eyes and a small scar above his right eyebrow, but otherwise he looked exactly as Peter remembered. 

 “You’re dead.” It was a statement to convince Peter of his own sanity.

 Tony pulled him tighter against his chest and Peter inhaled the familiar scent of pinewood and coffee. “Oh, baby. I’m not dead. I’m sorry it took me so long to come back.”

 “But you died. In China.” Peter knew he was right. It was a hallucination. But why was the hallucination smelling so good? 

 “Sweetheart, I didn’t die in China. I’m lucky, I’m resistant.”

 No, no, no. Tony Stark was dead. Peter had been alone for three years now. “But you weren’t here.”

 Peter could see Tony swallowing after his words and a hand started to play with his hair. A hand that felt so real that Peter shuddered.

 “And I’m really sorry about that, Peter. After the virus spread, transportation was difficult. Planes didn’t fly anymore, ships didn’t sail. Baby, it took me three years to build a plane myself, three years to learn how to fly and navigate, to come back to you. Please, forgive me. I love you, I’ll always love you.”

 Oh, God. It was the moment Peter realized this was real. His vision was too clear for a dream, the smell too strong and the pain on his forearm too sharp. Peter crumbled. He started to sob and clutched Tony’s shirt to pull him even closer. This was real. Tony was real. Tony was back. 

 Peter pressed his lips on his husband’s clumsily. Tony tasted salty, like the tears that didn’t stop running down Peter’s face, but it was perfect. The lips were familiar, and Peter relaxed for the first time in years when Tony pulled him onto his lap. 

 “T-they told me I h-had to get over you. I c-couldn’t. I love you so m-much. Don’t ever leave me again.” Peter didn’t care that he sounded desperate. He had never dared to dream about meeting Tony again. He hadn’t let himself. 

 But now, he got him back, got the second chance he was always waiting for. Suddenly, he grinned like he hadn’t grinned during the last three years. It was the first time he felt like being lucky. 

 He pressed his lips back onto Tony’s, this time with less force. He opened his mouth, inviting Tony to capture his mouth. It felt like before. Tony’s lips were still the same, still addictive. Peter could feel himself twitching inside his pants. He wrapped his arms around Tony’s chest, stopping him from moving away. 

 Before the kiss could get too heated, they were interrupted by a knock. “Peter?” Bucky stood in the doorway. “As much as I don’t begrudge you meeting Tony again, don’t make out on the bed. We only have two in the hut which means a lot of cuddling tonight.” The smile on Bucky’s face showed him the man wasn’t serious. 

 Peter giggled, a sound he hadn’t made in front of Bucky before, and the warrior gave Tony a smirk in return. 

 “I see, you have already transformed Peter into another person. Nice to meet you. I’m Bucky. One of the few people you husband has been talking to.” Tony shook Bucky’s hand with a crinkle around his eyes.

 “Hey, that's not true,” Peter protested. He had talked to Bucky, Steve, and Nat. Three people were more than a few.

 Bucky raised his eyebrows. “It is true. You’ve been moping.”

 Of course, Tony pulled Peter closer when Bucky confirmed that Peter hadn’t coped well with the loss. He turned Peter on his lap so that they both faced Bucky who sat down on the bed as well. “Baby, I’m here now. No reason to be upset anymore.” How could Peter stay mad when his husband was with him again? His smile turned even brighter. 

 Bucky made a gagging noise and pulled them out of their bubble.

 Peter hissed at him. “Oh, be quiet. You and Steve are no better.”

 “It’s not my fault Stevie is clingy,” Bucky said, his voice mockingly shocked. 

 Now it was on Peter to raise his eyebrows. “Steve is clingy? Who didn’t want to let him go on a mission last week.”

 “It could have been dangerous.”

 Peter’s voice was dry when he responded. “He had to chop wood.”

 “Outside of the settlement.”

 “Right next to the gate.”

 Now, Bucky was pouting and his expression made Tony laugh loudly. God, Peter had missed the sound and he turned his head to press another kiss onto his husband’s lips. 

 “Whatever, Tony, how have your last years been?” It was obvious that Bucky wanted to stop them from making out again. 

 “Well, I was in a hotel when the virus spread. The authorities forced us to stay inside. It didn’t help. They all died anyway. When no food came after a few days, I left the room anyway. Found out everyone was dead.” The man swallowed before he continued speaking. “Pepper was in the hotel as well. She’s resistant, just like me. We both wanted to go back to the States, so she helped me build a plane by keeping me sane. We’re both from New York. The plan was to look for Peter, but then we stumbled into raiders and she got shot.”

 “How is she?” Peter had completely forgotten about her injury after his blackout. 

