#but inwardly hes freaking the hell out but he doesn't know how to express his fear and concern right

[snarkymonkeyprime]

No, seriously, core HHNF is the same but there's more of this now. A lot more.

Kai yawned and stretched his arms overhead, bumping them against the roof of his car. He dropped them back with a sigh and squirmed in his seat, ass fully dead from sitting for so long.

Beside him, Ethan chuckled, glancing once before resuming his watch. "First stakeout?"

He squirmed again. "I'm not a cop. I'm a . . . whatever the hell I am," he muttered. He smiled at Ethan's curious look. "Xerynn doesn't call me an investigator." I think he wants to call me a dumbass but that would ruin his vibe. He grinned. "Most of what he needs from me doesn't require subterfuge."

Ethan focused on him then, his expression curiously flat. "What does he need from you?"

Kai licked his lips, certain he'd imagined something in the other man's tone. "Uh, well. I, er, things get lost and I find them?"

Ethan's eyebrows lifted. He repeated the phrase, never looking away from Kai. "And what things does he need you to find?"

He swallowed then. Shit. This was bordering on what he knew he couldn't let Ethan know. At least, not let him know without breaking his brain in some manner. Chernov was easy. Chernov had met the freaking Baba Yaga so anything Kai said was usually met with a squint and a grunt. Ethan would likely think him insane and try to lock him up for his own safety.

God, how do these guys lie for a living? He looked away, unsettled by Ethan's focus. "He, uh, there are things that he knows about that I go and, er, research." He winced, grateful it was dark in the car and that he was looking to his left, away from Ethan. Good lord, you idiot. Please sound more suspicious, I dare you.

He flinched at the fingers on his neck, twisting back to stare at Ethan, mouth parting. The other man watched him, more curious than confrontational.

"Does he force you to work for him?" he asked, blue eyes bright even in the dark.

Not trusting his voice, Kai shook his head. He swallowed, aware that Ethan's fingers were still settled warmly on his skin. "N-no. I'm able, that is, it's something I can do that others can't." He swallowed again and went on. "Xerynn even implied that I'm free to leave if I want." Sort of. "But, if I can help in some way, I feel I should."

"Help?"

Kai nodded, inwardly dismayed when Ethan's fingers dropped away. "I know you don't like him. Hell, he's not my favorite either, but believe it or not, he has me doing something good." Shit, I wish I could explain this better without you thinking me insane. He glanced at Ethan, chewing his bottom lip. And I wish you'd touch me again. He flushed then, dropping his gaze.

He gasped when Ethan's hand cupped his cheek, lifting his face.

"You'd tell me if he was threatening you, right? Forcing you?"

Kai nearly laughed then, the giddy surrealism bubbling in his chest. Force? I mean, the God of War did say he'd turn me into meat dust if I didn't; does that count? "H-he's not," Kai rasped. His heart was so loud in his ears. Every pulse a thunderclap. He didn't fight when Ethan's hand moved, sliding to the back of his head, nudging him forward. "I . . . I c-can handle myself," he stammered.

Ethan's smile was dark and warmly wicked. "Can you?"

"Mmhmm." He felt dizzy. The car too closed up. The air too warm. And Ethan far too close. And yet, not close enough. He could just feel the puff of air from the other man's mouth, a whisper against his bitten lips.

"Hm." Ethan's eyes flicked around Kai's face. "I think I can handle you, too," he rumbled, leaning in.

Kai's eyes fell shut just as Ethan's lips brushed his. He yelped when his phone rang, lurching back and banging his head against the window. He clutched at his skull and whined. Flustered and startled, he rummaged for his phone and found DEK lighting up the screen.

"Oh, you asshole," he muttered. He glanced toward Ethan but the other man had resumed his earlier focus, staring out the window. But even in the dim light, Kai could see his chest rising and falling, his skin looking a bit darker.

He took a bit of relief in the image. Maybe it wasn't just him turned upside down. Dammit. He sighed and lifted the phone. "This better be good," he snapped.

A pause. "A deceased person laced with Chaos. Is that your definition of good?"

He shut his eyes. Shit. He looked to Ethan to find the man watching him. He sighed loudly, almost wanting to stomp his feet in frustration. "Yeah. That counts." Goddammit, I have the worst luck.

[ravens-rambling]

Snow equals Pain

A/N: Hheeyyy back at it again with these gay bois!! And of course, we’ve had too much fluff with these two why not add some little angst in it? No? Nobody asked for that? Welp...you guys got it anyways.

Again I’m not too sure with their personalities yet (curse these two why are you guys so frickin hard to write) but I hope I’m somewhat getting close to pinning them down??? Properly not.

Also, I’m properly not accurate at all when it comes to Photophobia but I do headcanon that Remy is REALLY sensitive to light even more so than normal cases of this so...idk yeah. Poor boi needs a rest. And hey more autistic Picani!! 

summary: What happens when you mix snow and a gay boi who’s very sensitive to bright lights? And even more so a very hyperactive gay boyfriend of this gay boi? Not a very good thing that’s what. 

