#and then I thought about fi I’d ever have to explain which reminded me about the convo with my dad which made me think of all this idk

[asexualjedi]

Was like damn there should be an ace dating app for people who are like asexual or gray romantic or gray sexual. And then I went to google that and realized that would involve sharing my information with an app and giving up personal info to people. And I’m reminded of the people I had to block and the issues I’ve had with guys™️ in the past and that makes me want to break out in hives. Like would hopefully ideally be different. But. Alas. I’ll just have to believe in rom communism.

[moonlit-imagines]

Preferences: the Avengers visiting you, the owner of the local bookstore

Avengers x reader

warnings:

a/n: i hope it ok i turned into prefs!! i think it made more sense with the interaction part <3

prompt: @groovy-lady: “May I please request headcanons of being the owner of a bookshop the Avengers all go to and how they all interact with you?”

Bruce is there quite often, frequently in the scientific section. He buys stacks of books at a time and is quiet and polite when checking out. You always comment on how smart he must be and he awkwardly laughs it off. After a while, you start pulling certain books you’d think would interest him, which melted his heart when he realized you thought of him. “I added a science fiction novel in there, too. I don’t know if that’s your thing, but it’s one of my favorites.” You told him and he smiled. “Thank you for thinking of me.” He said.

Clint bought a lot of kids books. “How many?” You asked. “Three. Two boys and a girl.” He told you. You admired his choice of books for his kids. Teen fiction, sci-fi, graphic novels, fantasy, and a few children’s books. “Lots of variety.” You commented. “Yeah, trying to get them into reading.” He explained. “Any recommendations? The older ones are preteens, a boy and a girl. The little one is just learning how to read.” You smirked and started heading towards some classics like Percy Jackson, Harry Potter, and The Hunger Games. “These are the most popular for their age group, and I love them, too. As far as your little guy, you’ve already got the right idea.” Clint was grateful and took the first book of each popular series, promising to come back if they loved them as much you you did.

Nat was a fantasy reader. She had no shame in it. “What do you have for me today, y/n?” She’d approach the counter and have a small stack waiting for her. You’d go down the list with a little synopsis of each. “I hope you like them.” You told her. “You haven’t let me down yet.” She said back. She also donates her books when she’s done with them, saying she wants someone else to enjoy them as much as she did.

Steve nearly picked your history section clean. “Catching up, Captain?” You joked, recognizing the Super Soldier as soon as he walked in. “I don’t even know where to start.” He admitted. You gladly slimmed down his pile of history books and replaced quite a few with some fantastic works that came out while he was on ice. “As much as I enjoy reading, you won’t learn everything from these. Make sure you aren’t missing out by trying to catch up.” You warmly told him. “That’s good advice.” You told him you try and rung him up, warning him not to go reading those all at once.

Tony was more interested in comics and graphic novels, you’d laugh when you saw him pick up the more risque comics and he’d give you a playful wink. “They’re not for me, they’re for Clint’s son, the three-year-old.” He always knew how to make you laugh. “Yes, Elvira is the perfect choice for Clint’s small child.” He said he knew you’d understand. He also admitted he likes comics because they give him a little break from thinking all day and some of the characters remind him of his own life. You told him he was like Batman, he disagrees.

Thor checks out Norse Mythology more often than not. He likes to see what is written about him and his family in the eyes of Midgardians. “Are you sure you don’t want to try something different this time, Thor?” You motioned to a different section. “There’s so much more to choose from, I’d love to give you some recommendations.” Thor declined, placing another Norse book on the counter. “Have you ever read about me? Or my brother, Loki?” You nodded, telling him you’ve read a book or two that had them featured. “Wel”l, maybe next time I’ll buy something with a little less…me in it. We’ll see. Thank you, y/n!”

Before the Darkhold, Wanda was actually quite the enjoyer of teen fiction. She begged you not to tell the others what she read, and you promised you’d never share her secret. Most of the time, she’d cozy up in your reading corner with a coffee and read her “secret” books away from the Avengers. “Wanda, this one just came in. I think you’d love it.”

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @prettysbliss // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @beth-gallagher22 // @mymelodymia // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

[zeta-in-de-walls]

Thinking about Jack and Tommy.

Okay, so Wilbur apologising to Jack really struck him, really got to question his convictions. He explains how he was prepared to treat Wilbur like Tommy, expecting nothing as he’d never expected an apology. Now that he has one, he’s confused.

He’s ready to give Wilbur a chance and see if he’s sincere so hopefully they can become friends - which is all Jack’s ever wanted.

Jack also discusses Tommy a little, and he laments at the fact that Tommy’s never given him an apology like that and he wishes he had. It would have fied things. But he’s also confused - he says how he’s not sure how he’d even react if Tommy did apologise now. He’s questioning his worldview! He’s been operating like Tommy’s an irredeemable monster and his friend is long since dead. But what if- what if that’s not true? Obviously Jack wants to be happy again - but he’s sunk so much into believing the worst. He’s not sure how to deal with the idea of a revelation, if it ever happens.

It kinda reminds me of how shaken up Jack got at Tommy’s death - forcing him to really confront things and revaluate his goals. With their reunion that went badly, Jack quickly went back to his plans for revenge but it seems like he’s been questioning himself more and more. 

I... am in two minds about this whole thing. I want Jack to have his apology or something similar because I want him to question his worldview more. I want him to face the idea that the monster he’s been fighting is a traumatised teenager who just wants peace at this point. I want them to make up. Seeing Jack’s conflict has been so interesting and I’d love to see him learning to live without revenge. 

But aaaah. I’m a huge Tommy fan and I know that he doesn’t even realise Jack wants an apology from him and means him no ill will. Jack’s hurt Tommy too, what with stealing his hotel, trying to murder him and saying he deserved to be dead - and Jack’s not remorseful in the slightest. Expecting an apology from Tommy is unrealistic without him being the one to give Tommy another chance first and explaining his feelings again in a setting where they’re both in a way better headspace. I’d feel odd about Tommy making amends - not when Jack is still so lacking in compassion for him. Even as I’d very much like them to reconcile. It would be good for them.  

Hmmm... I’d like them to be friends again but failing that I’d just really like Jack to move on. I just don’t think hating Tommy is good for him and I want him to be better. I imagine an apology does have the power to fi things but I’d rather it was something else , some other realisation perhaps. Jack’s a thoughtful character and hopefully Wilbur’s pushed him towards a path of self-reflection which will help.

[sour-n-salty-citrus]

Do you like the backstory for rick? Idk I kinda preferred it when Rick's past was a complete mystery and i dont really care about diane at all. I didn't expect the writers to actually write a canon for him either but I guess they realised how much the audience wanted one for him

Ajdjdjeidjs ack, I'll be honest I'm not... keen on it.

(Bolly-quinn actually puts it into words well how I feel about Rick's backstory here)

I liked the mystery element of his backstory! I know it's always exciting to have things in canon, but like... it being open to interpretation was something I always appreciated.

And... ugh, hoo boy. I'm torn. I mean, I love that Rick is completely different from what dudebros and like- "high iq" redditors present him as. He's a man who loved his wife and daughter, loved them so much he would rather give up travelling the multiverse, becoming a genius scientist, just to stay with them. He was vulnerable, soft, and caring. He wasn't nihilistic and reckless and selfish and some "alpha male who wouldn't let anything tie him down". He was ridiculously romantic, optimistic, sweet and loving, and maybe even kind.

And I don't give a shit.

I don't! I don't care. This might sound incredibly cruel and unfair, but I don't care that Rick lost his family.

Ok- let me explain.

I'm... disappointed. I'm disappointed that losing Beth and Diane is all it was that made Rick into the complete and utter monster he is today (or the start of the series anyway). I don't mean to undermine his loss and grief- at all! It's just... for him to go on a (seemingly decades long) killing spree, slaughtering any version of himself he seemed to come across... christ. Maybe in his eyes, they were all as bad as that One. Which is understandable. I'm very lucky to have not experienced that kind of loss. I haven't had to Grieve the way Rick did. Maybe I just don't get it, because I've never felt it. That's fair.

It just felt... god, I don't want to say excessive. I know, people process grief in different ways, and for some it manifests in unhealthy ways, some lash out at the world, fixate on trying to find an explanation, to find justice, etc. And I like how Rick was an absolute inconsolable wreck at first. Something like that, it needs time to process and overcome before you can start moving again.

I just- I don't know. Something rubbed me the wrong way about it all.

It's like- it's not that I wanted Rick to have spent all that time partying or something. It's just- argh, i don't know! Maybe someone else can put it into better words lol.

I hate that he immediately jumped into not giving a single shit about other people (save birdperson and squanchy!). Like- when he blew up those aliens who gave him whatever it was he needed. Ah- ok, they probably weren't exactly innocent or anything, but still. I think it was just I felt if we ever saw Rick's backstory, I'd want it to be a slow decline into who he is, show him gradually losing so much of his morality and becoming so jaded. Idk i guess i just wanted it to be like, a series of significant (and lesser but still important) events that lead to him going down that path rather than- this ONE thing that just apparently completely ruined him? And yeah ik ik it was a BIG thing, but like- i guess i was expecting.... more? Maybe something like idk Rick trying to save all the other Beths and Dianes and failing, idk, just... something more.

I actually would have preferred it if Diane lived. I dont know, I just- man I really hate the dead wife/daughter turns ordinary man into callous asshole trope. I agree, it's hard to really care all that much for Diane, and for a while I couldn't understand why. I thought, idk, is it internalised misogyny? Do I just not like Diane because I want to ship Rick with someone else?

I think I get it now. Diane, for all her significance in Rick's backstory, just... isn't a character. She's just- the motivation Rick needed to kick off the story. You could replace her with literally anybody else Rick could have loved and it wouldn't feel any different. She just doesn't feel special. She's no more unique than any other Dead Wife. We get nothing, literally nothing of her. I kept thinking, why? Why does this just not hit that hard? Rick's had emotional moments with Beth, with Birdperson, even with Summer and Jerry. And then I got it- it doesn't feel earned. It felt like how you feel when you see side characters or extras in the background of an action movie die. Maybe some faint sadness, but mainly nothing. We as an audience get nothing from Diane, we don't know her, don't get to see how she matters to Rick, don't get to see her relationship with Rick, we don't get any chance to connect with her character. So when she dies and Rick gets his montage of seeking revenge, it doesn't feel earned. It feels more like I'm being told about how this guy suffered than really seeing it (which i believe, may have been the writers intention actually...). It's kind of like a feeling of "damn that sucks bro... and?". There's no real heavy emotional response that I could really get from it...

I actually would have preferred if Rick and Diane broke up, divorced. I feel like that would offer so much more for them BOTH as chatacters. Instead of their relationship being happy and sunshine and rainbows until a Big Bad came in and took that away, I'd prefer it if Rick's downfall was just... his fault. (Actually His fault.) If his marriage fell apart because he couldn't make it work. If he estranged his daughter because he couldn't properly handle fatherhood, despite loving her. If he was flawed, terribly flawed, because of his own misjudgement and shortcomings. I guess my biggest problem, is that this is presented as someone having the perfect life, which is then taken away as a result of someone Else. It's too easy to then say, oh, it's not his fault he's like that! He had his heart broken, his life ruined! He lost himself in a revenge spree, poor thing... I'd have rathered if it was just a little bit more... realistic? If Rick had been the root cause of his own problems. If he'd experienced tragedy, but also been the cause of much more. I just wish there'd been more of a balance? It just felt so rushed. And not because of the montage- it just like Rick became completely apathetic way too fast. I just hate hate HATE the "he was a good guy with the perfect little life until tragedy struck and he was never the same". Rick never made the effort to improve his life, to do better, to be better. He's actively a cruel, callous, unkind person (complex, yes, but these are traits no one can deny he harbours). He's done far worse than was done to him, and that will never be justifiable to me... it just all feels so very cliche and out of place, and out of everything, this was the one thing I had hoped they wouldn't do.

I think the writers are aware of this, strangely enough. I mean, Rick even calls it his "crybaby backstory". I think they didn't want to leave it open any longer, and just got it out of the way. I don't think they really want to elaborate on it anymore. From what I predict, they want to focus on the here and now of Rick (and Morty, haha), and the development of who Rick is NOW, instead of who he WAS. I think they kind of just went, here's your gut-punch, your tragic backstory, now leave it alone. Diane is dead, Rick had a hard past, the series is about moving on and change. Now can we PLEASE get back to the sci-fi shenanigans?

(There was something I LOVED about the backstory though, and that was the soundtrack! Like the music for the Battle of Bloodridge, it fucking SLAPPPEDDDD. I can't imagine making synthwave emotional, but it actually kind of worked! The swell of the music actually did a lot more for getting a reaction out of me than the content lmaooo. It kind of reminded me of Kurzegast's "optimistic nihilism" for some reason... I actually liked the Bloodridge track so much, it got me a little into synthwave, which i never listened to before! The music producers this season have just KILLED IT!)

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers VANDEAD CARNIVAL ;; Sleeping Vampire ー Sakamaki Ayato

Source: Diabolik Lovers Vandead Carnival

Seiyuu: Midorikawa Hikaru

Audio: Here

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

Ayato takes a seat on your bed.

*Thud*

"Che...Oi, wake up, Chichinashi. I don’t mind assaultin’ you in your sleep like usual. But I’m not really hungry, you know. I actually came all the way to your room to have you keep me company, so whatcha sleepin’ for, huh? Geez. Wake up already! (1) It’d be hella dull if you’re just snoozin’ away, right? Come on, look this way!

*Rustle*

“What? You really think you can pretend to be asleep and trick me with that crappy act of yours? Hehe...Well, I don’t mind playin’ along though? You’re basically givin’ me a free pass to do anythin’ I want, right? Hmー... Touchin’ you somewhere you wouldn’t want me to sounds fun...but to your current self, anythin’ I do is basically a reward. You’ve gotten totally used to it...You’re the scary one of us two. You feign ignorance, but you can’t fight back ‘gainst my fangs. If anything...They make you totally happy. ...For real, that’s what makes you fascinatin’, hehe.

Speaking of which, I feel like I haven’t seen you twist your face in fear very much as of late. Even the face you make when in pain...always changes right away? You end up looking at me with a longing expression...Well, that’s not bad either though? Hehe. I won’t let you deny it, you know? ‘Bout the expressions you make to entice men. ...It’s a conscious decision you make, isn’t you?”

You remain quiet.

“Che...You’re really persistin’ ‘bout pretendin’ to be asleep, huh? Fine by me? In that case, I’ll do as I please too. Your expression yearnin’ for pleasure isn’t the only face I wanna see you make after all. Seeing you shake all over like a fool from fear, or even hearing you cry out like an idiot from the pain and sufferin’ would work too. Also...Those eyes full of despair, not even capable of sheddin’ tears are quite the treat as well. ...Aah, makes me wanna see them again for the first time in a while. Say...You don’t mind, do you?

You still give no reaction.

“...Che. Oi, Chichinashi! This is the part where you jump up and make a fool out of yourself by gettin’ mad, no!? The fuck’s up with that reaction? It’s annoyin’! At this rate, I’m actually gonna do it, you know? My fangs only ever make you happy...so I’ll do somethin’ different. ...Hehe. Seems like you think that you’ve been through hell and back already. But that was only the very beginning. I’m more than capable of givin’ you a taste of pain you’ve never experienced before, don’t forget that? I’ll test whether you can...endure it or not.”

You flinch.

“Haha...You’ve got your brows furrowed, you know? (2) Even if you tense up your body, it’ll still hurt...and you’d still suffer...right? Better not regret it? Nn...”

*Smooch*

*Rustle rustle*

You open your eyes.

“Pfft...That face! What are you looking so surprised ‘bout? Haha...Nn...”

*Smooch*

*Rustle rustle*

“You’ve finally woken up, huh?”

*Thud*

“Oi! Don’t be pushin’ me away from the moment you open your eyes! Hehe...Aren’t your cheeks a lil’ flushed?”

You ask him what this is about

“You wanna know what I’m doin’? ...Kissin’ you, duh. I don’t know what you were thinkin’ I’d do...but you like this sorta stuff, don’t you? You had this really dreamy look in your eyes after I kissed you, you know? Well, I’m the one kissin’ you. I guess that’s a given. 

You try and explain your reaction.

Even so...Don’t be resistin’ when I’m kissin’ me. Ahー Did you think I’d do somethin’ a little more intense? Say...What were you imaginin’ while layin’ there with your eyes closed?”

You refuse to say.

“I’m askin’ you a question so answer me. You thought I’d do something a little more extreme, didn’t you?”

You avert your gaze.

“Hehe...Oi, what’s your answer? You can shake your head and pretend to be innocent all you want, but I already know what kinda girl you are deep down. You were imaginin’ what horrible things I’d do to you, weren’t you?”

You bite your bottom lip.

“Say...Just a few smooches doesn’t satisfy you, does it?”

You puff out your cheeks.

“Haha...Ahー Geez, shut up. Don’t get your panties in a knot. You’re the one who kept quiet this whole time, and now you’re this wide awake. You’re a hundred years too early to try and defy me.”

You ask him to stop.

“...’Stop’? Hmph. You think you have the right to say that? I’m hurt. I mean, you tried to deceive me just now, didn’t you? Why were you pretendin’ to be asleep?”

You explain.

“Hah? You were actually sleepin’? Are you stupid? No way I’d listen to your excuses!”

*Rustle rustle*

“...Where do you think you’re goin’? Don’t move without my permission.”

You try and blame Ayato for sneaking into your room. 

“Haah? I attack you during your sleep all the time though? Why complain about it now?”

You tell him you want to sleep now.

“Fool. You really think I care if you’re tired or not? Why are you so tired anyway? ...Che, were you doin’ somethin’ behind my back? Don’t tell me...You haven’t been bitten by one of the other dudes, right? You know what will happen if you let someone else suck your bloo...Wait, that’s not the case?”

You try and explain yourself.

“You were studyin’ the whole time...Up until this late at night? Well, that’s not my problem tho...”

You point out that Ayato has gotten the same assignment. 

“It does? ...Homework? Math problems? ...No idea. I don’t even know which problems you’re talkin’ ‘bout.”

You tell him there will be a test as well. 

“A test for English class? No clue either. ...Why, you ask? ...I was asleep durin’ class so how do you expect me to remember?”

You sigh.

“Wouldn’t anyone grow sleepy whem havin’ to listen to some teacher recitin’ formulas or English phrases like it’s some sort of spell?”

You tell him it’s important to write that stuff down. 

“Haah? Why would I take notes? I don’t need that crap, and even if I do, I can just steal yours.”

You complain.

“Fuck off! Don’t talk all high and mighty for a Chichinashi! You keep on tellin’ me not to snooze during class but who gives a damn? Listenin’ to those borin’ lectures like you do isn’t my cup of tea.”

You tell him he’ll be in trouble for the exams next week.

“...Aah? We’ve got tests next week as well? First thing I hear ‘bout that.”

You scold him.

“...Aah!? Shut up! Who cares ‘bout that trivial crap!?”

You warn Ayato about having to repeat his year.

“...Heeh? You’re worried ‘bout me havin’ to repeat my year, huh? Aah, right. I guess you don’t want us to get separated.”

You shake your head.

“Aah? You wouldn’t like that, no?”

You shrug.

“For example...You’ll no longer be able to beg for my fangs whenever you’re craving them, you know?”

You get flustered again.

“Haha...What? Sometimes you’re the one who asks for it, remember? Being all like ‘I want to be pierced by Ayato-kun’s fangs so badly, I don’t know what to do with myself!’ Even if you don’t voice it out loud, it’s written all over your face, you know?”

You try and deny it.

“Haha...That’s what it looks like to me so can you blame me? For example...Right. You were spacin’ out during last period yesterday, weren’t you?”

You tell him that’s not true.

“Nah, I remember? Your jaw was all slacked (3), I was actually wonderin’ whether you’d start droolin’ or not. ...You were thinkin’ of me, weren’t you?”

You shake your head.

“Don’t lie! Then why did you have that dreamy look in your eyes!? You’ve been tellin’ me off for sleepin’ during class, so there’s no way you’d admit you were sleepy yourself and yawned, right? So, what was the deal, huh?”

You don’t reply.

“...Hehe. Since you’re stayin’ quiet, you’re basically admittin’ it, huh? What were you daydreamin’ ‘bout during class? Come on, tell me. ...Specifyin’ which part of me you were thinkin’ ‘bout is fine as well, you know?”

You tell him to stop since he already saw right through you.

“Shut up! I don’t care if I’m right or not! Answer me...Is it my fangs you like? Or perhaps...”

*Rustle rustle*

*Sluuuurp*

“Nn...This tongue? Haha...You like gettin’ licked, don’t you?”

You flinch.

“Say, does bein’ licked really feel that good? ...Hehe. Ahー I guess it depends on where I lick you? Well, I know all of your sensitive spots tho. You prefer bein’ licked over bein’ carrassed, no? How is it?”

You look away.

“If you don’t give me an answer soon, I’ll only keep on addin’ questions? It’d be in your best interest to stop blushin’ and just honestly tell me, you know?”

You respond.

“...Haha. You should have just genuinely admitted you like it right away. Well, it’s something I already knew though. That you just love me oh-so much.”

You tell Ayato it’s embarrassing to hear him confess his love like that.

“Hehe...You’re the one who confessed, no? You like bein’ licked by my tongue, don’t you?”

You whimper softly.

“...Haha. You’ve totally gotten a taste of it.”

You blink in confusion.

“Of what, you ask? The taste of joy from bein’ toyed ‘round with like this?”

You deny it.

“Hah...? Oi, what didya say just now?”

You repeat it.

“Heeh, you really think you can tell me you hate me and get away with it?”

You retaliate.

“That’s exactly the part of me you dislike? ...What a cruel woman you are. I’m doin’ this to please you tho?”

You frown.

“What? Got a problem with that?”

You reply.

“Heeh...You’ve sure got guts. But you won’t get away talkin’ back to me like that. If you wanna know what I’ll do...For starters, I’ll kick you out from underneath these soft, comfortable covers...How ‘bout payin’ a visit to the torture chamber for the first time in a while? Hehe...I won’t let you say you’ve forgotten ‘bout that place.”

Your eyes widen.

“Hehe...Seems like imaginin’ it gave you a good wake-up call.”

You tell him it’s bed time. 

“Shut up. Do you really need to sleep? I’m invitin’ you along to keep me company. You should feel honored?”

You remind Ayato that you have school tomorrow.

“Aah? You really think I’d give a damn ‘bout classes tomorrow? If you get sleepy, you can just snooze there, or you could always skip school as well. ...Hah? Whatcha mean, you’d leave me behind and go to classes? You really think I’d let you? Fool! For one, why are you so damn fussy ‘bout goin’ to class? I take my eyes off you for one second and you’ve run off to some other classroom...Just the other day, you didn’t come back until 3rd period!”

You explain.

“...Off-campus activities? You were participatin’ in that shit? ...What I did in the meantime...? Nothin’, really. When I woke up, the classroom was empty, so I decided to kill time by sleepin’ some more but you just wouldn’t come back...So when I wandered ‘round the hallway for a bit, I messed up and let Reiji find me. I panciked and made a run for it, endin’ up in the broadcastin’ room. Mr. Sleepyhead was snoozin’ soundly there, so I decided to drop one of the vases in the room on the floor. Yet he wouldn’t wake up at all! That dude definitely has some screws loose!”

You tell him off. 

“Aah? Who cares ‘bout a stupid vase or two. I was honestly goin’ to throw it at him, but it was heavy so I scratched that idea.”

You tell him that would have hurt Shuu.

“The fuck...? Don’t be worryin’ ‘bout some other guy!”

You ask if he’s upset because you were worried about Shuu.

“Of course. What else could I mean? Geez...I was runnin’ ‘round lookin’ for you ‘cause you had disappeared, remember?”

You explain.

“Fuck off! Whether it’s goin’ to another classroom (4) or havin’ to go change for P.E., you just wander off on your own too often! You really expect me to remember our time table? ...Hmph! You can just drag me along to the next classroom, can’t you? ...It’s dull ‘cause you keep on disappearin’ on me without a word of warning.”

You sigh.

“Hmph. I’m definitely not lettin’ you sleep until it gets dark outside...We’re skippin’ school today.”

You protest.

“Heeh...Then let’s see if you can lull me to sleep instead. Hehe. Give it a try if you dare. However, I slept through most classes except for gym today, so it’s not gonna be easy?”

You ask for a hint.

“A hint? How am I supposed to think of somethin’ when I’m the one who can’t sleep? On top of that, you have to do the work, right? ...Hehe. Altho I feel like I’d only feel even more awake if you were to sing me a lullaby or somethin’. What else...I guess you could read me a book too. Hmー Actually, there’s this book I’ve been curious ‘bout, so read it to me.”

You ask for the title.

“The title? What was it again? ...I don’t remember, but the contents seemed really excitin’. It was somethin’ ‘bout what happens beyond the stuff they teach you in health class (5)...Which means it has a bunch of good stuff written in there, right? I’m sure it teaches you ‘bout the things left out by the textbooks, don’t you think? Hehe, aren’t you curious too? I’m pretty sure I saw it layin’ ‘round in Laito’s room...”

You seem skeptical.

“Hehe...Exactly. I saw it lined up in that freak’s room. Seeing as he kept it on the very back of the shelf, I’m pretty sure the contents are pretty extreme...? Say, doesn’t that pique your interest?”

You tell him it is an anatomy book.

“Ahー A book on the human body? Then, it’d talk ‘bout the different mechanisms of the body too, righ?”

You explain.

“Hah?  It has anatomy drawings in it? The different parts of the ‘capillary vessels’...And now in English? (5) Don’t think you can deceive me like that! ...Whatever. I’ll find out once I go fetch it.”

You frown.

“I’m looking forward to it, you know? Especially...the erotic scenes and such? I don’t mind if you teach me directly with your body either? Aah, by the way, you can’t just read it with a monotone voice, okay? Make sure to put some emotion in there. ...While imaginin’ it, okay? If there’s a part you don’t get, I’ll teach you. For example...Like this, perhaps?”

*Rustle rustle*

“Haha...What’s with that...Pfft...lame reaction?”

You get mad.

“Ahー I know! Stop complainin’ and get to business.”

You frown.

“Whatever, just listen to what I say. You want me to fall asleep, don’t you? Then you’ll have to do somethin’ ‘bout that. And who knows, your book-reading might actually do the trick.”

You nod.

“Haha, if you understand...then hurry up and go get the book.”

You open your mouth to protest.

“I’m not listenin’ to what you have to say. Come on, get movin’. Ahー... But, I guess I can’t let you go to that pervert’s room at this hour.”

Ayato moves away

*Rustle*

“I’ll go get it instead so wait here, ‘kay? I’ll choose a really intense one. Once I’ve got my hands on the book, I’ll have you read it out loud no matter what, okay? Hehe.

You tug him back into the bed by his sleeve.

*Rustle*

"That hurt! Che...Grabbin’ me so aggressively, when the fuck did you get that strong?”

You apologize.

“Hehe...Well, this isn’t a big deal. More importantly...What do you want from me to grab me that desperately? You don’t want me to go get the book? But aren’t you the one who said you wanted to put me to bed? Or maybe...Ahー I see. ...Since you’re this frantic, I guess you really don’t want me to leave your bed, huh? If you admit you don’t want us to be apart for even one second, I don’t mind listenin’ to your request? So...Beg me not to leave.”

You whisper.

“...Can’t hear you. Well then, guess I’ll go fetch that pervert’s book...”

You grab hold of his hand.

*Rustle*

“Haha...Didn’t think I’d see you cling onto me like that.”

You try and explain yourself.

“What part am I wrong about? You don’t want me to leave, right? I won’t let you say it’s just ‘cause you don’t wanna read the book. Hehe...Be honest with yourself already. You don’t want to be separated from me, do you?”

You nod.

“Heehー Fine, fine. If you want me to stay close that badly, I’ll embrace you...like this.”

*Rustle rustle*

“...Your heart’s beatin’ way too fast. Are you that happy? Also...Nn...You smell sweet. I wonder why you smell this sweet...?”

You ask if he’ll suck your blood.

“Not really...I’m not gonna suck your blood today.”

You seem puzzled.

“...Since you seem to want it so badly, I won’t.”

You giggle.

“Don’t laugh. Instead...”

*Rustle rustle*

“Mmh...”

*Smooch*

“Hah...Haha, that expression...I can’t get enough of it. What do you mean? ...Exactly like I said. I mean you’re incredibly cute.”

You protest.

“What’s the problem? I feel that way so just honestly accept it.”

You note that Ayato is acting off.

“It’s out-of-character for me...? I don’t go ‘round sayin’ this to just ‘bout anyone, you know? ...Hehe. It’s written all over your face that you’re actually barely containin’ your joy. Well, I guess that’s to be expected since I made an exception to praise you like that. Come on...Cling onto me tighter. Nn...”

*Smooch*

“You should take some initiative as well. While kissin’...I’ll let you do as you please.”

You kiss him.

*Smooch*

“...Pfft. You suck. Press them properly against each other. That wasn’t nearly enough. More...Nn...”

*Smooch*

“Hehe...It’s already night out, huh?”

You seem worried about school.

“...Well, I don’t mind lettin’ you sleep soon. ...If you were to fall asleep now, you’d still be in the land of dreams by the time the limousine leaves after all.”

You shake your head.

“What? You’re gonna go to school without gettin’ any sleep? Che...Don’t be actin’ like such a miss goody-two shoes. Hold up...Oi. Your eyes are already startin’ to look drowsy...Well, fallin’ asleep while kissin’ doesn’t sound half bad either, does it?”

He kisses you again.

“Nn...”

*Smooch*

“Hehe...Dozin’ off while entangled like this might be nice too. The possessive side inside of me will feel satisfied seeing your melted expression, and at some point, I’ll just nod off without realizin’...I thought that was normal but this might be another way to go ‘bout it as well. I’ll kiss you, so just go sleep already...Nn.”

*Smooch*

You try your best to stay awake.

“Just forget ‘bout school. You’d just fall asleep during the test if you were to go, don’t you think? Stop strugglin’ in vain already. Instead of...goin’ to that stupid school, you should just stay with me the whole time...I’m tellin’ you you can sleep in my arms.”

You blush.

“That way, you won’t suddenly disappear on me the second I take my eyes off you. You’re always talkin’ ‘bout havin’ to collect hand-outs or cleanin’ the classroom (7), right? There’s no need for you to do that shit though. You should only ever work for my sake. For one, I don’t like it when you get up from your seat...Actually, why do we have individual seats at school anyway? They should just use sofas instead.”

*Rustle*

“That’d be perfect to keep you locked in my embrace like this...don’t you think? I definitely won’t let you go. ...Hehe, just give up. You can no longer run. Fall asleep already. ...Goodnight.”

You close your eyes.

“...What? You actually fell asleep? ...Pfft. What a silly face. You’ve got your mouth wide open, you know? This kind of expression of yours...It’s not that interesting, but not bad either. Nn...”

*Smooch*

“I didn’t think I’d feel this way...just from connectin’ our lips. Say...How ‘bout you? Che, she’s sound asleep...Guess she won’t wake up anymore now that it’s this late. Hehe...I won’t allow you to dream ‘bout some other guy, okay? Only ever...look at me...”

Ayato closes his eyes as well.

Once you wake up tomorrow morning...You better tell me...what you dreamt about...”

He dozes off.

“Nn...Yui...I love you...Nn...”

ーー THE END ーー

Translation notes

(1) 目をさます or ‘me o samasu’ literally means ‘to open one’s eyes’, but in English the verb ‘to wake up’ is actually a little more accurate.

(2) Literally he points out that there are ‘wrinkles’ in between her eyebrows. 

(3) しまりのない or ‘shimari no nai’ is always tricky for me to translate because it means ‘loose’, ‘lax’ or ‘slack’. I can’t help but feel like it sounds awkward in English though. 

(4) At Japanese high schools, the students generally stay in the same classroom while the teachers swap. However, for certain classes such as art, music and science, they may have to move to another classroom which has the right equipment. These are called ‘移動教室’ or ‘idou-kyoushitsu’ which means ‘moving classroom’, literally. 

(5) Sex education is also a part of 保健体育 or ‘hoken-taiku’ which is ‘health class’, so I’m sure Ayato is talking about some sort of erotic novel.

(6) Literally he asks her what language she is speaking, implying he has no idea what she is talking about.

(7) Students at Japanese middle & high schools usually help out with several tasks such as cleaning the classroom after classes are over, or collecting print-outs and carrying them to the staff room. Even in the games, there’s a bunch of scenarios where Yui is asked to do that sort of stuff. 

[kindahoping4forever]

Wanna Know That Body Like It’s Mine // Calum Hood

@cal-puddies​​​ and I once again cannot thank you all enough for clowning with us during another Hoe Hours weekend! If you haven’t yet, be sure and check out Cass’s Cal fic from yesterday (I Love The Sound, I Love The Taste) and my Ash fic (Fight So Dirty) that kicked off the event. (In addition to the bonus Cal blurb - What’s Mine Is Yours - we couldn’t help but co-write because again, we’re clowns.)

We’ve been hyped on this piece for a while - it was requested by an anon (and specifically requested we co-write, which warmed our hearts) about a month ago and while there were stops and starts, we’ve basically been working on it ever since (I swear Cass had sent me a shared doc within seconds of me sharing the request lol). We can’t wait to hear what you think so please blow up both of our inboxes!

Warnings: Boyfriend!Cal. So much smut but an equal amount of feelings. Unprotected sex in an established relationship, oral and manual stimulation of both a male and a female, semi-public sexual encounter, sex toys, rimming, pegging.

Word Count: 11,384

Cass & Crystal’s Masterlist  // Hoe Hours Masterlist

Crystal: Taglist // Ko-Fi          Cass: Taglist // Ko-Fi

Let  us  know  what  you  think!

————-

“Hey babe!” Calum calls out, letting himself in to your apartment.