 “She’s fine,” Bucky answered. “Cho is treating her. She’ll stay here for a few days until she’s stable enough to be moved.” Peter was relieved. Even though he didn’t know her, Pepper was a friend of Tony, so he cared. 

 “So, we’re all gonna stay here until she’s better?”

 Bucky shook his head. “No, we need you to go home. Winter is coming soon and someone has to work on communication devices, so we can trade them for enough food.”

 On the one hand, Peter was glad to go home again, but he didn’t want to leave Tony behind. “What about-?” He couldn’t finish his sentence because his gaze got caught on Tony. 

 “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll come with you. I trust your people. Pepper will be safe.” 

 Peter gave his husband a smile in return. Nothing could separate him from Tony anymore. He would hold onto his chance of being happy. 

 ~*~

 Time passed so much faster on their way home. Peter was ecstatic. He kept smiling, laughing loudly, and he even exchanged a few words with one of the warriors. Bucky observed him with a fond expression the entire time, and Peter knew he was really lucky to have him as a friend. 

 Peter’s focus, on the other hand, was entirely on Tony. He held his husband's hand, unwilling to ever let him go. Suddenly, the overgrown streets of New York didn’t look so empty anymore. There was new life. Little butterflies, hedgehogs, and Peter could swear he had even seen a deer. Yes, humanity wasn’t what it had been before, but they were on a good way to build the world back up again.

 As much better as the walk was with Tony by his side, Peter still wanted to be home, alone with Tony in his hut. Walking close to his husband without really being able to touch him was like torture and Peter knew Tony suffered as well. 

 He could see it in the way Tony’s gaze was glued to his face, his thighs, his ass. Every time Peter laughed, Tony watched his throat bobbing, eyes darker than the night sky. Every time Peter talked, Tony’s eyes were fixed on his mouth, building up tension until Peter couldn’t stop his tongue from darting out and wetting his lips. And when Peter climbed over a broken car in front of Tony, his ass a temptation in front of his husband’s face, Peter could even hear him growl. 

 Three years had been a long time. They might have changed with all the misery, all the suffering around them, but the attraction for each other hasn’t lessened at all. Suddenly, Peter's thoughts were back to how it had been in the past. How close they had been, how obsessed. He couldn’t wait to finally get home. 

 When the settlement was already visible in the distance, Tony had successfully turned him into a mess, with nothing but longing gazes and occasional touches. Peter was still glowing with happiness, even though arousal was slowly taking over his mind. 

 After they had entered the gate, Nate took one look at them and started to smirk. Bucky had probably already told her about Tony via the communication advice, and Peter could see in her face how happy she was for him. And maybe he could also see that she noticed the pent-up state he was in. 

 “You wanna give me a mission report Peter?” She was totally mocking him, but Peter still gave her a pitiful look. Maybe his puppy dog eyes would convince her to leave him alone with his husband. 

 “My, my. Tony Stark. He’s clearly another man when he’s around you.” Tony gave Nat an honest smile. “Peter, Tony, I’m happy for you. And now go, before we all see something, we wouldn’t forget anytime soon.”

 Peter blushed. He hadn’t done anything, he hadn’t even touched his husband in front of them. Tony, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care about her attempts of embarrassing Peter. Instead, he pulled Peter into his arms and didn’t stop asking until Nat told him in front of everyone where Peter’s hut was. Tony had never tried to keep their sex life hidden. 

 “I’m gonna be inside of you again, tonight,” Tony promised as they walked - okay, almost ran- towards Peter’s hut. “I’ve dreamed about this for years, baby. I need you so much. I need to feel that you’re mine.”

 And of course, Peter let out a loud moan just when one of the residents crossed their way. He’s going to die of embarrassment tomorrow. 

 “I’ve always been yours, Daddy,” Peter whispered and Tony groaned in response to the familiar name. “Even when I thought you were dead. I never thought about anyone but you.”

 “You’re gonna be the death of me, sweet thing,” Tony cursed, but Peter could hear the fondness and the tears in his voice. The probability of them meeting again had been so small, but somehow, fate had made it possible. 

 When Peter opened the door of his hut, Tony was already all over his back, pressing him against the wood and sucking bruises on his skin. It was a challenge to open the lock while his Daddy whispered into his ear how good Peter had been, how obedient. With each new mark, more delicious pain blossomed on his neck and Peter’s legs almost gave in. 

 Eventually, the door fell close behind him. Every last bit of patience Tony had crumbled, and a second later, Peter was pressed against the wooden wall. His Daddy had almost shoved him and the impact pressed all the air out of Peter’s lungs. He loved it, finally feeling owned again, finally feeling overpowered again. 

 Tony was like an animal in his arousal, his focus solely on the prey. His eyes were black, lust taking over the chocolate brown, and Peter gave into the storm. He tipped his head to give his husband access to his throat and closed his eyes in pleasure. Peter’s body was burning, screaming and crying for Tony, for his touch. 