WC: 2,407

ships: Romantic Remile

warnings: Photophobia, Migraines, anxiety, panic, headaches, cursing 

Tag List: @punsterterry @frostedlover @mycatshuman  @mutechild @panicattheeverywhere15 @thewinterbookqueen @riley-castillo  @stormcrawler75 @patchworkofstars @awkwardangie410

“Oh no don’t you even dare it girl.”

Emile stood not too far away with a snowball ready in one hand a bright smirking grin on his face. He raised an eyebrow, “Oh yeah why not?”

“Because! Snow does not look pretty on this jacket and you do not want to see me angry now do you love?”

Emile smiled even more, “Hmm… I don’t know I might just want to see what you're like. And what if that jacket doesn’t look good you’ll look good in snow and that’s all that matters so think fast!!!”

Without more of a warning, before Remy could even think of moving out of the way, he was hit face first by a snowball. Laughter echoed it’s way to him as he shook his head and wiped his sunglasses. He had to squint to see that Emile was running away now sighing deeply at his childlike boyfriend.

“Alright Em! You asked for this!”

Placing his phone in his pocket he left his coffee on the wood bench hoping it’ll still be here in okay condition when he returns and chased after him. It wasn’t that hard to find his boyfriend as he was still laughing hard.

He grabbed a bit of snow and stuffed it into a snowball smirking as he got closer to the laughter, “Come out babe and I won’t punish you too hard.”

“Mhm, I think nah! Try to catch me if you can!”

As he turned a corner he yelped as a large snowball hit him on the back of the head knocking his sunglasses off his head entirely. He heard more giggles from behind but just as he was about to turn back to throw his snowball he heard a loud crack.

Shit.

With squinting eyes, he looked down to see he had stepped on his sunglasses.

Fuck welp he’s screwed now.

As he looked at his sunglasses against the harsh brightness of the snow he could already feel the pain building up behind his eyes. Hissing he leaned down and picked up his shattered glasses. He really fucked it up now, hasn’t he?

He turned around hoping Emile will be there but all he could see was bright painful snow. Squinting his eyes more he tried to scan the whiteness for the pastel pink jacket of the other. All the while the pain was only building and building.

Hissing he brought his hands to his eyes trying to block out the brightness, “Em! Em, I think I might need some help!”

“Nah, I think you're just trying to trick me. Nice one Rem!”

He heard from…somewhere. It was properly the wind carrying his voice but the second he opened his eyes the pain increased.

“No Em I’m serious. I broke my glasses!” He yelled out hoping Emile can hear him. Curse his blasted eyes.

His head was starting to kill him now. Fuck these blasted snow and winter. Why does it have to be so bright???

“Rem? Rem you okay?”

“Does it look like it, queen? No, I don’t think I am where are you?”

He tried to open his eyes yet again but yelped at the brightness whimpering as he crouched down into the snow. Where was Emile? He sounded close but he couldn’t tell. Was he gonna leave him here? Nah Em won’t do that…right?

Just as he thought that he heard loud crunches of boots on snow and a worried voice followed by a hand on his shoulder.

“Oh, Jesus Rem I’m sorry I didn’t mean to. Here I got you. Let’s go home now does that sound?”

His teeth gritted together as he managed to hiss out, “W-Wonderful girl…”

Even though pain he has to be sassy that’s what he lived for honestly. One thing he noticed was the slight lack of concern from the other's voice, well most people would hear that lack of emotion, but Remy, on the other hand, has been with Emile long enough to hear it. Emile just has a hard time expressing his emotions under pressure often not showing them at all until he breaks, something Remy has had to get used to he has to admit. But it wasn't that hard considering his condition.

That hand was replaced by another as he felt another on his shoulder. He was leaning against something warm, a chest, as he was directed towards some direction. He couldn’t move his hands away from his eyes but he leaned as much as he could into the chest. Slowly he tried to open his eyes to see Em but he cried out in pain as soon as he did. Great now he was shaking fuck.

“No, no Rem don’t open your eyes. Don’t hurt yourself. Here.”

He felt a soft fabric around his neck then his eyes. Just as he wondered what the hell his boyfriend was doing he opened his eyes slightly to see…something had covered his eyes?

Softly he touched it to realize it was Emile's scarf.

“There you go. You want to grab my hand now Rem?”

Despite knowing the fact that he might seem desperate he nodded his head. He hated this. He hated being blind like this. He hated the massive headaches and the constant harshness of the light. He just wanted to see normally. To see his boyfriend normally. But feeling him there helped somewhat at least.

Before his hand could search for the others he felt a warmth in his hand. Gripping it hard he smiled, “Thanks Em.”

“Of course no problem Rem. Just hang on we’re almost home. You have a spare glasses right?”

“Uh…. I’m not sure honestly babes…”

“That’s fine no worries. Is your head okay?”

He tried to shake his head but nope that only resulted in more pain, “Yep just wonderful…” He popped the ‘p’ there.

There was something in his hair but before he could pull away he realized it was lips. His hand tightened around the others as Emile whispered back.

“Don’t worry I’ll take care of you. Just wait until we get back home. I really am sorry I should have been more careful.”

Remy laughed, “How is it your fault? It’s my fucked up eyes fault, not yours. Don’t feel bad about this that’ll only make me feel worse baby.”

“I’m sorry… I just wish I could do something to help you-”

Remy tried to lean upwards to kiss the taller man though he was struggling a bit he managed to kiss his chin, “You're already helping me now let’s stop this before it gets any cheesier. Where are we?”