He’s greeted by a fit of giggles followed by an apologetic “Sorry, Cal, we’re almost done.”

“That’s OK, pretty girl, I’m early.” He walks by the living room, offering a quick ‘hey’ to you and the friend you’re visiting with and then helps himself to your kitchen. He gets himself some water and finds something to munch on, leaning against the counter and absentmindedly scrolls his phone while he waits.

He respects your privacy so he does his best to tune out what he can hear of your conversation but he can’t help the way his ears perk up when he hears your friend use the term “pegging.” He can’t hear much beyond that and he makes a note to ask you about it later.

She leaves shortly after and you pop your head into the kitchen on your way to change into your date night outfit. “Ready in 10,” you announce.

“No rush, baby, take all the time you need,” he reassures you, still scrolling his phone.

You sidle up next to him. “Of course you say that, you’re in here spoiling your dinner,” you tease, dipping your hand into the box of crackers he’d selected and shoveling a few into your mouth.

He takes a breath to defend himself but is stopped when you slide a few crackers into his open mouth; he chuckles and presses a crummy kiss to your lips and swats at you as you leave the room.

Date night is a success: you and Calum treat yourselves to a great dinner and even greater sex. You’re cuddling in bed afterwards, talking about whatever comes to mind. There’s a brief lull in the conversation and then he asks you how your afternoon visit went.

“Oh, it was entertaining as always, you know she’s always got a story,” you laugh.

“Sounded like, you girls were really getting into it when I showed up,” he teases, kissing the top of your head as you lay on his chest. He waits a beat then continues, “Did I overhear something about pegging? I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but I was digging through the fridge and that’s the type of thing that kinda grabs the attention.”

You nod and smile against his skin. “Yeah, she was saying they’d been talking about it for a while and then he whisked her away on this big trip for her birthday last month, surprised her with all the gear and they finally did it.”

His curiosity is piqued so after about 30 seconds, when it seems like you’re not going to continue the conversation, he boldly presses, “And?”

Unfazed, you reply, “And? They loved it. Said it made her feel powerful, he came harder than she’d ever seen. Super hot, brought them closer together, all that stuff.”

“Huh,” Calum comments noncommittally. There’s another short hanging silence and then he asks, “You ever thought about that?”

“Pegging? Um... you know, it’s not really something that’s crossed my mind.” You kinda shrug and turn your head up to look at his face. “Is it something you want me to think about?”

“Maybe… I don’t know,” he ponders out loud. “I don’t think I’d be opposed... I mean, you let me do that to you.”

“Well, it was a lot of work to get me to be able to take you that way,” you remind him.

“And I think it was worth it. And you don’t seem to complain about it,” he playfully argues.

You smirk at him, “There’s nothing to complain about. I do like it, that’s why we keep doing it.”

“You make valid points,” he grins. He watches you yawn and then kisses your nose. “Get some sleep, love.”

The subject doesn’t come up again over the next few days and you think nothing of it when you receive a text from Cal asking if you want to visit the sex shop. You both enjoy incorporating toys into your sex regularly and you hadn’t treated yourselves in a while, so you respond that it’s a great idea.

You walk hand in hand into the shop and then Cal kisses your cheek and you break off to look at different things. You browse for a while and then decide to find him and see if he had anything particular in mind for this trip.

You find him in front of the wall of strap ons, harnesses and dildos and he’s looking more than a little wide-eyed.

“Hey handsome, what’d you find?” You ask, curiously peering in the direction of his eyeline.

He leans in and admits in a low voice, “After our talk the other night... I just keep thinking about it.”

“Oh... OK,” you reply, rubbing his back gently. You’re a bit surprised but immediately supportive. “So... what are we looking for?” You gesture towards the wall.

You watch as he opens his mouth a couple times to answer and then he just shuts it and walks forward, looking closer at different toys. You can immediately sense he’s overwhelmed by the choices.

You link your arm in his and press a peck to his shoulder. “I know it looks like a lot but you’ve helped me pick out toys before so you’re not totally in the dark here,” you point out. “It would just be... you know, for you this time.”

“I think that’s the intimidating part,” he comments, chewing his lip. “I don’t want to pick wrong and not enjoy it and mess up something that’s supposed to be fun for us.”

You rub his arm tenderly. “Cal, we’re talking about us, we always have fun trying things. So you don’t need to worry about that,” you say firmly, hoping your confidence will provide comfort to him. “If you want to do this, the important thing is that you’re comfortable and figuring out what you want is the first step.”

He nods and scans the wall again, taking a deep breath. “The flesh colored ones are a lot,” he says quietly. “We should get a fun color.” You smile agreeably.

“I’m not ready for balls. Just a cock,” he states, almost under his breath. You bite your lip in amusement, not wanting to discourage him.

“This is good, bubba, you’re narrowing it down,” you encourage him.

An employee sets up a ladder to the left of you to get a toy down for another couple and you see Calum’s eyes repeatedly darting over there; you’re not sure if it’s out of embarrassment at his uncertainty or curiosity in what they’ve selected.

You give him another couple minutes but he’s gone quiet and you decide to step in. “Maybe it would help if we went home and talked about it? You can look at some of my toys, feel the different textures… we can look online and filter things down?” You gently suggest. “This was a good start but it might be easier to make a decision without the pressure of being in a store.”

He exhales, you assume in relief, and puts his arm around you. “Sounds good, baby,” he agrees. You expect him to lead you out of the store but instead he walks you over to the furthest corner of the intimidating wall. “Wanted to show you this, thought it suited you for some reason.”

He points at a box containing a chic-looking red and black harness; it’s a similar style to lingerie he’s picked out for you before, with fancy lacing details over the hips and ass. Of course even when planning a sexual encounter that he’s requested, he would think of you first. You grin at him. “I love it, we should get it,” you declare.

“Yeah?” He beams excitedly, picking up the box. “It caught my eye and I couldn’t get the thought of you in it out of my mind. It says it’s adjustable for most toys and it’s crotchless.” He winks at the last part and you giggle, taking the box from him and heading to the counter.

You leave the store on a high and Cal seems really into it for a few days; next time he’s over at yours, he even asks to have a look at your toys. He feels them, wanting to understand the weight and the girth.

“I have to applaud you,” he comments, sitting on your bed, studying your collection.

“For what, bub?” You casually reply, laying on the bed, watching him.

His eyes widen as he gestures at the various shapes and sizes in front of him. “You take all of this so well… and I think about you taking my cock and… holy shit, babe, that’s not easy.”

“Well… thank you, baby,” you chuckle. “But also, we probably won’t use anything similar to your cock for you just yet,” you wink.

And then it’s forgotten. Days pass without Calum bringing it up and you don’t feel like you should, since it’s something he instigated and you don’t want to make him feel pressured.

“It’s totally fine if you’ve changed your mind on the pegging thing,” you casually say one night, sitting on the kitchen counter while he loads the dishwasher. “I just want to make sure you’re not avoiding talking to me about it because you’re afraid to.”

“Hmm?” He looks up at you. “I guess I wasn’t sure how you felt about it,” he shrugs.

“I think it’d be fucking hot, Cal, but we’re not doing it for me,” you explain. “I’m not the one who needs to make the decision here. But for the record, if you want it, I’ll be happy to do it.”

“Well then,” he smirks. “I’m about done here. Let’s go look for some toys.”

Moments later, you’re on the couch; you sit on Cal’s lap and his computer sits on yours. You pull up a couple different sites and start filtering.

“OK, so what do you think about firmness?” He gives you a questioning look in response. You smile softly. “OK so my pink one and the like, kind of clear one? Those were super soft right?” He nods. “So we’re gonna want something firmer than that. But we probably don’t want anything too hard either.”

“Right, so like a medium then?” He reaches around you to reach the touchpad, scrolling the page. “Which of these do you use?”

“Mmm, don’t have toys for my ass.” You reach down and wrap your hand around his cock through his shorts. “Only this guy and the plugs we bought.”

“Someone’s frisky,” he comments, eyes turning back to the screen.

You filter the pages, pointing out a few options, clicking across a few different sites but still haven’t removed your hand from his crotch. He lets out a loud breath through his nose. “You OK baby?” You ask sweetly.

“Yeah, I’m great. Got a pretty girl on my lap, just barely giving me a hand job through my shorts, looking at cocks to fuck me with,” he shrugs. “All while we’re sat in the living room; just a normal day.”

“Oh, if the location is an issue, we can take this to the bedroom,” you offer with a laugh.

Calum shakes his head. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

You turn and look him directly in the eye. “Well, I know one way you could find out for sure,” you lilt, spreading your legs a little.

“You act like I won’t,” he teases. He sticks his hand down the front of your shorts, slicking his fingers through your folds. He pulls his hand out and lifts his fingers to his mouth. “Yeah… we’re gonna wrap this up in the bedroom,” he announces.

He leads you to the bedroom and sits up on the bed, gesturing for you to sit up against him. You fit yourself in between his legs and pull the computer into your lap. “Let’s finish this up,” you murmur, looking back at him.

He agrees and you go back to searching, though every so often you shift your hips just so to hear him gasp. He points out some choices that he likes and you go find your soft tape measure to make sure he understands the girth of the cocks he’s picking. You instruct him to measure a few of your toys but “for reference” he pulls out his own cock to measure and that gets him distracted.

You see him stroking himself out of the corner of your eye but you try to stay focused on your search, opening a few more tabs to show him. You hear the familiar hiss that means he must’ve just thumbed over the head of his cock in a very particular way and you finally have to look up at him.

“What is this, hands on research?” You joke, taking a deep breath to steady yourself at the sight.  

Cal grins, closing the laptop and setting it aside. He grabs your hips to bring you face to face with him. “Think that’s enough for today,” he says deeply, nipping at your neck. “I need you.”

“I mean, it seemed like you were doing OK on your own,” you breathe as you reach for his hard cock, lightly running your fingers up the shaft.

Suddenly his mouth is on yours, kissing you with an intensity you don’t quite recognize. Melting into the kiss, your hands race his as you rid each other of your clothing and within moments you’re sitting in his lap, positioned above him, teasing his cock with your wetness.

He’s torn between wanting to whine at your teasing and wanting to tease you for being just as affected by the situation as he was so he splits the difference and moans as he grabs your hips and thrusts up into you.

You start to ride Calum at a fairly steady pace but he’s clearly determined to get you both off and get you both off fast; his hands are seemingly glued to your hips and he bounces you up and down on his cock, meeting your every movement with his own.

Neither of you say anything, letting your noises speak for you. He only lets go of you when he sees you biting your lip as you try to find the right friction; he moves one hand to grab your ass and the other he slips between your legs to find your clit.

It only takes a couple minutes from there for you both to finish in a flurry of noises. He keeps you in his lap for a moment, as you both come down. “See, pegging is already doing wonders for our sex life,” he quietly jokes, kissing your face.

The next day, you come over after work; you let yourself in and find Calum on the bed, with the websites already pulled up for you to browse together.

“I’ve been doing some thinking,” he announces as you sit next to him.

“Thinking’s good,” you chirp, kissing his cheek before resting your head on his shoulder.

“I know we didn’t find exactly what I wanted but we were only looking in the dildo section, since we already bought you that badass harness you’re gonna look so hot in,” he excitedly rambles. “SO, out of curiosity, I clicked on some of their kits and I think they could work for us.”

He clicks through a number of tabs on his browser, searching for what he wants to show you and explaining his findings to you. You’re honestly impressed by the amount of research he’s done on his own; it makes you feel good to know he’s decided to take an active role in this process, it lets you know he’s serious about it. It also makes you irredeemably horny to know he’s been sitting here alone, spending what looks like a considerable amount of time contemplating what the perfect kind of cock is for you to fuck him with. You press your legs together and try to listen to what he’s saying.

“...It comes with different sizes so that gives us some leeway on that decision - they’re all cute colors, no balls. And it says they all have the flared base so we can use our harness instead of the one it comes with,” he reports, scrolling through the website’s pictures for you to see.

He’s right; the set he’s found ticks basically every box on your shopping list. You can see why it would catch his eye: it’s equal parts arousing and unintimidating, made for a beginner like him. “Cal, this looks great,” you enthuse, reaching over to add the set to your cart. “You’re better at this than even I am, I don’t think I’ve ever picked out a toy this fast.”

“I don’t know about that,” he preens a little at your praise. “I just clicked around and once I saw this one, I started picturing you with it and… I think it’s a good choice.” His voice catches slightly and he clears it, pointing to the moderately sized royal blue dildo.

Again, your entire body feels charged thinking about Calum thinking about you, wanting you like this. You begin pressing wet kisses along his jaw and he chuckles at your eagerness. “Got a couple other things I think we should shop for, pretty girl,” he smirks, seeing you pout in his periphery.

“Oh? Let me see,” you reply, moving to snatch the computer away from him. You giggle as Cal anticipates your move and sits it beside him on the bed so he can continue searching. You sit up on your knees and continue mouthing at his jaw, neck and ears, your hands lightly moving over his chest. You take note of the way his sweatpants are beginning to tent.

“Baby,” he breathes. “I wanna show you this set of plugs… might be a good idea… we didn’t go right into having you take my cock… worked up to it.” His breathing increases every few words and you know you’ve got him when you thumb over his hardened nipple through his shirt and he shudders.

You shake your hand under his shirt to give more direct attention to his nipples while sucking on his neck. “Yeah, Cal... plugs... sounds great,” you murmur.

“What’s got you so needy today, my love?” He chuckles, grabbing the back of your head for a proper kiss.

“Something about you taking such an interest here, making an effort to get it right... I appreciate it," you mumble against his lips before pulling him in for an even deeper kiss.

“Well. Something about you taking that kind of control... seeing you strapped up and wanting me that way...” He groans. “C’mere, darlin.”

He pulls you back onto his lap; you make out hungrily and it's just as intense as the day before but not as frantic. After a few moments, your shirts are discarded and you start slightly grinding in his lap. Cal grips tight onto your hips, pulling you down a little harder. 

“Have you ever experimented before?” You ask, pulling your face away from his to gauge the answer.

Getting him to share isn't always easy so you don't expect him to answer so breezily. "Always wondered what it'd be like, dipped a finger back there a couple times but never really pushed in," he shrugs. "Felt kind of silly doing it myself. And I couldn’t ever imagine someone doing it for me until now." He smiles softly, eyes shining.

Your heart flutters at his honesty. “Should we give it a go then?” You quirk an eyebrow, smiling as well. You feel him tense for a second and you thread your fingers in his hair. “I mean, we should start trying at some point, but we can take it slow,” you explain. He stays quiet and you reassure him, “We don’t have to do this yet if you’re not ready.”

He studies your face for a second and breathes deep. "I want to… think I’m just kind of wrapping my head around it," he admits, furrowing his brow.

You melt at his conflicted expression and kiss him tenderly. "Hey, you don't have to worry, we're in this together, you know?" He nods firmly at your encouragement. "Good... luckily I know by now how to get you to relax," you tease as you kiss down his chest, palming him through his sweatpants.

He lets out a breath through his nose. “Baby.” He’s grinning, you can hear it even with your eyes closed.

You let his cock spring free and you softly kiss the tip before pulling his pants all the way off.

“You trust me, baby boy?” You ask, tugging at the band of his pants.

Cal lifts his hips. “Of course,” he offers without hesitation.

“OK. I’m gonna try something, alright?” You warn, coming back up to pay special attention to his cock.

You hear him murmur his consent as you lick up and down the sides of him and then sink your mouth down, bobbing just enough to get him nice and covered in spit. You pull off and check his face, which is watching you, fascinated; he raises his eyebrows in anticipation for what's to come, given your announcement.

You wrap your hand around his length, slowly tugging it as you mouth his balls. You gently rub your hand up and down the back of his thigh before pushing it up and very gently kissing your way down further. You gently lick over his puckered hole and wait to see how he reacts.

You hear a sharp intake of breath which you expect, what you don't expect is the way he slightly scoots his ass down closer to you. You move your tongue against his opening again, this time adding a couple swirling motions, which earn you some low groans.

You grin to yourself and repeat the action. He wraps his hand around the back of his leg, lifting it for you so you can focus your attention where he really wants it. Calum may be ready for this after all.

There’s a whimper that escapes his lips that lets you know he’s enjoying this more than he was letting on. “Tongue,” is all he says. “So good...”

You let go of his cock and slide both hands up the back of his thighs, pushing them closer to his chest.

“So pretty, babe,” you coo. He’s had you like this many times before and you can see why he likes it, the vulnerability it forces you to share. “Touch your cock,” you direct, going back to tend to his hole.

He seems entranced by the way you're making him feel, a seemingly never-ending gravelly whine pouring from his throat. After a few more flicks of your tongue, you pull back and notice his hands remain clenched at his sides.

"Cal, baby," you lightly tap his thigh. "Stroke yourself for me, handsome, I know you need it."

Calum breaks out of his daze at the sound of your voice and pulls his cock away from his stomach, where it's been laying there leaking.

You go back to work and he wraps a hand around himself; he manages two or three tugs before he lets out a guttural moan and immediately drops his cock again. "Babe... touching feels too good... don't wanna cum yet, want you to keep going," he pants.

“Oh... I’ve got a needy baby boy, huh?” You tease. You let go of his thigh and reach for his abandoned cock, lightly teasing your fingertips over it while you lap at his entrance.

You feel him relax a bit so you start to tease the tip of your tongue inside him, partly for him but mostly so you can hear his neediest whines yet.

Cal whimpers as you cup his balls and run your finger lightly on the underside of his shaft. You can see the precum pooling on his stomach.

He’s mumbling with that rasp that his voice gets only when he's feeling truly wrecked. You place a few sloppy wet kisses to that space between his hole and his balls and he shouts as his whole body jumps.

You pull back to admire him in his debauched state and the cry that leaves his lips confirms what bad shape he’s in. He lets out a breathy, “Baby, why?” followed by a begging, “Please don’t stop.”

“Just wasn’t sure if you were enjoying it,” you tease, diving back in with more enthusiasm and determination than before.

You keep one hand lightly massaging his base and it only takes a few more licks over his opening for you to feel him twitch in your grasp and to hear him groaning. His orgasm is absolutely obscene; his cock spurts rope after rope of cum over his torso, as he whines desperately, still pushing his body closer to you, urging you to keep going.

You give him what he wants and keep flicking your tongue against him over and over with the occasional dip inside until you feel him start to settle down. You move your kisses to his thighs and look up at him again.

"Cal?" You check on him.

His eyes are still screwed shut, his hand now tight around his cock, squeezing the last few drops of cum from his tip. “I’m good baby... so fuckin’ good,” he sighs. His other hand reaches out to you and his body relaxes completely. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him so wrecked and it makes you want to do this for him even more.

You take his hand and grasp it tightly, coming up to gently stroke his lightly sweat-covered face with your other hand. "Did so good for me, bub, holy shit," you compliment him. "So hot seeing you like that, I could definitely get used to this."

He kisses your hand and then looks down at his cum covered body. “I think I could too,” he laughs euphorically.

The weekend comes and Cal lets himself into your place, as he always does; Duke comes scampering in too.

“Hi love!” You greet the dog, leaning over to pet him.

Cal grins, watching you with Duke.

“Hiya, other love.” You wrap your arms around his neck and stand on your toes to kiss him. “Listen… I went ahead and bought those toys you showed me,” you say nonchalantly as you pull away.

“Oh? Good... I forgot,” he says sheepishly. 

“Look, I haven’t been dating you for this long not to assume you wouldn’t remember after we got high and you buried your face in between my thighs like I was your last meal,” you tease, tapping his shoulder.

“And I’d do it again,” he smirks. “Especially... like… I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about your tongue every day we did that.”

“Oh? Enjoyable for you, handsome?” You chuckle.

“I mean, judging by the amount of cum you cleaned off my stomach, I'd have to say yes,” he says with wide eyes, pulling you back in to him.

It’s only a matter of time before you’re back in the bedroom. Your panties stay on but Calum is completely naked, on his back and holding his thighs up for you again. His breathing is heavy and he’s whimpering as your tongue dances over his hole.

You pull back and peer over at him. “Cal… do you wanna try something?” You ask.

“Yeah, baby, anything you want,” he rushes out.

“Babe, this is about you,” you point out patiently.

“I know… you’re right… I want it, I want it.” It’s almost panicked the way he’s whining.

You run your hands along the sides of his thighs soothingly. You reach over for the small bottle of lube you’d tucked under one of your pillows just in case and coat your fingers with it. You wrap your hand around his cock and slowly touch him, knowing he might need the distraction and then you gently tease a finger against his hole, swirling it, causing him to gasp. You wait until he relaxes and then you squeeze his shaft as you slowly start to push your finger in.

Cal lets out a breathy “Oh” like you’ve never heard and you press a kiss to his leg as you push in a little further. You continue slowly like this for a minute until his breath sputters and you feel him tightening around your finger. You pause and start to pull back but then he emits a deep “Keep going” that you can’t disagree with.

You push your finger in slowly past the resistance and then gently start moving around, looking for that one spot; you’ve done your research so you would know what to expect and what you were looking for.

He practically pries your hand off his cock. “Can’t,” he whines, desperate.

“OK, handsome,” you murmur. You kiss along his thighs and wrap your free hand around one. You work your finger a bit more, watching his body react. When he starts moving back against you, you ask, “Want another?”

“Mmm hmm,” he nods frantically, eyes closed.

You slick a bit more lube onto your second finger and start to work it in as well. “Doing so good for me, baby,” you sigh. You didn’t realize how worked up you had gotten until you hear how breathy your voice comes out. “This is so fucking hot, Cal.”

“Oh god, baby,” he cries, voice straining as your two digits move inside him. You look up at him and he’s looking right back; it’s one of the more intense moments you two have shared. He drops his head to the pillows and you watch his back arch and a slew of curse words spill from his lips. “Right. There,” he huffs.

You gently bite his thigh. “Want to see you cum for me, baby,” you coo, confident in your movements. Almost immediately, his sounds become even breathier and whinier and you see his hand fly to grasp his cock as the cum starts spurting. “There you go, baby boy,” you praise as he desperately bucks his hips. “So good, handsome.”

You pull your fingers out and Calum lays panting for a while, dazed. You press a kiss to each of his knees and move to start cleaning up. His eyes are shut but he feels you moving around the room and he reaches out to touch your arm. “I love you, baby,” he quietly rasps.

The next morning, Cal gets up just after dawn to take Duke out and never returns to bed. You find him at your kitchen table, eating a bowl of oatmeal and writing in his journal.

“Morning, bub,” you yawn, kissing the top of his head as you pass by to make yourself some breakfast. "I was thinking if it's nice out, we might take Duke to the park today?"

He gets up and takes his bowl to the sink. “Oh, uh… I was actually thinking I’d head out pretty soon,” he says apologetically. “I’ve been busy so the house is kind of a mess… there’s actually a lot I should take care of.”

“Oh. OK, yeah,” you shrug. You’re slightly surprised, you thought you were spending the day together but it’s not unlike Cal for him to put vital tasks until the last minute. “Maybe next week.”

The next few days follow a similar pattern. You ask Calum if he wants to grab dinner, he already has plans. He’s “swamped” and has to postpone your movie night. There’s still a “Good morning, pretty girl” text waiting for you when you wake up every day and a “Good night, my love” text that chimes every night when you’re brushing your teeth so you’re not too worried but you can tell something is off.

You get an email that your toy order has shipped and you send a screenshot to Cal, accompanied by the eggplant and dripping emojis. It takes him a while to reply, which is typical, but when he finally does, all you get back is “lol.” You frown. You don’t know how you expected him to respond but it was definitely not “lol.”

Your understanding of the situation starts becoming a bit clearer when you scroll up through your text thread and see that every time you’ve brought up your recent encounters, he’s either changed the subject or given an extremely short, vague response. You exhale slowly. You’re going to have to talk to him.

A hike is the least confrontational activity you can think to suggest and he agrees to meet you at your usual spot with Duke later that afternoon. They find you in the parking lot and you kneel down to show the small dog some love before you give your boyfriend a peck on the cheek.

As you’d hoped, you basically have the trail to yourselves; you walk for a bit, chatting easily about everyday things. You stop for a quick break and you decide to take a deep breath and go for it. “Kinda wanted to talk to you about something, bubba,” you start, hoping you don’t sound as uneasy as you feel.

Cal sits on a nearby bench and scoops Duke up to sit beside him. He doesn’t say anything, just looks at you, brow furrowed, dark eyes squinting in that way he does when he’s really concentrating on what you’re saying.

You sit next to them; you want to look him in the eyes but you’re weirdly nervous so you focus on petting the sweet dog who is also patiently waiting for you to make your case. “I feel like… and I could be totally wrong and please tell me if I am… but I feel like maybe you’ve been avoiding seeing me after you know… the last night we spent together,” you try to put it as delicately as possible. “And it’s fine if you didn’t like it and it’s fine if you want to stop trying the things we’ve been trying but… I need you to talk to me about it, Cal. I shouldn’t have to guess here and I’m feeling really shut out.”

He’s quiet for a minute but you know he’s going to take his time weighing his words and making sure he expresses himself clearly. Finally he quietly says, “You’re right.”

There’s another pause and you hope to ease his mind by cracking, “That’s a good start, babe, but I’m gonna need a little more.”

Calum shakes his head fondly, waits a beat, then lets it all out, both slow and rushed as only he can. “I guess I just didn’t expect… I don’t know, baby, we’ve been together a while and we’ve done a lot of shit but that’s the closest to you I’ve ever felt. Which is good like… I want that. But I just felt really… exposed?” He stares off down the trail for a few seconds, gathering his thoughts. “I’ve just never felt need like that before and I don’t think I was prepared for how it would feel to let you see me like that.”

It takes a minute for him to feel like he can meet your eyes and you can’t help but think it’s for the best, as yours are brimming with tears. You feel so deeply for him in this moment and the love you have for him overwhelms you.

“Baby,” you whisper, reaching your hand over the bench to squeeze his shoulder. “That’s a lot. And I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t talk to me? You didn’t have to deal with all that alone.”

“A bit hard to be open with someone about being embarrassed you were open with them,” he points out with a shrug.

“But Cal, that’s just it! There’s no reason to feel embarrassed, you know there’s no judgement between us, especially in bed,” you firmly insist. “And if you are feeling weird about anything, I need to know. The only way we can continue this is if you talk to me, babe, that’s just the way it’s gotta be.”

Calum nods quietly and sits Duke on his lap so he can pull you closer, placing his arm around you. You rest your head on his shoulder and say, “You have to trust me with this, bub. I’m not gonna feel comfortable doing this unless I know you can communicate with me. How can I be sure you’ll tell me if something doesn’t feel right physically if you feel awkward even telling me that your feelings are off, baby?”

He squeezes your arm. “I can do that,” he promises. “I also think I was a little afraid to make you feel bad about it. I really did like it. And I could tell you did too. It was just the after I had trouble processing.”

You lift your head up and gently turn his face to look at you. “I’ll make you a deal,” you state. “I can definitely step up my aftercare game for you. But for me, Cal, I need once and for all you to understand that this isn’t about me. I know it goes against your instincts and I love that about you but we’re doing this for your pleasure and that’s all that matters to me.”

“Deal. Although… I’m still gonna give you one hell of an orgasm when you do this for me… there’s no talking me out of that,” he smirks, lightening the mood.

You text him later that week to let him know the toys have arrived and his face immediately flashes on your screen.

“Should we get out of town?” He asks.

“We can do whatever you think is gonna be most comfortable for you, bubba,” you affirm. “I figured you’d want to do it at your place because it’s familiar territory and it’s going to be such an unfamiliar experience…”

“I know I agreed that technically this is for me but... I still feel like it’s about us…” He thinks out loud. “I dunno, part of me wants to take you away on this big romantic adventure so we can be alone together. No outside world, just our bubble.”

“I love you, baby. Whatever you want,” you say softly.

And so it’s settled. The next afternoon Calum is waiting for you on your couch when you get home from your half-day at work. He’s already packed a bag for you and he’s raring to go.

You head into your room to change and decide to check what he packed for you. You unzip the bag and to your surprise, it appears he’s thought of just about everything, including his favorite lingerie for you. The harness, the dildo set and the plugs are all accounted for and he’d even remembered your travel bag from the bathroom. You smile at his effort and head back out to him.

“Great pack job, baby, I’m all set!” You toss the bag by the door excitedly.

He grabs your hand as you walk to the door and for some reason it goes straight to your core; you’re not travelling far but you realize the drive is about to feel that much longer.

You haven’t been in the car very long when Cal starts noticing how touchy you’re being with him and about halfway through the trip, he decides to ask. “What’s with you, baby?” He asks, playfully nudging your knee.

“Nothing,” you tease. “I’m just excited! Time alone together? This is rare.”

He glances over at you and gives you a look. “You sure that’s it? Because the way you’re squeezing your thighs tells me you're excited in another way.”

“Honestly, Cal... I’d give anything to ride your face right about now,” you boldly admit and give a cheeky grin when you see his face twitch at your words.

He groans, “The absolute death of me.” Shaking his head, he quietly commands, “Undo your shorts.” You do him one better and push your shorts to the floor.

“Can’t get my mouth right now, but I’m sure my fingers will do,” he mumbles as he very quickly pushes your panties out of the way and slicks his fingers through your folds. “Oh... pretty girl,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers away to suck them into his mouth. You turn your body toward him, resting your back against the door and pulling one leg into the seat with you.

Cal steals a glance and his thumb presses to your clit, causing you to moan.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, you naughty girl,” he teases, nudging his pointer finger inside you. “Is this how you’re gonna be all weekend?”

“Probably,” you shrug nonchalantly.

“Good,” he responds smugly. “I knew getting away would be the right choice.”

He pushes two fingers in and you grip the seat, letting out a little noise of approval. “Please, Cal!”

He knows he can’t take his eyes off the road no matter how badly he wants to look at you, so he turns down the radio so he can listen to your moans and let his imagination fill in the rest. You resituate and tilt your hips up toward him more. “Rub your clit, baby… want you to cum for me,” he growls.

You bite your lip and do as you’re asked. You moan loudly as he pushes in a third finger and his eyes somehow remain on the road. You let out a little gasp.

Calum can’t help but steal a glance. “Mmm, my pretty girl’s pretty pussy,” he licks his lips. “You’re so close, baby, I feel you squeezin’ my fingers.”

You grab onto his wrist with your free hand as his fingers continue to pump in and out of you. Your head lulls back against the window and he makes quick work of finishing you. “Yes, baby, so hot when you cum for me,” he praises.

He withdraws his fingers once you stop throbbing around them and he lifts his index finger to your lips for you to suck clean; he goes on to suck the other two.

You sit, still exposed to him, catching your breath and you eye his hard on. “Don’t even think about it, darlin’,” he warns, keeping focused on the road. “I can practically read your mind and you’re basically salivating.”

“Can’t help it if I wanna suck you off…” You say breathily, hand dancing up his thigh. “You just made me cum… makes me wanna make you cum… you knew what to expect.”

“And now I expect you to keep your hands to yourself till we get there. Just a little bit further baby,” he promises.

You huffingly adjust your clothes and see him smirking out of the corner of your eye. But he’s right and it’s not long before you’ve made it to the hotel and checked into your room. The energy between you is wild; comfortable but nervous, familiar yet unknown. You find things to do to busy yourself, knowing it’d be ridiculous for you to immediately jump into bed. Cal connects his phone to the room’s sound system to play some music, hoping to ease the tension as you both unpack

The music helps and you go from humming along to the music to singing to being goofily spun around the room by him within minutes. After a few songs, the only bag left unopened is the one containing all your toys and you stare at it for a beat.

He notices your hesitation and comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around you. “Let’s leave it for now, baby.” He nuzzles into your neck. “Sitting in the car all that time got me craving a hot shower, come join me.”

The shower (and inevitable shower sex) helps you both relax and when you’re back in the bedroom getting dressed afterwards, you bound over to the bag left on the bed.

“This is silly. Why am I nervous now that we’re here? Do you feel nervous?” You babble as you sit on the bed, unzipping the bag and dumping it out next to you.  

Cal smiles to himself and sits down next to you. He soothingly rubs a hand over your back and with the other he picks up one of the dildos, examining it. “Nah, I’m quite looking forward to getting to know our new friends,” he says lightly. He sits it down and leans in closer to you. “It’s gonna be so good, darlin’. Can’t wait for you to fill me up,” he rasps.

You suck in a breath and capture his lips in an eager kiss that’s somehow both comforting and thrilling. “I don’t know if that qualifies as a pep talk but thanks, bub,” you laugh against his skin.

The rest of the day seems to fly by; you and Calum decide over drinks that it’d probably be best to ease into things and just try out the plugs for your first night. He insists on eating you out before you even think about touching him and by the time he makes you cum, he’s whining against you.

You’re not sure what you were expecting but the plug experience goes off without a hitch. You think to yourself that you’ll never tire of seeing him spread himself for you, never tire of hearing the new type of moans he’s been letting out since you started this journey.

It doesn’t take Cal very long to get used to the smallest plug in the set and you’re surprised when he asks you if you’ll switch to the next size up. He must’ve noticed your reaction because he tells you that the past few times he’s jerked off, he’s also fingered himself, thinking about your upcoming plans. That admission leaves you throbbing and Cal has to get you off again before either of you turn in for the night.

The next morning, you awaken to the feeling of light kisses being pressed along the back of your neck and Cal pressing himself his hardening cock into your backside, warm hands rubbing over your thighs. “Morning, pretty girl,” he says with a crack, his voice not as awake as the rest of him. “Think it’s time, baby.”

It takes a few seconds for his meaning to land. “OH,” you turn and look at him with wide eyes. “Is it? Like right now? First thing in the morning?”

“Don’t wanna wait any longer, want you now,” he murmurs, kissing over your face.

You indulge him for a second before pulling back and asking, "What time even is it? It feels early."

Calum hovers over you, nibbling at your ear. "Doesn't matter, babe. Sun's out, it's a beautiful day and it's fuckin' time," he enthuses.