 It was the ripping of fabric that made Peter open his eyes again. “Daddy.” His words could barely be described as a whine, so turned on by Tony’s impatience. Three years had been so long and Peter was dying to finally feel his husband again. “Take me to bed, please.”

 Tony growled in response, letting Peter go for a second, so they could stumble towards the bed. Peter was already half-naked. His pants were torn from his Daddy’s attempts to feel his skin and it slid down his legs as he walked over to the bed. He kicked off his shoes and pulled his t-shirt over his head, so the only clothing left were his boxers. 

 “Take them off,” Tony ordered and grabbed Peter’s arm so he couldn’t climb onto the bed. “I can’t wait anymore, sweet thing. I want you naked on the bed, hands and knees.”

 Peter whimpered in response, his hands shaking with arousal as he undressed completely. He could feel Tony’s gaze on his body. Hungry, demanding, impatient, and it only urged him on to present faster.

 Settling into the familiar pose on the bed felt like coming home. Peter rested his head on his crossed arms, his back arched beautifully while his legs were spread to give his Daddy access to every part of him. It was exactly like back then, when they fucked on Tony’s expensive sheets, even though it was almost better now. Peter had never been more grateful to have his husband by his side. 

 “Daddy.” Peter whimpered pathetically, trying to signal his husband he needed him, that he couldn’t wait any longer. He wanted to feel him again, wanted to be split open and used until everything he knew was Tony. Thankfully, his husband was just as impatient. 

 “Sweet thing, do you have some kind of lube?” His Daddy’s voice was dark, edging towards a growl, and Peter’s muscles clenched in response to the unrestricted dominance.

 “Box.” Peter pointed to a wooden box next to the bed, and Tony opened it, pulling out a new bottle of lube. He lifted his eyebrows and smirked at Peter. 

 “Did you pleasure yourself, baby? Did you stretch yourself thinking of me?”

 Peter shook his head. “I haven’t, Daddy. It felt wrong without you. I took the bottle when we plundered a supermarket, but I couldn’t use it.”

 Clearly, his words seemed to please Tony. “Let me remind you that you belong to me, baby. Come on, show me where you need me.”

 Peter spread his legs even wider and arched his back even further. He knew being on his best behavior would be the fastest way to get his Daddy’s cock, so he listened to every single command like the good boy he was. 

 Tony settled behind him and his hands began to roam over his entire body. He started at Peter’s shoulders, stroking his back and wandering lower until he could press his thumbs into the dimples on Peter’s back. The grip made Peter sob in pleasure, exactly like it had always done, and the familiarity was relief and torture at the same time. Tony knew every single one of his buttons, and he wasn’t afraid to press them. 

 Not even a minute later, Peter was a mess. The touch was too much, too good, and he twisted on the mattress, barely able to hold the position. He needed to feel his Daddy, needed to know that Tony was back, that he wasn’t alone. 

 “Daddy, please. I love you. Need you, please.” 

 Peter was so desperate, that he didn’t hear the click of an opening lube bottle and the slick finger was a welcomed surprise. His body sucked him in, one finger had never been a challenge for him, even though he hadn’t been split open for three years. 

 “Look at that,” Tony cooed while his finger thrust in and out of Peter’s hole in a maddening pace, savoring the tightness and the wet squelch of the lube. “So greedy. Sucking me right in. I’ve almost forgotten what a slut you are.”

 It was a lie, Tony wouldn’t forget, but it still hit Peter exactly where Tony intended. “Your slut, Daddy. Only yours, missed you so much.” Peter wanted to prove to his husband how needy he could be, how desperate for Tony’s touch. Their time apart hadn’t changed their dynamic a single bit. 

 One finger became two. Tony opened him up thoroughly, making sure Peter could take his husband’s cock, but at the same time, he touched Peter’s body everywhere with his free hand. It was the desperate wish to feel that it was over, that they were together now, and every second Peter felt connected to Tony, he believed more and more that it was real. 

 “Gimme three, Daddy? Please?” Tony answered with a growl and another finger that was pressed inside of him. 

 Finally, Peter felt a resemblance of being full again, open and stretched, even though he hadn’t gotten his Daddy’s cock yet. It was only a matter of time. Peter could feel it in the way Tony’s fingers trembled in impatience and his voice wavered while he whispered filthy things in Peter’s ear. He only needed to take one tiny step and Tony would break. 

 Peter turned his head, looking at Tony with innocent eyes. “My hole hurt, Daddy. It’s empty. Need to feel your cock again. Need you to mark me up inside too.”