“Right around the corner from home.”

“Well thank fuck for that. I’m tired already of not seeing your beautiful face.”

Remy smirked as Emile laughed, it was way too easy to make Emile blush. If only he could see it.

“Would you stop that. You're sounding like Roman for Diamond sake.”

“Oh don’t bring my brother into this, please. But hey he does have some great pick up lines even you have to admit.”

“Yeah… Whatever you say, Rem.” Though even Remy could hear the smile in his voice.

Just as Remy was about to say something else they came to a stop causing Remy to almost crash into Emile.

“Oh sorry sorry, we’re here remember the steps.”

“Yeah yeah I’m not a kid I know.”

“Well I know you know I just wanted to make sure!” He could hear the pout in his voice as they made it up the slippery steps.

Once they made it to the door he heard Emile fiddle with something, his keys by the sound of it and opened the door quickly. His hand grabbed his once again as he was gently pulled inside. As soon as he did he took off the scarf from his eyes but winched at the lights that were on hissing a bit.

“Wait! I didn’t tell you to take it off! Hang on a moment curse me for turning on the lights before we left.”

Remy groaned as he rubbed his eyes his entire head was throbbing by this point. It felt like a battlefield was going on in his head. He couldn’t even place a single thought down as he felt hands taking off his jacket and bag.

All he could do was breathe as he was pulled towards…somewhere he didn’t even care where at this point. He heard a voice but it sounded like speakers were placed right by his ears and we’re turned up full blasts.

“Stop stop stop!!!”

He couldn’t even tell where the voice was coming from nor what it was saying. But just as soon as he said that it stopped to his pleasure.

Taking a shaky breath he was pulled down onto something comfy. Something soft. The couch? It must be.

His knees were brought to his chest and he placed his head between his knees as he tried to get the ringing to stop. As he tried to get something to stop. Everything to stop he wasn’t even sure what. All he knew was that his head felt like it was going to explode.

He felt gentle hands guiding him to lay down on the comfy surface. He whimpered at that not wanting to move but the hands were insistent.

When he did he felt his head be placed on something not nearly as soft as the couch but it was definitely warmer. Before he could even relish in the warmth the pain hit him again tenfold causing him to curl into a ball and cry out.

Fuck this. Fuck all this pain. Fuck his life. Why him? Why did this have to happen to him? Is there any way to end this pain? Make it stop-

Just as he thought that he felt gentle softness on his forehead applying some sort of pressure and…scent? What was that smell?

He tried to focus on that tried to focus on anything but this harsh pain engulfing his entire head.

Soon his whimpers and cries slowly died down as the pressure seemed to take away the pain. The pleasuring scent was making him able to focus and slowly able to bring him away from his painful world to the real one.

Once the pain became a dull one he slowly opened his eyes to a very deeply concerned Emile staring down at him. He looked almost in tears.

“O-Oh would you look at my dear handsome prince…” And even as he spoke that pain seemed to creep back into his brain and his body shuttered at it.

“Sh. Don’t talk yet Remy. Just lay there please.”

As Remy blinked up at him he could definitely see there were tears in his eyes now. He squinted up at him opening and closing his mouth a few times then huffing moving his head so Emile can get to his head better.

Then he looked away unable to see the tears anymore. He caused those tears. Cause of his stupid condition he caused his babe to cry.

What great of a boyfriend he turned out to be huh?

Tears were building in his own eyes before he could stop them and he hiccuped violently. “I-I’m sorry… I-”

“No, I said don’t talk.” As if on cue that pain surged back again, “Please try to relax you know that will help. And just…don't blame yourself, Rem. I knew about this before dating you I’m okay with it it’s just….seeing you in so much pain like that always brings me to tears. I hate seeing you like that.”

“You and me both sister.”

Emile huffed, “I said no more talking.” With a sigh, he grew quiet, as they both did. But what brought Remy out of his trance was a tear suddenly landing on his cheek.

With wide eyes, he looked up to see Emile crying again this time worse as those tears leaked down his cheeks. And there's that breaking point.

“Em Em don’t cry. I’m sorry for making you cry, babe. I’m so sorry. Please don’t cry.” Even though with every movement and word sent the pain flooding back little by little he couldn’t handle seeing his partner like this no matter the cost to him. He tried to sit up so he could kiss Emile but that only resulted in the world titling.

He felt hands on his chest now as he was pulled back down.

“Remy don’t move! I’m just... I’m sorry. I'm making this about myself while your hurting and I shouldn’t but I did this to you and now I feel bad and I-”

“Em. Em. Look at me.” He winced as one side of his face throbbed in pain but he smiled gently despite it.

“I said don’t worry about it. Stop apologizing this isn’t your fault. Please stop blaming yourself. It hurts me more knowing you do. And it’s okay that you knocked those stupid glasses off of me it was my fault for stepping on them. So if you want it’s both of our faults. How…-” He gasped in pain as now both of his sides hurt again and the world titled on its axis. It shouldn’t be doing that right?

“Rem. Rem please stop talking. Okay okay let’s blame both of us just please stop talking. Your only hurting yourself. Here take this.”