There's a beat as his words register with the both of you and you clamp a hand over your mouth to stifle a snort. He grins at you. "I meant that like for emphasis, like ‘It's fuckin’ time' not like I'm calling sex Fuckin’ Time," he laughs loudly, shoulders shaking the further he gets into his defense.

You cackle, tears running out of your eyes. You tease, "What does it say about me that I still want you after hearing that come out of your mouth?"

He shakes his head, breath coming out in wheezes. "You must really have it bad for me, I guess," he shrugs, eyes sparkling.

"Something like that," you giggle, drawing him in for a kiss. You nip at his mouth as you pull away. "Now, let's get what we need, baby. It's Fuckin' Time."

He hops in the shower while you evaluate the lingerie he packed for you and decide what he'd like best. You get out your gear and think to yourself how glad you are that you watched a video online about how to properly fit the harness for your body; you're so excited you're not sure you'd be able to figure it out on your own otherwise.

By the time Calum's out of the shower, you're admiring your reflection in the mirror above the dresser; you could always count on him to pick out underwear that both accentuated the things he loves most about you and made you feel great. Your hand wraps around the synthetic cock jutting proudly from your crotch; you give it a light squeeze and marvel at how the silicone is such a familiar feeling but feeling the weight of it attached to you, seeing it as part of you, knowing what you're about to do with it? All new feelings, equally jarring and thrilling.

You hear a sharp intake of breath behind you and turn to see Cal, clad only in his grey sweatpants. He walks over, eyes never wavering from you and takes your hand to spin you around so he can fully appreciate you. He lets out a soft whistle. “Gorgeous,” he praises, eyes travelling over you and landing on the royal blue dildo he chose. “A pretty cock for my pretty girl.”

He pulls you in to kiss you and you giggle against his lips as you feel him shifting, trying to find a comfortable place to situate your protruding appendage. “Is this what you have to deal with with me, baby? Jesus,” he laughs at the awkward dance.

You shrug. “I’d say it’s worth it,” you say flirtatiously as you reach down to palm him, raising an eyebrow when you feel him soft.

He runs a hand over the back of his neck like he does when he gets bashful. “I, uh, might’ve pre-gamed a little in the shower. I wanted to be sure I could make this last,” he discloses.

You smile and peck his lips. “Good boy,” you coo.

Cal steps back and eyes you for a second. “You’re feelin’ yourself, aren’t you, baby?” He grins at you.

You bite your lip and turn back to your reflection and you find yourself wrapping a hand around the dildo once again. “Actually, I kind of am,” you state with a nod.

He kisses your shoulder. “I’m feelin’ you too... now let me get you off so we can get to Fuckin’ Time,” he jokes.

You giggle as he leads you to the bed. "Always such a way with words," you tease.

Calum attempts to lay you down with him but you hold a hand up, signaling you need a moment. You reach over to the bedside table, where you’d ended up unpacking your toys, and come back up with lube and the plug he liked the night before.

“We should probably start with prepping you, handsome,” you suggest gently.

He nods in agreement and lifts up to strip off his sweatpants. He holds his knees for you, like he’s done so many times now, and waits to feel the chill of the lube against his entrance. He gasps sharply when he feels your tongue briefly brush against him instead.

“Sorry, baby boy, couldn’t help myself,” you chuckle, pressing a kiss to his inner thigh. He ends up taking the plug with even less resistance than the previous session and he beams as the praise flows from your lips.

You lay beside him and sigh as he moves above you, kissing along your neck and the tops of your breasts, murmuring about how pretty they look in the bra he picked out. You expect him to make his way in between your legs but he pulls back before he makes it there. "Think I'm gonna need you on my face, love."

You let out an excited hum as Cal gets situated next to you and squeal as he grabs you and pulls you over to straddle his face. “I knew you’d look incredible in this, baby,” he murmurs, nibbling your thigh, fingers tracing over the lace of the harness before teasing over your wetness, thanks to the crotchless center. “And anything with this type of access is A+ in my book.”

"Well, you're a man with exquisite taste," you compliment playfully.

You gasp as he licks a fat stripe up your center. "Mmm, talk about exquisite taste, darlin’,” he laughs huskily.

The lighthearted moment is short-lived as he quickly gets down to business licking you. His tongue dances along your folds, occasionally dipping inside your entrance teasingly. It always takes you a minute to feel comfortable grinding on his face but once you start rocking your hips, you're unable to stop and he grips your thighs to steady you.

“Slow down, baby, I’ve never let you down,” he murmurs. He presses up on your thighs to make room for him to push two fingers inside you.

“God, Calum.” You moan, looking down at him, tangling your fingers in his hair. “So fucking good.”

He withdraws his fingers in favor of licking up into you and you feel your eyes widen as you watch him reach up to grab the dildo and begin stroking it. You groan loudly, feeling yourself become even more turned on than you thought possible as you watch his hand move over the silicone as his mouth pleasures your pussy.

"Like how my cock feels in your hand, baby? Do you like jerking me off?" You tease, arousal emboldening you. "If it feels this good to you now, just think how much better it's gonna feel inside you."

Cal grunts into you and you swear you could cum just from that sound alone. His hand works quickly over the toy as he wraps his other around your thigh, pulling you down on his face. With his nose lightly nudging your clit, you can’t help yourself and start grinding on his face again.

“Get it, baby,” he moans. “Can’t wait to feel you in me.”

He sucks your clit in between his lips and your legs shake around his face. He releases it in favor of flicking his tongue and then lifts you up a bit, kissing along your lips as he catches his breath.

"Somethin' about seeing you like this," he breathes. "I don't know, pretty girl, it's already more than I dreamt of."

You murmur in response and he brings you back down onto his mouth. "Now I need you to cum for me."

You grip tightly into his hair, encouraging his skilled tongue to finish you off. “Oh fuuuuuuuck,” you moan loudly, leaning forward into the headboard as you cum. Cal takes his time licking around you, letting you enjoy the come down.

“Jesus Christ,” he groans, lifting you off his face. You land next to him and he sits up, immediately pulling you into a sloppy kiss. “Need you,” he states plainly, reaching for the lube and placing it in your hand. “Please, I can’t wait,” he urges.

You let out a loud breath, pleased by his eagerness. You start slicking the lube over your strap-on; Cal hurriedly lays back down on the bed; his chest rises and falls rapidly, you can tell he's both excited and nervous and you recognize that the look on his face is the one he makes when he's trying desperately not to touch himself.

You lean down and kiss him sweetly, hoping to calm him a bit. "Do you feel ready for me, baby?" You move down his body and lightly run your fingertips over his cock, playing with the precum that's sliding down the shaft as you check on the plug that's been filling him. "You take this one so well, Cal. Think you're nice and open for me."

He lets out a shaky breath, reaching to hold onto your hips for a second. “Baby,” he says quietly as you gently pull at the plug, pulling it to the widest part and letting it slide back into him.

“I’m serious, Cal, wish you could see how well you take it,” you praise, watching in amazement. “You gonna be this good for my cock? I know you want to, don’t you, baby boy?” You tease, digging your nails into his thigh.

He whimpers slightly and you watch as he attempts to collect himself, cock already twitching with anticipation, leaking onto his stomach. "Pretty girl, I'm gonna need that pretty cock in me as soon as you can, don't think I can wait much longer," he rasps

“Oh, I think you could,” you tease. “But I won’t make you.” You pull the plug out, gently squeezing his balls in your other hand. “The idea of you letting me have you like this is so hot...” You trail off as he shudders underneath you; you assume it’s from the coolness of the lube you’re rubbing over him but you suspect it partly has to do with your words as well.

You grab your cock and line yourself up, pushing the tip against his hole. “OK, Cal, remember to talk to me,” you whisper, rubbing your hands reassuringly on his thighs. You make eye contact with him as you start to push into him at an achingly slow pace, watching his face, making sure everything’s OK.

You see him puff out his cheeks and exhale slowly a couple times, trying to decipher how he feels about your intrusion. You slowly continue until you meet that resistance and you pause before going any further. "Relax, baby," you soothe. "We’ll go as slow as you need, I promise."

You start to pull out slightly and his eyes widen as he involuntarily lets out a loud moan. You halt your movements again and wait. "That was actually a good sound," he chuckles, squeezing your hand on his thigh. "It's just. Feels fuller than before. But good. Just different." He rambles, sorting through his racing thoughts.

You squeeze his hand back and smile at him. He breathes deep. "We can keep going, just slow like this," he nods to himself. "And maybe some more lube?"

“Of course, Cal, yes, this is perfect,” you enthuse. “Tell me what you want, just like we talked about. That’s what’s gonna make this good for both of us.” You encourage excitedly, working more lube onto your toy.

You feel like kissing him; you think he wants it, maybe even needs it. But you know you can’t lean in to do so, you’d push in too quickly, so you settle for kissing his knee.

He squeezes your hand again, “A little further, love,” he requests.

You do as he asks and you see him wince briefly so you back up. This decision is met with a whimper. “No, baby, in. I’m good, I promise,” he states firmly.

You take a deep breath to steady yourself and reach to play with his cock a little, hoping to give him both some relief and some distraction. He licks his lips and relaxes into your touch, allowing you to inch the toy in a bit more. "Doing so good, Cal," you comment softly.

You watch his chest breathe in and out, timing it with the slight rocking of your hips to help you enter him more and more. Calum wraps his hand around yours, helping you stroke your hand over him.

“Oh fuck.” He moans, squeezing your hand around his cock. “Like that,” he pants.

Your tactic works and he gets so caught up in the feeling of your joint efforts jerking him off that he doesn't notice you've finally worked the dildo inside him entirely. "God, Cal," you groan at the realization. "How does it feel knowing I'm buried inside you, baby?"

He shudders at your words. “Buried?” He asks, making sure he heard right. He feels you pressed all the way against him and groans. “Oh my god, baby… fuck.” He gently tugs on you, pulling you down to him. “I’m so happy we’re doing this,” he murmurs, kissing you. 

You move back to a kneeling position and gently pull your hips back; when you slowly push forward again, his mouth drops completely open and the only thing that comes out are little breathy sounds.

You feel yourself throbbing again, this is already much more intense than you anticipated. Calum's eyes are squeezed shut but you're confident if they were open, they would be glassy. "Baby boy," you warmly coo, slowly rocking your hips. "Let me see you stroke your cock, handsome."

His eyes open and he blinks rapidly, eyes focusing on you working above him. Your words finally register and his hand travels down, wrapping around his cock. "Feels so good," he murmurs, fighting the urge to speed up his hand. "Want more, baby, please give me more."

You slightly pick up the pace and mild discomfort flashes across his face but it’s quickly replaced with pleasure. You lean in and press kisses across his chest, covering the tattoos there.

“Mmm, more baby…” Calum pants, squeezing the head of his cock. “Can you... please… faster?”

You oblige and he lets out a loud whimper quickly followed by a guttural moan when you accidentally change the direction your hips hit.

“Right there... right there, GOD, right fucking there,” he chants, letting go of his cock in favor of grabbing you to help you find that spot again.

His moans go straight to your core and you feel arousal start to drip down your thighs. You can't believe how hot it is seeing him like this, witnessing him give himself over to you like this and let his guard down, telling you what he needs from you. "Makes me feel so good to give you what you want, baby," you admit in a whinier tone than you intend. "Just want my cock to please you like yours pleases me."

“It’s fucking perfect,” he chokes out.

The two of you manage to find that magic spot again and your hips hit it relentlessly once you do. Calum is breathing heavier than you’ve ever heard before and when you tease a finger down his precum soaked shaft, he yelps. “You wanna cum for me, baby boy?”

"Don’t want this to end," he confesses, voice faltering in that way you know means he's at the point of no return. "You're just fucking me so good, baby." His voice catches at the end of his sentence and he groans deep and loud as his cock starts to twitch; his hand flies towards it as the pulsing intensifies, cum shooting out in wild, strong spurts along his torso, some reaching as high as his chest tattoos. His moans seem to go on forever, as does his orgasm; you continue to drive your hips into him through it, marveling at the intensity of his release as he pumps the last drops out.

He grabs your hips when it becomes too much and you slowly pull back and out of him. “Holy fuck, baby.” He breathes in disbelief. “You... you fucked me good.”

You grin and move beside him, fingers dragging through the cum covering his chest; you lean forward to lick at the ropes decorating his tattoos and he threads his fingers in your hair, gazing at you adoringly. “How're you?” He asks, caressing your cheek.

“I loved it. But… honestly, I’m dripping, Cal,” you confess, sitting back up. “I knew that was going to be intense but like… fuck.”

He notices the sheen of wetness on your thighs and reaches out, arm heavy with exhaustion, to caress your leg. "What can we do for you, love? Anything you want, you deserve it."

You lean down to kiss him. "I feel like your mouth is making promises the rest of you can't keep, baby boy." You chuckle against his lips. "I have an idea but first help me out of this harness, I wanna be naked with you."

He helps you out of both the harness and your bra and then pulls you against his body. You put one of your legs between his and start to rock your hips against it, looking up at him for another kiss.

He nibbles at your lips before kissing them, sighing into your mouth as he feels your wetness spread on his leg. "Tell me what you need, love, want you to feel as good as I do right now."

You bite your lip and shift yourself off him, leaning over to the bedside table. "At first I thought it might've been a mistake that you packed my plug along with the set we got for you," you start, retrieving the toy and reaching for the lube. "But now I'm thinking you may be the smartest man alive."

Cal smiles broadly as he watches you slick it up and then reach behind you and start spreading some lube around your tight hole. "I know you, baby, thought you might get jealous seeing me stretched out like that," he teases.

“You do know me,” you affirm with a smirk. “Help me?” You ask, handing him the lubed plug.

He grins cheekily at you and captures you in another kiss as he works the plug in; he pushes it in a bit and then pulls it back out, making sure you feel all the stretch he knows you love.

You groan at the sensation and Cal plays with you a little more, enjoying your sounds and the way your hips are moving. "Babyyyy..." you whine and he relents, pushing the plug inside you fully and giving your ass a light tap.

"You want something else, darlin'?" He asks sweetly, reaching towards the drawer again. "Brought your vibe too. Or we've got the other dildos from my set we didn't need."

“So thoughtful, such a gentleman,” you tease, gesturing towards your small bullet vibrator. He clicks it on and starts teasing it against your clit.

You bite your lip and groan. “You’ve earned this, baby,” he declares, watching intently as you take the toy from him and start moving it on yourself.

You got so worked up from fucking him that it only takes a few minutes before you're close. "Gonna cum," you announce to no one in particular.

Calum watches as you hold the vibe against your clit waiting to fall over the edge. He moves his hand from your chest, where he'd been gently playing with your nipples, down between your thighs and plunges two fingers inside you, moving them carefully so as not to upset the position of the vibe.

“Fuck, Cal,” you moan, hips bucking against the vibe, pussy clenching around his fingers. He works you through your orgasm, encouraging you to ride his fingers and switching out the vibe on your clit for his thumb when he can tell it’s become too much.

He withdraws his fingers from you and licks them clean as you flop face down onto the bed next to him. He chuckles and runs his other hand through your hair and down your back as you come down. “You can’t possibly be more worn out than I am, pretty girl.”

You shift your head to face him. “I don’t know, baby… having you like that… kind of the hottest thing I’ve ever seen or done in my life,” you tease, eyes and voice dreamy with exhaustion.

“Well… letting you have me like that was the hottest thing I’ve ever done or seen, so I guess it’s a draw,” he responds, kissing your face as he gently removes the plug from your ass.

You curl into each other and it’s quiet for a few moments as you both take in what you just experienced. “Thank you for asking me to do this for you,” you breathe, breaking the silence. “It feels good to know you trust me like this.”

Calum kisses the top of your head. “Can’t think of a thing I wouldn’t trust you with, darlin’,” he says thoughtfully. “I love you.”

You murmur, “Love you too, baby boy.” You peck his chest and sit up, pulling on his arm. “Let’s get cleaned up and then it’s Fuckin’ Nap Time.”

He lets out of a huff of a laugh, allowing you to pull him out of bed with you. “I’m never gonna live down Fuckin’ Time, am I?”

“Think you’re just gonna have to embrace that one, bub, I’m not letting it go,” you giggle as you pull him towards the shower. “But don’t worry, I can guarantee you’re gonna be hearing that phrase a lot this weekend, you’ll have time to embrace it.”

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

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[itsclydebitches]

RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Amity”

Welcome back, everyone! I hated this episode.

As in, I’m nominating “Amity” for the Most Stupid Episode of RWBY award. Was there some cool action? Yes. Good Penny development? Mm hmm. Some surprise cameos in the Maya Engine? You know it. Was all of it almost entirely undermined by the sheer number of times I went, “Wait, what?” over the course of twenty minutes?

Sadly, yes.

But let’s start at the beginning.

We get a gorgeous opening shot of Amity Tower and, aesthetics aside, my first thought was, “There’s no one around to protect it?” I mean, this was Ironwood’s super secret project. Watts just tried to sabotage it a few hours ago. Prior to the reveal that Amity wasn’t finished (cough), Team RWBY was trying to convince Ironwood to give calling others a chance, but you’re telling me after all that there’s not a single guard there? Pietro, Maria, and Penny just waltzed up without any problems? The only reason it might be abandoned—yes, even with a grimm attack looming—is if it was useless. Because remember, it was supposed to be useless. Unfinished. Not worth protecting in its current state because its current state is non-operational. That would have explained why Ironwood would leave it undefended, yet as we’ve known since the premiere, Amity was apparently finished by magic at some point, leaving the question of why it’s unguarded (or why Ironwood wouldn’t want to use it himself for something) up in the air. Pun not intended. 

So these three have free rein to do whatever they want and what they want to do is, apparently, blow up the dust mine. Love that we spent an entire volume worrying about dwindling resources! I’d find the sacrifice justifiable under the circumstances if this Amity plan weren’t so foolish. Also, I’m not going to pretend that I know anything about explosives and whether providing that kind of “thrust” would actually work, but in this case I think RWBY’s sci-fi/fantasy status gives it a pass.

Penny, however, isn’t so sure. “Dad? This… does not seem like a very good idea.” Yeah. Pietro gives a short speech about good ideas not necessarily being best ideas, which would have been a great perspective to adopt for the series’ massive Ironwood arc, not a three minute solution to a problem I didn’t even know existed until now.

Pietro also weirdly teleports during this scene? He’s talking to Penny outside of the tower, tinkering with things, and then the next sentence he’s suddenly deep inside it. I mean, based on the dialogue this sentence could have come later, but it doesn’t read that way given that they were just chatting. It feels like a continuous conversation. He was outside one second, now he’s not. 

During all this Maria is doing… something with a mech. That she got from who knows where. I really don’t know what the point of this was besides a very brief airship fight, but I’m just happy Maria is doing something. In fact, she’ll do far more later in the episode—we’ll get to that—so congratulations, RWBY, we can officially ignore half of your Maria square on the bingo card. Keep her alive for the next nine episodes and you’re golden. 

Our trio has the message ready to go which they recorded… when? Sometime before everyone split based on the fact that Ruby is standing in the Happy Huntress’ hideout. This episode throws out a LOT of information that seems to come out of nowhere and doesn’t hold up well in terms of timing. Or, you know, general sense. Take, for example, the next exchange between Penny and Pietro. She wants to stay here in case no one is able to come help Atlas and Pietro panics about her staying with them, heavily implying that they’re leaving leaving. Once they go up they can’t come back down because otherwise… why not just send out the message, land, and then Penny goes off again to help? Later in the episode landing seems inevitable and then it seems planned for—what, are Pietro and Maria just going to hang up there forever? So what’s the conflict here?

Specifically, what’s the conflict for Penny? Amity should just be a quick side mission she completes before heading back into battle. Why does she care about doing what’s essentially an errand while Ruby nurses Nora back to health? She’s not missing anything. I’m having a hard time understanding why she’s acting like getting the message out means she’s removed from the fight indefinitely. Pietro, however, makes a little more sense if we read it simply as him not wanting Penny to be involved in the fight, period. As we see later, he fears for her safety and will do everything he can to keep her here with him, safe: “I’m your father. I’m telling you, you belong on Amity.”

Penny gives a sad “Yes, sir” and Maria chides Pietro with, “Don’t you think Penny has had enough people telling her what to do?”

Oh boy. There’s so much wrong with this line. The general demonization of ever following orders, even when those orders are sound. The comparison between Ironwood’s new villainy/his “bootlickers” (“Yes, sir”) and a father’s justifiable fear. Ignoring that Ruby has also been giving orders and no one is reminding her that Penny is an autonomous person capable of deciding things for herself. Where was this sort of chiding when she took away Penny’s scroll and spoke for her to Ironwood?

So Penny, of course, flies up and I guess provides them with the launch sequence or something? She sort of perks up and makes tech noises, then the tower is ready to go. Just like that. 

Pietro makes a joke about not having time to install seatbelts.

Funny, shouldn’t there be safety measures for the people operating the tower? If the tower was finished and ready to go? 🙃

Everything is going to plan until Cinder shows up, melting a giant hole while Neo pilots the airship through it. So she came! Too bad she’s not going to achieve anything. Despite the stowaways, the bomb Penny left goes off and the dust mine explodes in a massive cloud of color, sending Amity up into the sky. This pops up on Ironwood’s feed and he gives an ominous “It’s time.”

For the first minute or so no one can move due to the pressure and Cinder takes the time to taunt Penny some, saying she expected her friends to be here and, since they’re not, she’s just “a tool to be used.” While she lashes verbally she also summons a massive number of swords. When they’re able to fight Penny is briefly overwhelmed…

…Until Maria comes to her aid!

“Get away from her, you bitch!”

That was great. If anyone other than Tyrian was going to curse, you know it had to be our snarky grandma. So I’m cheering, watching Maria make use of her (acquired off screen) tech to help, despite the fact that she’s too old to fight anymore and—

Wait.

Okay, here’s my problem with this battle. First of all, Cinder’s group should have decimated them. This is an experienced Maiden (see: Raven fight) with a grimm arm vs. a girl who only got the powers a few hours ago. I know a few weeks back I mentioned how insanely powerful Penny is in theory, but that was before she was nearly taken out by the Ace Ops. You know, the group who was all knocked unconscious by a bunch of half-trained, exhausted teenagers. So the comparisons here don’t make Penny look too good. More importantly—because Cinder doesn’t have a great track record anymore either—she’s backed by ‘I was kicking a Maiden’s ass before she whipped out her magic’ Neo and ‘I can make anyone see anything and I just mentioned last episode that I’ve been working on this semblance’ Emerald. They are a power team. Who is Penny backed by? A non-combat scientist and a woman who stopped fighting years ago.

Right?

I have no problem with Maria being powerful. In fact, after her Grimm Reaper reveal I had hoped we’d see her fight, both to give the group a power to aspire to—here’s what a fully trained huntress with experience looks like. This is what our personal inspiration and a huntress beloved by the world looks like—and to have an older fighter providing diversity. Sure, there’s Ozpin, but he reincarnates into young bodies. Maria is a Mexican coded, disabled, old as balls fighter and that’s AWESOME. Problem is… she never fought. She hobbles around with her cane, using it in a way Ozpin never used his, implying that she really needs it. She’s not spry anymore. Every time there’s a battle she’s in an airship or other tech, providing help through the use of an assistive device. She never offers to train anyone. We never see her accompanying a group—like JNOR—to provide extra protection. During the grimm attack Maria exchanges a fearful look with Pietro and then presumably hides in his shop off screen. Why has the story been ignoring Maria when she can fight like this? How can she fight like this when we haven’t seen her throw so much as a punch since we met her? 

I mean, this is Neo! Neo. One of the most powerful, non-Maiden fighters we’ve seen to date. She took out Jaune, Nora, Ren, and Oscar without breaking a sweat, but a few minutes with Maria has her collapsed on the ground?

Something is very wrong with this fight. Either the writing nerfed Neo to allow Maria to win, or the writing has been pushing one of the most powerful characters off screen, relegating her to comic relief. Maria should be insanely powerful given her Grimm Reaper status. I had come to accept that she was powerful and, like people in real life, simply lost that with age. Now, the story suddenly reveals that this was never the case.

During all this Emerald helps Neo one (1) time, despite presumably standing there watching the entire fight. Before it begins Neo randomly decides to turn into Ruby, but then has dropped the illusion by the time we return. Maria is laughing like a loon for the first half of the battle. The only reason she (briefly) looses is because she gets distracted. Then Penny K.O.’s Neo’s aura with a single blast.

See, this is why I rarely enjoy the fights anymore. Beyond that fact that I thought some of it was rather lackluster compared to our Penny vs. Ace Ops fight, it just doesn’t make sense. There’s moment after moment that has me scratching my head and if you’re going, “Huh?” at the screen the whole time, it’s pretty hard to get immersed in the story.

During all this they reach the necessary altitude to broadcast, but it won’t go through because of a “stabilizer fail.” You mean the giant hole that Cinder blew in the side of the tower? 

Never mind that everyone except Penny should be dead by now. How are they breathing up there? It’s like if someone blew a hole in your airplane and everyone just went about their tasks as usual. 

You’ve gotta input the code, Penny.

I joke, but Pietro does start desperately typing. I guess because stabilizers might be fixed with a code or something? Anything is possible in this show.

It’s the Penny vs. Cinder fight that I’m bored with though. At least before Cinder manages to nearly the powers. I think part of it is because we already got this fight last volume, partly because they don’t do much that we haven’t seen from them both before: Penny flies around a lot, Cinder tosses variously summoned weapons, etc. Details I did appreciate though were the return of Cinder’s arrows and the fact that she didn’t let Penny lead her from Amity for long. Look at our villain making a smart decision!! Love that.

Cinder starts destroying the tower instead and Penny asks why she’d want to serve Salem. “I don’t serve anyone and you wouldn’t either if you weren’t built that way!” Penny looks sadly down at Pietro and for one horrible moment I thought the story would actually have her buy into that nonsense, but then Penny rallies and announces that she chooses when to fight because she wants to protect those she loves.

Penny has some really great moments here. What’s less great is the setup for them. I mean… why is Pietro in danger? Penny is clearly trying to keep the top portion of the tower from collapsing after Cinder’s attack, but you’re telling me the tech-obsessed scientist hasn’t put flight capabilities into his chair? That’s not how he got way up high on the outside of the tower, it was just a random hatch or something? When every piece of tech in RWBY serves triple-duty, the Atlas tech mastermind hasn’t included the one thing in his massive chair that would save him here? It’s all very… “Really?” Especially when Cinder is smart enough to realize that Penny cares about the tower, but not realize she cares more about her dad. Just grab Pietro and threaten him, demanding that Penny stand down so Cinder can grab the powers. Penny, horrified by her father’s potential death (and ambivalent about having this responsibility in the first place) lets her. Something other than this weird setup of destroying the platform itself. 

Penny’s scream though is fantastic. Kudos to Taylor for that moment. So yeah, Cinder starts taking the power—did she get a bit then, like with Amber?—before Penny rallies and knocks her off. From then on Cinder doesn’t stand a chance. Emerald reappears to provide assistance in the form of an illusion, except that Penny’s tech allows her to see through it with ease. The real Cinder is marked with ‘Danger’ and Penny takes her out easily once Cinder doesn’t think she needs to dodge anymore.

I should be feeling something considering that Penny just won a battle against the woman who orchestrated her murder volumes back, in the exact same place where she died… but I’m not. Penny’s resurrection was shrugged off. Amity was used for joke license parties. I’m endlessly confused about what message RT is aiming for in regards to Penny’s autonomy (a real girl, but hackable) and this fight has been a collection of power ups, power downs, or skills just conveniently not working. What improvements has Emerald made to her semblance? This is everything we’ve seen from her before. When did we establish that Penny’s android nature makes her immune to techniques of this nature? I don’t mind that she is immune—in fact, it’s a cool skill to give her—I just wish this sort of stuff didn’t suddenly appear in the story only when the plot most needs it to. Or, to be more charitable, it would be a cool reveal if the rest of the fight held up better. I don’t mind a, “Hell yeah, Penny had the trump card she needed to win!” if the whole scene wasn’t Team Cinder being oddly weak the whole time. The most they manage to do is escape via Emerald threatening to fill the tower with holes from her gun… after the tower has had a hole blown through it, shot with flaming arrows, and had two of the beams keeping it in place melted. The most Cinder accomplishes here is unintentionally putting Penny in a position where she falls when she’s hacked. That’s it.

The villains should have won. Not just because of the team dynamics making victory a very likely outcome, but because allowing the group to successfully get their message out was one of the worst things RWBY has done to date. 

Gimme just a moment to get there. 

Amity is drifting back down, out of the range they need to send the broadcast, so Penny offers to “hold Amity in place” until the message is done. Pietro freaks out… why? He starts to say “Even just the temperature out there—” implying that the cold and altitude can kill Penny, except she fought Cinder outside no problem. Literally minutes ago. Hell, Cinder was fine outside and she’s not an android. 

There’s that massive hole letting the atmosphere in too. I’m so confused by these conflicts that randomly appear and, as such, I can’t take the emotion attached to them seriously. How can I be invested in Pietro’s worry about this killing Penny and Penny offering to sacrifice herself when I don’t understand why it’s dangerous to begin with? 

And it is treated like a sacrifice. Penny tells him that she’s trying to “live her life,” kisses Pietro as a sort of goodbye, and spends a few moments enjoying the beauty of the night sky. 

She’s acting like she’s about to die and yet none of this comes across as particularly dangerous. Indeed, Penny pushes Amity for as long as Ruby’s message needs her to and then, presumably, would have come back inside, a-okay, if she hadn’t been hacked. This is like that Parks and Rec moment:

Except it’s treated seriously. Penny is doing something mundane based on what we’ve seen her do before and the fact that this cold/pressure isn’t negatively impacting anyone else who experiences it, let alone the android. So why is the story trying to convince me that this is a death sentence?

Combine this with Penny’s origins: she was built to “save the world.” That’s why Pietro created her, to fight these exact sort of battles. So why is he so resistant to her doing just that? I’m not saying he can’t change his mind and grow to love her as more than a tool—in fact, their relationship is one of the few things I’m enjoying about this volume—I just wish we’d seen how that came about. When did Pietro move from building Ironwood a weapon to having a daughter? Back in Volume 3 he was on Ironwood’s side about Penny not having friends or going out because it was too dangerous for someone like her. She has secrets to maintain and responsibilities to prep for because she was, first and foremost, created for a specific task. We get an inkling through is admission that he can’t bear to see her die again that Penny’s first destruction really changed his view of her, but all of that happened off screen. We had a whole volume with Pietro prior to this where we might have watched him struggle with his new understanding of Penny as his child, rather than dumping this on us literal seconds before she engages in this non-sacrifice. We know almost nothing about Pietro except what tiny scraps we’ve been told, so dramatic lines like, “I don’t care about the big picture, I care about my daughter!”—while wonderful—appear to come out of nowhere in regards to his development. It’s jarring. Early RWBY presented Pietro as a morally ambiguous scientist aligned with Ironwood, then he suddenly became a scientist who loved his creation in Volume 7, the scientist who betrayed Ironwood, then Volume 8 has Penny dropping “Dad” left and right and Pietro willing to throw away helping a kingdom for her sake. When did all these changes happen? Where’s the progression?

Also, I hope people understand that this is why the world needs someone like Ironwood. Is it heartwarming that Pietro wants to ditch their plan at the last second for the sake of his daughter? Hell yeah. Is that good for the millions of other people who would like their own family members to survive this war too? Nope. “I don’t care about the big picture,” while human and great characterization, is dangerous when the rest of the world depends on you. Whoever runs this show doesn’t have the luxury of saving their preferred, individual life at the expense of everyone else.

So Penny goes out and gets Amity high enough for Ruby’s recording to start, complete with her acting funny-awkward for the first few seconds.

The cameos we get throughout this? Excellent. The speech itself? Rather horrifying. So the good: we get glimpses of everyone else in this show that the story has essentially left behind. Saphron, Terra, and Whitley start things off. 

(Interesting that Whitely went to his father’s office rather than his room...) 

Sun and Neptune (even though that “Dude” again messes with tone).

Ilia getting a call from Ghira.

The group sitting with a recovering Nora while Ruby watches her own words with the most ridiculous expression.

Tai, desperate not to lose the one link to his daughters he’s seen in years. (Side note: I’m not interested in any of the Tai hate. He’s still at home because the writers don’t know what to do with him and because Ruby literally ran away. Are people made at Ghira and Kali for not running after their daughter too? No, because they’re minor characters that the story needed to sideline.)

Tyrian, sitting beside a very pleased looking Salem... 

(Love that she’s petting him.)

Even the shop dude!

Oh yeah, and MOTHERFUCKING GLYNDA.

I’m thrilled to see her. In the sense that I love getting her in the new engine, but I’m salty that she’s unlikely to become an important part of the story again. In fact, there are so many characters at this point that she shouldn’t be re-incorporated, just because that would bloat the cast even more. That… and did they really have to give her massive cleavage? The darker glasses are fine—even if I personally found them a bit distracting compared to her original lenses—but seriously, why does a woman always reappear with even bigger breasts?

At this point everything in RWBY has a sour taste attached to it because it’s been handled so badly for so many years. It’s only now, watching them do many of the things I wanted them to do volumes ago, that I realize how badly they’ve played themselves. RT messed up so many core aspects that when they re-appear they can’t hope to provide the same sort of enjoyment we would have gotten if they’d never been dropped and/or messed up to begin with.

Case in point: Ruby’s speech. I’m not going to cover the stupidity of telling the world about Salem because I’ve already talked about that to death on my blog, but I do want to add that Ruby managed to accomplish that dubious task in the absolute worst way possible. I need a list for this one.