 Just as he had thought, it was the last straw. Tony pulled out his fingers and opened his pants hastily, freeing the gorgeous cock Peter had missed so much. It was thick and red, slightly curved to the left and Peter couldn’t wait to feel every inch and every bump. He moaned from the sight alone. 

 Tony chuckled. “Do you like what you see, baby?” The question was such a cliché, but Peter whimpered and nodded affirmatively. He loved his Daddy’s cock and couldn’t wait to feel it inside him. 

 But unfortunately, Tony was a tease. He towered above Peter and blanketed him with his body, cock shining with lube. Peter expected him to press right in, but Tony dragged it out, his cockhead dancing around Peter’s fluttering rim. In the end, he only gave Peter the tip. 

 The denial made Peter sob. “Daddy, please, I- I need you. I c-can’t wait.” He tried to press his hips back, tried to get more friction, but Tony successfully blocked his movements with his entire body. Peter felt him everywhere, Tony’s legs against his spread thighs, Tony’s chest pressed against his back. He felt him everywhere but inside of him, the place he needed his husband the most. 

 “Tell me what you need, sweet thing.” The whisper was another tease, and Tony pulled back, only to press the tip back in. It was maddening. 

 In the end, Peter broke. He started to sob, his entire body pleading to be claimed while he struggled to get his words together. “D-Daddy, m’your slut. Need you. Need your cock. All of it. Gimme more.”

 The words were too demanding, but Tony was lenient. He turned Peter’s head to the side, his hand buried in the brown curls, and at the same time their lips met, Tony pressed in. 

 Peter started to cry. Everything came together. The delicious pain of finally being stretched again, the burning arousal, and his Daddy who was back at his side. Not dead but alive. Tears ran down his face, dripping onto the mattress and joining their kiss. Suddenly, their lips tasted salty. 

 “Are you alright, sweet thing? Does it hurt? Should I stop?” Peter could see the worry on Tony’s face and he soothed him with a beautiful smile. 

 “Don’t stop, please don’t stop. I need you. So much. It’s not about the pain. It’s about you being back here, with me. Promise me you’ll never leave.”

 Tony smiled back, so beautiful and blinding that Peter’s tears came anew. “I’m here, baby. I’ll stay. Forever. Feel that?” Tony sat back on his heels, pulling Peter up so he sat on his lap and his cock slid even deeper. “I’m everywhere, baby. Inside you, around you, where I belong. Bounce for me now. I wanna claim you properly.”

 Peter listened like he always did. His hands propped on Tony’s knees, Peter started moving, circling his hips and riding his husband's cock. He could feel every inch of Tony dragging along his walls, the tip occasionally hitting his sweet spot and it didn’t take long for him to moan so loudly, that the entire settlement would hear his sounds. Tony didn’t even try to muffle him, staking his claim in more ways than the marking of Peter’s body. 

 Peter had almost forgotten how good it felt. Everything was on the verge of being too much. His body burned with pleasure, his hole throbbed and his walls clenched around the cock needily. The muscles of his legs were straining, but he couldn’t stop chasing the delicious friction. 

 Tony dragged it out. He watched him struggle, whispering in his ear how good he was, how obedient. Peter wanted more, but his body was weak, his mind clouded by the endorphins and he desperately needed his Daddy to take over. 

 Eventually, Tony pressed him on the mattress again, rutting into him like an animal and chasing the overwhelming feeling. The friction against the sheets was enough for his neglected cock and faster than Peter wanted, his orgasm came close. 

 “Daddy, please, I’m close. Can I come?” Peter’s voice was high-pitched and needy, begging his Daddy for permission. Three years had done its toll and there wasn’t a single ounce of patience left. He would die if his Daddy denied him. 

 Thankfully, Tony knew Peter’s body very well, so he saw the signs that Peter couldn’t go on any longer. “Come for me, baby.” 

 It was the obscene squelch of the lube, the accelerating thrusts, and the light pain. Everything mixed together, taking Peter higher and higher until he exploded. Wave after wave of pleasure shook his body, and Peter was crying his orgasm out to the world. 

 He had missed this so much, missed the mind-blowing sensations, the feeling of being at someone else's mercy, and most of all, he had missed the closeness to his husband. Peter wasn’t alone anymore. Tony would guide him, he would catch him and he would take over every time the responsibilities would become too much. 

 Knowing Tony was there for him made Peter relax into the mattress. His entire body became limp, all the tension dropping off, only the muscles in his hole were still fluttering. Peter wasn’t done yet. He needed his Daddy’s seed. Needed to be claimed inside, on top of the marks on his neck, and the ring on his finger. 

 “Such a good boy. I’ve forgotten how good you feel, baby,” Tony’s voice was nothing but a growl and Peter knew he was close as well. “Gonna fill you up, stay in you for days. Just take it, sweet thing. Take your Daddy and show me you’re born for it.”