Remy looked up to the ceiling as he tried to get the world to stop turning around when he was given something small. He looked down to see a white tablet. He didn’t care if it was poison at this point as long as it’ll get the pain to stop and the world to stop turning he’ll take it. Swallowing it easily he closed his eyes as the gentle pressure started back up again.

Slowly it started to calm the world again, and his head that seems to be having a massive battlefield going on at the moment. He groaned loudly as he wanted the pain to just go away. It was taking forever to leave.

Till finally after what felt like forever either the pain stopped or the medicine worked he wasn’t sure which happened first. But before he knew it his eyes slowly closed again. He was unable to keep them open. With one more glance at Picani he hummed lightly as he pulled closer to him.

And like that he was out like a light.

[sophi-s]

After three days. Three freaking days.

It is finished.

A kiss to die for

By: sophi-s (me)

Words: 4,531

Franchise: Darksiders video games

Characters: Fallen!Astarte, Abaddon

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence, blood and gore, near death experience, angst, necromancy, I changed the storyline just a tiny bit for the purposes of this, Abaddon gets his ass handed to him by his ex :P.

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Eden. The first gift from the Creator himself to the Humanity. A home for the First Ones. Once, an indescribably beautiful place full of grand trees and fresh, soft grass, flowing with cool, crystal clear waters. Colorful fruits growing in the trees, a delight to eye and tongue. Within, no danger could reach Humanity's ancestors. Truly a paradise the first humans rightfully called it. But now, after a great war that took place here, seemingly not that long ago, the great garden was left scarred and burning. Made into a tomb for those who sought to claim it. Bodies of Nephilim were left to burn and decay, forgotten and abandoned.

However, something has changed. A dark shadow passed over the sacred graveyard, leaving only madness and corruption in its wake. Those who perished picked themselves up from the ground and lashed out at Eden's guardians. Surprised and unable to respond with a coordinated defensive, the Faneguard had to call for retreat after their leader, Malahidael fell to the blades and arrows of the living dead. Amongst the scattered angels was the general of Heaven's Legions. Trying his best to keep his brethren focused and plan a tactical escape.

At least that's what he was trying before. Before he saw the cause of this nightmare. Now, outstretched on the ground in the dust, he forced himself up onto his elbow as he crawled towards his discarded blade, clutching at his chest that felt as though it had been caved in after a charging monstrosity trampled him in full speed.

How could this happen?

Fighting with his chaotic thoughts, he finally got a hold of the hilt but when he turned around, it was already too late. A large paw armed with razor-sharp claws landed on him, pinning him down and successfully immobilizing his lower half. And then his own blue eyes stared up into a pair of white ones, the same eyes that doomed him from the moment he met their gaze for the first time. The eyes that occupied his thoughts when he was awake and his dreams while he slept. Eyes of Astarte.

But what stood above him… this thing, this monster was Astarte no longer. From the waist up, the woman was stunningly beautiful as she always was, with her pale white eyes and long flowing, platinum blonde hair. But her legs have been replaced by a body of a feline beast with wings coated in blackness of corruption, feathers shimmering with red glyphs. A wicked smile was twisting her petal like lips and wherever her clawed paws fell, the dead bodies shivered and rose, called back into the accursed unlife. Utter insanity shone in her eyes.. Keeping his stone façade was no longer possible as inwardly he was falling apart. Astarte. The same Astarte who would kill and die for him, the same who he trusted more than anyone. The same Astarte he dared to love. Her smirk grew wider as she chuckled.

"Who do we have here? The great general of Heaven's Legions Abaddon himself!"

The unfamiliar taunting tone of her voice sent a shiver down his spine, as did the way she bared her teeth in a disturbing grin. Giving the large paw a tug to try and wriggle free, quickly realising it's pointless as the damned thing didn't even budge, Abaddon took a struggling breath, pretty sure his sternum was damaged if not broken.

"Astarte…"

His voice came out as a broken, pleading whisper. He still couldn't… or maybe he didn't want to… cope with what he was seeing clearly like on the palm of his hand. Astarte, his most formidable soldier, the strongest of them all, and the only woman in the Universe he felt something special for… Fallen into the vice-like grip of Lucifer's corrupting influence. Gone was the gentle smile that crawled its way up onto her face whenever she spotted him. Abaddon swallowed thickly when he noticed the spear in her hand poised to strike and carve his broken heart out from his chest. Astarte would never harm him…

"I was wondering when you'd show up."

She scoffed and used her other paw to press his right arm to the ground should he try to take a swipe at her. But they both knew far too well that he couldn't have, even if he wanted to. Astarte leaning over him was still the one his heart yearned for, still beautiful just… in a different, more horrifying way. Through the ringing in his ears after his head cracked against a rock, he could hear someone call out to him but whoever it was, they were successfully pushed back by the horde of undead Nephilim.

"Astarte, don't do it.."