So, about RWBY ruining core parts of its story? We had a whole volume about how horrifying learning about Salem’s immortality was, something we never resolved because the cast randomly went from thinking they’d entered a doomed war to being #confident about how they’ll win. But at the very least they’ll be careful and considerate when they tell others that very demoralizing info, right? Ha. Ruby never even uses the term “immortal.” She mentions Salem being around for “centuries”—which, remember, was info the group also had but never put two and two together—and then says that “Just because she can’t be destroyed doesn’t mean she can’t be beaten.” What does that mean to people who have never heard of Salem before now? Ruby doesn’t even explain who she is! What’s a “force” in this context? A person? An entity? Endless grimm? She gives the people nothing here.

Alongside just casually dropping that Salem has been around for “centuries,” Ruby says that she is “a force we’ve faced before,” as if the world has ever had to deal with an outright attack from her. No, Ruby. They haven’t faced this before. That’s the point.

“I know the idea of Maidens and Relics seems crazy”—does she even mention them before this?? I don’t think she does. Ruby just name dropped two things and never bothered to explain wtf they were.

Also, great job telling the whole world, filled with bad guys not already aligned with Salem, that there are two powerful, mystery things out there that they can now start hunting down. That’s why Ozpin decided to keep the Maidens quiet in the first place. He says in Volume 3 that people were killing them when they knew they existed.

She tells everyone that Glynda and Theodore can vouch for all this information, just casually dropping that responsibility into their lap. I mean, can you even IMAGINE being Glynda right now? This kid you taught for one year heads back home after your school falls, you lose touch with the inner circle after Ozpin dies, and then said kid suddenly appears on every scroll and TV in Remnant, telling the entire world that YOU, personally, can explain to them the things you’ve helped keep hidden for a good portion of your adult life. You are one of two people they can now turn to for answers. If I were Glynda I would be furious.

She also says that Theodore and Glynda “might even be able to organize a way to fight back” RUBY. WHAT DO YOU THINK THE INNER CIRCLE WAS? A KNITTING CLUB? WHAT ELSE HAS OZPIN BEEN DOING FOR A THOUSAND YEARS EXCEPT “ORGANIZING A WAY TO FIGHT BACK”? 

“But, sadly, General Ironwood can no longer be trusted.” Wow. That’s one hell of a simplified take to give to a world already working under the incorrect assumption that Atlas caused the Fall of Beacon, an assumption Ruby admitted was wrong to Cordovin. So let’s unite the world except for this one leader, right? So much for practicing what you preach. 

“If she was really unstoppable she wouldn’t have acted with such caution before now.” Oh boy, that’s risking a lot on Ruby’s interpretation of Salem’s motives. After eight years even we, the audience, don’t know why Salem didn’t attack until now, so where did Ruby get the idea that it must be because she fears them? That’s not the real explanation based on how happy Salem looks while hearing the message. When did Ruby even think about this? Outside of Nora’s realization that maybe someone other than Ozpin could beat her, we haven’t seen the group discuss Salem at all, but now Ruby thinks she has everything figured out? I honestly want her to explain her thought process here. Does she think Ozpin was mistaken about the immortality business and if he’d just had the guts to unite everyone and attack her, Salem would have been defeated lifetimes ago? 

(Funny how that was Ironwood’s plan...) 

Ruby ends with another call to band together because “That’s how we’ll win!” complete with smiling energy.

With the exception of the cameos I hated every moment of this. The unclear reason why Ruby thinks bringing the world together is the answer in the face of how badly that’s gone each and every time others have done it, Amity magically becoming available for them to use, her dropping in random beliefs we’ve never seen her express before, turning the whole world against Ironwood, failing to actually explain any of this… I mean, imagine you’re in Remnant’s place for a second:

This child (looking entirely unprepared) suddenly hacks every device and tells you that the most powerful kingdom in the world is under attack. Who is attacking it? It’s someone you’re familiar with! But not really. It’s Salem. Who’s Salem? I won’t say, but she’s responsible for every bad thing from the White Fang to the grimm themselves. Those Relics and Maidens, those are real crazy sounding, huh? Oh, I forgot to say what they are? Nm that’s not important. Talk to my old teacher and someone I’ve never met if you’re confused. What is important is that we all come together. Except Ironwood. I don’t trust him. But I expect you all to trust everyone else, including me! Because we can totally win against this “force” I haven’t defined. You should help us. In whatever non-specific way you choose. Should you come to Atlas and save us all from the confusingly explained attack we’re under? Fight an immortal enemy somehow, with the forces you don’t have, cross who knows how many miles in under a day? I don’t know. You all can figure the preparations part out :) 

If I were watching I would, at best, think this was a prank. At worst I’d be panicking over a whole lot of scary information, none of which I understand. Which in this world brings grimm.

Ruby should, in an internally consistent story, have just caused a massive number of attacks across the globe. She should be responsible for the biggest mass grimm death Remnant has ever seen. In fact, that’s my final hope for the series. I want the world to lose its mind at this confusing, terrifying announcement, from rioting in the streets to grimm swarming major cities. Ruby is left dumbfounded at the destruction she’s caused. No one can—or will—come to assist Atlas. The Kingdom falls, taking plenty of civilians with it. Ozpin escapes and is finally allowed his anger, wanting to know how the safety measures he spent lifetimes building were undone by her in one profoundly stupid move. Ironwood (if he’s still alive) coldly tells them that they could have left and saved who and what they had at the time. Ren is proven right.

I need this story to decimate our heroes, humble them, and then let them rebuild. Teach Ruby something and let her grow from it, making up for her mistakes as she goes. Because for two and a half seasons now we’ve watched this girl commit one horrible act after another—whether it’s attacking allies or unintentionally giving the world the most damaging message possible—and something needs to come out of all that.

Can’t say I’m too hopeful of seeing that though :/ 

The rest of the episode isn’t any better. Ironwood continues his stupidity streak by trusting Watts to do the hack himself. I really can’t believe this is what his character has been reduced to. Granted, it appears as if Watts really did do what he was asked, it’s just that none of them could have known Penny would be outside of Amity and at the height of an airplane when her systems went offline. That trust does, however, allow Watts to nab Ironwood’s crushed scroll before he’s taken back to his cell. Because, you know, at this point Ironwood is so stupid he just chucks personal tech at a villain and thinks nothing of it. 

Also... all this happens before the jail scene last episode when Watts was returned, but after Ruby’s group gets to the Schnee manor. The bingo board is getting another check.

Ironwood says that “It seems Polendina’s proxy trick worked.” So Pietro deliberately built Penny with this kill switch (for lack of a better word) embedded? In this villain!Ironwood world, is the story ever going to acknowledge that Pietro is far from innocent, having helped to create and support all the things people hate about how Ironwood (supposedly) interacts with Penny? 

Penny’s hack doesn’t take until Ruby’s message is complete, because of course it doesn’t. 

Yang’s group is all excited—“That was the broadcast!”—despite not having a signal last episode. If they can use their scrolls at the outpost, why didn’t they call for help?

Penny then says “I love you” to Pietro before she—maybe?—falls to her second death. I don’t know. This absolutely deserves a longer rant because either Penny was resurrected for a brief, narratively meaningless existence before dying again, or we’re expected to believe that she’s falling far and fast enough to become a meteor, but will turn out just fine. Perhaps the show will forget that Pietro said he couldn’t rebuild her again. I pretty much expect it at this point. 

(Either that, or Pietro will sacrifice himself for Penny. Coming at it from a father-daughter relationship, I like the idea. As a black man dying for his white daughter in a show notorious for how it has handled its race allegory... ehhhh.) 

Then, we end this episode with “a river of grimm.”

????????????????????

What?

Seriously, am I the only one who laughed during that moment? It sounds ridiculous. What does that even mean, “a river of grimm”? Did Salem expand her territory somehow? Is this the same grimm soup she makes them out of? What, can she just cover the whole world with grimm making goo now? Out of everything that could have been coming out of the ice, THAT’S what we end on? 

I think this episode may have broken me lol. There was so much that I knew I was meant to be invested in, so many moments trying their hardest to be emotionally compelling… and only the tinniest slivers of it worked. I want to care about Penny falling. I want to care (more) about an unexpected Glynda appearance. I want to be cheering for Ruby’s message getting out, but it’s all just so badly done. I ended this episode feeling like I had watched a RWBY parody rather than an episode. Like for funsies someone had pulled together the most ridiculous ideas they could think of, like:

The villains come and then immediately leave again, like in Fury Road except in this case that’s not the point of the story.

Super powerful fighter gets her ass kicked by laughing grandma.

Nonsensical sacrifice going on but give it just a hint of ~real~ emotion.

Huge reveal for the rest of the world but the message with be near incomprehensible.

Toss in random characters we haven’t seen in years, people love that.

End the episode with grimm soup flowing towards the kingdom.

It honestly feels like someone set out to write an absurd episode, but then gave it just enough artistry that the viewer finishing the vid goes, “Why am I actually invested in this omg lol.” Except when that’s your canon we’ve got a problem.

I don’t know. At this point RWBY is so broken I can’t even articulate everything that’s continually going wrong when we get an episode like this one. For anyone who may have missed it, we’ve got two more episodes before a six week hiatus and frankly I’m glad. Mostly because I obviously want our crew to have the time they need to keep their sanity intact during the hell that is 2020 and the likely hell that will be 2021, also because that will give them time to spruce up the second half of the volume… but there’s also a part of me that’s just glad for a break. There are still pieces in RWBY I enjoy (like the Hound, or dad!Pietro, always Ozpin) and I love writing these recaps, but it says a lot about the writing that I hear we won’t get RWBY for two solid months and I am, at best, indifferent. Can’t mess up what you don’t air, right? 😂

Man, this bingo card… it’s getting three marks today. “Two day timeline wreaks havoc on continuity,” “Needless episode cliffhanger” (grimm river??), and “The team gets Amity up and running.” Yet we somehow STILL don’t have a bingo. Amazing.

Alright, I’m done. If you enjoyed this episode, bless you. I’m really glad. Please enjoy it for the both of us. And pray for us all over the next two weeks 💜

[Ko-Fi]

[dickwheelie]

heyyyy @peachyindeed​​ thank you for the request and I’m so sorry this took so long, but here it is!

poor Jon was going through A Lot during that season, so I wanted to be kind to him here.

____________

“Doesn’t make sense.”

Jon’s muttering voice breaks Martin out of his thoughts. He’d been staring up at the cafe’s chalkboard menu, trying to decide what to get, and also what to order for Jon, who he knows will just order tea or water unless Martin forces him to eat a real meal. When he’d burst into Jon’s office an our ago, unannounced and unapologetic, basically demanding Jon get out of the office for once and have lunch with him, Jon had claimed (after much indignant sputtering) that he wasn’t hungry.

“Doesn’t matter,” Martin had said. “We’re getting overpriced sandwiches and bad coffee at the place across the street, and you’re going to bloody well enjoy it.”

So here they are, and Martin is all ready and prepared to step up to the register and order the both of them fridge-flavored caprese sandwiches, when he hears Jon muttering off to his left.

“Can’t be that way, no . . . and this line doesn’t even . . .”

He turns, and sees Jon examining one of the bus schedules from the rack of brochures that sits by the cafe entrance. He’s poring over the picture of the bus lines that criss-cross all over London with the intensity of a lawyer examining the fine print on a list of terms and conditions for a company with particularly dubious morals.

Despite himself, Martin sighs. He’s gotten used to this, by now, which is unfortunate. Jon’s clearly in way further deep into whatever conspiracy he’s cooked up than anyone else in the archives. Martin, Tim, Sasha, and hell, even Elias all understand that something strange is going on, but Jon’s taken it three steps too far. And none of the red strings he’s following ever seem to lead anywhere.

Case in point, the bus schedule. Martin tries to be polite. “What d’you have there?”

Jon looks at him, and shuffles the brochure demonstratively. “The bus lines, Martin. They make no sense. I’d never noticed before. Unless--maybe they’ve changed--”

Jon’s eyes widen and he goes back to feverishly examining the schedule. Martin isn’t sure what to do. He knows telling Jon he’s being paranoid wouldn’t help anyone. But he doesn’t want to just let this continue, either. Jon looks a mess, and Martin desperately wants to snap him out of it, but he’s not equipped for this.

First things first, Martin reminds himself. Getting some food in that poor man.

Fifteen minutes later, they’re sitting at a corner table (so Jon can see the entirety of the cafe, plus the street outside the windows), a pair of sandwiches and teas in front of them. Jon’s brought the brochure with him, which makes Martin’s stomach sink a bit, but at least he’s eating now. Jon, for all his insistence that he isn’t hungry, sure puts away his sandwich with vigor.

Martin tries his usual tactic: distraction. “So,” he says in a voice he hopes is passably casual, “seen any good movies lately?” With the subject of work off the table, Martin doesn’t have a lot of leads for topics Jon would want to talk about.

Jon doesn’t look up from the schedule, which he’s started scribbling on in pen, and Martin half-expects him not to answer.

But Jon surprises him. “I haven’t seen any movies lately,” he says, plainly.

“Oh.” Martin takes a bite of his sandwich. “Read any good books, then?”

Jon finally looks up at him, his expression puzzled. “I--haven’t really been reading anything except statements, of late.”

“Have you tried reading something else?” Martin offers, carefully. “I’ve got some recommendations for sci-fi and fantasy stuff. If that’s the sort of thing you go for.”

“I . . . um. I--I don’t read a lot of fiction,” Jon says. Almost absentmindedly, he reaches for his tea and takes a sip, as though he’d forgotten it was there. Maybe he had.

“Sure,” Martin says. He’s not surprised Jon didn’t take him up on the offer, but at least he’s not drawing lines through bus routes anymore. Martin decides to just go for it. If this is the man he’s chosen to direct his affection towards, he might as well speak to him plainly. “I just . . . I don’t think it’s good for you to sit in your office all day and night--I know you stay there too late--reading statements and building up your . . . your conspiracy theories about us.” He takes a breath, forcing himself not to get too heated. “Tim and Sasha and I . . . we’re on your side, Jon. We aren’t trying to--to orchestrate some grand plan, or whatever it is you think we’re up to, and we’re certainly not trying to kill you. We’re your friends. We care about you. Even Tim. Especially Tim. Just . . . let us in, Jon. Talk to us.” Talk to me, he wants to say, but he stops himself. This is bigger than his silly little crush on his boss.

The bus schedule lies off to the side, forgotten, as Jon stares at him. His expression is fraught; he looks torn, like he’s jumping back and forth in a mental argument with himself. He opens his mouth, struggles for a moment to find the words, and then lands on, “I--I want to trust you, Martin. All of you. I wish I had that . . . that luxury. But I can’t trust anyone right now. I don’t understand any of this, and it gets worse every day, a-and I can barely trust myself. I--”

Jon’s voice breaks, his fear coming through, and Martin’s heart aches. “Hey,” he says, trying to sound calming, and reaches across the table. He doesn’t touch Jon, just puts his hand down on the table in front of him, letting it sit there like a stepping stone in a creek. “Just . . . you don’t have to believe me. But we’re not your enemies, Jon. We want to help you. And you don’t have to trust us today, or tomorrow, but . . . but maybe someday soon.”

Jon doesn’t look so sure, but he nods, and gathers himself a bit. He takes another sip of tea.

They don’t really talk at all as they finish their lunch, but the silence is comfortable, and at one point Jon gets up to buy himself another packaged sandwich. “Dinner,” he explains to Martin, with a self-deprecating smile.

“Take it home, yeah?” Martin says. “Don’t stay past six.”

“Alright,” Jon says, acquiescing, and maybe he won’t listen and he’ll stay past the last train and pretend he isn’t sleeping in his chair until seven A.M. like he almost always does. But, Martin thinks, maybe, just maybe, he won’t.

On their way out the door, Jon tosses the inked-up bus schedule into the bin and says, “So, Martin, about those book recommendations . . .”

[phoenixtakaramono]

Does Bing gē Have Descendants in ‘The Untold Tale?’

This topic has come up a few times since The Untold Tale takes place in the PIDW universe (post-Bingge vs Bingmei extra), I figured I might as well compile and archive my official answer here for me to refer my AO3 readers to in the future for convenience’s sake. I hope everyone doesn’t mind. :) I’m always happy to answer questions!

TL;DR

Q: Will we see Bing gē having fathered children with his harem of 600 or so wives in TUT?

A: For TUT, the answer is a definite “no.” There were a lot of factors which’d contributed to my decision. I’ll try to explain my reasoning down below.

Context

In PIDW, it is canon that Luo Binghe has a bountiful number of descendants with his harem of 600-or-so wives. It is a detail that has been mentioned even in ch1 of SVSSS and in ep1 of the donghua.

(SVSSS Excerpt - ch1)

(SVSSS donghua - ep1)

I like to plan things ahead of time. So from very early on, I knew this would be something I would have to decide on whether or not to address when I’d finally decided to expand TUT from just a prologue into a full-blown story. And after contemplating it, I decided against adding children into the story. It is because 1) it would make the situation more complicated, and 2) it would take TUT in a different direction that wouldn’t be fun for me to write.

I’m a very decisive writer, meaning when I make my mind up about something, chances are I won’t change my mind. This is because I would have already planned it into my plot outline, which means changing a decision would require me to change other details in the other chapters I have planned for that story. (I’m typically not a spontaneous writer; I try not to write spontaneously because when you’re a writer who rotates through multiple WIPs with different characters across different genres or writing styles, you inevitably have writer’s block because you probably won’t remember all the ideas or the direction you had whenever you return back to a different WIP. To reduce this shortcoming, it helps me personally to have a plot outline. This way I can return to any WIP, read my notes and then transcribe them into legible paragraphs, find a way to transition between the story beats I have to hit for that chapter, and then eventually post the final draft to AO3 when I feel it’s ready.)

Having made a decision, I knew I had to set it up in TUT and give a “reasonable explanation in-story.” Hence, in ch2, we see:

(Excerpt I - ch2)

Basically the set-up is TUT takes place post-Bingge vs Bingmei, but between “the third or fourth book” of the hypothetical PIDW webnovel series aka before Airplane wrote the fanservicey chapters where the luckier of LBH’s wives give birth to children during the harem drama plots and the children are probably rarely, if ever, mentioned again in the story as a lot of stallion novels tend to do.

(Excerpt II - ch2)

(Excerpt III - ch2)

Contrarian Tendencies

You know the saying: Monkey see, monkey do? In my case, it’s monkey see, monkey do not do.

A little fun fact about me as a writer: if I have already seen a fanfic where someone has already written a concept or idea into their story, chances are I will just avoid it entirely in my own stories. I don’t know why this aversion exists, but I’m assuming it’s because of my counterculture hipster inclinations and an intrinsic fear of plagiarism which has been beaten into all of our skulls since adolescence. There’s nothing wrong with being inspired by other people’s works. Technically everything’s been done before in writing so, as a writer, a good rule of thumb is to always try to give it your own unique spin on things. So for me, my brain somehow interpreted this a step further. This is a reason why I try to avoid reading stories from whichever fandom my WIP is from during the writing process of updating a fic, because this is how I get influenced. Once I see an idea or interpretation from another fanfiction, it influences me to not want to write it into my own. This is a very strong unconscious impulse for me. I guess this is just the neurons in my brain’s thinking that this way, it won’t be something my readers will have read before and the story idea will come across as different or fresh, and mine. In a way this is also how I show respect for fanfiction writers in the same fandom—by being inspired to not be inspired, ha. I like to think every story in the world serves a niche audience, so seeing a diverse range of originality and interpretations in a fandom is a good thing. This is also how I feel when I am able to identify certain popular tropes or depictions or patterns in a fandom; 99% of the time, it makes me feel a compulsion to “go against the grain” or write the opposite. For example, you have no idea how long it took me to come around the idea of incorporating the fanon “A-Yuan” into TUT. However cute it is, the moment it dominated the fandom (well, “dominated” is an exaggeration; it’s more like I’ve seen enough, especially in the Original LBH/ SY | SQQ tag), my gut reaction was to nope out of using it. But after seeing a lot of comments in my inbox with readers affectionately calling SY “A-Yuan,” I’d contemplated it for a long time and it wasn’t until ch4 that I decisively decided that yes, I can have Bing gē calling SY “A-Yuan” in TUT—but it has to be at the right moment for maximum dramatic and emotional impact. (See this thread that started it all. And this is the small sneak peek I wrote where LBH will call SY that for the first time.) <- This is the rare 1% where I actually conformed to what’s popular.

In this case, when I finally decided to expand the prologue into a full-blown story, coincidentally I had just recently read a good Binggeyuan (Bingyuan) fanfic which featured a kidnapped Shen Yuan interacting with Bing gē’s harem and LBH’s children/descendants. I’d liked their portrayal and even thought the children were cute. <- However, with me having reading this, the problem came up: I felt the familiar stubbornness in me rearing its head. So knowing myself, if I had included children, it is very likely the direction that I would have gone down for TUT would have been the opposite. To further complicate matters, you have to keep in mind the kind of writer I am. I tend to like grounding stories with a semblance of realism, no matter if the genre is pseudohistorical fantasy, romance, sci-fi, etc. And this writer has seen and read quite a few harem and palace intrigue Chinese dramas/ premises.

For further context, in those types of “historical” C-dramas^, in that sort of environment which fosters scheming, competition, jealousy, etc, it is almost expected to see heirs aka children aka descendants harmed along with the women. Innocent parties are often victims in these sorts of cutthroat premises, to underscore the underlying message the show or novel wishes to present. (See Ruyi’s Royal Love in the Palace. See Yanxi Palace. See The Legend of Haolan. See Nirvana in Fire. See The Rebirth of the Malicious Empress of Military Lineage. Etc.) And me being me, this would be the direction I would take. Remember, while TUT is meant to emulate a legitimate danmei C-novel reading experience in a fantasy world, I do drop pseudohistorical and cultural Easter eggs into the story. So trust me when I say you would not like the direction TUT would have gone down in, had I made LBH have children with his harem. I mean, theoretically yes, we could’ve seen endearing children characters from me, but you would have also seen me addressing a lot of the baggage that comes with (see Comment III Excerpt down below).

The situation with dissolving Bing gē’s harem is already complicated enough. As his romance with Shen Yuan develops, I didn’t want to have an additional headache thinking about how to address the issue of LBH having children already. Divorces in a pseudohistorical context is already a heavy topic—even more so when it’s divorces with children in the mix. Naturally I will still have SY and LBH eventually discuss the matter of legitimate heirs since LBH will essentially become the Sacred Ruler of all Three Realms and it’s a traditional precedent for an emperor to bed his empress, noble consort, and imperial concubines until he has his heirs (plural, because the rate of mortality was high in ancient China). In TUT’s case, at that point in the story SY will remind LBH that he’s essentially an immortal sovereign so there isn’t any need for an heir unless he wishes to retire. Furthermore, he will inform LBH that he could set a new precedent since he’s already different from the other emperors from history (with him being of half-Heavenly Demon and half-human cultivator lineage); as long as LBH is fully aware of all perspectives of the situation, he doesn’t necessarily need to conform to all traditions if this is something he really feels strongly about. But this future conversation(s) is likely the extent of it.

But wait, you say, what about a certain someone who’s going to be transmigrated as an imperial crown prince? Isn’t he going to be in that sort of vicious upbringing? <- Yes. But that’s an entirely seperate matter. In a way, since I’ve decided Bing gē will not have had any children or descendants in TUT, with Airplane, this now presents an opportunity for me to show the consequences of being one of the many children of an emperor with a harem of women vying for one man’s attention—and the power struggle that’d ensue in this kind of environment. It’s an interesting What-If parallel, if you think about it.

AO3 Comments

Although these are just small excerpts from replies I’ve written before, it’s nice and orderly to just compile them here for everyone since these will be buried underneath all the comments as TUT updates:

(Comment I- ch3)

(Comment II- ch4)

(Comment III- ch4)

Because of seeing comments that have asked me for my thoughts on whether or not I will include LBH’s children, I’ve had so much fun seeing theories thrown around: from LBH’s blood parasites being able to control conception, to someone’s headcanon about LBH being a hybrid and all that entails scientifically (think: mules). I will say in TUT, it’s more the former since in PIDW he’s supposed to have descendants; we’re pretending Bing gē doesn’t have any yet (and now definitely won’t, especially after having heard SY’s “prophecy”) because he subconsciously does not want children due to certain fears, trauma, etc. And his Heavenly Demon’s “blood parasites” (blood manipulation) is a convenient story device to explain why no wife has gotten pregnant yet.

I hope this explanation makes sense! Mainly I just wanted to have this archived on tumblr so that I have this post to refer to moving forward.

On a side note: especially since ch4 had been posted, quite a few people have actually mentioned they’ve read my replies to other comments and/or I have seen different people having hopped onto other readers’ comment threads (for example, imagine my pleasant surprise when I saw a reader you lovely person, you helpfully jumping in to respond to another reader’s questions about TUT, and their answers were actually aligned with what I would’ve answered!), so it’s always such a thrill whenever I see this level of engagement happening. I can’t explain why, but seeing this happening is just so cute to me. It really makes this writer feel so warm and fuzzy inside!

[lovelyirony]

Title: I wish i could forget you

Tony Stark was not supposed to be in the car when Howard and Maria Stark attended a Christmas holiday party for another company. In fact, Hydra had wanted him to stay home. 

Unfortunately, Tony had ticked off Howard a bit too much, and so here he was in a tuxedo that was a bit too big, uncomfortably shiny shoes, and a temper that was close to blowing. 

Thank god they were almost home. 

When a car crashes, one almost can’t believe it. Tony can see the outside blurring, and he can hear glass crunching, and he hears things that he really doesn’t want to hear. He is fairly sure that Maria screamed. 

A metal arm. 

Huh. 

Well, not the most typical. He also doesn’t think that the man knows he’s here. 

Howard and Maria Stark are killed. Tony feels like shit because he couldn’t do anything. His forehead is bleeding and he didn’t want to move out of fear for himself, which seems selfish, but also maybe a survival instinct? 

God, his bow-tie is still constricting air flow. 

Once the man turns, Tony realizes that he wasn’t the target. They probably had no idea he was in the car, whoever “they” were. 

He gets out of the car. The car door creaks, and the man whips around. 

His eyes widen. 

“You--what?” 

The voice is surprisingly American. 

Surprisingly? He’s not sure why it’s surprising, it’s not like an American can’t kill just look at history, but still, Kind of surprising. 

"What, wasn’t supposed to be here?” Tony rasps out. He realizes now that he’s basically sent himself a death sentence as the man surges forward. 

“What are you doing here?” 

His eyes are piercing. Also very, very familiar with some photographs that Peggy has on her mantle and her desk. 

James “Bucky” Barnes. Son of a bitch. 

“What are you doing alive?” Tony asks. “I thought you were lost in a ravine in Europe somewhere.” 

“What--huh?” 

“Ravine. In Europe. You know who you are, right? Is this some kind of sick...what did they do to you?” 

“I do not know what you are talking about.” 

His eyes get cold again. 

“Who are you?” 

“I am the Asset.” 

It is now that Tony realizes that every single shitty sci-fi book is probably right, and his disdain of “wacky science” and “magic” have all been for nothing, because here is Bucky Barnes, who apparently has no idea who he is. 

Then Tony gets knocked on his ass. His body slams against the icy road, and Barnes is rushing towards a motorcycle. 

And he’s alone. He can’t breathe, all the wind knocked out of his chest. He thinks he broke a couple of ribs. 

- 

No one believes him. At all. SHIELD brushes it aside. 

“There’s no way Barnes could be alive. You were probably just seeing things,” they tell him. “Would you like us to find you a therapist?” 

“No,” Tony says, and they ask why. He laughs, sipping on his water. “SHIELD has so much loyalty to itself, I’m afraid I’d be compromised.” 

“Therapists aren’t supposed to divulge any information,” Nick Fury adds carefully. “And we’re a secret-keeping bunch. Nothing goes out that comes in.” 

“Unless, of course, it’s necessary,” Tony drawls, staring at Fury. God, the leather outfit...that’s weird. “Then I’m out in the open, Nicky. And what fun is that unless I get to show off an outfit in full-coverage?” 

“...I’ll have an agent escort you home. We’ll have guards overnight.” 

“Don’t bother.” 

“And why is that? Think you can handle it by yourself?” 

“Fury, my family has made a career out of thinking a lot of things. You’re not being as detrimental as you think.” 

He finger-waves, grinning and winking at agents on the way out. 

- 

Now comes paranoia. This is welcome, actually, because it’s allowing him to work up new security measures and hack into various security cameras around the world to see if he can find Barnes. 

It’s like he’s a ghost. And fuck, maybe Fury was right. Tony doesn’t like that, but that may be it. 

Merry fucking Christmas. 

- 

Years go by, and Tony keeps a tiny ear to any news about mysterious deaths that can’t be explained. A man that glows in lamp-light, has no identity. He’s not sure if it could be Barnes. God knows he’s no longer seventeen, and Barnes--it if it was Barnes--would be way older. He should’ve been an old man in 1991, but he wasn’t. 

It kind of reminds him of the conspiracy theory that Walt Disney was kept cryogenically frozen, which is just ridiculous, because as far as he’s concerned, you’d need a bit more to you than just regular skin and bones. 

And this is where it hits him. 

Barnes was experimented on when he was captured by Hydra. Peggy told him that Rogers told her that he was repeating his dog tag number over and over, as if someone was trying to take him over. 

Yeah, you’d need a bit more. 

Like a fucking super soldier serum. 

- 

This then delves into Tony realizing that if Barnes is flash-frozen, then...well, could Rogers have survived? He always thought his dad was crazy, but a broken clock is right twice a week or however the hell that saying goes. He never used it, he wasn’t a broken clock. 

(He was broken, but he’s not going to compare himself to a clock. Perhaps  Model-T.) 

- 

They find Rogers. Tony realizes Howard did his math completely wrong for years, and probably never let anyone look at it because he was a World Super Genius. And a Colossal Dick. 

Steve Rogers is one tough cookie to crack. Tony chips off some of the ice and puts it in a glass of scotch. 

“Do you really think that’s the most appropriate thing to do?” Phil Coulson asks. 

He’s shocked, but mainly because Tony has seen his Cap collection, and that man has so many limited edition cards and lunchboxes that it’s a bit crazy. But at least he knows how to decorate with it and not have it look like an absolute nutjob swept into his house and did it all in red-white-and-blue. 

“Phil, my darling, when have I ever done anything the appropriate way?” Tony asks. He stares at the face that’s emerging out of the ice. “Besides, what else are you going to do with this ice, hm? Besides melt it all off?” 

Steve is a miracle. Every scientist on earth wants to poke and prod at him. 

Tony breaks him out of SHIELD in a week, because he swears to shit if one more scientist asks to take blood samples “to see how going under Arctic temperatures affects the bloodstream” (and also take DNA for cloning) he’s going to lose it. 

Fury yells at him for two hours. 

Steve flips Fury off from the couch, where he’s been channel-surfing for the better part of three hours. 

“You’ve already corrupted him,” Fury scowls. “Rogers, we need to talk--” 

“He’s retired,” Tony says. 

(Steve is not, technically. Hasn’t said anything. But Tony is putting him on mandatory retirement for at least a year.) 

“What’s...what the ever-loving fuck is that?” Steve asks. 

An infomercial. For an automated chair. Mostly used for old people. 

Tony grins. 

“You wanna see how fast I can launch you out of one?” 

“I’m going to say yes. Professionally.” 

Ten miles an hour, and Steve goes flying across the room into a pile of pillows. 

It’s not the end-all solution. God knows Steve calls him “Howard” and asks where a lot of nasty food is, and sometimes can’t tell the difference between what his brain is seeing and what is actually there. 

But Tony gets him help. And Steve goes to art school. 

It’s all very funny, actually. Steve rants about “modern art” and how “if he could kill any concept it would be abstract expressionism, what the fuck.” 

Tony buys and then donates a Rothko in his honor. 

Steve fumes, but finds it hilarious. 

Then, there’s the attack on New York. 

Norse god of mischief decides to end New York, blah blah blah. 

Captain America reappears, everyone loses their shit, and Tony almost dies. 

Then he gets four other roomies besides Steve, and he has to make a chore chart. Ugh. 

- 

Barnes reappears in France. Tony gets a fairly good image, and Natasha stills. 

“You know about Winter Soldier?” 

“Barnes? Yeah.” 

“You know who he is?” 

“James Barnes. At least, I think. He tried to kill me, wasn’t very successful at it.” 

Steve overhears. 

This leads to a chain of events that ends in Steve not coming to family dinner because he’d rather sit in his room and listen to Green Day or Glenn Miller or whatever the hell gets him even more upset. 

“Listen, Steve, I’m sorry. But up until this picture? I was only about sixty percent sure I wasn’t full of beans.” 

“Why is that the phrase you use?” 

“What, full of beans? Bruce says I have to work on my cursing. Apparently, children are impressionable. Who knew?” 

It’s not a total success. Steve still doesn’t like that Tony didn’t outright tell him, but Tony isn’t going to tell Steve that he has the mental stability of a single cashew. 

So begins the hunt for Barnes. Which actually isn’t too bad. 

He’s in DC. Not for any political clean-up, unfortunately. He’s trying to kill Fury. Tony doesn’t know why, at least until he looks up Pierce, who’s technically, mostly retired from SHIELD. 

And yet still uses most resources that technically? He needs more than one authorization from multiple people. 

God, people are getting bad at covering their tracks. Used to be harder to catch and see if someone was doing dirty deals. 

(Okay, not like he can talk because Obie was...well, no use in discussing that now. He needs to focus.) 

Nat and Steve are bad at lying. This kind of surprises him, because Steve is usually a successful liar. He’s convinced Clint that it’s not him who keeps eating his peanut-butter-fudge ice cream, but Thor. 

And Natasha used to be Natalie Rushman. Then again, Tony was poisoned during that one, so that might just be on him. 

-

Helicarriers go in the water. 

Tony’s working on making sure most of the information doesn’t reach the general public, although he can’t stop it all. 

Barnes falls off the face of the earth, and Steve wants to go on another treasure hunt. 