 Peter obeyed. He didn’t pull back, even when he became sensitive, even when Tony’s tip hit his sweet spot, again and again, his body rebelling with overstimulation. He took it because he wanted to be claimed, wanted proof that his husband was back.  

 When Tony came Peter preened. The sensation of Tony’s come splashing against his walls made Peter proud of himself. He had been good and he had taken everything. Now he was allowed to keep it, buried deep inside of him. 

 Tony pulled out, and cuddled Peter against his chest, whispering sweet words into his ears. Peter was out. This wasn’t a dream. This was reality. If he would fall asleep now, Tony would still be there when he woke up. Content with the thought, Peter let the praise wash over him. 

 “Do you want me to clean you up?” Tony asked but didn’t make any attempts to stand up.

 Peter shook his head. “Want to feel you inside me a little longer, Daddy.”

 Tony’s smile was a mixture of fondness and possessiveness. “I’ll never leave your side, baby. Not for a mission, not for anyone in the world. I couldn’t stand losing you or being separated again. Promise me you’ll stay with me, too.”

 “I promise, Daddy.”

 They fell into content silence. Peter could feel everything. His Daddy’s body wrapped around him, his seed stored safely inside Peter’s hole. He never wanted to let Tony go again. No, he would build up the world again with Tony by his side. 

 For the first time in three years, Peter had a goal. He would do everything possible to get humanity back to what it had been before. As long as Tony would be by his side. 

 ~*~

 During the first few weeks, Tony didn’t leave Peter’s side once, not even for half an hour. He settled in perfectly, working together with Peter on communication devices and the regain of technology. Peter loved it. Besides Tony being his husband, the man was also a brilliant engineer and Peter realized how much he had missed bantering about tech. 

 After some time, Tony managed to improve the radio station until they were connected to every settlement on the east coast. Settlement 513 in New York became the center of communication. They were known for their access to tech and their life-saving devices. Tony and Peter even worked on a plan to reach out further, maybe even the other side of the country. 

 Life wasn’t easy. The winters were hard, but their little group had developed a routine to get through. Nat and Steve worked hard to organize enough food, and Pepper, who had stayed as well, turned out to be a brilliant businesswoman, and soon, she managed the trade. 

 Every few weeks, new people came to their settlement, and eventually, Peter felt as if he was living in a small village again. Sometimes he forgot the virus, forgot what it had done to all of them, especially when he spent time with Tony alone. It was almost like before the apocalypse, even though there were still days on which he missed his past badly. He couldn’t get May back, would never see Ned and MJ again, but he had Tony now and it was enough. 

 It was almost half a year after Tony had come back, that Peter woke up in the morning and Tony pressed a cup of coffee into his hands, his face lit up with a smile. Coffee was a rare treat these days and one of the few things Peter missed daily. 

 “Is there something to celebrate?” Peter asked curiously while he took a sip and closed his eyes in pleasure. 

 Tony pulled him into his arms and pressed a kiss on his forehead. “Do you know what day we have?”

 Peter shook his head. Dates had become irrelevant after some time, but Nat still had a calendar in her office and she tracked time almost religiously. 

 “It’s our wedding anniversary, baby.”

 The words made Peter’s stomach flutter and he leaned closer towards his husband. They were married for five years now. Five years of which they had spent half apart. But it didn’t matter. Tony was back with him, and he wouldn’t leave. 

 “I love you so much, Peter. I would marry you again and again if I could. I would do anything for you. I would move heaven and earth if necessary, just to be at your side.”

 Peter teared up. He felt the same. He would do anything for his husband. Anything. 

 But before he could reciprocate the confession, Tony spoke up again. “And I have a surprise for you.”

 “A surprise?” Suddenly, the coffee was almost forgotten.

 Tony walked over to their desk, picked up the blueprints he had worked on for months, and spread them on the bed in front of Peter. “Did you remember the arch technology I told you about before the virus happened?”

 Peter remembered broadly. Tony had tried to create clean energy for years before the pandemic had scattered all of their plans. “You mean the reactor that could power an entire city without any fossil fuels?”

 Tony smiled at him. “Not only without fossil fuels but without wind, water and sun either.”

 Peter lifted his brow impressed. “That would solve many of our problems.”

 The smile of his husband only got brighter. “Peter, I think I have found a way to build a reactor strong enough to power the entire settlement without any supply shortfalls in the winter. I think I can make a step towards building up the world how it has been again. Maybe even better.”

 Peter looked at him, his eyes widened in surprise when Tony fell on his knees in front of the bed.

 “Peter Stark, would you do me the honor and build the first arc reactor with me? I want to give you the world you deserve.”