He quietly begged, even though he never begs. Seeing her like this, twisted and bestial, did something to him he couldn't quite comprehend. Touched that part of his soul he didn't even know about. Strangely enough, even in her madness, Astarte must've sensed something in him that gave her a pause as she curiously tilted her head to one side. All the moments, even the shortest ones, he'd spent with Astarte in the past were flashing before his eyes. Every time they had one another's back in battle, every time one saved the other's life, every time they spoke about the things they would never tell anyone else whenever they were alone. And that memorable moment when they stood together, away from the prying eyes that moonlit night. Abaddon was listening to her as she asked him if what she feels is right, if there's any possible way he feels that way as well. He almost laughed at her obliviousness and the fact that his love was there before she even realised her own. Of course.. He took her hands in his and gazed into her eyes, absolutely mesmerized, waiting for permission to finally grant her the proof of his love and devotion, one which she silently gave him with a nod and a smile.

"I would walk through the fire of Nine Hells for you."

He said before leaning down to place a chaste kiss on her lips. A kiss, stolen kiss he was dying to receive. It was very brief but still felt like his first flight over the White City. Liberating, wonderful and equally as intoxicating. Those were the most beautiful memories he'd ever made but now they were like a parasite buried deeply into his brain, one that refused to leave his head, reminding him of better times and cackling maniacally at him as the present was coming undone before his very eyes. He wanted those memories to go. But there was no escape. Neither from them nor from Astarte herself.

"Look at me.."

"I am."

"Please, come to your senses. It's not you.. You need to fight it, I know you have it in you. Don't leave me like this… Don't you remember everything I'd done for you? Everything you'd done for me ?"

For a second, Astarte's grin fell, making place for a thoughtful expression and for this short second Abaddon dared to hope that there's still light in her. That he somehow managed to get to her. But all these hopes were taken away when she shook her head and looked at him… not with anger. It was pity, plain and simple as she spoke in a condescending tone.

"Fool. So loyal and righteous. Look around! The war had ended long ago, yet we remain stranded in this forsaken tomb! We've been abandoned and no one will set us free if we don't do so ourselves! Don't tell me you cannot see it."

He couldn't believe his ears. It wasn't the honorable and just angel he used to know. The Astarte he knew was gone. This was a twisted monster bearing the visage of his dearest, taunting him with her beauty that was always keeping his hand paralyzed whenever he tried to strike her even though his life depended from it.

"I have chosen my path, Abaddon. And you can walk it with me.."

Abaddon eyed her hand warily as she stretched it out to him, offering him help in standing up. He was torn. On the one hand, he so, so wanted to accept and be with Astarte as he used to. No one would take her from him ever again. But taking her hand would also mean slipping into the hateful darkness. Welcoming the sullying blackness inside and succumbing to madness. Straying from the light and forsaking his duty in favor of the same accursed power that destroyed her.

It was a dangerous thing, this love.. Pushing even the most reasonable people to do unthinkable and dangerous things in the name of it. More often than not at costs that rarely make it worth it. Lucifer knew this. And he used it as a weapon against Abaddon by turning Astarte. He knew not what the Dark Prince offered her but it must've been worth losing oneself. Astarte was now Lucifer's servant, not the love of Abaddon's eternal life. He couldn't… he couldn't end up like her. His already bleeding heart screamed out with anguish when he finally gathered himself to speak.. and refused.

"I… can't do this, Astarte. Not even for you…"

"That's a pity…"

Abaddon grunted in pain when the pressure on his wrist increased to the point when he could feel his bones beginning to crack. And then as suddenly as it appeared, the crushing weight was gone, both from his arm and his chest. But he wasn't free. His breath was abruptly cut off when Astarte's slender fingers, which often fiddled with his hair when he had a moment to lie down and rest after a hard day, looking up at her sitting beside his head, before all this, mercilessly curled around his throat and lifted him up to her eye level until his toes could no longer reach the ground. She was strong. Stronger than he remembered. His left hand grasped Astarte's wrist as he tried to struggle free while he raised his sword to attack. But… looking deep into her eyes, at her face, mouth curved in a poisonous sweet smile, the silken skin of her cheeks… His hand trembled. Once again he proved her and himself he doesn't have it in him to do this. Damn it all. This one, seemingly harmless emotion was what ultimately led him to his own doom. If he'd never fallen for Astarte he wouldn't be here, flapping his wings madly in an attempt to wriggle out of her hold. But he couldn't command his heart. It would not listen to him.. Abaddon couldn't simply stop loving Astarte. Her eyebrows furrowed in a gentle frown and he felt the tip of her gilded spear press insistently against his abdomen, right under his ribs. Cold sweat began to bead around his brow. Oh Creator…

"Fret not, love.."

Astarte purred, making him finally stop beating his wings and look her in the eye again only to see an unsettling spark in there. Despite the obvious danger, hearing her call him her "love" in this deceivingly sweet voice still made his racing heart skip a beat.

"It won't be long.. And when you die, you'll be forever at my side. Just as you desired."