“Let him come to us, or figure himself out.” 

“This isn’t a college kid going backpacking in Europe for a year,” Nat snaps. “He’s...you know who he is, who he was, and what he can do.” 

“Counterpoint: we don’t know if he secretly really wanted to see traditional decoration of Ukrainian Easter eggs,” Tony says. “God knows that I want to learn more about that.” 

“Is everything a joke to you?” 

"Only on federally mandated holidays,” Tony says with a shrug. “But let him be. Steve, it’s one thing that he didn’t kill you. It’s another thing that he hauled you up from the Potomac. I’m not sure I would’ve done that because who goes up alone to a helicarrier?” 

“Historically nobody,” Natasha says. “Most people don’t have any helicarriers.” 

“God, this situation sucks,” Tony says. “What if. We potentially. Ignore all of it and have spinach and artichoke dip? Hm?” 

“With toasted bread?” 

“I’m not an animal, Steve.” 

“Your penchant for four a.m. coffee while you don’t realize you’re singing songs from the seventies says otherwise,” he responds. 

“Well well well, if it isn’t the punishment of you getting the aux taken away for a week,” Tony taunts. 

“Oh, come on!” Steve whines. 

“Nope, just you having to listen to more of Bruce’s questionable tastes.” 

“Fuck.” 

- 

Barnes comes stateside. The only reason Tony knows this is because Jarvis says that he may have spotted Barnes, but he’s not sure. 

“J, you’re the most advanced system in the world, not to mention my son, and you like to hack into the Pentagon for funsies.” 

“All of that could not have prepared me for this.” 

Barnes is wearing a neon green tank top that is advertising Coco Beach in Florida. 

“Can I laugh? Or is that sad?” 

“Multitask, Sir.” 

“Oh, true.” 

- 

Barnes is not in New York. Tony has to near-about put an electric fence around the whole state so that Steve doesn’t go on a road trip. 

Hell, Tony doesn’t even trust him to go to coffee alone, but that’s a bit much. 

“We have to wait,” Tony says. 

Sam Wilson is a godsend. Also the funniest man Tony knows. 

He is also emotionally healthy and very perceptive, so he has been noticing that Tony is nervous. 

Because how do you face the man who killed your parents? Technically? 

“Are you talking to your therapist?” Sam asks. “Just thinking you should.” 

“Sam, we’re working on my issues from 2007. Believe it or not, it will be taking a full year.” 

“I don’t like that I can never tell if you’re serious.” 

“I know you remember the tabloids from 2007, I wrote a mesh vest. Clearly, I need so much help.” 

Sam snorts. 

“Maybe. Hey, I’ll catch you later. Clint and I are gonna go try and find some questionable shirts to crop.” 

“Did his little protege convince you? Bishop, right?” 

“Kate, yeah. She’s convinced our public image will go viral or something. Good luck with helping Steve and Nat with your super-soldier hunt.” 

“Thanks. Let me know if you find a shirt with my face on it. I want it.” 

Sam snorts. 

“Will do.” 

- 

Bucky Barnes comes to New York in early May. The springtime is slowly but surely fading off, sun approaching more and more. Tony is enjoying coffee on a veranda, and then suddenly his waiter is nowhere to be found and he’s not entirely sure if his visitor takes credit or debit. 

“Can I help you?” 

“Maybe. Depends on if you’re gonna kill me or not.” 

“I think Steve would be a bit broken up about it.” 

“Do you care what he thinks?” 

“On this situation? Yes. When it comes to culinary choices? No.” 

There’s a ghost of a smile on his face. Tony’s trying extremely hard not to remember shattered glass and a motorcycle on ice. 

“Can we, uh, table this conversation? For later. Espresso and all that, plus the added bonus of our shared history, so...” 

“Shared history?” 

“You don’t remember?” Tony asks. Bucky shakes his head. “Ah. Then this is truly a comedy of errors. Maybe. Um. Listen, I, uh...I gotta go. You need to talk to Nat or Steve or hell, maybe even Thor. Is Thor a good option?” 

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“Barnes, I can’t exactly face you right now.” 

And then he jumps off a balcony. 

A fucking balcony. 

Jesus H. Christ, his therapist is gonna be so excited for their next session. 

The suit wraps itself around him, and he can finally breathe, and he’s thinking about calling Pepper and see if she would like to schedule him a vacation for maybe anywhere but New York and Iowa. 

“Why not Iowa?” Pepper asks. “They have good antique stores. I’ve gotten quite a few good finds for clothes.” 

“I can do shopping retail literally anywhere else, absolutely not.” 

“Spoilsport. Steve know you’re leaving?” 

“I didn’t even really tell Steve what happened with my parents.” 

“Oh, your therapist called. She sounded concerned, but also intrigued.” 

“It’s because Sally almost became an employee of NASA and still has a soft spot for aerodynamics.” 

“What exactly did you do when faced with Barnes?” 

“Check the front tabloid page tomorrow, just tell everyone I’m out of town.” 

“Got it. And Tony?” 

Her voice is soft. 

“Yes, dear?” 

He can feel her rolling her eyes. Affectionately, of course, but rolling all the same. 

“Be safe, and come back. You know Rhodey and I miss you.” 

“I miss you too.” 

- 

A week is spent in Malibu. He really is thinking about selling this place. But for now, it suffices. 

Steve texts him. 

bucky’s back. holy shit 

be back in a week. radio silence. 

got it. no more messages from me. thor tells me to tell you that he broke the sink 

:(((( 

And that’s it. He’s sitting in the house for a week, has already called Sally once and explained how his suit works, and then listened to her talk about how “his reliance on the suit to help him escape unfavorable situations is not exactly the healthiest but also none of my clients have had to face someone who is of weird standing.” 

It’s no secret that Tony doesn’t like Howard Stark. Who would’ve liked that sorry excuse for a father, a man who was so cold-hearted the Arctic looked like a tropical paradise? 

Maria was...Maria was different. 

She wasn’t a good mother. No, she was never a good mother. But she tried, and she didn’t deserve her fate. 

And then there was the question of Bucky Barnes. Who wasn’t Bucky when he was there, but still so damn recognizable. 

It’s kind of like when there’s a movie about a famous person, and another person plays them. Like Tom Hanks, essentially. Bucky played whoever the fuck they get Tom Hanks to play and it’s similar: you see the resemblance, but it’s not it. 

So yeah. 

There’s also the little tidbit that things get complicated when you involve personal feelings and rationality, and really? Tony misses New York. A lot. And he’s not going to let someone else overtake his life just because he’s uncomfortable. 

So he flies back to New York. 

- 

He’s in a bad way, Barnes is. 

“He remembered you,” Steve says. “What he did.” 

“Ah, there’s that.” 

“He doesn’t have to be here,” Natasha says. “I have a couple of SHIELD safe houses to choose from.” 

“None would be adequate to house something like me,” comes the response. 

Barnes looks remarkably shitty, as if he hasn’t slept in eighty years. And maybe he hasn’t. 

“Jail would be more fitting.” 

Tony rolls his eyes. 

“You are literally the most dramatic person ever, and Bruce threatened to take over the government because Thor ate the last croissant. Put those on the grocery list, Steve

“We’re not gonna throw you in jail,” he continues on. “Not because you happened to be used as a goddamned Swiss army knife. I have issues, sure, but I’m not going to be going all Hannibal Lecter or whatever.” 

“Who the hell is that?” 

“Cannibal. I realized that that’s a terrible comparison, please forgive me.” 

“Why a cannibal?” 

“Couldn’t think of anything else but Anthony Hopkins, the actor. My mistake. Point is, we’re gonna have to go through some channels, and I’m introducing you to BARF, as well as a new person who’s gonna rock your world.” 

“I’m pretty much well-acquainted with vomit.” 

“No, not that,” Tony says. “Although we can cover that through my 2005 edition of partying if we really wanna dig up some old magazine interviews. No, I’m introducing you to something that’s going to change your life.” 

-

After that, Tony doesn’t have much to do with Bucky’s life. 

He serves as a permanent guilt trip, nothing says “well, shit” much like being a permanent guilt trip. 

Sally tells him that they should talk it out. Do all that “and how do you feel?” questioning that makes his skin crawl and his eyes ascend to the ceiling. 

I mean yeah, they share a living space. Tony has seen Bucky laugh and smile with Sam, talk with Bruce about a really interesting article about regeneration of plant cells or whatever, and Bucky enjoys videochatting with Wakandan royalty. 

(It also helps that Shuri is blunt as ever, but so blisteringly smart. He’s reading her paper on regeneration of nanotechnology, and it just...it’s the Pieta of research, that paper.) 

But he never speaks to Bucky. Well, he does. But it’s more along the lines of “hey Barnes” and “how are you?” which aren’t exactly the Most Thought Provoking Statements Ever Made. 

Summer comes swiftly, and about near with a vengeance. Tony’s dealing with a heat wave and trying to figure out if going outside is even worth it, and then he and Bucky are alone in the kitchen. 

Tony was debating getting a couple of popsicles from the freezer. Bucky is considering sabotaging Clint’s smoothie that was supposed to be special for tonight, but that he’ll most likely forget. 

“Hey,” Bucky says. “Um, can we talk?” 

Shit. 

He’s been avoiding this, officially, for a month. Potentially more if you’re going to count a few choice events that have been brought up by his psyche. 

“Sure thing, buttercup. What are we talking about. Economy, world crises, the great debate on financial advice?” 

“Isn’t the third thing just the economy?” 

“We can break it down over coffee.” 

“Mm, maybe another time. No, I’m talking about us. About how I--I kind of ruined your life.” 

Tony blinks. 

“You didn’t ruin my life. If my life was ruined you’d be hit with so many lawsuits that I could make the rest of your life look like the third circle of Hell, or wherever it is that people go nowadays in Dante’s eyes. No, you didn’t ruin my life.” 

“I still killed your parents.” 

“If you hadn’t, someone else would’ve. Believe me, there were about fifteen others in line. Sometimes, myself included.” 

“You can’t not take me seriously,” Bucky stresses. “I still did a terrible thing. I just want to make sure you know that you’re being too kind.” 

“I most certainly am not,” Tony says. “Being too kind would have me feeding you grapes.” 

Bucky’s face blanks. 

“Don’t. I...I don’t wanna take advantage of your hospitality. I don’t want to remind you of what happened.” 

“You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t wanted,” Tony says. “Believe me. And if you want to leave, you’re free to leave. I don’t want to make you feel like you need to stay here.” 

“I...I want to make it up to you.” 

“Then use BARF and review it,” Tony says. “I’m serious. I need user feedback, and you’re the best candidate for it. Also, please try to convince Steve to wear neon yellow. I just want to see if he’ll do it.” 

- 

Steve wears neon yellow. Tony laughs so hard he cries. 

Bucky smiles. 

It’s a nice smile, really. It’s wide and happy and wow. That’s all worth it. 

And then BARF. Bucky just gives user feedback, nothing else. Tony doesn’t want to know anything else, but they start talking more. 

Tony finds out that Bucky’s been doing crosswords to catch up on current events, and he’s bought taped recordings of World Series games. 

He loves antique stores. He visits them and brings home little trinkets that he remembers in his own house, or what he remembered. He watched old commercials from the fifties and sixties, laughed as he remembered the Sears catalogs that would come in the mail. 

“Me an’ my sisters would beg my mom for new clothes from the catalog, and she never would. Always sewed our pants and skirts so damn well, I probably could’ve used them for the next ten years.”  

Tony laughs. 

“Well, I can’t promise I can sew. But I could give you some armor that could last you twenty years, if you want. Steve told me you’re thinking about doing some distance missions.” 

“Just observation, no armor required.” 

“Sometimes it’s the simple missions that get the worst hits,” Tony says. “Believe me, I know how it goes. So, do you want some armor?” 

Bucky smiles. 

“Sure.” 

“I’ll need feedback.” 

“I’ll give it all I’ve got.” 

- 

Bucky is a goddamned dream to design for. He knows exactly what he needs, what areas are most likely to be pierced, and also has a flair for the dramatic: he requests an Iron Man helmet be embroidered on the back. 

“You’re really just trying to be sweet on me, aren’t you?” Tony teases. 

“My master plan to gain your fortune,” Bucky teases right back. “I’ll waste it all on champagne pools and the worst-looking but most expensive shoes I can find.” 

Tony laughs. 

“Sugar, that’d be incredible if you could spend all of my money on that. I’d commend you.” 

Bucky smiles, and it shouldn’t be as nice of a smile as it is, but here Tony is with his opinions and his concerning thought that maybe he wants to see more of Bucky. 

- 

In the morning, there begins a routine. Tony is always up at eight o’clock. It’s a rare lull in Avenger-morning-routines: Nat, Steve, and Bruce are all done, and Thor and Clint won’t be in until ten o’clock at the earliest. 

(What can he say? Thor’s a god and Clint...well. He needs a lot of beauty sleep.) 

Tony makes coffee, and Bucky makes them both breakfast. Says that officially, it’s to test and make sure that his prosthetic is still performing under optimal conditions. 

(They both know that’s not it.) 

Tony always says he pours too much water, makes enough for two cups. 

- 

Steve calls them out on it. 

“You two are being weird,” he says. “And not like Thor and Bruce trying to reenact that one show about ghosts and unsolved things.” 

“That’s their form of courtship, don’t be fucking rude,” Clint remarks. Natasha snorts. 

“What, us being weird?” Tony asks, pouring a bit more coffee into Bucky’s mug. He always uses too much creamer and then won’t finish his coffee unless there’s more. “Why do you say that?” 

“It’s because you both do couple shit,” Bruce says, breezing into the kitchen. “Also, Steve, lovely to see that you have volunteered to be the next guest on Avengers: Unsolved. We’re planning on using you as a guilt-trip in order to access files about aliens.” 

“Truth will be found!” Thor adds. “But also, yes. Bucky, I thought you were taking him on a date to the art museum on Saturday.” 

Bucky turns red. So does Tony. It really is quite inconvenient. 

“I mean, we could go on a date there,” Tony says. “If you’re okay with that.” 

“You’re doing this in public?” Natasha asks, eyebrows raised. “Hm. Would not have called that.” 

“You owe me fifteen dollars,” Bucky says. “Not you Tony, quit looking at me like that. Yes, it will be a date on Saturday, I’ll wear a nice shirt. Nat said that I couldn’t do anything that surprised her.” 

“Technically, Tony surprised me.” 

“I thought dates were mutual events, hm? Fifteen dollars. I’ll use it to buy the best bouquet in New York.” 

“The best bouquet costs over a thousand dollars,” Thor answers. 

“Not questioning how you know that, but I’m scared of you,” Bucky says. “Then I will get the best fifteen-dollar-bouquet in New York.” 

Tony snorts, smiling. 

“I guess I’ll spray a bit of my perfume on my pillow then, soldier.” 

“I’ll pick you up at noon sharp,” Bucky says, grinning. He finishes his coffee. “We’ll make fun of Steve’s art exhibit together.” 

[stranger-who-writes-fiction]

i don't know what to be without you around

Fandom: Supergirl Rating: K Pairings: None A/N: I fully intended for this to just be a goofy headcanon and then WHOOPS it turned into Danvers Sisters feelings. (Not k*lex. If I see it tagged as such, ya get BLOCKED.) Short. 99% fluff. Probably contains spelling errors. You’ve been warned. 

...

Then

Occasionally, Alex would regret all the time and effort she'd wasted focusing on the downsides of having been thrust into elder sibling-dom. Because while, yes, a lot of the changes that occurred in the Danvers household upon Kara's arrival were...not great...there were definitely some perks to having a sister.

Like the simple satisfaction of a perfectly timed, “Shotgun!” victory.

“What?” Kara protested, her yawn undercutting her indignation. “You can't call shotgun yet, we don't leave for another hour.”

“You snooze you lose,” Alex told her, giving her a pointed look as she yawned again. “Literally.”

Kara rolled her eyes and returned to stuffing pairs of t-shirts and shorts into her duffle bag. Alex did the same, surveying her own bag to see if she'd missed anything. Bug spray, maybe?

She turned to head out into the hall, but Kara stood in her path, wearing a sly smile.

Alex didn't like the look of it. Not one bit.

“What's with the face?” she asked, attempting to sidestep around her younger sister. Kara easily blocked her, and crossed her arms.

“Okay, you get shotgun,” she said. Alex blinked.

“Uh, yeah. I know. I called it.”

“Which means,” Kara continued, complete with dramatic pause for full effect, but Alex already knew what was coming. The second half of the rule...how could she have forgotten. How could she have been so foolish. “I get to pick the music.”

Alex groaned in dismay.

“Kara, no.”

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

It would take them four hours to get to the Tuolumne Meadows campground. Alex sighed, and rested her head against the passenger-side window. That meant four rounds of Fearless, though it was more likely that Kara would just play the same five or six songs she'd been listening to on repeat ever since she bought the album.

“Can't we listen to something else? Please?” Alex begged.

Kara smirked, and turned the volume up.

But of course, her mom immediately turned it back down, giving Kara a stern look in the rearview mirror.

“Kara,” she said in a tone that suggested, knock it off.

Kara quickly cowed, retreating further into the safety of the backseat. “Sorry, Eliza.”

“Great,” Alex said, sitting up straighter in her seat. “Now get her to play something else.”

“Alex, just listen to your iPod, if you don't like Kara's music,” her mom suggested. Alex sank back into the seat.

“...It's not charged.” There was a snort from the backseat. Alex glared into the rearview mirror. “Because someone lost their chord and was hogging mine this morning.”

Kara shrugged, and smirked that same insufferable smirk.

“You snooze you lose.”

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

Four hours and what felt like a billion playthroughs of “Forever and Always” later, they arrived at the campsite, the interminable car ride almost instantly forgotten as the rocky banks of the river came into view. Alex had been here before, years ago on a father-daughter camping trip, but it was Kara's first time. As they filed out of the car and began to pull duffle bags and ice chests from the trunk, she turned to gaze out at the trees, taking a deep, calming breath.

Alex joined her, and gave her shoulder a good natured nudge. “It's nice, huh?”

“Yeah,” Kara agreed. “It's...a softer kind of noisy, than Midvale,” she explained with a happy sigh. And then, after a moment, she said, “...Sorry for being a jerk, in the car.”

“It's fine,” Alex shrugged. “Here, grab the tent.” Kara lifted the gear with ease, and followed Alex over to a level patch of dirt. “I just don't get how you can listen to the same, like, five songs.” She gestured for Kara to dump out the contents of the tent.

“No super speed, Kara!” Eliza called from the car. “You'll kick up too much dust!”

“Okay!” Kara called back as Alex began sorting the pieces. Kara stooped to help her. “They're good songs. You listen to your favorites a lot.” And Alex had to pause and silently admit, that was true. 

“Yeah, but not over and over,” Alex finally said. “I'd get tired of them.” Which was also true. She remembered liking that Fray song, once upon a time, but now, it just annoyed her, any time it played on the radio.

Kara shook her head at Alex’s remark. “I don’t. There's something new, every time.”

Alex glanced over at her, ready with a retort—how could there be anything new in Taylor Swift songs? Weren't they all just...basically the same thing? First dates at fifteen, feeling fearless in the rain at 2AM?

But Kara's eyes were bright behind her glasses as she enthusiastically went on. “Like, sometimes, I'll just listen to the rhythm, or the vocals, or I'll pick out my favorite sounds, and it makes the whole song brand new again.”

Alex narrowed her eyes. “So...it's an alien ears thing, or...?”

Kara considered the question as they continued to put the tent together—they'd located all the poles and stakes, and were maneuvering the tarps into place. “...Maybe?” She said.

Alex kept working on the tent, waiting for Kara to continue, perhaps offer some sort of additional explanation. When she didn’t, Alex looked up to see that Kara’s eyes were on the tree canopy overhead. Her expression was neutral, but Alex had come to recognize that particular look.

She was listening.

To what, Alex didn't know.

“Yeah,” she said after a time. “Yeah, I think it is an alien ears thing.” She smiled. “I like the way guitars sound.”

Alex might've teased her about that, if Kara hadn't sounded so achingly sincere. Did they have guitars, on Krypton? Alex couldn’t remember Kara saying anything about music from her home world. Alex knew it probably wasn’t the case, but she imagined it being a lot of...synth-y sci-fi stuff.

She considered asking Kara about it, but decided against it--sometimes, Kara would get...weird, about such topics, and they were having a nice time. Alex didn’t want to ruin it. 

So instead, she feigned offense. “Well, if you like guitars, I don't see why you don't like my music.”

Kara emphatically shook her head.

“Your music is loud.”

Alex started feeding one of the poles through the tent material. “Um, yes? That's the best part?”

“Yeah, no thanks,” Kara chuckled as she hammered a stake in place. The repeated the process at each corner, and soon enough, the tent was upright, and ready for them to store their gear inside. “It's loud and it's so emo.” 

Alex snorted, heading for their pile of backpacks and duffle bags.

“Okay, Miss 'Romeo save me I've been feeling so alone'.”

FWUMP.

A sleeping bag collided with Alex's right arm.

“That song is great!” Kara insisted, already reaching for more ammo with a wide smile.

“That's not even how the play goes!” Alex teased her. “Right? Aren't you like, the Romeo and Juliet expert?”

FWUMP. The second sleeping bag hit home, but Alex didn't care. She was having fun.

“That's not the point, and you know it!”

“See the lights, see the party, the ball gowns, see you make your way through the crowd--” Alex thought she was safe, as there were no more sleeping bags.

But Kara had found their pillows.

FWUMP. FWUMP.

She laughed again, careful not to let the pillows fall in the dirt. And she was just about ready to give Kara a taste of her own medicine, when she saw that sly smile once more.

Oh, no.

“Hey, Alex, if you hate the song so much,” Kara said with a knowing look, “how come you know all the words?”

Well, shoot.

“...Cause...you play it all the time. Obviously.”

“And you’ve listened close enough each time to learn all the lyrics?”

Alex scowled. “...I mean. It’s...it’s kind of catchy, I guess.”

Kara beamed.

“Ha! I knew—”

Alex hurled both pillows at her.

FWUMP!

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

Now

Alex lets out a relieved sigh.

Kara is back.

Kara is safe.

Kara appears to be whole and...mostly healthy. Her sodium levels are low enough to give Alex some pause, and her right leg shows signs of muscle strain, but otherwise...

“Can I go home now?” Kara's voice is raspy from fatigue. Alex shakes her head.

“Not yet,” she says. “Sodium has to be administered slowly. It's gonna take a while.”

Alex expects some sort of pushback, or protest, but Kara just offers a small hum of understanding. She really is tired, Alex realizes.

“But hey, good news,” Alex adds with forced brightness, “you do get to eat in about,” she consults her watch, “fifteen minutes, or so. Anything you want. Me and Kelly are buying.”

This earns a groggy grin from Kara, and Alex stores the image in her mind, filed under 'reassurances that Kara is still Kara, even after...everything.'

“A dangerous offer,” Kara jokes. 

“Well. It...would not be the first time we bought a mountain of food, to welcome you home,” she admits. Kara shoots her a sad, questioning look, but Alex pointedly ignores it. “So. What'll it be? Pick your poison.”

Her sister's brow furrows in thought. “Um. I guess...whatever will get here fastest?” she suggests. “I'm starving.”

“Ah. We all had a feeling you might be, so,” Alex scoots her stool across the room and extracts a plastic bag from under one of the lab tables. “Snack run,” she says, revealing the spoils with a flourish. Kara laughs outright. It's soft, but it's the strongest she's sounded since returning from the Phantom Zone.

“Thank you,” she says. But Alex taps her watch.

“Still have eight minutes to go,” she reminds her. Kara nods obediently, though she's already sifting through the bag.

“I assume the apples and olives are from Brainy,” she says.

“He swears by that combo,” Alex tells her. “Don't worry, I'm pretty sure J'onn put some actual sustenance in there. You know. Red Vines. Pretzels. The good stuff.”

“...What's this?” Kara asks, and Alex wonders if Brainy perhaps added other questionable food combinations, but the item Kara pulls from the bag isn't one of the snacks.

“Oh.” Alex rubs her arm, a little self consciously. She forgot she left that in there. “That's just...” She pauses. “...I saw that. While you were...” Alex tries to think of a good word for it, but there isn’t one. “...away. I guess I thought...that if I got it. It...was like a promise. That we'd find you. And I'd give it to you.”

The logic doesn't seem quite as sound, as she says it out loud. Regardless, it dredges up memories of awful days marked only by failure, frustration, and fear that they'd never find Kara.

She shakes her head, clearing the thoughts away, and continues in a lighter tone. “Because obviously, pot stickers would go bad, so. This seemed...less wasteful.”

Kara nods, still staring at the shrink-wrapped copy of Fearless (Taylor's Version). A wistful sort of look tugs at her features.

“I haven't listened to these songs in years,” she says.

And Alex can't pass up the opportunity to tease her. “Yes. It's been nice.”

Kara rolls her eyes, but she's still smiling. “It's a good album and you know it,” she says. She sets it aside and yawns. Alex notices that she's looking a little worn out, and she doesn't appear interested in the food anymore.

“You want to rest, while I order the food?”

“...Yeah,” Kara decides. Alex stands to collect the snacks and put them back on the lab table. Kara inclines her heard towards the CD. “Did J'onn put a stereo down here?” Alex gives her a look. “Wait. Of course he did.”

Alex takes the hint and grabs the CD, pulling off the wrapper before heading out onto the main floor. The mismatched selection of furniture is currently off to the side, having been cleared away for one of Nia's training sessions. Alex finds the stereo next to one of the lamps.

When Alex returns to the med bay, Kara's already nearly asleep, her breathing slow and steady.

Alex checks on one of the computers—everything is holding steady, and Kara's responding well to the sodium. She should be able to go home tonight.

It makes Alex sigh in relief once more.

Kara's safe.

Kara's healthy.

Kara's home.

Alex places the CD into the open tray. Checks the track list, turns it to one of the softer songs, and lets it play.

Kara smiles as the opening chords drift through the speakers.

“I like the guitar,” she says quietly.

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

NOTES: - Brought to you by the release of Fearless (Taylor’s Version) and the realization that the original album would’ve dropped at the perfect time for young, impressionable Kara to become a huge fan. - Title pulled from “Breathe” because WATCH ME repurpose select lyrics from love songs for platonic/familial relationships. - I want to say that Kara and Alex went to a MCR concert together...or maybe mentioned MCR? In the tie-in comic? I forget. This isn’t really crucial to the story, I just think it’s a fun aside.  - Apparently it’s National Siblings Day so...yay for good timing? XD 

[cafedanslanuit]

✦ • ° *.  — Ｓａｅｒａｎ＇ｓ　Ａｆｔｅｒ　Ｅｎｄｉｎｇ —  . * ° • ✦

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summary: Saeran has finally found MC and is ectasic to finally be able to enjoy the good ending his tumultous life has reached. But with Saeyoung still missing and Mint Eye around, his happiness may have to wait a little more. Was love really capable to win against his inner demons or will he have to learn to fight for himself?

chapter warnings: (check chapter guide for story warnings) mentions and/or descriptions of mental illnesses.

c h a p t e r   o n e   —   guess i need to trust you when you say you love me

It had been the most hectic months MC had ever gone through.

From the moment she had been taken into a cult, she never thought it could get worse than that. She was proven wrong when just a week later she was in the middle of a war that included said cult, the arrest of their leader, corrupted politics and kidnapping.

At first, she had been glad when the police had captured Rika. After everything she had witnessed during her time at Mint Eye and judging from the way Saeran kept having constant nightmares, even two months after leaving the cult, she wanted nothing but justice to be served. She wanted Rika to put away for good, far away from Saeran and anybody from the RFA. Every time she remembered Saeran’s tears and the scratches she had found on his shoulders and body, she felt her blood boil at the sole mention of the blonde woman. So, when the news broke she had been taken by the police, she was more than ecstatic. Rika had lured hundreds of people, manipulating and drugging them for almost a year and now, she was going to be judged for her actions and would get a punishment according to the law.

That didn’t quite happen. But MC didn’t want to think a lot about it.

She watched Saeran in silence as he put the sheets over their new mattress. Their bed had just been delivered half an hour ago and thanks to the fact both of them had fit their respective belongings inside a small suitcase, moving had been an easy job.

It was supposed to be a good day. Saeyoung was getting out of the hospital soon and they would get to start fresh in a new house, away from the bunker, the hacking, the cult and everything that came with that. But there was something she had to do, even if it broke her heart every time she thought about it.

The last couple of months with Saeran had only proven how foolish she was. She was in love with him, yes, but for a moment, she had dared to dream her love had been enough for him to heal. Her arrogance had played tricks on her, because she couldn’t have been further away from the truth.

Saeran had been fine the first week. He had been collaborating with Jumin in order to rescue Saeyoung, which meant he had to go back and use his hacking abilities to figure out where their father was keeping his brother. MC knew the fact Saeran was still doing hacker work after leaving Mint Eye plus having to deal with his own feelings towards his brother had paid a toll on his sanity. After a few days into the job, he had started having nightmares. MC would wake up in the middle of the night by Saeran tossing on the bed, his cheeks damped with tears and incoherent mumbling that she couldn’t decipher. She would take him into her arms and softly rock him back and forth until the nightmare went away. Once, she had been accidentally hit on the nose while Saeran was in the middle of a vivid nightmare. Her high-pitched scream had woken him up, only to start crying again once he realized he had hurt her.

After that, Saeran’s downfall had been more noticeable. In their leisure time, Saeran needed MC to give him a task to do, or else he would just sit and wait to be instructed. It made sense. He had always been told what to do, and MC thought old habits die hard. Saeran’s protectiviness had perdured after Saeyoung had been rescued, to the point she could notice his ragged breathing when he called her. He always said he just wanted to check if she was okay, and while she wanted to understand his constant alertness, she knew going to the mall for half an hour wasn’t a good sign.

It had been good Saeran had agreed to see a therapist, even if MC thought he would have agreed to anything she proposed. They tried out different psychologists, taking a joint session as a trial, but MC could tell Saeran was far from comfortable with any of them. Thankfully, Saeran had ended up resonating with the fourth psychologist they had seen. She was a young woman in her thirties with short hair, her style and way of speaking similar to Jaehee. But the kindness in her eyes and validation of their main concerns (such as questions regarding the type of therapy and Saeran’s reluctance to take psychiatric medication) made them decide for her. They had scheduled for a first session two weeks later and while it was a reassurance to MC things were going to get better, it also reminded her of the conversation she had to have with Saeran..

MC looked down at her phone and searched for V’s number. She knew he wouldn’t respond, but she sent a message just like she had done since the last time they had seen each other.

‘Saeran and I finally finished moving. Hope you’re doing better xx”

Her eyes darted back to the figure of Saeran, who was now looking at her from his sitting position on the bed. She put her phone away and sat next to him, pressing a kiss against his cheek and then taking his hand.

She had to do it. She had to do it now, before he realized she had left her suitcase in the living room and not in their bedroom.

“We are moving to our new house tomorrow,” MC started, stroking Saeran’s hand with her thumb. He nodded and gave her a soft smile.

“I know.”

“Will you be okay living with Saeyoung?” The smile on the young man disappeared. He pursed his lips and shrugged.

“I guess. I mean, I… I do understand everything that happened. I know he’s not… a bad person now,” he said, an uneasy expression on his face. “And we’ve talked a lot while he was at the hospital. So I guess it’s okay.”

MC nodded. “You’re also starting therapy next week,” she reminded him.

“Yeah, I know,” Saeran said, looking down at their joint hands. A couple of seconds later, he scrunched his eyebrows. “Is there something going on?” he asked, squinting his eyes at her.

This was it. She needed to tell him now, whether she liked it or not. Even if she didn’t want to, she knew it would be the best for the person she loved and therefore, it would be the best for her as well.

MC took a deep breath and stood up. She turned around, facing Saeran and sunk to her knees, grabbing both his hands in hers, her pleading eyes filled with worry.

“I don’t think a relationship is the best thing for you right now,” she said, her voice slow and careful, trying to gauge any reaction from Saeran. As expected, his mouth opened slightly, panic rising to his eyes.

“You don’t want to be with me?”

“I do! I want to,” she assured him, squeezing his hands. “Saeran, I want to be with you because I love you. There’s nothing in this world I want more than that. But I… I think you need some space to heal. You need to heal without the pressure of having a relationship with me,” she explained, but it only seemed to make Saeran’s eyebrows knit together even more.

“Being with you is no pressure,” he quickly said. MC gave him a sad smile.

“But it will be, eventually. I’ll… get mad at you for forgetting a date or ask you to watch a movie you hate with me or--”

“I’d watch anything you wanted me to,” he interrupted her.

“I know, baby. I know,” MC nodded, placing a kiss on the top of his right hand. “That’s why we can’t be together right now. I don’t want you to adore me or feel you have to do anything I want. I want you to fight for yourself. I want you to be able to say no to me.”

Saeran hastily took away his hands and stood up, walking to the center of the bedroom. MC sighed, and lowered her head, trying to find the perfect words to make the man she loved understand why she had taken that decision. She stood up and walked to him again, even though the way his breathing was shallow and quick let her know he was having a hard time.

“This is nonsense,” he whispered, passing both his hands across his hair.

“It’s not. This is best for you.”

“The best for me is you leaving?” Saeran asked, turning his head at her. MC quickly shook her head.

“I’m not leaving. There’s no fucking way I’m leaving. I’ll stay here with you, I’ll be by your side just like I’ve been these past few months. But… I’d probably move to another room, so you can have privacy too.”

Saeran looked at her in silence, trying to work her words in his head. He paced around the bedroom in quick steps, his eyes glued to the floor and his hands constantly messing with his hair.

The next time he looked at her, his eyes were full of tears.