 “Jerk,” Peter snorted, but he still grinned at his husband when he pulled Tony onto the bed, back into his arms. 

 “I will.”

[generallypo]

move over maschenny, we’ve got a hotter and cooler Khun princess in the tower now.

introducing Khun Aguero Jahad, the one and only princess that Jahad actually, sincerely hopes never wins the competition.

excessive rambling under the cut + a short fic under that. all my warnings are dead and void as of now. cheers!

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

i sat on my salt for a couple of days -- and then finally, finally decided to do something about it. my previous TOG post kinda went ham on that. yeehaw.

i imagine jahadprincess!khun is a little more snakey than the original (is that possible?). having climbed the tower at a blistering pace following her selection, she’s also a more competent fighter, though it additionally means she needs to use her brain less. though she plays more by her family’s and Jahad’s rules, she’s not particularly ruled by her bloodlust in the way Maschenny is, or utter complacency like Repellista. her outfit is shamelessly ripped off of Yuri’s and the casual officewear aesthetic khun sports in s1.

anyways, i did The Big Write. it has been 3 years since i have attempted such a thing. the process was complicated and stressful, i drank milk tea to compensate. i wanted to depict the moment of a big decision in which a characteristically selfish person does something shockingly altruistic, as well as the bystander who questions her motives. it’s not quite khunbam, more like an intense, one-sided dedication and some sorely needed soul searching. 

played fast and loose with characterization, timelines, general TOG canon while banging out this beast. like every middle child, i’m not super proud of it, but it gets the job done. i had a great time with it! really!

-- -- -- -- -- -- 

Unsurprisingly, it’s Yuri who finds her first. 

Her heels, lustrous and scarlet, click faintly on the rooftop tiles, and their mild echo belies nothing of the thunder on her face, or the sibilant presence of the Black March at her side. Aguero turns to meet her, inclines her head in response. 

“Why, princess Yuri. It’s a pleasure, as always.”

“Cut the crap, Aguero,” she snaps. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Aguero raises her hands. From one of them, Manbarondenna dangles innocently, unclasped buckles gleaming under fake starlight. 

“Waiting for my ride. I’m not expecting a plus one, though.” She smiles pleasantly, eyes narrowed. “Run along now. This is a single-passenger trip.”

Yuri growls. “Seriously?” She steps forward with intent, and Aguero momentarily tenses, fingers flying to her bag — but just barely, Yuri’s features soften, and she stops. Dramatically, she cocks her head, ponytail bobbing with vigor.

“You,” she points emphatically. “You’re actually going to do this. You’re not worried about the consequences.”

She states it like an accusation, but the palest shade of concern colors her voice. Are you sure of what you’re doing? Leaving this place -- leaving all of us? A complicated expression crosses her features, and she scowls. 

“This won’t just affect you, Aguero.” Firmly, her hand rests on the Black March’s handle. Do you want me to stop you?

“… I’m aware.” A pause, and oh, ugh, Aguero’s doing it again — that nasty, calculating look on her face, the one that reminds onlookers, in no uncertain terms, exactly how the princess had come by her position. Yuri balks uncharacteristically, and steps away. 

It’s not like she doesn’t think she can take Aguero in a fight… but it’s not what she had come here for in the first place. After knowing each other this long, the least she can do is offer her support, not another enemy. Aguero has no problems with making — and gleefully crushing — the latter.

She looks at the woman before her. Khun Aguero Jahad, formerly surnamed Agnis. Not so long ago, a nameless little nobody — somebody’s second, second-choice, second-rate daughter, born in a family with too many offspring to invest attention into a daughter lacking outstanding martial prowess or an especially fetching face. A forgotten girl, wholly incongruent to the imposing figure Yuri knows her as now. 

The air around them vibrates with tension, laced with an inexorable chill -- it’s not a trick of the light, Yuri notices, that her breath seems a little more visible than normal, that the sweat on her forehead feels almost solid to her skin. Aguero is watching her, face bright and predatory, and it’s a stark reminder that even beautiful things can be cold and unforgiving.

The crown jewel of the Khun family sneers, and Yuri braces herself for impact.

— — — 

Khun Aguero Agnis had almost always been a slippery, unremarkable thing, with willow branches for arms and a sullen, snarky mien. On her placid, faintly superior face sat two intelligent, gem-blue eyes — pretty enough, but also afflicted with an attitude chilly enough to wither even the most persistent suitor’s desire. To her family, and an equally hostile Tower, she was both undesirable and unsupported — and consequently, insignificant. 

Yuri had met her before, once. It had been an event much, much longer ago, during a nameless, perfectly ordinary mission to deliver some sealed goods. A loaded favor of sorts, from one family to another. Bright and on the cusp of princesshood, hair still bound in youthful twin tails, she had been greeted at the door of one of the numerous Khun establishments by a slim joke of a girl. 