As a monster, not unlike her. A living corpse that defiled the natural order by its existence itself. He didn't want to go like this. What an end it is for a general of Heaven? Killed by his own lieutenant and brought back to life as a shambling husk of what he used to be? Preposterous. Cold lump of fear settled into the pit of his stomach. He could only count seconds. One.. two… it didn't even come to three when the blade sunk deeply into his flesh, piercing the armor as though it wasn't even there in the first place and running him through. After all, the spear was created specifically to fight armored opponents… Abaddon wanted to scream out in pain but the wail of agony was cut short by the firm grasp on his throat that stopped the air escaping his lungs. Pain clouded his vision but did not silence his racing thoughts. He was weak. He couldn't strike Astarte down as his enemy, denying her the well deserved rest and falling to her blade like a fool he felt like. He struggled to breathe and keep his eyes opened when he felt Astarte loosen her ironclad grip on his neck and move her hand to his face, oh so gently pulling the strands of his hair, matted with sweat, to the side and behind his ear before placing the same hand on the back of his neck to keep his head still. He gasped for air through his opened mouth as blood was beginning to well up in his throat and dribble down his chin. And then Astarte unexpectedly leaned in and decisively captured his lips with her own, granting him the final kiss for a farewell.

Abaddon's eyes widened in fear and shock but even though the pain of the spear through his side, he found himself going slack in Astarte's arms. His ornate blade clattered to the ground when his fingers unfurled and let it slip out. No strength remained within him to even try and respond to Astarte's lips, even if he wanted to. But what he hoped to be his last comfort turned out to be nothing more than a cruel torment with how cold and meaningless the kiss felt. It was nothing like the one back in the White City. Hollow seconds ticked by. It tasted only of the blood flooding his tongue and the bitter defeat. No love, no passion and no feelings remained in her black heart. Only the empty void and tasteless ashes… Monster. Astarte no longer… She would never hurt him…

Astarte knew him and all of his weak spots all too well. She knew how and where to strike to make it hurt. And this last kiss was only a tool to her. There wasn't any physical pain anymore when she finally pulled away with his blood painting her lips in deep crimson and let his body slip down the spear to collapse onto the shriveled grass. The last thing Abaddon saw before numbing darkness swallowed him was Astarte delightedly licking his scarlet life essence on her mouth and teeth before she hummed contentedly

"Farewell, my love. I'll see you again soon enough…"

She stood close, gazing at the distant stars shimmering in the black sky.

"The night sure is beautiful."

"It is. Even more so with you around."

"Tsk. Sweet-talker…"

In the impenetrable black, Abaddon heard nothing, saw nothing and felt nothing aside from the dull ache within his chest. Betrayal… Every beat of his heart was a torture. He couldn't even tell if it was really beating or not anymore. It bled ceaselessly. Craving for the lost love. Crying out to Astarte as something started to tug at the strings of his very soul. Trying to pull him free from his still body that refused to move no matter how much he wished to stand or at least sit up. Memories were passing all too quickly through his head. Eyes shining with uncertainty, a relieved smile as he staggered upright with a pained grimace that was supposed to be a comforting smile..

" Are you certain everything is alright? For a moment there I was afraid you were gone.."

"Never, my light. I would never leave you."

He wasn't going to the Kingdom of the Dead, he was certain. Astarte would make sure of it.. Curse Lucifer.. curse this wretched feeling still coiled in his chest, like a festering plague. Warriors of Heaven are people of unbreakable steel. Calm and collected beings of logic. But when it comes to honest feelings, there's nothing in between. They either don't care or love to the death. And when they love and it all falls apart, their hearts break like no one else's. No, they don't even break… they shatter to a million pieces like a frozen flower. And even if they are ever put back together, they're never the same. Those scars run too deep to ever disappear. Curse everything… Soft hair he tangled his fingers in, a heartbeat right beside his… warm presence next to him and a misleadingly delicate cheek pressed to the skin on top of his chest..

"What happens now then?"

"Doesn't matter. As long as we stay together."

"We will, Abaddon…"

He tasted the copper tinge of blood again as Astarte's voice echoed in his head when she swore to him. When he believed her..

I  P R O M I S E .

Those two words… They meant a world to him. Even after he saw what Astarte had become… Abaddon desperately clung to those words like a drowning man holds onto the final breath until the very last second. And that was his downfall. She promised me…

The last memory of Astarte before all this chaos wormed its way into his mind. A less pleasant one. He could see there was something wrong with her back then. This was the first time they had a true falling out. Well.. can this really be called a falling out if it was just him being yelled at? Astarte was changed already. Something happened to her after the Nephilim slaughter. Something he had foolishly overlooked. Maybe he was just too preoccupied with his own grief? Blood tumbled down from her wound, painting both her and his armor in vibrant red from where a crude spear met her body… 

It didn't take long for the last of the Nephilim to fall when this happened. She held onto life tightly as he led her deeper into the garden where healers would take care of her. Abaddon waited outside the tent, pacing back and forth until Azrael, who'd been tending to Astarte himself, walked out. A slender hand fell onto his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks and making him look at his old friend bearing a sullen expression. He'd never been so terrified in his life like in this short moment when he waited for Azrael to inevitably tell him that it was too late to help her but he merely asked Abaddon to come with him inside. Somehow, it was even worse. He saw her sitting on the edge of a cot, face pale, lips pressed into a thin line, staring at nothing. Eyes of other angels were on the three of them as the two archangels walked in. It was a relief to see her alive but there was no doubt that something was wrong. The patches of fresh crimson staining her trousers on her inner thighs only confirmed his suspicions. And Azrael didn't keep him waiting for an explanation.

"She was with child.."

The news hit him like a slug to the face. With a sack of bricks no less. Astarte, his beloved, bearing his blood in her womb. By all means he should feel ecstatic. He should rejoice. But this one word, this tiny word filled him with absolute dread. Was.