“D-did I do something bad?” he stuttered. “I-- I’ve neer been anyone’s anything and-- I’m sorry. I wanted to give you only the best but I--”

“No, no, no,” MC interrupted him, walking towards him and holding his face in her hands. “Baby, no. You are perfect. You are kind and sweet and I love you more than you could ever imagine. I love you so, so, so much,” she breathed, caressing his cheeks with her thumbs. “I love you. That’s why I want you to focus on yourself for a moment. I don’t want this relationship to be extra weight for you. You’re starting therapy soon and that is something you need to do by yourself. And it will help you so much. Trust me, I would know.”

“You went to therapy?” he asked, his hands softly finding their way around her waist.

“A few years ago, yes,” she whispered, putting some strands of his hair behind his ear.

“Did something happen?”

“You don’t need to burden yourself with that at this moment,” she assured him. “I promise I’ll tell you about it in the future. We have our whole lives for that,” she said, evoking a small smile from him. “Now, you should be your top priority.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” Saeran breathed out, his hands clasping on the fabric on her blouse.

“I know. That’s exactly why you need to try. I’ll be just in the next bedroom whenever you may need me, at any time. I won’t leave you, I would never do that.”

Saeran nodded and pulled her closed, her arms circling his neck while he rested his face on her shoulder, his arms tightly secured around her waist. They stayed a moment in silence, basking in the sound of the other’s breathing and their now familiar scent.

“I still don’t like this,” Saeran mumbled against her skin. MC chuckled.

“Neither do I, if I’m being honest,” she admitted. “But it’s for the best.”

“How long will you…?” he asked, pulling away and searching her eyes. MC sighed.

“I don’t know. Everybody has their own pace in therapy.”

“That lady, the doctor, she said it could be years. You’re asking me to wait for years?” Saeran insisted, a trace of fear present in his features once more.

“Oh, uh… I actually hadn’t thought about that,” she confessed. “We could… set a date? Like, to sit down and see if we can start dating again?”

“You sound like Jumin,” Saeran said, rolling his eyes. MC couldn’t suppress her laugh, letting her head fall on his shoulder.

“Oh God, don’t say that!”

MCe pulled away after a few moments, a ghost of her laughter still present in her lips. She looked into Saeran’s teal eyes and took a deep breath.

“Okay, how about…” she started.

“A year?”  “One month?”

Both of them looked at each other, dumbfounded.

“One month!?” “One year!?”

“Okay, okay, neither of them are going to work,” MC said, rubbing Saeran’s shoulders in a soothing motion. “It’s okay. Then, how about six months from now? You, me, happy hour at that ice cream store downtown you like,” she offered. Saeran let out a long sigh and closed his eyes. She felt his arms tensing and could only imagine the turmoil occurring inside his head.

“Fine, six months,” he mumbled bitterly after a long pause. He took another look at her and rubbed the small of her back with his thumb. “I… I miss you. Even if you’re here. Is that weird?”

“It’s not,” MC chuckled. She pressed a kiss on his cheek. “I’m going to take a shower, okay? We can talk about dinner later,” she smiled, before turning on her heel and leaving the room.

Saeran watched her in silence until her figure disappeared through the door. He tried to go over their conversation in his head one more time, but it only made his head start hurting. He walked to one of the boxes and took out his painkillers, swallowing one pill without any water.

Saeran sat on the bed, elbows on his thighs and his head resting on his palms. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t get rid of the intrusive thoughts in his mind, one after another, plummeting against the little hope he had that MC was actually telling him the truth.

She's getting bored.

She's running away.

She just doesn't want you to know.

She's sliding away.

She’s getting bored.

She’s better than you.

She’s tired of you.

She's met someone else

She’s leaving.

She’s leaving.

She’s leaving.

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[kurosakikai]

. xx3 . Dutiful Son

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“Kitty!” Kai-kun gushes the first afternoon he’s due to learn ‘Sneaky Spy Things’ from him, and Kisuke looks up, realizes Yoruichi is sitting there, grooming herself. He approaches Yoruichi, and looks pleadingly at Kisuke. “Can I pet them? They’re so pretty!” Kai-kun gushes, and Yoruichi - ever the stage-hog - preens, meowing at the boy.

“She’d love that,” Kisuke says, and the boy beams, delighted. Gently, the boy works his fingers over her ears, to cover the base of Yoruichi’s skull, and all over her neck, much to Yoruichi’s purring pleasure.

“I’d love to have a pet, but Papa says we can’t get one yet - he says when I’m in junior high if I keep my grades up I can ask for any pet I want!” He says, beaming, before giving the cat one last fond little ear scratch.

“What kind of pet would you like?” Kisuke asks, amused, and Kai pauses, looking thoughtful.

“Something fluffy,” he decides. “Definitely not a Shiba though,” the boy says, and Kisuke raises a brow. “My school partner’s mom is a dog groomer, and he showed me videos. They’re so dramatic,” he says, grinning, and Kisuke snorts.

“Not unlike the other kind of Shibas,” Kisuke jokes, and Kai-kun giggles. “Give me just a moment, and we can start our lesson,” he promises, Kai-kun beaming happily. “Do you remember what we’re supposed to cover, Kai-kun?”

“Uh, how to act in all kinds of social situations, and high-class behavior,” the boy recites thoughtfully. “So that way I can blend in, and also how to politely insult people,” he adds. “And then, self defense only, until I get older.” He puffs his cheeks out at the last part and Yoruichi, meowing, plants her paws on his shoulders to lick his face. The boy laughs, scratches her on the top of her head.

“Thank you, pretty kitty,” he says with a smile, scratching her under her chin for good measure. “Papa’s so overprotective,” Kai-kun says with a sigh, sets Yoruichi on the ground, to which she meows and rubs against his leg affectionately. “Thanks,” he tells her, and pleased, Yoruichi putters off, tail in the air as she wanders away from them, satisfied.

“Well, now that you’ve been comforted, come, let’s get that dreaded homework done.” Kai-kun obediently follows behind him, holding his bag close. “How did the talk with your mother go?” Kisuke asks, curious. Kai-kun shrugs.

“I don’t know. Papa had me stay at Uncle Chad’s last night so that I couldn’t hear the argument.” Kisuke doesn’t wince, but it’s a near thing. “Momma isn’t happy about it, but Papa says I can attend anyways, and if Momma protests, take it up with him.” The little boy smiles when he looks back, and Kisuke gives the boy a smile in return.

“Do you know the other reason why you’re taking formality lessons?” He asks, just to see if Rukia had told him. Ichigo had already discussed it with him, and had requested he ask that question to see if Rukia had ever told him about his uncle. Kai-kun shrugs a little again.

“Momma didn’t say much when I talked to her about it,” he admits shyly. “She said it had to do with Uncle Bya.” Entering the basement, Kisuke holds his tongue from the acidic quip he wants to make. Being upset would likely confuse the little one until he was old enough to understand why Kisuke was so upset.

“I see.” The little boy obediently takes a seat when he gestures, and Kisuke sits across from him. “Now, I’m going to explain why - your mother should have, but I don’t have an inkling as to why she would keep this from you.” Oh, he had several ideas, and he was not amused. “Did you know that your mother is an heiress?” Kai-kun blinks twice and then gapes.

“Like, fancy politics and arranged marriages sort of heiress?” The boy says, surprised. Kisuke gives a rueful little chuckle.

“One and the same, Kai-kun,” he says, and the boy stares at him, wide-eyed, mouth opening and closing like a little fish.

… Dammit, were the Kaien similarities really still nagging at him? Good grief.

“... But… Momma said that Uncle Bya doesn’t have any other family… doesn’t that mean that I’m supposed to inherit? Shouldn’t I have been taking lessons?” The boy says, confused. With a soft pat, Kisuke ruffles the boy’s hair.

“That’s right. You’re a little behind schedule now. Your Papa asked me to catch you up to speed.” The boy’s eyes turn round as coins, and he groans.

“This is why he wanted me to work at the clinic once a week, isn’t it,” the boy bemoans, and Kisuke chuckles fondly. “I’m going to be studying so much.” Kai-kun’s head hits the desk in his woe, and Kisuke can’t help but cackle at his dramatics.

“You’re precious,” he says, chuckling, and the boy levels a look at him that Kisuke would bet he learned off of his papa.

“You’re evil,” he says flatly, and Kisuke cackles harder. This little one certainly had inherited his Papa’s sense of dramatics.

A small part of him adds that Kaien was certainly an influence as well in his behavior, but like all other thoughts, Kisuke pushes it aside. The little one was not Kaien, even if he shared similarities, and it would be horrifically disrespectful to Kaien’s memory to keep doing this to Kai-kun.

“You’re adorable, Kai-kun,” he says when he’s calmed. “Come now, let’s get your homework done and out of the way so you can start on your lessons.” Kai-kun puffs his cheeks out, scowling, but obediently does so, shows Kisuke his homework.

“English today,” the boy says. “I got the other stuff done in class, but English is evil.” Kisuke snorts.

“Is there any subject you like?” He asks, grinning.

“I like English, most of the time, but I hate grammar.” The boy puffs his cheeks out again. “Why does English grammar have to be so complicated! Even math was easy compared to today!” Kisuke snorts, and takes the paper in hand to take a look at it. The simplest bits were already corrected, but - goodness, what were they teaching kids these days? That was a lot of grammar errors to fix in one sentence.

“Grammar is certainly difficult,” he says, amused, ruffling the little boy’s hair and stealing his pencil. “Now, how about we work together to defeat this beast?”

Kai-kun’s smile beams radiance.

It’s nearly twenty minutes later that the last of the homework is defeated, and Kai-kun is face-first on the table, Kisuke pouring him tea with a sympathetic smile.

“There there, it’s done for the day,” he soothes the boy, who grumbles irritably into his tea when it’s given to him. “No more evil English.”

Kai-kun makes a dramatic sound reminiscent of when Yoruichi hammed up her feline tendencies to get attention, and Kisuke is reminded, yet again, of why he shouldn’t drink tea around Kai-kun.

“Tea!” the boy cheers, quaffing his drink with enthusiasm. “Thank you Urahara-san,” he says happily, looking much refreshed. Kisuke chuckles at the boy, and ruffles the mop of black hair.

“You’re very welcome, Kai-kun. Now, you’re going to not like me very much soon. Learning noble graces is very difficult, you see,” he says with a grin, and the boy looks at him seriously.

“Why?”

“Oh, you’ll see.”

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

Little Kai-kun is sulking under a blanket by the time his father comes to pick him up. Ichigo takes a pointed look towards his son, and Kisuke determinedly does not let himself look sheepish.

“We got to about as far as learning about formal dinners before Kai-kun gave up on the subject for the day. The moment I started explaining forks, he decided discretion was the better part of valor.” Kisuke says, and Ichigo gives a loud, violent-sounding snort.

“Only the forks? What else did you get done?” Ichigo asks in amusement, even as Kai-kun, having heard his papa, frees himself from the blankets to find his way against Ichigo’s leg, small arms wrapping around a thigh.

“We covered greeting people, how to verbally flay idiots, and the rules of etiquette in regards to inviting and being invited to formal and informal events,” Kai-kun says dutifully, clings tighter to his papa’s leg. “Formal lessons are evil, Papa,” the boy tells him, and Ichigo chuckles, kneeling down to lift Kai-kun up to his hip.

“Poor baby,” Ichigo teases with a kiss planted to a forehead for good measure, and Kai-kun’s cheeks puff out at his papa. “Well, it’s all done for the day, cutie,” he tells his son with a smile.

“Good,” he says, snuggling against his papa. “Papa, can we have takoyaki for dinner tonight?” the boy asks him, and Ichigo pretends to think about it, bouncing his son on his hip thoughtfully.

“Hmm… I’ll have to ask Yuzu where she put our Takoyaki pan - it’s just us tonight, so I guess we can make some Takoyaki together.” The boy’s smile dims a little, and Kisuke, before even really thinking it through, offers,

“If you two would like, you can stay at my place tonight for dinner. I have a takoyaki griddle we can put on the table.” Kai-kun looks startled at the offer, and so does Ichigo, whose expression was visibly saddened at the sight of his only child’s disappointment. He gives Kisuke a suspicious look, but Kisuke smiles innocently. After a moment of scrutiny, Ichigo looks down at his son, who is practically vibrating with eager delight.

“Can we Papa?” The boy asks hopefully, and Ichigo’s smile returns, the sight of his little one smiling having cheered him up immensely.

“Only because I love you, cutie,” he tells his son, and Kai gives a delighted little noise, making Ichigo laugh and kiss his son on the cheek. “Let’s see about helping Kisuke make dinner then, hmm?”

“Yay!” Kai-kun cheers, squirming down from Ichigo’s hip to run off and pack his things. Ichigo fixes Kisuke with an arch look, and the shopkeeper raises his hands defensively.

“Maa maa, Ichigo, I saw the look on Kai-kun’s face just as easily as you did,” he points out, and Ichigo’s gaze grows distant as he watches his son happily put his things away

“I just want my son to be happy,” Ichigo says quietly. “With everything going on, I feel like he’s not getting as much affection and care as he needs.”

“It doesn’t help that Kai-kun is a very sheltered little one, either, now does it?” Kisuke adds, pointedly. Ichigo grimaces.

“I take it by the tone of your voice you’re not amused.”

“Supremely unamused,” Kisuke agrees. “I understand your worry, but what happened, Ichigo? You were never this protective with your own sisters.” Ichigo’s gaze slides away, towards his son, who is staying where he finished packing his things, obviously waiting for them to finish their conversation.

“Not now,” Ichigo says with a sigh. “Come by the clinic tomorrow, while Kai’s at school, and I’ll explain.” Kisuke raises a brow, but shrugs easily.

“Sure, sure, Ichigo,” he agrees, before waving at Kai-kun, the boy beaming and scurrying over. “Come along, Kai-kun. Do you know how to make Takoyaki batter?” He asks, and the boy nods eagerly, taking his papa’s hand.

“Yeah! Auntie Yuzu showed me how!” Kai-kun chirps happily, and Ichigo smiles fondly down at his son, brown eyes glittering with fondness. “Auntie Yuzu said I wasn’t allowed to cut stuff on my own though until I turned ten, or Papa would slow-roast her,” he says, giggling.

Kisuke, aware it was no falsehood, eyes Ichigo, who maintains a virtuous innocence that he in no way bought.

Maaaa. What troublesome people, Kurosakis.

[lcvelymxnifest]

FT: Jadyn Lewis 

Damiar had just gotten off of work at the shelter and decided to head to the closest cafe to get a coffee and a something to snack on before he met with one of his clients for a dog training session. He’d taken a seat at one of the corner tables after ordering his items, sticking an earbud in to listen to music as he scrolled through his phone to check anything he may have missed from being at work. Dami used this time to reply to a text from Fi as well as respond to a few training requests. Anything he could do while he waited for his order to be finished.

Only a few minutes passed before he heard his number called by the worked behind the counter. Taking his earbud out of his ear, he tossed it onto the table and stood up, his gaze going over to the counter as he was about to start his way over. Before he could take a step though, his breath got caught in his throat as he saw a familiar face. A face that he hadn’t seen in almost seven years, a face that was supposed to be dead. His first thought was to grab his stuff and make a break for it, cause apparently he was going crazy. His legs wouldn’t move though, he couldn’t find any words to say and he didn’t even realize that his number was being called once again.

The younger boy was standing there, maybe ordering some food, he wasn’t sure. All he knew is he wanted to get the hell out of there before- shit. The other had turned his gaze towards Damiar after the worker behind the counter pointed him out. Too late. “Dami, I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Jadyn spoke in clear French before clearing his throat as he noticed the look he was getting from Damiar. “Apologies, I’m not quite used to speaking in-”

“What the fuck is going on?” Dami questioned, cutting the other off, his hands balling into fists and his voice shaky. He tried not to sound surprised, to sound scared, but how could he not? He was seeing a damn ghost. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

Damiar could see Jadyn flinch at his words, which did make Damiar feel a little guilty, but he wasn’t going to just believer his was happening. “It’s me, Dami. It’s Jadyn.” They spoke as if trying to talk to someone who had forgotten him. “I know this is kind of sudden, but I had to find you.”

Damiar shook his head, trying to hold back tears that were now forming in his eyes. He wasn’t sad, or at least he wasn’t going to admit he was. It was anger that was filling him right now. “No, Jadyn is dead. So who the hell are you? Some damn twin he didn’t know about? Some asshole trying to pull some cruel joke?”

“Dami, I swear it’s me.” Jadyn swore to him, but it didn’t change anything. It didn’t change the fact that Damiar knew Jadyn was dead, he had to be. Why else would they not have told him? “I’m not dead, I’m fine. I just-”

“Stop!” Damiar scolded him, sure he was getting plenty of stares from the others in the cafe, but he didn’t care. Damiar wasn’t one to get mad easily, but this was different. Jadyn had been his best friend, a brother practically and he loved him, but he was dead. Or at least that’s what Damiar had been told. “Jadyn died in a fire five years ago, he’s not alive and he sure in the hell isn’t you. Unless… unless I’m actually going crazy and seeing ghosts now.” Damiar said, his anger turning to fear for a moment as he fell back into his seat.

“The orphanage fire?” Jadyn questioned, as if he was reading from a script of some sort. “I was hurt, badly. The doctors didn’t think I was going to make it. I was on life support for weeks, but I’m fine. I’m here, and I want my big brother back.”

Damiar remembered the call like it was just last week. He’d been finishing up his first week at the shelter as a volunteer when he got the call from the head of the orphanage, explaining the fire that had happened. She’d said that all of the kids had made it out fine aside from a few burns. Except one, Jadyn. He’d ran back in to save one of the younger kids who hadn’t made it back out yet and in the process ended up getting himself hurt. He’d inhaled so much smoke and got severely burned. The hospital had told them there was a slim chance he’d make it, but they’d keep him updated. Damiar never heard from any of them ever again. He’d taken the next couples weeks off work, not able to be around many people. He’d talked to Fi about it, but she had been the only one he was really able to talk to. After no calls, no letters, it had come time for Damiar to assume that Jadyn hadn’t made it, but everyone from France was too scared to tell Damiar. He’d been closest with Jadyn out of everyone there. “You’re…you’re dead.” Damiar said after a minute of silence. If he had lived, someone would have called him, he would have called him. Let Dami know that Jadyn was okay again.

Jadyn was silent for a moment, probably thinking over some way he could convince Damiar this was all true. Why would Jadyn keep this from him so long? His own best friend. “I’m sorry, I should have told you sooner. I know. I’m not dead though, it’s me. In the flesh and if you’ll let me, I want to talk to you about-”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Damiar snapped, his gaze finally returning to Jadyn and while his eyes were filled with tears, it was very clear how angry he was. “If you’re really here, if you’re really not dead. I’m not imagining all of this, then that means you hid from me for five years.” Damiar said, his voice filled with anger as his hands gripped the table tightly. “You made me think you were dead for five whole years, Jadyn!” Over Jadyns shoulder, Dami could see the manager staring them down. Grabbing his things off the table, he shoved his phone into his pocket. “I’m not doing this.” He stated before turning to walk out of the cafe.

“Damiar, wait. Please,” Jadyn protested, starting to walk after him. Damiar turned on his heels to look back at him with a glare. “No, Jadyn. I won’t, I cannot deal with this, with you right now. You can’t just expect to throw all of this in my face and except me to be ready to talk to you, or even forgive you. Just… leave me alone.” He said the last part quietly before turning away from the younger boy and leaving the cafe, shoving the earbud back into his ear as he wiped the tears away with his other hand.

A FEW DAYS LATER

Damiar let out a heavy sigh as he leaned against one of the trees at the bottom of the trail. He’d joined the nature therapy class a while ago, but never had he actually needed it this bad. With the ghost of his best friend showing up in town, he had become over stressed, and he was hoping a hike with the group would be of some help. However, he wasn’t expecting to said ghost show up to the class as well. Was he following him? Trying to piss him off? Just ignore him. He’s not there, he told himself.

Pushing himself away from the tree as the group began to walk, he made sure to get himself as far away from Jadyn as he could, hoping he wouldn’t even notice him and he could enjoy the hike peacefully. Why would the universe be that kind to him though? “Damiar,” the younger boy sighed out as he stepped in line with Dami. “Please, I know you’re probably still upset, but can we please just talk? You don’t even have to respond, just let me explain.”

“I told you, I’m not ready to talk to you.” Damiar said, trying to keep his voice calm. He didn’t want to cause a scene like he had the other day, he was pretty sure he’d never had the guts to return to that cafe, at least not without like a ten page apology. “But you can tell me why the hell you’re here. Did you know I’d be on this hike?” Maybe asking wasn’t a good question, it would make Jadyn think he was ready to have some sort of conversation with him, but he wasn’t.

“No, I didn’t. Well, at least, not until I saw you earlier.” Jadyn admitted to him. “I heard there was a hike today and I’ve always loved hiking so I thought I could use this as a chance to see more of town. Plus maybe make some friends.”

Damiar pressed his lips together at the last part, taking in a breath. “Why do you need to make friends? Aren’t you going back to Paris? Surely you’re not staying here.” If this was some long game plan to get Dami to talk to him, it wasn’t going to work. Damiar would go six more years if he had to without talking to Jadyn, just to show him how much this really hurt him. Or at least he told himself he would.

“Actually, yeah. I was planning on staying.” The younger boy admitted after a moment of silence. Just great, as if Dami needed to see more of Jadyns face around town to remind him of all of this. “I’ve been out of the orphanage for a few years, I thought I needed a change of scenery. Uh, and not to make things even more awkward, but I’m actually staying with your parents. Just until I find a place.”

“You what?!” Damiar stopped walking, turning to Jadyn in disbelief. No way either of his moms actually offered to let him stay there, right? Sure Jadyn had been his best friend, but he’d been lying to him, to all of them for five years. Why would they go behind his back and let Jadyn stay with them? “You’re staying with my parents?”

“Uh, yeah. I got in contact with them before I came, they were kind of upset with me for everything,” Jadyn said quietly. Well, duh, you hurt their son Dami wanted to smart off, but held his tongue. “but once I explained everything and told them I was looking for a place to stay, they offered. Said you were living with some friends so they had a spare room.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” Damiar said with a laugh, though it wasn’t a good laugh at all. This was just pissing him off more by the second. First his old friend comes back from the dead -when he wasn’t really dead in the first place- and now he’s being told that he’s been staying with Dami’s moms this whole time? This sounded like the beginning of a nightmare.

“Dami, look, I just-” Jadyn began but he was quickly cut off by Damiar once again. “No, just stop talking. I’m here because I want to relax, I want to not be stressed out by whatever all of this nonsense is. So please, do me a damn favor and go talk to someone else, Jadyn. Literally anyone else that’s not me.” With that, Damiar turned away from him and walked the other way, moving to the back of the group and hopefully away from the other.

“Y-Yeah, okay. Fine, I’ll just go talk to.. that girl over there.” Jadyn faltered over his words, Dami was sure he wanted to talk to him, but he was in no way ready to talk to him yet. Even less so than he had been back at the cafe. Once he turned back around to start walking again, he was sort of relieved to see Jadyn had actually made his way over to someone else. Maybe Dami did want him to make friends, it would mean less time for him to try and ‘explain’ himself and more time for Dami to actually figure out what he should do about all of this.

[occasionalfics]

touch every star (4)

main masterlist | thor masterlist | ao3 | previous | next

Pairing: Thor X Cinderella!Reader AU

A/N: I’m honestly so glad people like this. It’s not a lot of you reaching out to tell me so, but that’s okay. I think, at the end of the day, I did write this for me before I wrote it for anyone else, and I’m really glad I decided to revisit and share it!

Oh and I changed Odin’s name because of the setting/world, more or less. Odin Odinson didn’t feel right in this context 😂

Warnings: Lots of angst, a really, really shitty boss, but overall this is probably the most pure fic I’ve ever written?

Words: 4,051

//

His mother called a family dinner a week after the gala, early in December, just like she always did. Frigga liked to make holiday plans close to the holidays, and always in person.

Thor wasn’t sure he’d be able to make it, but he knew his mother would be disappointed if he skipped out. And that she wouldn’t accept “work” as a valid excuse for his absence. None of her children were really allowed to miss family dinners. Ever. Even if she never said it like that.

But he’d run out of the office at the last possible minute to be able to make it in time and, of course, that meant he didn’t have time to run home and leave the mask on his kitchen counter. He’d been keeping it in his blazer pockets during the day, and in the most visible spot on his  counter every night since the gala, a reminder of the woman he’d lost twice now.

His only physical reminder.

He felt so stupid for being so easily distracted. Just having her in his arms had been enough to make him forget to ask for her god damn name! It wasn’t like the mask could help track her down, but if he’d just asked what her name was, he’d have something to actually go on.

As he came up from the subway, Thor patted the mask inside his breast pocket, hoping that was a good enough hiding spot to keep it from his family’s prying eyes. 

No such luck, of course. How he thought he could truly fool his mother like that was a question that would later haunt him.

No sooner had he stepped into his parents’ penthouse apartment and pulled the blazer off to hang on their coat rack did the damn mask fall out of the pocket and right onto the floor. And since it was metal falling on hard marble floors, everyone in the vicinity heard it.

Hela, the oldest Odinson sibling - the wily one, which said something with Loki in the running; the one who was able to talk her way out of half of the family dinners when she felt like doing anything but sitting at a table with her father - poked her head out from the kitchen and into the foyer.

“You’re late,” she said flatly, her long, dark hair flying out past her frame in a ridiculously extensive braid. Then her eyes fell to the ground, since Thor had bent down to pick the mask back up. “What’s that?”

“Nothing,” he answered.

But that only intrigued his sister more. Because of course it did. He managed to shove the mask back into his blazer before she made it across the room, but Thor knew there was no way Hela hadn’t seen exactly where he’d put it.

“I’ll give you one chance to tell me what it is, Little Brother, or I’ll find out myself.” Never one to beat around a threat, she was upfront and clear.

The familiarity almost comforted Thor.

He rolled his eyes and ignored her because, really, what was she going to do with a metal masquerade mask? It was Frigga seeing it that he actually feared. He knew that if he didn’t make a big deal of it, Hela most likely wouldn’t, either.

Or so he hoped, anyway.

Moving into the kitchen, he smiled and greeted the rest of his family. Loki and Odin were already seated at the dining room table, Frigga was still working away at the last details of the dinner, and Hela was only just then coming back into the room to pour out drinks. Thor helped by taking dishes and cups to the table, which was more than he could say for his brother, at the very least.

“Nice to see you again, Loki,” he said, only somewhat teasing. His brother had a propensity for travel, and for causing mischief wherever he went. Usually it was all in good fun, but it also meant that the family often wouldn’t hear from him for weeks on end. So, in a way, it actually was nice to see him again.

The youngest Odinson sibling smiled widely, almost to the point of being fake. “You as well, Brother.”

Within minutes, Frigga forced everyone into their normal spots around the table with she and her husband, Freyr, at opposite ends and her children - Thor and Loki on one side, Hela on the other - around them.

They dug into the food, making the normal smalltalk for a family of five full grown adults. And then, when Frigga asked her children if there was anything new going on before getting into whatever she’d called the dinner for, Hela smirked.

Thor should’ve known he couldn’t trust his older sister with this. He was the Golden Child - literally and figuratively; Thor was the only one that had inherited their mother’s blond hair where his siblings had dark, dark hair that resembled Freyr in his younger days - and Hela had always been jealous of that. She’d never done anything to, like, harm him or Loki, but she did whatever she could to put them both through the ringer. Reasonably.

“Thor’s hiding something from us,” she said, point-blank. It was that easy for her. “I found a woman’s masquerade mask in his jacket.”

Frigga stared at him a moment, a curious glance thrown in his direction. He was beginning to wonder if she knew what to ask him, but then she sat forward, and he knew it was coming.

“What ever for?”

He rolled his eyes. Part of him really wanted to put this behind him by making something up. But the other part of him, the Romantic part that couldn’t forget the woman he’d danced with, hoped that speaking into the Universe what he wanted might bring it to him. 

After all, some force in the Universe had already brought her twice.

“I kind of met someone,” he said as calmly as he could, looking anywhere but into the eyes of anyone else at the table. The ceiling was nice and distracting, for instance.

Frigga, on the other hand, went straight into a fit. She started out making unintelligible noises before getting out a breathy and loud, “Excuse me?!”

Thor shrugged, knowing that now there was absolutely no reason to cut corners. Hela had started this conversation, so why not just do what she would at this point? “Well, I-I didn’t so much meet someone as I...uh, bumped into her twice, and then we danced at the holiday gala.”

No one had a response to that, which surprised Thor. His siblings almost always had something to say. His father nearly never held his opinion back, and his mother was well known for her unnecessary reactions.

It took him a second to look up at his family, notice they’d all stopped what they were doing, and sit back to ask, “What?”

“I’d be the first to wager no one was expecting that,” Loki muttered.

“Who is this woman?” Frigga asked.

Thor wished he had an answer. Wanted one more than anything, but not just for his family’s sake.

God, he wanted to know her name so badly. Wanted to know her, beyond knowing that she worked on his floor and had the prettiest laugh in the entire world. He remembered her in that dress - that baby blue that made her look soft and elegant - and wished, so badly, that he wasn’t about to let his family down.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly.

Hela couldn’t help herself but chuckle. Thor didn’t even blame her for it, either. Their father, however, cleared his throat and glared at her.

“I’m sorry,” Frigga interrupted. “Did you say you don’t know the woman that mask you’re carrying around belongs to?”

“Uh. Yes?”

And that set both of his siblings to laughter. Which he’d anticipated, if only in the last few minutes of the conversation. So he let it happen until their father had enough. All he did was put his fork down loudly, but it was enough to call the table to order. Just not without glares right back at him from his oldest and youngest.

“Do you have a way to find her, dear?” Frigga asked, calmer now, like nothing had happened in between her previous question and this one.

Thor might never know how his mother was always able to pinpoint the worst part of every situation, but he did know that she was always the first to offer a solution. So sometimes it was hard for him to explain every single detail; if he got it out anyway, Frigga would give him something to help.

“I do not.”

Suddenly, he wasn’t hungry anymore. His initial reaction to admitting that was to wish he was back at work, not thinking about this woman that kept getting away from him. But he couldn’t really escape her there, either, if she worked on his floor.

“Can I see the mask?” Frigga asked. “Please.”

With nothing left to hide, Thor nodded. He got up from the table and went back into the foyer, gently pulling the mask from his jacket as if Frigga seeing it could fix everything. That wasn’t possible and he wasn’t letting himself believe that it was, but he also couldn’t let go of his hope.

Hope to see that woman again. Hope to, finally, be able to tell her who he was as well as ask who she was. Hope that they could find something more than small moments on elevators and dancefloors.

He brought the mask to his mother directly, putting it beside her napkin before returning to his seat. He forced himself to eat a little bit while she examined the metalwork. No one said anything again, which unsettled Thor more than helped the situation.

“She was at the Stark holiday gala?” Frigga asked finally.

Thor only nodded.

“If she came alone, which I assume she did if you danced together, then she’s most likely a Stark employee, is she not?”

“She is. I think she works in one of the offices on the same floor as mine.” He swallowed hard and forced out, “I just don’t know which one.”

“Well that’s no problem.” Frigga handed the mask to Hela, who passed it back to Thor. “Your phone has camera capabilities. Post fliers, send a blast email. Whatever it takes to find this woman.” She cut off a piece of her fish, then looked him dead in the eye. “You wouldn’t be carrying her mask around if you didn’t want to find her, dear. I know you at least that well.”

---

All she thought about for days was the tall blonde man with lighting around one eye and a dashing smile that lit up the whole god damn room around him. It wasn’t fair. He was...so far out reach in far too many ways.

First, he was definitely out of her league. Nat and Wanda might not agree, but they thought she was too good for everyone.

Second, she still had no idea who he was. Whenever someone went past her office, she’d look up and hope it was him, but it never was. It was like he came in earlier and left later than she did every day, and never once did he appear to leave his office. Either that, or he worked on a part of the floor she couldn’t see from her desk.

She thought about going to search for him every day, but Sitwell kept her far too busy to spare a moment on a whim. A dream.

That’s what he was: a dream. Tall and lovely and kind. Inviting. At least those are the things he’d let her see. She wasn’t sure what else there was, but she wanted to know so badly.

But by the end of her days, she was so tired she never really spared a thought for searching. She went on autopilot after six, walking absently into the elevator without thinking twice. Her thoughts all turned to dinner and bed by the time she made it down to the subway, and only when she was halfway home did she remember she had a hypothetical mission.

But really, who was she kidding? She wasn’t going to find him. If it hadn’t happened in the week since the gala, it wasn’t going to happen, and such was her luck.

Nat, however, seemed to be blessed, in comparison. She’d met a man before the gala, who’d then invited her as his date, and things seemed to be going well between them.

“He’s...interesting,” she said when Wanda asked about him one night. “So smart. Like, intimidatingly smart. Or at least he would to anyone else.” She chuckled at herself, pulling one leg up close to her on the couch so she could paint her toenails.

“You are the smartest person I know,” Y/N said. And she wasn’t exaggerating; Natasha had a knack for keeping up with the best minds, the fastest thinkers. Y/N had gone to a few photoshoots with her at the start of their roommateship, and she’d seen how Nat handled herself in a room full of self important people who only saw her as a marketing tool. So it wasn’t a surprise to Y/N that this man had piqued her interest with his brains first.

“We have a lot of fun together.”

“I’m almost sorry I missed you guys at the gala,” Y/N said. She meant it as a joke, but it caught Wanda’s attention, apparently.

“I’m sorry, what?” she asked, suddenly blinking fast in disbelief.

Y/N and Nat made eye contact for a second, then nodded like they’d communicated something top secret.

“The gala was super crowded,” Nat said. “I spent all night with Bucky and his friends. One of ‘em ran off to get us drinks and never came back. I’m still not convinced he didn’t get eaten by the crowd.”

“This was the first year the whole company was invited,” Y/N told them. “I might send in a suggestion for new venues if that’s gonna be the standard for next year.”