Thanks for your work, the girl had said, eyes blue and sleepless and unreadable. I’ve been expecting you. With mechanical efficiency, the girl received, inspected, and stowed the package away, vanishing from the gate within seconds. 

Baffled, Yuri withdrew, scratching her head. She’d been given a verification stamp to use at the end, but the package had made it to the correct address regardless. 

I’ve been expecting you, the Khun girl had said. That counted as a mission complete, didn’t it?

If not for the silvery-blue shock of her hair, no one would have guessed the girl a child of one of the great ten families. Favored Khuns, after all, were generally not disposed towards handling petty messenger duties. The observation had barely registered for Yuri, and not much later a more exciting adventure came along to wipe the encounter from her mind. Favored or not, there were more interesting, deadly things in the Tower to focus on.

A couple hundred years ago, though… things had changed, and drastically so. Yuri doesn’t know or exactly care for the inner politics or delicate power balances among the characters of Jahad’s court, but the truth of the matter is this: 

Khun Aguero Jahad might have only been recently crowned — but she has always been a threat. 

Since the dawn of the ten families, the Khun staples of education had remained true to three essential subjects: warfare, politics, and assassination. The children learn young, or not at all. A daughter true to her heritage, Khun Aguero Agnis had bared her fangs only at the most opportune moment, sinking them firmly in the throats of her blood sister, a rival from a nearby branch family, and a number of prominent, up-and-coming girls vying for the princess candidacy. 

It had been, without a doubt — a flawless victory, the perfect display of brains and cruel strength. And of course, with those eyes, a blue as deep and pitiless as the sea: beauty, and the arrogance to wield it.

It had taken the entire upper floors by complete surprise, propelled Aguero’s name to the top of the gossip columns, and whispered unrest among the current princesses in a way that hadn’t been felt in at least half a millennium. All it had taken was a hundred years’ worth of waiting, a lighthouse, a well-placed knife, and some dead girls.

As expected, a mere three months after her candidacy was announced, Khun Aguero Agnis became Khun Aguero Jahad, and not a single voice spoke out to disagree.

— — — 

“Are you going to stop me?” Aguero’s voice is low and cool. Like magic, a small blade glimmers in her hand, and while Yuri can’t predict what kinds of weapons her sister carries on her person, she knows better than to think this is her only, or most lethal one.

“... No,” she admits ruefully. “I don’t think I’d be able to, anyway.” Deftly, she stows the Black March in her inventory, and spins around to sit cross-legged by the princess’s side. It’s always a gamble, relying on Aguero’s temper, but it’s more likely than not that the other girl isn’t actually looking for a fight. She can’t afford the attention a real one would draw, or the physical exhaustion it would inflict.

Aguero lets her, and she grins with satisfaction. “I’ll wait with you until your ride is here!” The and buy you time, if necessary, goes unsaid. Yuri yawns, and then stretches, eyes crinkling with cheeky fondness. It won’t take long for her to get bored. What better way to kill time than with invasive questioning?

“Is he really worth it, Aguero? That boy?” Yuri pouts, eyebrows raised. “This better not just be because he’s cute.” Her words have the subtlety of a berserk Shinheuh, but she’s genuinely curious, and Aguero will understand.

A quiet huff of laughter has her squinting in surprise. Dawn hasn’t quite made it to their corner of the rooftop, but she can make out the faint, yet unmistakable curve of a real smile. 

Huh, thinks Yuri, wide-eyed. It’s not a bad look on her. It’s not that Aguero has never smiled, per se, but the intrinsic softness of it all is a wholly foreign creature to her, and she likes to think Aguero does consider her a friend. Or at least as close to one as a Khun is allowed to call a person.

“Oh, he’s cute all right. Like… a puppy, I guess. Big, gold eyes, really nice voice, listens to everything I say.” Aguero snorts, fiddles with her hair. “… For the most part, at least. There was a girl that he came here chasing after — ” and here she pauses briefly, expression hard like ice chips — “but she’s, ah, not a problem anymore.” 

Yuri blinks. By her feet, frost gleams in elegant, spiraling patterns. For a moment, curiosity steals across her thoughts— what kind of girl could that have been, to catch the eye of Aguero’s sweetheart? To make even the pride of the Khuns lose her famously unshakable cool? And what the hell had even happened? But instinct cautions her otherwise, and it’s yet to lead her astray. 

Yuri shakes her head. Best not to pry into those matters. 

“Okay, then. And what are you going to do after you go?” she presses. “You know you can’t come back.”

At first, there’s no response. The seconds slide uneasily by, thick like a finger swirled through honey. The other girl’s face is thoughtful as she slowly replies: “I’m gonna help him climb the Tower.” 