"The blade went deep.. There was nothing I could do. I'm sorry."

Who knows how long he stood there like a wooden stake? There was nothing I could do. Azrael was inarguably the best healer in the White City. He knew what he was saying. And yet… Abaddon found it difficult to believe his words. A child. His child. Died before they even had a chance to live.. It hurt more than any wound he'd ever received. When he finally could move, he approached Astarte and sat beside her, reaching for her hand to give her something to hold on to. But her violent reaction caught him off guard. She jerked away, her words dripped like acid.

"It's your fault. Get away from me!"

"Astarte, listen.."

"No! It never should've happened! Why would you do this to me?!"

This was the first time she called him per "you" in the presence of other angels. He knew not what she was truly going through but if his own sorrow was any indication, it must've been a nightmare. They'd lost something they didn't even know they had and it felt like the end of the world they'd built together. In a way, it was... Abaddon tried reaching out again but Astarte batted his hand away and leaped up to her feet despite the pain.

"Don't touch me! Do not speak to me, get off!"

"Astarte!"

He managed to call out before she stormed out of the tent, wrapping her wings around herself as a barrier that could protect her from the world around. Were it not for a firm grip on his arm, he would've gone after her. It was Nathaniel who stopped him. Abaddon looked at his friend, the right side of his face wrapped up in bandages just like his side he was keeping his hand over.

"It's not going to help. Let her go for now."

It's been a long time since he felt this lonely. He left the tent without another word, ignoring whatever it was Azrael was saying, and walked away from the camp like a wandering spectre who lost its way to the Well. And when he was far enough, he found himself collapsing on the ground, angrily hitting it with his fist as though it was the culprit here. They died without so much of a name.. Abaddon knew that what Astarte said wasn't true. He had no idea, it can't have been his fault… and yet this thought kept bothering him.

I should've protected you better. I have failed you.. both of you…

It took a couple of shaky breaths to collect his thoughts. Unable to do anything else, he pulled himself to his knees, clasped his hands together and started to whisper a prayer, seeking compassion in the Creator and his silent presence.

Astarte was already slipping after that and the prolonged stay in Eden only made it worse. She became distant and irritable, constantly itching for a fight, be it with words or blades. He thought she needed time to grieve. But this was something else. Something more sinister. Perhaps if he noticed it earlier.. done something… If only…

The odd tugging suddenly ceased and moments later a wave of comforting warmth washed all over him, gathering in his side where he was impaled. Deep within his chest, he felt his heart quiver, desperately fighting to keep beating. At first he thought he was merely waiting for Astarte to pull him back into the land of the living as a detestable abomination but no.. He yet lived. His thoughts were abruptly dispersed when he heard voices, very familiar and concerned voices, break through, the buzzing in his head.

"Did that do it?"

"Is he even alive ?"

"Hard to tell. It doesn't look good.."

"No, it doesn't.. Do you think we got to him on time?"

"I do not know. I'm not even sure if- Wait, I think he moved."

Abaddon indeed stirred, prying his eyes open with no small effort, immediately regretting his choice after a far too bright light intruded underneath his eyelids, and descending into a fit of uncontrollable coughs, spitting out all the blood that remained within as soon as he took a deeper breath. Pain. Horrible, excruciating pain filled his chest. He had been right. His sternum was definitely broken.

Damn all of it. Damn Lucifer, damn the Nephilim and damn the blasted air that hurt his lungs with every breath. Mist eventually fell from his sights, revealing to him familiar, tired faces of angelic soldiers leaning over him with distressed looks. His men. The Faneguard. They survived. Some of them at least… Malahidael wasn't so lucky.. One of them, Fariel if his memory doesn't deceive him, was holding up Abaddon's hand in his, and held between his curled fingers, Abaddon noticed an emptied crystal, a used up healing shard glimmering in the sunlight as the energy that was channelled into his body began to close the torn blood vessels.

"Lord Abaddon. Can you hear me?"

Gasping for another bit of air, horribly weakened but still very much alive and likely to stay that way, Abaddon gurgled out a disturbing sound that was supposed to be a miserable chuckle. In honesty, it sounded more like a dying demon than a laugh.. It only served to agitate them even further until he breathed out with relief and nodded as no coherent word could form in his mouth. What happened to Astarte when he was on death's door, he could only guess. But one thing he was sure of. She was still out there. Raving mad and dangerous to all who step into Eden. The law was clear. Astarte had fallen into darkness, defiled the dead and raised her weapon against her brethren. This was not an easy decision but after what he'd seen and lived through, Abaddon was certain now. He tried to bring her back, save her from the hate that grew within her like a malicious weed. But she was clearly too far gone. He couldn't help her.. Too late. As always, he was too late. Whether Abaddon likes it or not, Astarte needs to die. There was nothing more he could do for her. But he won't be the one to play the executioner and the hand of justice. He knew he couldn't. He'd failed twice already.. It will be done, just… not now.