“But-wait, you didn’t text each other to meet up at some point?” Wanda asked, clearly still confused.

Nat shrugged. “I mean, I did text, but by that time Y/N had already left.”

“I had to get home to give you the dress.”

Wanda stared for a minute. That was all she did. She’d even stopped fiddling with her phone. It was like she’d short circuited or something, and it started to scare her roommates when it went on for well over thirty seconds.

“What?” Y/N asked, brows creasing in part-frustration and part-concern.

“So you went alone to a black tie gala, then left early because I asked for the dress?” Wanda asked.

“Uh. Yeah. What’s wrong with that?”

“Did you do anything at the gala? Or did you just stand around in a crowd in that amazing dress?”

“Hey,” Nat called softly, nudging Wanda with her heel. “Chill.”

“I am chill,” she said back. “I’m just a little concerned…”

“Why?” Y/N asked, a certain kind of panic setting in. A voice in her head that sounded all too familiar - her stepmother’s voice - started filling in the gaps Wanda left behind. You have too much time, and I know just the way to fill it.

But a calmer voice inside told her that Wanda was nothing like that woman.

“You were so excited to go to the party,” Wanda said softly, scooting closer to Y/N so she could put her hand on her knee. “You deserved to have a good time.”

“Well it’s not like I just stood around,” Y/N defended. And then, a little absently, “Although, I probably would have if I’d actually gotten in line for the bar.” 

Of course she’d gone to the gala hoping to see him, but from the moment of stepping through the doors and into the immense crowd, she’d basically given up on that hope. There were too many people to navigate around, so she’d set her sights on the bar in search of a distraction. Which then, that, too, had been dashed when she had found her Elevator Crush.

“Okay,” Wanda said, motioning for her to keep going. “So what did you do then?”

Y/N felt her face flush. She couldn’t stop the smile from forming on her face, even as she tried to hide it by covering her mouth with her hand. Her roommates both saw right through that; Nat got excited and nearly attacked Y/N to move her arm while Wanda sat up straighter and let it all happen.

“You met someone!” Nat insisted. And when Y/N made no other response but a long, drawn out whine, she said, “Oh my god, you did!”

The laughter she and Y/N let out then was undeniable. Unstoppable. Nat laughed because she was right (and so did Y/N), and Y/N laughed because the memory of dancing with her Elevator Crush - her Lightning Man - brought butterflies to her stomach.

“Dish! Tell us everything!” Wanda said, smiling as she moved to lean her elbow on the back of the couch and face both of her roommates.

Y/N figured there was no time like the present. And since she’d been caught, she may as well let it out. Maybe if she told her roommates, something out in the ether might hear and make things happen, she figured.

“I, uh. I met a guy on the elevator when I was leaving one day. But then I kinda freaked out on him and ran to the subway and just had a feeling I was never gonna see him again. But...I don’t know why I thought I’d find him at the gala, since I knew everyone was gonna be there, but I did. I just knew. And then he stepped on the dress and-”

“Wait,” Wanda cut in. “He did what?!”

“It was fine. Not a scratch on it.” Y/N shrugged, but she knew that part of the story wasn’t really nothing. Fine it might be, but it was of consequence when the two women with her now helped her pay for that dress. “He bent down to help me fix the dress but there was nothing on it. And I guess my mask wasn’t enough to really hide anything and he recognized me.”

“Holy shit,” Nat said.

Y/N had always thought that Natasha, for all her badassery and intelligence, was secretly a hopeless romantic when push came to shove. She smiled wider at the whispered curse, then went on.

“And then we danced. All night. We talked a little and he made me laugh and stuff. It was nice.”

“I feel like you’re downplaying this,” Wanda accused, but her tone was as teasing as the single raised brow thrown at Y/N. “I think you really like him!”

“Who is he?” Nat asked. “Maybe he knows Bucky!”

And that’s when Y/N’s stomach and heart both sank into her butt.

“Oh, uh. That’s kinda the thing.” She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to work herself up to tell her friends how foolish she’s been. Twice she’s met this man, twice he’s given her his time and attention (which she knows isn’t everything, but it is something), and twice she’s run off from him without giving him her name or asking for his.

“My phone went off before I got around to asking who he was. I had to get out of there to get the dress home in time for-”

“Oh no.” Wanda’s face blanched, and her expression went blank. “Oh honey, no, no! I would’ve understood!”

“But you needed the dress-“

Wanda put one hand each on Y/N’s shoulders, shaking gently as she said, “And you deserved to enjoy yourself and have a hot guy ogle you! Oh my god, Y/N, you totally could’ve stayed!”

“But we agreed-“

“Y/N, you’re the best and most noble friend anyone could ask for but god damn it, you should have stayed! You should've gotten his name and lived happily ever after and, for the record, I totally would’ve forgiven you for keeping the dress!”

She just stared at Wanda because, honestly, that kind of understanding didn’t compute. Y/N had never had friends like her current roommates before. She’d never shared something so lovely as that dress with anyone before, and she’d taken the responsibility of sharing very seriously. It had never occurred to her that she could apologize and ask for more just because she’d been given so little.

“What was he wearing, Y/N?” Nat asked, drawing both of her roommates’ attention to her.

She tried to remember. His suit had been nice, she could remember that much, but his eyes… The bright blue hue of them distracted her. She couldn’t recall what color the suit had been, no matter how hard she tried. To be fair, she hadn’t spent that much time looking at his suit,

But she had spent a decent amount of time looking at his face. His mask.

“He had on this gorgeous black and gold mask with this silver branch-like detailing,” she said, eyes drifting to the corner of the room as her memory sailed. “It kind of looked like...like lightning.”

Nat and Wanda watched the dreamy look on Y/N’s face. It was a glance they’d never seen on her before, but they liked what it implied. Wanda smiled back, and Nat’s jaw dropped as she reached for her phone.

“Ho-ly shit!” she said, hitting each syllable individually, popping up onto her knees energetically. “Holy shit holy shit holy shit!”

“What?” Wanda asked, sitting back a bit.

“I know who he is!” She fiddled with her phone for a second, and though neither of them noticed, no part of this conversation was bringing Y/N back from the lofty, far-off place she’d gone to.

She was busy remembering their dance, his hands on her, his laughter in her vicinity. The way he’d immediately recognized her. The fact that, for some reason, he didn’t blame her for running out of that elevator like he’d done something dangerous.

She liked him for all of it.

And right after realizing that, he was placed right in her line of sight. On Nat’s phone. Google Images popped up one after another, all of this tall blonde man and his incredible eyes. His indescribable smile. The easy way he carried himself, despite knowing he was on the large side of the human spectrum.

“Is this him?” Nat asked.

Y/N nodded. She looked up at the search bar.

Thor Odinson.

So that was his name.

“But- how did you know?” she asked, whipping her head toward Nat.

“He’s a friend of Bucky’s,” her roommate answered. “Like, a close friend, I think. They’re all part of this group of Stark directors and execs and I met him, I’m guessing before he ran into you.”

Thor. The name certainly suited him, and the mask made sense now.

“Oh my god, this is amazing! Y/N, I can tell Bucky you’re the elevator girl! He can help and-”

“No.”

Even she couldn’t believe she’d said it.

“Bu- What?” Nat asked, her face scrunching up.

Y/N stood to move away from her friends. Moving around the lovely, light memories of dancing and smiles was the fact that this man - Thor, her Elevator Crush - was an executive. Or, at least, a director of some office within the building. He was way, way above her, and if Jasper Sitwell had taught her anything, it was that reaching too far was dangerous.

No wonder she never saw him around. He was probably way too busy to deal with her on a regular basis.

But she couldn’t explain that to Nat, who had an answer prepared before Y/N realized a question had been asked.

“No,” she repeated. “It’ll be better if I find him,” she then lied. “But I appreciate the thought. Really.” She forced a smile, but all three women knew each other well enough to know it was as fake as the promise of looking for him was.

[whatwashernameagain]

Keep him safe - Chapter 33

You can read the previous Chapters here: Ch 1, Ch 5, Ch 10, Ch 15, Ch 20, Ch 25, Ch 30, previous chapter, Ao3 Link, Lo’s, Pat’s and Virgil’s aesthetics, You are Magical, I’m dying to be with you, The Dreamer

Pairings: Logan/Patton, Roman/Virgil

Words: 12.491

Warnings: feeling everyone is against you, self-hate, cursing, mentioned addiction, mentioned past bullying

Summary: Detective Logan Sanders and his best friend and dorky partner Roman Prince have made a dear friend in the lovely pattisier Patton. Logan however, feels a lot more than friendship for the sweet man, even though he knows he cannot possibly have him. Their routine is broken abruptly when Logan finds bruises on Patton’s fair skin and slender wrists he could hardly have received from his costumary clumsiness.   Meanwhile his partner Roman has his own demon to fight, which comes in the form of a little delinquent who seemed to have been pulled into a street gang quite against his will. Roman is determined to help the strange young man. It would be so much easier though if he just stopped hissing at him!

Notes: Thanks so much to my betas @spootilious​ and @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2​ for your continuous support and WELCOME TO ALL THE NEW PEOPLE WHO JOINED THE DISCORS SERVER! I am so happy you are all here! Anyone can join: Invitation:https://discord.gg/Y2WNAND

Also I thought I’d get out my stuffy Ko-fi page again since the story is two years old now and eating up huge portions of my life, in case anyone wants to support me. Reblogs and comments are just as welcome, though ;)

Chapter 33

Knowing how awkward Logan had been the first few days of waking up after a sleepover, and fearing an even worse reaction with Patton after falling asleep tangeld around each other, Roman cautiously chose to peek into the silent room the next morning. He was a valiant hero, after all. He would save his partner. 

Upon finding them still asleep - and fully dressed - Roman stormed the room and cheerfully forced himself between them, asking for kisses and breakfast and knowing full well there would have been an awful lot of stuttering and apologizing on both sides without his glittering presence. He grinned smugly as Patton sleepily giggled and snuggled into his arms.

Upon entering the kitchen, Virgil softly asked Patton if he was okay, as he had every morning now that the baker thought about it. Logan on the other hand flushed and tiptoed around him until Patton cornered him. 

“I’m sorry for making you worry.” He apologized once they had a moment to themselves and were able to settle down with some tea and cocoa, respectively, on the couch. Knowing Logan needed to have things explained carefully, he tried to put his stupid emotions into words that would cause as little harm as possible. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong at all, it’s all me! I just got so used to having things go bad every once in a while, when I do something dumb, that I started to expect it. I sometimes – I don’t know - I keep seeing bad things that aren’t there. It’s silly. I’m sorry.” Patton rambled, curling around his warm mug. 

“Your responses are far from silly, Patton. Please do not belittle yourself for your emotions.” Logan responded gently. His voice was deep and warm. He gazed at Patton’s pale, small hands quietly, at the light falling onto his silky curls, at his smooth, lovely face. His chest felt full with longing. The patissier was radiant in the sunlight bathing him, making him look bright and innocent and so brave. Logan could hardly breathe with how much he felt, suddenly. With how much he wanted Patton’s happiness. The urge to make things right was like an entity on its own, pushing at his ribcage, urging him to speak. He selected his words carefully. 

“Something must have caused your worries. It would calm me greatly to understand which behaviors have caused you to respond the way you did so I may prevent them in the future. I truly wish to make you feel safe in this flat. Please support me in my endeavor to understand.”

Patton couldn’t help but feel stupid and guilty as he was confronted with such honest, unjudging support. He swallowed hard. The difference between the image he had made up and the man begging him to be allowed to take care of him couldn’t be more obvious. Logan’s dark eyes were so warm when he looked at him. He wasn’t smiling or complimenting him, or telling him how great he was and promising him gifts and such, but Patton still felt like he mattered more than he ever had. Logan’s attention was entirely focused on him, his tall form angled towards Patton, as if he were everything he cared about. 

He wanted to apologize again and tell the detective that it was all his fault, that he shouldn’t worry. He also knew that Logan had developed a talent for seeing through his excuses. He wouldn’t be satisfied until Patton had told him how to help. 

“It really isn’t your fault, Logan. Please believe me! It’s all in my confused head, you can’t help it when I make things up. And it’s not just you anyway, which shows how much silliness I’m coming up with - you really can’t trust my little head.”

“I do not understand. Did somebody else make you uncomfortable?” Logan asked, straightening in alarm. Patton felt like he had been shoved in the chest. It took him a moment to realize that the fact that Logan had automatically assumed he alone was to blame had hurt. Why was it that they wanted to care for each other so badly and still kept rubbing each other the wrong way? Patton just wanted - he just wanted to give Logan so much. He wanted to touch him in ways that made him smile, not doubt himself.

“Well, it really is all me, when If I’m being really honest!” Patton hastened to remind him. “But I guess it’s really – whenever someone fights or makes loud noises or – or argues about something and gets angry – and that’s okay of course! It’s all my fault and you are not doing anything wrong, it’s all in my head! But- that just, it just makes me an itty bit anxious, you know? I mean- you probably don’t, being a strong detective and all. I just worry that you guys might get in a fight or that I did something wrong. I do that plenty after all. But like I said, it’s all me being oversensitive, you should just laugh about it and go on with your day. I’m sorry for being a bother!” 

Logan grew very silent after Patton’s explanation. Sightlessly staring at the tea in his hands, he tried to categorize the exchanges of the last weeks in the apartment. He had thought that they were all happy here. There hadn’t been any fights, any dramatic outbreaks or terrible mistakes he needed to fix. Virgil had grown so confident and Roman was happy. The pets were healthy and he had thought… he had thought Patton had everything he wanted. What arguments had upset the gentle man? Roman and him had been getting along as well as always. Virgil hadn’t had any visible adverse reactions to his therapy that he could think of either and he was clearly growing closer to Roman. 

Had he been angry? Had he fought with one of them and hadn’t seen the effect it had on Patton? He just couldn’t understand what his friend was referring to for a long moment. Everything had been going so smoothly between him and the others. What could he have been doing that would be considered aggressive by a victim of abuse, such as the pâtissier?

It dawned to him quite abruptly. He’d been angry indeed. Just this morning he had grabbed Roman and growled at him for being dramatic and causing them stress over his gloves. His irritating partner had been howling about it too. Loudly. He had hardly noticed the sheer amount of noise he was making anymore; or the fact that he, himself, was apparently constantly frustrated with him. He didn’t mean it, after all. 

The realization that Logan was indeed annoyed at one thing or another all the time came as a shock to him. He had been so content. He hadn’t noticed…

It was so natural for him to complain and lecture others, especially Roman, who liked to have his attention. It was part of their dynamic. He liked to grumble and his partner liked to wail and whimper and demand he be treated with admiration and given the pity his various plights deserved. They bickered like siblings because this was what had gotten them close to each other in the beginning of their friendship, when they hadn’t felt comfortable enough to ask for friendly cuddles. It was their way. He showed his affection in this manner. Whenever he grabbed Roman, his friend would lean into him or playfully wiggle about, letting him carry his weight. When he wanted to initiate contact, he woefully sighed or whimpered and draped himself over Logan. They shoved and bickered and roughhoused with each other to show their mutual affection and wish for contact. 

Had Patton seen something he had missed? What if he had misinterpreted their interactions all those years? Was Logan actually insulting Roman? Was he unhappy as well? Was he secretly resenting him?

What about Virgil? He’d been so hurt and disappointed by the men he’d trusted. Did he feel threatened? 

Logan felt like a sudden weight pressed on his chest. It hurt so badly he flinched from the sudden rush of agony. He drew a sharp breath, trying to control his twisting features. He was suddenly afraid he would start to cry and be absolutely helpless to stop it. Biting the inside of his cheek hard, he barely managed to place the tea on the table. His hands were shaking. He had to compose himself. Losing control and falling apart in front of Patton would be too much to bear. 

His thoughts kept circling, defying his attempts to force them into order. What had he done? He couldn’t think clearly. His breath hitched. He felt like everyone was looking at him. Like they were talking about him, wishing he was gone. Like they used to in school, like the other children used to, wherever he went. He had thought they had been getting along. He had thought they had liked him – he’d tried so hard to always help with their exercises and tell them about the things he cared about, he had thought that they wanted to hear-  but he’d misread the situation. He just couldn’t understand them. The shock of learning he had been hated by the other students in his class without even knowing, it had felt nothing like the possibility of having forced his family to live with a man that hurt them. 

His mind was racing, churning up more and more scenarios that horrified him. There were so many reasons why they could feel forced to stay with him, to pretend they liked the man that was actually making them miserable. Virgil had nowhere to go. He would have to accept any situation that kept him out of harm’s way or out of prison, and Logan had been the key to his freedom. Roman needed someone to look after him, being all alone in the world without a steady presence, who else would he have turned to, but the man who’d bullied him into living with him? Patton had been pulled out of the steady relationship that had been his life and was now essentially homeless, helpless to go anywhere else, for fear of the man that might be waiting for him, not even able to rent his own place since his finances were still entangled with that man’s. Was it like the last time, where he had been the one that alienated everyone, the one who didn’t understand when he hurt feelings, the one everyone talked about behind his back? Was he suddenly going to be alone again? Before Roman, he had eventually given up. He had isolated himself to protect himself from this feeling, certain he couldn’t bear it a second time. And he had been right. His chest felt like something was breaking. 

He stumbled as he rose, barely seeing what was in front of him through his blurred vision. He couldn’t be looked at anymore. Every look felt like an assault. He needed to hide. 

“I’m sorry. Please- please excuse me. I am so sorry.” He stuttered, shakily wiping his eyes and nearly losing his glasses. He hit his shin on the edge of the coffee table but kept going, feeling his face heat with shame. 

“Logan, wait please! What’s wrong? I’m sorry I upset you, please-” Patton pleaded. He was frightened. Logan had scared him and now he was trying to placate him so he wouldn’t hurt him again- 

This was too much. 

Logan stumbled into the corridor, feeling panic well up in him. There were footsteps behind him, following him. He barely made it to the bedroom and slammed the door behind him too loudly. He hadn’t meant to do that! Every sound he made was too loud, he was doing everything wrong and he hadn’t even noticed. 

He hardly managed to turn the key with his shaking hands, needing the little bit of security it afforded him like the air he breathed. Tears were streaming down his face now. He couldn’t stop remembering Patton’s fear when he had reached out to him in his flat, broken and bleeding. What had he put him through after he’d thought he had rescued him? He’d thought he had finally learned to understand, but everything he believed was wrong again. 

He sank down against the door, covering his ears with his hands so hard the way he squished his glasses against his skull hurt, rocking back and forth in his curled-up position. It was too much. Everything felt overwhelming to him!

There were voices on the other side of the door, loud and rushed. 

 “The fuck happened, man?” Virgil growled. Stress was making his voice rougher than intended. He had seen Logan flee from the room, completely out of it and couldn’t help the tide of protective anger. 

Patton flinched, backing away from the door. His eyes were bright. 

“I- I don’t know! I messed up, I think. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, Virgil!” He cried, hugging himself and looking smaller than he had in weeks. 

Fuck. 

Virgil took a deep, calming breath and told himself not to be an asshole for once. 

“It’s okay, Pat. I’m sorry I yelled. I’m, like, really fucking anxious right now, but I’m sure you didn’t do anything wrong. It happens. I’m not mad at you, man. Please, just- Roman, deal with this?” He asked, knowing when he reached his limit with emotional bullshit. His worry for Logan was already too much and seeing Patton hurt was frankly agonizing. It was more than he could bear. Roman would stay calm and be big and gentle and reassuring no matter what was wrong. He was amazing like that – nothing like Logan and him, who were, if he were quite honest, a mess when if came to vulnerable, emotional shit.

“Hey, it’s all good dearest Patton.” Roman crooned at the frazzled baker softly, reaching out to him with hands that were so tender. “Why don’t you come with me and we’ll hug it out? Our brilliant Virgil will fix everything and we fabulous darlings will get ourselves some well-deserved cuddles. Sounds good?” 

Patton didn’t really get a chance to worry about making a decision since the detective was already bundling him up in the warmest embrace, tugging his little body against his bigger one. Roman allowed them a moment to rub his cheek against soft curls and hum a soothing melody. 

Having moved them both back to the couch, he made sure to pull the smaller body between his legs and wrap him all up in his embrace. Keeping up a calming chatter, he rubbed his hands over the slender back and through his hair, hoping to slow his frightened little heart. 

“I’ve got you, sweetest Patton. No one is angry at you. All will be well, I promise. We love you. Take a deep breath for me, okay? Logan will be just fine. We’ll always fix everything together and no one will be hurt or mad. We’re a family, we’ll get over the drama and have cocoa. That’s it.”

His voice was deeper and softer than usual, lacking all of the shrill, loud notes that had recently made Patton’s nerves flutter fearfully. He sounded certain and loving. Squeezing his eyes shut, he listened to his tender words. 

 Virgil pressed his ear against the wood, trying to determine what to do. He couldn’t hear Logan at all and he didn’t want to upset him even more by demanding anything. Should he call Remy and make him talk to the detective? His phone was out here though, and he’d need to get him to open the door first. 

Pushing the emotional mess onto someone else sounded so tempting, but he knew Logan would be ashamed to talk to his old friend like that. Also, he had an idea about what had happened. Patton had grown frightened of- everything, really. He was starting to put it together properly only now that he had seen just how afraid he’d just looked. He guessed the same insecurity he had gone through himself had to be expected. But of course, it would be different for Patton. Virgil had thought Logan was the right one to fix it because- because he had fixed everything for him. He trusted the man so much because he gave him so much more stability and safety than he had ever experienced before. His touch always felt safe to Virgil and he always trusted him to listen and understand, because the way their minds worked was so similar in a way.

He was a fucking idiot. 

Logan was acting like a father to him, platonically loving him and protecting him. His touch was safe. Virgil’s expectations towards him were safe. But to Patton, he was something else. Patton had been abused by the man he’d loved, so the relapse would of course make him project onto Logan most because he was closest to a romantic partner. The baker liked him. Their cuddles, despite how innocent and well intended, were never as platonic as Virgil’s and Logan’s. Of course he would think that if anyone was going to grow abusive as he clearly expected, it would be the man he unconsciously saw as a potential lover. If he kept projecting the fear that asshat had instilled in him onto Logan, they were in for quite a ride. 

Virgil sighed. He should have seen this coming. He was such a fucking idiotic idiot. 

If Patton had told Logan he was scared of him, Logan would overthink for sure – because he was also an idiot. He was probably in there thinking everyone was afraid of him and feeling like he had run over a baby bird or some shit. Someone with a pathological need to help would of course spiral right into self-hate. Hello, old friend. 

Well, Virgil was nothing if not a manipulative bitch. 

“Logan?” He called softly, knocking on the door far more quietly than he wanted to. 

“Logan, you’re scaring me. Please let me in! I’m worried you’ll hurt yourself, I can’t lose you too. Please let me in!” He begged, making his voice high and frightened and feeling absolutely no remorse whatsoever for once. 

The door was fumbled open as soon as his apparently fearful words had left his lips. The fucking sap. 

Logan was disheveled and looked like he’d tried to wipe his tears off to hide them. He looked heartbroken and painfully shy. And he’d still opened the door because of Virgil’s pleading. 

Fuck him, Virgil loved him so much.

He gave the startled, wide eyed man a hard push in the chest, angry at being forced to feel so much. How dare he think Virgil didn’t love him?!

“You’re such a- a fucking-” 

He lunged at him and buried his face in the conservative sweater, squeezing so hard Logan wheezed for breath. 

“You’re such a moron, man! Now hug me!” He demanded, holding on for dear life. Clearly utterly confused, Logan obeyed unsteadily. 

“You clueless idiot.” Virgil growled into the cable-knit, hating how wet his voice sounded. Why was there always so much fucking drama in this flat?! 

“Shake all those stupid thoughts out of your head and listen to me, okay? You don’t get to be a paranoid piece of shit, that’s my job!” 

Logan drew a breath to complain and Virgil just knew he would try to tell him that he very much was not an idiot and that Virgil was not allowed to insult himself. Well, Virgil wasn’t going to let him turn this around onto him. However, he wished he was better at this. He wished he could just drop this emotional mess into Remy’s lap and hide under the covers where he could come to terms with how uncomfortably much he cared for Logan. He squeezed him tighter – effectively cutting him off before he could speak – pressing himself as close as he possibly could. There were no words for the things he felt. Patton and Roman probably had some; plenty, in fact. He didn’t, and neither did Logan. But his hands were uncertainly brushing over his back and Virgil liked that helpless, platonic affection very, very much. 

“You absolute dimwit! Don’t ever think we don’t – that we don’t – we want to be here with you, okay? I trust you and I never trust anyone, cause I’m not a moron who adopts people, but I trust you so fucking much and I’ve had to make too many fucking confessions lately; so can you please just believe that we are your family and that Roman wants to be your fucking puppy; and Patton is messed up beyond belief but he’s fricking enamored with you; and that I’d really like to end this conversation right now, alright?? Don’t make me say anything else or I’ll knock myself out on that dresser!”

Unsurprisingly, Logan was at a loss for words. Not that he could have said much, considering how tightly Virgil was currently squeezing his ribcage. His little delinquent’s hug really was quite aggressive. 

He didn’t feel frightened either. His face – as much as Logan could see of it – was bright red. The poor thing was clearly embarrassed and tired of baring his feelings this way. Logan couldn’t shake his insecurity, though. He could feel obligated to calm him, after all. Virgil was so dependent on him. Feeling lost and just wishing he could bury his face in the once again tangled, purple hair he liked to groom, Logan tried to make his embrace as safe and comfortable as possible to his little charge. How he wanted to protect him from the world. The frame under his hands was still so thin and slender. He didn’t know how to articulate the rush of warmth he felt. He wanted to ask more questions, desperate to be reassured the things he wished for so dearly were true, but he felt Virgil’s tiredness, and he shared it. Trying to understand the way people talked - silent and illogical just with their bodies and gestures and the insinuations he failed to understand – it was still confusing to him sometimes, and when he thought he had gotten something wrong, he tended to overanalyze every interaction he had had with that person until he didn’t trust himself anymore. He was just tired. 

Embarrassed and stressed out of his mind, Virgil hid his face in their embrace and wished he could just crawl under the heavy, dark covers of his bed right now - the bed Logan had given him with all the books and space for his things and that citrus geranium that endlessly frustrated him with its wilting leaves. Pitying the poor, nerdy fool for his useless attempts, Virgil had started programming a sensor to monitor the plant’s humidity and sunlight intake for Logan. He had grown worried about the amount of annoyance that one dying plant caused the detective, okay? He didn’t want the dude paying his metaphorical rent to have a fucking stroke, that was all. And maybe he just wanted him to be happy. He had thought it might be something they could do together, though he hadn’t dared approach him about it yet. He didn’t want to annoy Logan with his nerdy ideas, and he hadn’t done something like this in so long. If his fucked-up mind made him mess this up he could never live it down. However, Remy’s voice telling him to quit being a drama queen and like, gush with the other massive nerd about his nerdy projects was clear in his memory. He didn’t want to talk feelings anymore. He wanted to huddle together with Logan and just fucking lose himself in something that made sense. Was it too much to ask to just be together? He thought that perhaps, it actually wasn’t. 

Making a decision, Virgil suddenly used his wiry muscles to push his body against Logan’s, toppling them onto the bed. He wasn’t going to talk this out. No sir, not this time. They both needed a fucking break. 

Logan huffed in surprise, especially since he was unexpectedly being pushed around by sharp elbows and bony shins until he had been shuffled into a position where Virgil could comfortably tuck himself under his arm and lay his head on his shoulder. Wrestling his phone out of his hoodie’s pocket, the younger man pulled up a still blank looking app that showed little else but two buttons on a white screen. 

“Wanna show you something.” Virgil muttered half into his wool sweater before launching into an explanation about the app he was programming. Logan was instantly intrigued. Wrapping his arm around his little one, he pulled Virgil close to navigate the still almost empty display with him, getting lost in the fluttering, enthusiastic feeling a fascinating project gave him. Virgil’s app could monitor the factors influencing growth and compare them to different locations in the flat or different amounts of moisture in the soil. Perhaps this way he could finally attempt to grow a lemon tree once again. He’d failed three times before giving up. The Failure still irked him.  

Before long, both men had comfortably cuddled together, discussing the advantages of a stainless-steel sensor as opposed to the inferior plastic ones other projects were using. Virgil was warm and small in his arm. His muscles were loose and he made sure to push and shove at Logan when he wanted to curl up more or wanted a certain space. Everything about him spoke of trust. 

Though Logan attempted to keep his touch respectful, being acutely aware of the fears that could awaken in his little charge, Virgil gave him no signals of discomfort. His heart beat steadily where his chest was pressed against Logan’s side and his breathing was even and calm. He sounded pleased when Logan complimented his ideas. Undoubtedly, Roman would be able to tell him if he really as relaxed as the factors he was monitoring were suggesting. He could see it all from nothing but a look. 

Roman never failed to tell him when he had messed up or needed to back off. Didn’t that speak of confidence? They had some difficult conversations about his actions in the past and his partner had always trusted him to tell him the truth. Certainly, he had told him plenty of times that he was limiting Roman’s heroic brilliance or ruining his entrance and such, but he had never complained about feeling hurt by Logan. Wouldn’t he at least have told him? But what about Patton? He had always suffered in silence rather than asking for help – or to stop. 

Logan gasped as bony fingers stabbed him in the side. 

“You’re thinking too loudly, dude.” Virgil complained, feeling ignored. He shouldn’t be surprised Logan needed things spelled out for him. He was Logan after all. 

Sighing as if he was forced to do something terrible by disentangling out of the embrace that had been warm and really fucking nice, he rose without much enthusiasm and yanked on Logan’s arm. 

“C’mon, you poor sod. Let Roman tell you how much he loves you. He might want to lick your face.”

“There will be no need for any of that.” The detective grumbled, reluctantly letting the smaller man pull him along. He didn’t know if he would be brave enough to face Patton without the aggressive interference. His face grew hot at the memory of the way he had fallen apart in front of him. He felt quite humiliated by his reaction. Patton had trusted him with his fears and he had made it all about himself and had made a fool of himself. Without the control he protected himself with he felt vulnerable. Naked even, as if his defenses had been torn away. This wasn’t how he’d wanted to be seen. 

Feeling his friend’s feet drag with shame, Virgil wrapped an arm around Logan’s middle and offered him strength through their silent contact. He still did not want to talk about feelings, it was exhausting, but he could always lend the support of his body. He was learning to use it in different ways, lately. 

Patton and Roman both sat up straight as they entered the living-room. From the way Logan hung his head in the futile attempt to hide his blush, it was clear to Roman what his friend needed now. It was his favorite partner’s love! 

Giving Patton an encouraging pat on the shoulder on the way, the young detective wasted no time wrapping Logan (and Virgil – who was conveniently wrapped in Logan’s arm, sue him) into his embrace. His little wildcat gave an irritated little growl but since he was largely ignored in favor of pecking annoying kisses all over his partner’s face, he let the cuddling slide. After all, they both smelled good and were comfy and shit. 

Logan turned his heated face away into Virgil’s hair, grumbling incoherently. He was too hot under the sweater and starting to get the feeling he needn’t have worried about Roman and Virgil after all. The little barista was comfortably leaning against him, letting him take his weight, and his partner was – he was reasonably certain – trying to annoy him in order to lighten the mood. He had overreacted once again. They must think him a dramatic child. He felt very, very inadequate. 

Perceptive as always, Roman angled them so his friend could hide his burning cheeks from sight. The poor man was probably mortified at showing emotions in front of the people who regularly suffered emotional accidents around him. 

“All is well now, my adoring fans. Prince Roman, beloved hero and winner of the Medal of Valor is here!” He cooed, hoping to get a rise out of them and lighten the mood. Virgil snorted. He made sure to push himself close to Logan and allow him to feel the way he was holding on to his sweater for support. 

Virgil would have liked to stay in this position longer and allow Roman to take the weight of the attention onto his broad shoulders, but Patton was still cowering at the edge of the sofa, wide eyed and anxious. His shoulders seemed very small. Though he was entirely silent, his small hands were nervously fidgeting with his long sleeves. He looked lost. 

The barista ached with pain for his friend. He had put himself through years of abuse to shield his piece of shit boyfriend and had blamed himself for his issues whenever he was suffering of whatever bullshit he got himself into. Patton was all about saving people. Having hurt someone he loved must be the worst kind of torture for him. Add to that the fear of retribution and he must be in one hell of a mess. And of course Virgil had attacked him after Logan’s little breakdown. Of course he had. 

Though he was torn about forcing Logan to face his fear of having frightened the baker, Virgil gently tried to free himself from the tangled embrace, which wasn’t easy since he was squished in the middle. 

Being especially weary about restricting his youngest guest, Logan immediately released the shorter man from under his arm, pulling his limbs close to his chest. Roman pounced and pulled his partner in again, humming to him lovingly. He would be patient to take this one step at the time. 

Virgil was feeling less than patient, to be quite honest. Why did they keep stepping into piles of emotional shit when all they wanted was to live quietly with each other and sometimes ogle Roman’s ass? (that might just be him, though) He just wanted Logan and Patton and Roman - the fucking, special dork - to be allowed to be fine. Was that too much to ask?!

Of course, despite Virgil wanting nothing but to protect his friend, Patton saw the frustration written clearly all over the slim features of the moody young man. His breath hitched. 

Aw shit. 

Virgil may be emotionally stunted to the point of still kind of hating Remy for making him want to talk to him, but he wasn’t blind. Especially to Patton. It was easy to see why he was ending up in those emotion-shitpiles. He kept aiming for them and jumped right in. He’d thought Patton would focus on Logan because – well, he still remembered being scared out of his mind as he had sat at his desk, cuffed and desperate and Logan had been furious about the pain of his partner. It had made sense, too. Logan was the responsible adult in the flat and Pat was used to the men responsible for him to turn on him, but it wasn’t just him. Virgil was doing it too, and more often than he had noticed initially. 