Aguero shifts slightly, and meets Yuri’s gaze. “To be fair, I wasn’t sure about that either at first. He… he’s really weak, you know.”

Yuri cackles, just to fill the silence. “That bad?”

“That bad.” Aguero exhales. “But he’s a monster, too. He has these… moments, when he gets a certain look in his eyes, and it’s almost terrifying. It’s funny, because he’s the gentlest thing I’ve ever met. But he’s going to be amazing in the future. I know it.” 

“... Like Jahad? Or better?” Is it the boy’s power you’re after? His life? It’s not like Yuri can’t understand. But in the Tower, the asking price of violence and overwhelming force comes laughably cheap, and for something as easy as that Aguero would never be so reckless. The conditions of their status are admittedly stifling, but few things are truly unreachable for a Jahad princess.

Or is it something else?

“They’re nothing alike,” Aguero says flatly. “And I don’t want him to be.”

Frustratedly, she runs a hand through her hair, gesturing vaguely. “It’s hard to explain, but he…he’s good, Yuri. He’s good. All those years stuck in a cave, all the trials the Tower ran him through, all that death and backstabbing and grieving that they make the Regulars practically eat and breathe  —  he fought through it purely by his own merit, and still, nothing's broken him of it. I can’t understand it myself.” 

Aguero murmurs to no one in particular, looking bewildered herself. “… It’s dazzling, honestly.” It only lasts a heartbeat, but there’s a heat to her entire bearing, an unexpected intensity, and it looks a lot like hope.

“He’s going to flip this Tower on its goddamned head, just you wait. He’ll need someone to watch his back when he does.” She smiles again, sharp and secretive — and it leaves Yuri reeling from the whiplash, this girl — who suddenly looks more like sunlight on new snow, like devotion underneath domed ceilings and glass sculptures praising unshakable belief, than the glacial stoicism of her bloodline. “The Regulars are supposed to form teams, right? I intend to be his light-bearer.”

“A-aha…I see it now. You’re crazy,” offers Yuri, more weakly than she would prefer. She thinks she can see the bigger picture now. She isn’t sure whether she likes it or not.

… So it’s his love you’re after. Do you think it’ll make you happy?

“I’ve got it all planned out, of course. I had a quick chat with Headon about starting fresh as well, so the Ranker rules shouldn’t apply to me.” It shouldn’t be possible to make throwing away your life so easy, so fulfilling, but Khun Aguero does it somehow, conviction radiating firmly from her entirety. She laughs, bright and determined. “We’re gonna give the floors so much hell, Yuri.”

“As for being a princess,” she continues, “I have a couple of ideas as to making sure no one looks too closely. That’s a secret, though.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Aguero shoots her a mild look, and it’s the end of that discussion. She flicks her fingers with impatience. But one last question still burns a hole in Yuri’s chest, the one that hadn’t actually been answered, and she can’t let the other girl leave without a proper response. If she does, there won’t be a second chance.

The first hints of day yawn loomingly across the horizon. Shades of carnation and marigold, thin and pale, send tendrils of light across the sky. In just a few more minutes, the stars will disappear, eclipsed by their vibrance. And Aguero will be gone, gone, another name to be struck from the records. 

After all their years of friendship, this is where the line gets drawn. It’s a little lonely, if she thinks about it. Yuri steels herself. A younger, less jaded girl might have asked Aguero to reconsider. But regardless of whatever answer she would have been given, it’s not the one she needs to know right now.

No regrets now, Aguero.

Princess Yuri Jahad looks the defector in the eye, feeling fully well the pride and colossal pressure of her status. Bending the rules has never, ever seemed so daunting before. Maybe the weight thudding cold in her chest is her grief. Maybe, she thinks sheepishly, it’s her jealousy. She wouldn’t be surprised if it were all of the above, and more than just her own fair share of the bitterness. 

Believe it or not, she has been a princess for a very, very long time. The other girls would want to know the same.

It’s with hushed longing that she opens her mouth again, one last piece of idle gossip. With resentment, for countless eras spent in solitude and misplaced spite; loneliness, for every generation of lost, loveless young women. Every missed opportunity, every broken dream, every petty, contrived falling-out. She’s old enough to remember most of the worst. Aguero is escaping their shiny little showcase of a birdcage, at the price of losing everything else.

Please, she thinks desperately. Let her be right, this time. This is one of their sisters, after all. They must not have another Anaak Jahad.

“...Aguero. He’s worth it?” she repeats. 

Khun Aguero Agnis steeples her fingers against her chin, staring forward. The sun rises ahead of them, unrelenting and pure, and the light catches on her face and draws it all out in ferocious streaks of gold.

“Yes,” she answers. “He is.”