Making sure to appear nonthreatening – which normally wasn’t hard, considering how hunched and slim he still was, he pulled his sleeves over his hands and looked at Patton through his purple bangs. The baker swallowed visibly and attempted to smile at him, uncertainly. 

“Look, Pat, can we talk? It’s all good though. I wanna apologize. You’re not in trouble. ‘s fine.” He mumbled, looking down at his shoes. Swallowing hurt, suddenly. His throat felt tight. 

Patton didn’t speak. He was very pale.

‘You can do this.’ Virgil reminded himself as old, familiar pain rose in him upon being surrounded by suffering loved ones. ‘You took care of your mom and you’ll take care of him now. You can fix this. Just start somewhere.’ 

“Um, I – I think I messed up, I guess. ‘m sorry, man. I was really out of line before and I think I kinda scared you just now. Can we, um – can we talk about that? Please?”

Apparently finding the courage to speak in the face of Virgil’s scratchy voice, Patton finally responded with forced cheer in his voice. 

“Don’t you worry, kiddo! It’s all fine! There’s nothing to worry about. I get a little messy sometimes but that’s all my fault. You all don’t need to take it on your shoulders, please don’t do that! I’m really sorry for upsetting you all! This whole thing is my fault – please, just ignore me and don’t let silly little me worry you! I’m really sorry.” He rambled, glancing at Logan still squished in Roman’s embrace. He bit his lip, his eyes suspiciously bright, before he smiled at Virgil once again. Seeing Logan hide in his partner’s arms, clearly feeling too ashamed to face them, appeared to unbalance him. 

Yes, Virgil got that. Logan was supposed to be strong and seeing him insecure hurt in all kinds of ways that resonated deep in Virgil, pulling sharply at old wounds. Seeing the person you relied on weak and helpless cut you as if you were a child losing the protection of a parent. It never stopped hurting. Roman had situation that figured out, though. He joked quietly with his partner and finally simply pulled them both to the ground like a playful child, ignoring the complaints, and settled them against the bookshelves covering the first part of the living-room. Nicodemus had clambered onto the lowest shelf and wanted attention. With a little hop, he jumped onto his human’s shoulder, quieting his annoyance. 

Hidden half behind the couch and visually separated from the others by the wooden beams loosely enclosing the little library, Roman finally managed to give his friend a bit of security by offering the safety of his large body to lean against. They were still close enough to be there for the others and later reassure Logan, but for now he had a moment to compose himself again. 

That worked fine for Virgil. He didn’t know how he would have been expected to ignore the terrible fear for his protector, had Roman not calmly and sweetly taken over soothing him. Come to think of it, maybe the dork had the right idea with the cuddly, comfy shit. 

“Um, hey… how about we sit and figure it out together, okay?” He offered tentatively. The kitten and Cat were on the couch as well, unravelling a ball of string and in Cat’s case trying to bite it into submission for tangling around her little hand-paws. 

Patton nodded obediently, quickly rushing to clean up a place for them by tidying away Roman’s drawings and his knitting needles. Whatever progress he seemed to have made with Logan yesterday seemed to have crumbled in the face of actually making their most reliable protector crumble from his words. Virgil knew those moments where no amount of rationality could cut through the pain of having failed the person you love. Even if you had given up your education, your dreams, your time and health and safety, every failure replayed in your mind, pressing you down with guilt. 

Virgil tried to swallow his memories through the heaviness in his chest. He ran a suddenly shaking hand over his face. He had relied on Logan and Patton so much to give him strength and structure and confidence and now one of them was still silently cowering on the floor, uncharacteristically small and fearful of the confrontation with Patton and still flushed hot with shame, and the other looked at him like he expected him to shout. His Patton. It was a position he had never expected to be in, anymore. One of the reasons he had left the Scorpions was because he couldn’t forget the pale, frightened face of the slight baker and now they were back, full circle, knee deep in a pile of emotional shit. 

“Hey, no no no, c’mere, kiddo.” Patton cooed suddenly. His hands were still warm while Virgil’s had grown weak and cold. He pulled Virgil on the couch with him and without hesitation, into his arms. His little body folded against the barista like a cat’s, flexible and trusting. Running his fingers through the purple mess, Patton rocked him slightly. 

“It’s okay. I’ll be fine. I’m so sorry for scaring you, Kiddo. I just get like that sometimes. I know I shouldn’t and it’s stupid, so you can just ignore it and it’ll go away. There’s no reason to feel bad at all - you are doing wonderfully. Please don’t think about it. I love you so very much.” He promised, his voice tender and honey sweet. He nuzzled their faces together and curled them up comfortably, making Virgil feel so so small. Like a child in his mother’s arms. Taking a shuddering breath, he held on. 

“That’s okay, Pat. I get like that, too. Just… different. I um – Remy says I get aggressive instead, and try to – to push people away and expect the worst of them – cause… cause of the – because after my mom… when she got – she got sick I…”

“You don’t have to tell me.” Patton mercifully whispered against his hair, impossibly loving. Virgil hadn’t even realized how irregular his breathing had become. He had almost told him about- his heart hammered in his chest with a sudden rush of terror. What the fuck had possessed him?! 

After counting his breathing to get his shit together, Virgil tried again to make his point. 

“Pat, I’m trying to- to tell you that I get it. I totally do. You go through all that shit and it fucks you up – sorry, I’m sorry – it messes you up and you expect to see sh-stuff around every corner and – and that’s fine! Remy says it’s normal and if we talk about it with – with them, they’ll get it. We’ve got triggers, man, and that’s okay. We triggered Logan a little bit and that happens, too. Now we know, right? I’ve got triggers and you’ve got them too, and we walked right in cause we’re all morons cause we don’t talk – cause it’s f-ing horrible. But – can we talk about it? Please?”

“Oh, of course. I’d like to know what makes you and… and Logan anxious. I didn’t want to hurt him.” Patton mumble quietly, very aware that the detective was still in the same room and they hadn’t cleared up the situation yet. His heart raced with anxiety over his reaction. 

A little grunt signaled Roman wordlessly telling Logan his moment had arrived. With his elbow. 

The detectives slunk around the couch and gently folded themselves on the free space on the couch, Roman shamelessly curling close to his partner and laying his arm over the armrest against Logan’s shoulders. Though he didn’t seem quite able to look Patton in the eye yet, Logan hesitantly spoke up.

“I believe a substantial amount of anxiety could have been prevented on every side had our communication been more efficient. I would like to discuss the situation in a nonjudgmental setting. Would you be willing to talk to us, Patton?” 

The baker fidgeted with Virgil’s hoodie nervously, shrinking a little under all the attention. The younger man in his arm gave him comfort, though. 

“Of course! I’ll do anything to make it okay. I’m really sorry I did this.” He promised softly. 

Logan took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling with it. Patton feared he was trying to hold back his anger. They were all here and stressed because of him. He had thought they had figured it out together yesterday but this time, he really was the one who had messed up. Never, in a million years, had he expected Logan to fall apart like that because of something he had said. He was still shaken to the core by the detective’s sudden vulnerability. 

“Patton, may I ask you to stop apologizing?” Logan asked gently, finally looking at him through slightly reddened eyes. “There is no need to blame yourself. You have done nothing wrong. No one is upset with you. We merely wish to prevent further misunderstandings.”

“Oh.” Patton muttered, suddenly realizing just how much he’d been apologizing with a rush of shame. Trevor had told him how irritating his stupid repetitions were. 

“I’m sorry.” 

The words were out before he had any hope of composing himself. His breath caught in his throat, heat flooding his cheeks. He barely swallowed the urge to apologize for failing even at this simple request. Not knowing how to fix the situation, he fell silent, waiting for them to scoff at him. He had been doing so much better yesterday, why was he here again? Couldn’t he learn?

“It is alright, Patton.” Logan offered mercifully. 

“But… I hurt you. I didn’t mean to.” Patton added, somehow trying to convey how sorry he was. He couldn’t seem to forget the look on his friend’s gentle, handsome face. 

“I never believed you would harm me intentionally, Patton. You could not have known that your confession would cause me such anxiety. Addressing a topic that needs to be discussed is your right and I would like to encourage you to continue to bring such issues to my attention without fear. It lies in the nature of psychological triggers to cause severe reactions despite appearing insignificant to others. Perhaps, to improve your comprehension of the situation, I ought to explain that I was taken back to a memory from my childhood. Due to the fact that I am autistic, I read situations wrong quite frequently and thus unknowingly alienate my peers. I am afraid my failure to understand the discomfort you have felt in our home has forcefully reminded me of the possibility of a misinterpretation of the personal relationships in my life.” 

Patton stilled, trying to take Logan’s words in. There was so much that hit him right in the heart. Logan was autistic? He felt like a light had been turned on suddenly and was illuminating their interactions in an entirely different way. He wanted to ask a million questions! This actually made a lot of sense. His head was spinning with the revelation and the new understanding it brought. He could picture little Logan quite clearly now, trying to understand the things that were still difficult to him now, but must have been impossibly confusing back then. He must have been so hurt by the other children! Pain shot through his chest like a living, furious thing ripping at his organs. Little wide eyed, nerdy, vulnerable Logan appeared before his mind’s eye and it felt like a punch, like he was drowning in sorrow. Patton had put him through that again. He was such an idiot, how could he have missed it? Logan had doubted himself so badly and he knew how much that hurt. Patton should have known sooner, Logan had obviously struggled with reading a room, but he had blinded the baker with how skillfully he handled all of his messes with his deep, commanding voice and confident hands. It was just that sometimes he lost control and showed how hard everything must be for him. Though he badly wanted to apologize again, to tell him how sorry he was for causing all of that stress and anger, especially after Logan had comforted him, he wanted to reassure him even more.

“I’m – but – you know that I care about you, right? I was just being stupid. Please don’t think that I or anyone else doesn’t trust you or doesn’t love you so much! You are the best friend I’ve ever had. You protect me and help me and I really – it’s really all my fault, you did nothing wrong! You are the smartest, kindest, most great and amazing man I’ve ever met! Ever! You’re a savior – my savior. Please believe me, everyone here loves you so much!” Patton exclaimed, helplessly grabbing Logan’s hand in his attempt to make him see. There was so much he felt for his friend, his heart was so full, it would burst if he felt more for Logan. He could barely handle himself from how much he wanted. He had never, ever wanted someone to know he was loved as much as him. 

The detective startled as his hand was clutched, gently returning the hold. His smile was bittersweet. 

“Thank you, Patton. Your kindness is appreciated. Perhaps I ought to have told you two sooner. It is possible that I still, subconsciously, attempt to pass for a neurotypical person. A foolish attempt, certainly. I will try to be more honest with you from now on.” 

“You’re not that bad, man.” Virgil mumbled bashfully, awkwardly trying to break the silence that had fallen over them as they processed the detective’s words. They clever young man was clearly unsurprised by Logan’s confession. Roman smiled at him for his contribution, silently comforting his partner. 

“I am… relieved to learn our relationship is not damaged beyond repair. And I would like to remind you once again that you do not need to apologize or take the blame for my issues. They are quite beyond your control.”

“What my bumbling, brilliant best bud is trying to say-” Roman chimed in, giving his friend a break, “is that we all have our little issues. They give us character and that is charming! They are part of our exciting origin stories! Even I, fearless Detective Roman Prince, owner of the Medal of Valor, have my own demons to vanquish.” He boasted, raising his free arm dramatically to pose. Suddenly feeling the supportive, undivided attention of his friends rest heavily on him (even the pest sniffed at his nose), he grew a little more quiet. Talking about his triggers was not fun, even for one as marvelously brave and exceptionally well adjusted as Roman. However, if he wanted his lovely dorks to finally open up, someone needed to make the start. 

“I… you know my sister died from an overdose, right?” 

Patton gasped. 

Or maybe not. Oops.

“Oh my god, I am so so sorry for springing that on you, fair Patton! But all is well, please don’t fret. I shall tell you about it all another time if you like. You truly mustn’t worry about me.”

Patton nodded bravely, clutching onto Logan’s hand hard and holding Virgil so tightly he wheezed a little bit. Roman worried for his ribs. Yet knowing this conversation must be had in order to coax Patton – and perhaps even his stormy night –  to open up, he marched on.

“So, because of my sister, I don’t handle drug abuse and such issues as glamorously as I usually do. And… because of… reasons…” Roman trailed off lamely, not trusting Patton’s bright eyes enough to also tell him about his neglectful childhood. Forcefully cheerful, he continued, “Yes, so sometimes when people ignore me intentionally or not or things get too silent around me and no one pays attention to me I feel really sad and lonely, like no one will ever love me again.” 

Smiling brightly, Roman was met with deafening silence. 

From the other side of their group, Patton lunged at him and yanked him into his arms, squishing Logan and Virgil between them with strength born from pure protectiveness. He appeared emotional beyond words. 

Roman floundered a little, unbalanced by the awkward hug. It wasn’t so bad, though. Patton had somehow managed to climb half into Logan’s lap in order to get his arm around Roman, conveniently allowing the detective to hide his still flushed face in the baker’s neck and cushioning him between Patton and his rat. Poor Virgil had simply been dragged along – which he would have never allowed anyone else to do. To prevent him from tumbling off the couch, Logan had wrapped a quick, steadying arm around him, drawing his skinny body close. Virgil pawed and shifted against them a little, growling and grumbling, before sagging between them with a defeated sigh. The fuck was he supposed to do?! Tell Patton to release the suddenly iron tight grip on his hoodie? He didn’t think so. 

“Uh, are you alright, dearest Patton?” Roman inquired tentatively. The baker nodded, obsessively nuzzling the young detective’s face with his own like a bespectacled cat. It was hard not to feel soft and faint when he was loved so obviously. Carefully, he brought his arms up to wrap around Patton – and Logan as a consequence, and Virgil on the other side, safely pulling him against his large body, lending stability to their embrace. The barista folded his slender limbs just right to fit between Logan and Patton pleasantly, just where they needed him for their comfort. 

“It’s all good, lovely Patton.” Roman rumbled softly, filling the space between them with his deep, smooth voice. “We all fight our dark little demons that cling to our hearts, trying to tell us how small und unwanted we are. They are quite wrong, though, and sometimes we need someone to show us that.”

Remembering the path that brought him to confidently bump shoulders with Logan or push his head against his side for cuddles when they were working too quietly made his insides swell with emotion. It was a path both Patton and Virgil were walking right now; one they could join Logan and him on. 

“Life is like a dance, my dear.” Roman murmured into curly brown locks. “Even when you found the right partner, learning the rhythm and the steps has to be done together, whether it’s a passionate tango where you twirl and dip your partner or a comfortable waltz where you quietly hold each other close. Even Logan and I had to find the right way to twist and twirl around each other. And we stepped onto each other’s feet plenty.”

Logan huffed softly, remembering the tense beginning of their partnership all too well and not missing it in the least. 

“We were blessed with quite differing tempers, Logan and I.” Roman elaborated lightly. “I wanted his attention badly and tried to mold myself to what I believed to be his wishes. Every failed attempt to gain his approval felt like a person failure and discouraged me greatly. At the same time, Logan wanted my glittering friendship but felt irritated since he lacked the competence to appreciate my performance!” 

Logan groaned, tentatively adjusting his hold on Virgil, staying very still otherwise, so as not to make Patton uncomfortable with their close proximity. 

“Our cooperation suffered from a server lack of communication, as it turned out.” He added to Roman’s explanation.

“True! I mistakenly believed my stiff partner to wish for a boringly rugged, brash colleague to brood with – like Bruce Willis and such heroic, bland heterosexuals. There really isn’t a lot of material to mold my performance after, let me tell you! A travesty! But alas, we solved that pesky issue and I got to be the blessing you know and love!” Roman boasted, jostling a grumpy Virgil with his constant need to move around to embellish his story. 

Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, the young detective shifted so he could gently capture Patton’s chin to make him look at him. He wanted him to understand how much he understood his continued insecurity. The baker shyly returned his gaze. 

“Having found our style doesn’t mean everything was suddenly easy, though. Friendship takes time, and practice.” He explained kindly. Releasing him again, he made sure to smile lovingly at the unbalanced little thing. 

“Logan tried to show – in his own way – that he accepted me. But we were still two different people with different needs. I was cared for. For a long time, however, I suffered days where I could not see it. Logan needs a professional routine and sometimes silence to be able to work and I… I don’t do well with silence. When we worked a case, I sometimes got lost in my head, thinking Logan ignored me or that I had done something wrong, and he was pushing me away on purpose. As a response, I tried to gain his attention and approval any way I could think of – alienating and irritating him in the process.”

“Oh RoRo, I’m so sorry!” Patton mumbled tearfully. 

“Oh no, Patton, love, it’s all good – all’s well that ends well, right? Logan might have been unsure of what to do with a colorful delight such as myself, but having learned how much I wanted our friendship, he was determined to be there for me.”

Logan, having tensed during the story about their frictions, relaxed very slightly. 

“Being the literal nerd that he is, he decided to do what worked last time and took me out for a drink. Cocoa, this time, since alcohol is vile and disgusting, seriously! And he asked me what I needed from him, which is charming, but also slightly lacking in presentation – a renewed declaration of platonic love and perhaps a bouquet would not have gone amiss- ow!”

Feeling Logan’s annoyance and knowing he was still too mortified to draw attention to himself, Virgil took pity on him and poked Roman on his older friend’s behalf. All of them cringed at Roman’s high-pitched wail. 

“Alright, alright!” The dramatic detective whined, trying to get back to the story. “So, my dearest, most beloved partner made an effort to adjust to my needs and we talked – dreadfully boring, I know. No grand declarations of friendship for me! However, we found ways to make me feel more welcome and cared about, which took a bit of experimenting, as you can imagine! Oh! I was sure Logan made a book about it with graphs and such but I never asked!”

The stubborn silence of the older detective spoke volumes. Roman grinned brightly. 

“See, lovely Patton, the result of our efforts! Before learning to understand each other I would have missed the romance of a journal dedicated to my wellbeing – which I wanna see, pronto! And I would not have gotten quiet cuddles during his silent phases to be reminded of his undying devotion to me, or have his bickering, which is his attempt to reach out and shower me with the attention I so deserve!” Roman cheerfully explained, his eyes shining. He loved remembering all the little ways Logan tried to make him feel loved. 

“A dance between two people can look all sorts of ways, you know?” He elaborated. “Ours includes little ways of supporting each other which might not even look that nice to the uninvited spectator. How is one to know that our bickering and roughhousing is a sigh of our epic bromance, grown through trial and tenacity?”

Quietly, Logan spoke up finally. 

“I am afraid Roman is giving me too much credit. He actually handled our relationship with much more skill and subtlety than I would have ever been capable of. I had long feared making him uncomfortable with my unapproachable ways and complaints and had few, ineffective ideas about how to rectify the situation.”

Curiously, Patton eased his death grip on Roman, wanting to give Logan all of his attention. Their desperate knot of limbs eased into a comfortable huddle, thanks to Roman and Patton adjusting their hold on their partner and kiddo. 

“You must certainly have noticed that I tend to come across as rather cold and intimidating, which I am aware of - mostly. Unfortunately, I did not yet know how to make myself more approachable. Additionally, I had offended more than one colleague with my inappropriate reactions and feared a repeat my mistakes with Roman. As a result, I attempted to limit my verbal interactions to the bare essentials, or – frequently failing to uphold this intention – talked too much and too clinically out of nervousness. Roman invested a considerable amount of care and effort into the improvement of our communication, which I am grateful for. He supported me by patiently explaining my failures and helping me improve, and even by taking control of situations that have threatened to emotionally overwhelm me.”

“Awww!!!” Roman gushed, grinning so brightly his eyes shone and his whole face lit up attractively. He was stupidly pretty and Virgil was not okay. 

“There is no need for applause, my beloved fans!” The young detective exclaimed, raising his manicured hands to calm imaginary masses. “That bouquet I never got will do just fine! And that journal about your attempts to friend-court me – I demand you hand that over!”

“There is no such thing as a ‘friend-courting’ journal.” Logan growled, shuffling about feeling uncomfortably bashful in their cuddle pile with Roman half draped over his back. He didn’t dislodge his partner’s chin when it came to rest on his shoulder, though. 

Patton watched their grumpy, yet somehow soft interaction though a now clear gaze. Logan looked annoyed and flustered and Roman was being a demanding diva, yet they were intertwined in friendly cuddles. The baker was still feeling a little tense whenever their deep, rumbling voices dropped low (or high, in Roman’s case), but there was no denying the tenderness filling their interactions. Ducking his head close to Virgil, he was reminded of how thoroughly he had messed everything up today. Their love had always been so obvious to him and now he could barely look at Logan without shame. 

Shifting uncomfortably under Patton’s arm, Virgil started fidgeting with a loose thread on the soft cardigan he was pressed against. 

“When I got here, I thought Logan and Roman would lock me in.” He muttered softly even as his face heated and his heart started hammering. Nausea was already making its way into his throat, yet he knew Patton needed to know he wasn’t alone in this. 

The pâtissier tensed, his breath catching with surprise. Startled, he looked up at the pained faces of the detectives looking down at the bowed, purple head. 

“They didn’t, f’course. I was just being stupid paranoid. Logan gave me a key and a room I could lock and Roman was – he was a good guy. They both were. They never asked for anything or pushed me or… I was making a lot of stuff up and kept making everyone nervous cause of it. Logan had to arrest me, you see, cause of the Scorpions. I wanted to leave and he didn’t know that yet, cause I’d botched it, and I’d hurt Roman and… I should’ve been in jail and I didn’t understand why I wasn’t. They even risked their lives to save me which I just didn’t get. So, you know – I made up reasons for their kindness for a long time and started looking for clues to support my ideas and I kept reading things Roman did wrong, and he knew. I was a screw up and kinda anxious and aggressive and Logan kept calming me and Roman kept miserably trying to not scare the screw up, which is nice, man. Thank you.” He muttered softly, daring to glance up at Roman for just a moment. 

“But it’s okay, man. I’m starting to understand them better. There’s stuff I can do here – stuff I’m good at. I’m getting more comfortable with myself and that makes me less anxious about them and that makes them more calm – especially Roman. Logan is just – he’s really good at handling all that. He’s calm and - steady. And now I feel like… like things are getting better? But even that doesn’t mean they are perfect. I get… I still get issues and nightmares and stuff and I get angry, kinda a lot. Somehow, Roman knows how to deal with me when I’m like that. I don’t – I have no idea how he does it.” Virgil mumbled, trailing off softly. 

The group was very quiet, sensing he had to gather his courage. 

Clearing his throat and making extra sure not to look up from the protection of his bangs, Virgil took a deep breath. 

“I thought I’d gotten it under control, with you. Helping you. But I messed it up big time, didn’t I? I scared you and I wanna explain it to you, you don’t have to forgive me.” He cut Patton off before he managed to speak, gently capturing his soft hand and squeezing it, trying to swallow the pounding, frantic emotion brewing in him. 

“It’s just - I’m just mad at the world for not leaving you the fuck alone. Things keep happening all the time to you, and Remy and Logan try to help calm me but I -  sometimes I can’t deal with it any other way! I just hate that you get hurt. I just- I just want you to be happy. That’s why I’m mad. Not at you, but… for you, I guess.”

Patton sighed deeply, feeling tears gather. His kiddo. He was so small and frustrated and helpless and Patton could see what he meant. He understood, suddenly. 

“Oh. I hadn’t- I hadn’t thought of that. I just thought you’d be mad at me because – because I-”

“No one’s ever really mad at you, man. You’re a literal fucking angel.” Virgil interrupted tiredly.

“Language!”

“Sorry, man.” Virgil muttered demurely. But fuck him, he was tired. Emotions. He wanted back into Logan’s bed and snuggle up with him. He had the feeling if he fell asleep with his older protector, Logan would end up being the big spoon and that sounded quite safe. 

“I get it, though. I’m doing this a lot to you, aren’t I? I get mad all the time cause I’m an aggressive screw up and you have to take the fall. I didn’t notice I was making you nervous, but I’ll figure it out, okay? We can make you feel safe if you help us understand what’s got you spooked.”

“Okay.” Patton agreed finally. “But you have to stop saying you’re a screw up! You’re not! You’re the smartest kiddo I know and I am so proud of you! You mustn’t feel bad because I get a little anxious sometimes! I just love you a lot and want things to be well!”

“Sure, Pat.” Virgil promised, deflating after his emotion-dumping was finally done. He could see the worry on Patton’s face, see his mind working with his attempt to figure out what exactly Virgil had been afraid the detectives would do to him, but that horrifying conversation could wait till another day. Preferably in ten or twenty years. Or never.

Meanwhile, Patton was looking up at all of them. At Roman comfortably draping himself over Logan’s back, letting him take his weight while he wrapped his arms around his older colleague, lacing his fingers over the others stomach. At Logan still trying to avert his gaze despite keeping a gentle arm wrapped loosely around Patton’s back, and at Virgil who was involving himself in a staring match with Cat who had rolled away, clearly contemplating whether he wanted to drag the moody raccoon into their mess. 

Cat hissed at him. 

Bristling, Virgil hissed back. 

“I- um.”

Three pairs of eyes turned to Patton. 

“I wanted to thank you, for opening up and telling me all that. I know it must have been hard.” He murmured softly. 

There was so much he was still thinking about. Their exchange was like nothing he’d ever experienced. The way they all had learned to look out for each other because they had hurt their friends unintentionally gave him hope. These men were so kind and tender with their loved ones. They truly thought about their friend’s problems and tried to change in any way they could to be what the others needed. He had wondered how men such as Logan and Roman, who were so different, had managed to become so in tune with each other. It seemed like they had worked hard to get where they were and now, they were offering the same effort to Virgil – and to him. He was awed by their willingness to forgive his failures and the pain he had caused. He’d grown used to bearing the pain alone and being the one to keep trying to adjust, to do better and offend less and please a partner who wouldn’t be pleased with himself. He’d never been looked after this way. 

With renewed confidence, he smiled at them, genuine and grateful. 

Finally, Logan smiled back. 

Though his posture was still not as confident as usual, the expression transformed his face and made him look soft and approachable. Like the kind of man that would soothe a defensive creature like Virgil with calm words or heal Patton with his gentle hands on him. 

“There is no need to thank us, Patton. Considering the amount of times we have misunderstood each other, a conversation is long overdue and will benefit all of us.” 

Patton’s little heart fluttered at the smooth tone of that deep voice. It was like Logan was intentionally speaking more quietly in order to soothe him. The pitch made his dark voice all kinds of rumbly. Patton felt a little nervous flutter upon being spoken to that way. Trying not to let his silly reaction show, he plastered a big smile onto his face. 

“Okay. Alright. So it looks like it’s confession time! Buckle up, kids!”  

Roman grinned at him encouragingly. 

“Okay.” Patton said again, trying to sort out his thoughts and make the words come. Whenever he opened his mouth to speak it was as if something lodged itself into his throat, snatching his breath away. How did you tell your friends who had washed the blood off your body and accepted you into their home that he had been uncomfortable in their care? It was impossible. 

Virgil leaned away from him briefly to snatch up Cat, somehow avoiding the sharp claws that tried to free her from emotional support duty. Snorting, Virgil pressed her back against his stomach and settled her into his lap, aggressively loving her. 

“You’re a bristly beast, you know that? You keep pulling threads and gnawing on the furniture and you have an attitude.” Cat snapped her jaws at him. “That’s okay.” Virgil promised. “I dig it.”

Wrapping his arms around her more comfortably, Virgil allowed her to leave if she wanted to. She bit his thumb with sharp little teeth before curling her fluffy, striped tail around his elbow and settling in. 

Patton laughed softly, recognizing the attempt to make him more comfortable with his confession. He loved Virgil so much. 

“Okay.” He whispered one last time. “So, I – I sometimes get a bit antsy, because Trevor and I – we used to fight a lot. I can be a little difficult, after all. And I guess I got a little used to looking for reasons to worry, since there was always another thing to argue about. And you all didn’t do anything wrong! You are all wonderful and I know you wouldn’t do anything mean! But… there are some things I felt- that made me a bit… insecure, I guess.”

“What things are those, sweet Patton?” Roman inquired gently, keeping his voice soft. 

“Oh, just little things. Nothing to worry about! I’m just overly nervous, is all! I guess I’m just too sensitive.” Patton confessed, trying one last time to avoid making his friends uncomfortable. Neither of them took the bait, though. 

“Pat, it’s okay.” Virgil nudged him with his shoulder before grabbing Nugget’s middle as it tried to climb over them to get to its human and settled it into his friend’s arms. It curled its head and rolled into a purring ball.

“Yes, right. Sorry.” Patton amended. “So, I just worry sometimes, when I get nervous from time to time and start expecting things, when someone raises their voice it makes me a bit frightened. And… you guys just bicker with each other sometimes -  when Roman starts complaining I get worried you guys might fight and when Logan has something to complain about because we make a mess, I worry that things might get… bad. And… and sometimes when Virgil gets annoyed at something – which I think is wonderful! I love that you’re passionate – but I – I just hear nothing but the tone, sometimes, and not what is being said. It’s stupid. I’m sorry.”

The group grew very quiet after Patton’s confession. The pâtissier was stoically looking at the kitten, trying to hide the gathering tears, while the men in his life tried to come to terms with his confession.  

Finally, Roman reached around Logan and wrapped a warm, large hand around Patton’s where they were cradling the kitten. “It’s not stupid, sweet Patton. Your feelings are natural and you deserve to have them taken into consideration.” 

“Yeah, man. We’re really sorry.” 

“I too, would like to extend my apologies for causing you discomfort.” Logan added quietly. “I should have realized how our behaviour would affect you, considering your experiences.” 

Patton quickly rubbed at his tears and tried to find his smile. He was usually good at pulling himself together and chase away everyone’s worry with a joke, but his tears just kept coming. It was the warmth of Virgil at his side, so slender and still supportive like a solid, graceful steel construction wrapped around him. Logan held him in a tentative hug and Roman towered over him, gently caressing his fingers buried in fur. Patton was warm and surrounded by loving people with tender hands on him and a raccoon that was drooling on his sleeve where it had rested its head. It was so much better than he’d ever dared dream of. He’d forgotten how much he had hoped for this. For a home. The realization that he was right in the middle of this group, cradled and protected and wanted washed over him. Even though he was being stupid. 

“Thank you. So much.” He muttered, his voice thick with tears. “Please don’t change. I’ll be fine. I’m so happy to be here.”

The three men exchanged a look over his light brown curls, silently promising each other to come back to this topic and to make sure Patton always knew he was safe no matter how much their bickering got out of hand. For now, their beloved baker appeared tired enough to fall asleep in their arms. 

“We are pleased to know you are enjoying our company. The feeling is mutual.” Logan noted carefully. “However, if it would be acceptable to you, we would like to continue working on making you feel safe with us like we have done for each other before and like you have been with us since the beginning of our friendship. It will not cause us any trouble. Additionally, I would like inform you of an offer Dr. Emile Harris asked me to relay to you.”

Virgil perked up slightly, hopefully raising his head to listen.  

“Remy mentioned that he would like to visit us soon in order to spend time with me and personally continue his sessions with Virgil. Additionally, he would like to bring his husband with him who he explained appears to be quite fond of you. Roman has graciously offered to take the children to the park to entertain them… if you are amenable to being in the company of Remy’s husband, of course.”

Wiping his eyes dry with his long, soft sleeve, Patton thought the offer through. Remembering Emile with his sweet smile and warm eyes and his gentle playfulness with his children made him feel safe already. Talking to him had cleared so much up. Perhaps he could help him figure things out before they got out of hand next time, so he wouldn’t hurt anyone again. He’d really been silly. Sitting here, on this very couch he’d dreamed about, with his very own adorable baby kitten in his hands, he could hardly understand how he could have forgotten how much he loved it here. He never wanted to forget again. And he wanted to see Emile. It was difficult not to tell Logan it was all fine and to try not to cause more effort for everyone, but he could feel so clearly how much his friends wanted him to get better. Like Patton wanted with Virgil. He wanted his kiddo to heal and be happy and Roman to never feel unloved again and he wanted Logan to know he was so so cared about and just perfect the way he was. He wished he could see how amazing he truly was. Patton had so many feelings about his man. He longed to… do so much. Make him feel so much. They were all here to take care of each other, and if he wanted to look after them, perhaps he should let them help him as well. 

“That would be lovely. Thank you.” 

Roman grinned, immediately cheered up by the idea of going to a playground, dressing up and playing knights and princess and fighting dragons. Virgil, too, seemed to nestle against Patton more calmly. Reassured that his family was feeling secure, Logan finally relaxed properly in their cuddle pile. His breath left him in a deep sigh as Patton carefully leaned against him, rubbing his cheek against his wool sweater. He closed his eyes and buried his face in the silky curls.

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End of chapter notes: So we ended in a cuddle pile again because who needs variety.

Once again, if you guys feel like supporting me, here’s the old Ko-fi page link :)

The app Virgil is programming wasn’t supposed to be in the story, actually. It just jumped at me that it would be a cool project from them to share because Virgil needs to build things again and Logan loves his plants and data. And ACTUALLY my boyfriend is making that very same app because our f*cking lemon tree keeps dying. I’ve bought him another one last year and it is constantly on the brink of death. The Failure is real. We manage to make it grow leaves and they keep falling off again. Every.fricking.time. The fucker. (We’re both having issues at this point). The app will be available sometime this year with his sensors and all. If you have a plant that keeps dying on you and you are as stupidly stubborn as Logan, I’ll post a link and you can nerdily try to save it. I’ll keep you updated because my boyfriend is making an app all on his own and I am just so darn proud of him!!! (And Virgil can program it with Logan which will be adorable and get Virge out there again).

ART:

@olcia46​ made another edit I’d die for. I just think they are so pretty! The colours, the outline of the boys, all of it!

and I’m not even certain if I shared this LOVELY picture of @galaxy-sketch​ of Virgil and Nicodemus sitting on a counter yet but it’s lovely enough to look at twice!

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