Perhaps another time… They were safe for now. And he needed to think… Abaddon lifted his free hand to his mouth. It was still there, this horrid sensation.. and he knew it won't go away for a long, long time. Resting his head against the ground, he exhaled heavily as blessed unconsciousness started to take a hold on him once more. He needed to rest. They all did…

Even as he was falling into the dark again, he could still feel Astarte's venomous kiss upon his lips. Burning like fire and sinking cruel claws into his chest. Would he ever forgive her for tearing his heart apart? Probably. It wasn't her fault after all. It can't be, can it? Would he ever forget, though? Unlikely.. Abaddon couldn't help but wonder… if it was all his fault? He couldn't command his feelings and order them to leave him. But still, he felt guilty. Not even for Astarte's fall anymore but for ever letting this infatuation control him. That's where this love had gotten him so far. It left him weak and vulnerable. It was beautiful while it lasted but now? Only suffering remained.

No wonder Heaven has such a disdain for love. It causes naught but misery and ruin. A dire thought invaded his hazy mind. It matters not what Astarte had done. He still loved her. Soon, she will be put to rest. And him? Well.. Every, even the greatest warrior has to fall in battle. Eventually… And when that day comes, he will be ready to embrace his end. When that day comes.. they will meet again. Maybe... But until then… His heart hastened even still as he took another breath and silently told himself…

…Never again…

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

It.. it was supposed to be short? I did say short fic, didn't I? Uhh.. Whoops 😓

Also, Gimp 2 has nearly succeed in driving me nuts. In Poland we say "stand on eyelashes and clap one's ears" when something is nigh impossible. Yeah. That was that.

Btw, I take back everything I said about Abaddon's shoulder pads , they're mf'ing gorgeous 👌

[dekudynamight]

Title: Worth Waiting For part 6

Rating: E

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Jon Kortajarena, Sebastian Stan x Chris Evans

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Sebastian makes his confession to Jon, and it doesn't go as expected.

A/N: Aaaahhhhh thank you guys so much for the amazing response to this fic thus far! You're all amazing and I love all of you and I hope you like this 😃I'm excited for the next chapter after this one and have it started already so stay tuned! 💙

For the next three days, Sebastian went through the motions of life under the weight of his crushing guilt, and he kept it all to himself. He talked to Jon daily as usual and did his best to hide it, doing a damn good job and blaming what little Jon did notice on being tired. He wasn't a great liar but all he was trying to do was hide it until he could confess in person. There was no way he was going to just move on with life like his kiss with Chris had never happened - it would eat him up inside until he couldn't take it anymore.

So he sucked it up and carried on, boarding his plane to London at the end of those three days and spending the entire flight rehearsing his planned speech in his head. He agonized over it, hoping to God that Jon would at least listen and let him say everything that he needed to, but if he threw him out and sent him back to New York Seb wouldn't blame him. He was prepared for all possibilities, but he hoped it wouldn't prove as terrible as he feared.

When he arrived Jon was there to greet him, having just wrapped up a day on set of a movie he'd landed a small but compelling role in. He pulled Sebastian into a hug and kiss and Sebastian suspected a few people snapped pics of their reunion but he didn't care. He put on a brave face and smiled as Jon led him and his luggage to a car that drove them just a few minutes across town to Jon's hotel, and Sebastian was relieved that they'd be alone soon. If he didn't get what he'd done off his chest soon, he was sure that he'd simply just explode.

They had just gotten inside Jon's room and had the door shut behind them when Jon took his luggage from Seb and set it aside, wasting no time in invading his space with a sweet, warm smile and reaching to cup his face with a lowly whispered, "I've missed you, mi vida."

Then he kissed Sebastian with all the pent up love and passion he'd been reining in for three weeks, and Sebastian could feel it in his very soul. It broke his heart and made him feel whole again all at once, a barrage of confusing and overwhelming emotions making him forget about the confession he'd been so eager to give. He melted against Jon and fell into the kiss, having missed the man so much that it was easier than breathing to be pulled back in by him so quickly.

Sebastian didn't snap out of it until Jon started tugging his jacket off, their kisses turning hungry and scorched until Sebastian broke away with a heavy breath. Hands on Jon's chest putting some distance between them he whispered, "Wait, wait."

"Why?" Jon murmured, trailing his lips to Sebastian's neck and making his eyes roll shut.

"Jon, please, I mean it," Sebastian forced out, and Jon pulled away in an instant.

"What's wrong?" Jon asked, surprise and concern etched on his features as he looked Sebastian over.

Sebastian took a deep breath and felt his stomach drop, dread and fear filling him now that the moment had arrived at last and he'd rejected his only way out of it. He clenched his jaw and dropped his eyes, trying to remember the speech he'd planned but now that the time had come... it was all gone. Suddenly nothing felt like the right thing to say and he wished that he could just disappear.

"Sebastian," Jon said quietly, reaching up and touching his cheek. "Are you all right?"

"No," Sebastian admitted, taking his hand and pulling it away. He forced himself to look Jon in the eye and muttered, "I... I don't know how to say it. I fucked up."

Jon furrowed his brows slightly. "What do you mean?"

Sebastian took another breath, feeling ill and terrified but giving himself no choice but to come out with it. "Couple nights ago, um... Chris, he... he showed up drunk at my door. It was late and I was stupid and I let him in and I know that I shouldn't have, but I did and..."

Sebastian trailed off and watched as his words sunk in. Jon's expression shifted from confusion to understanding and then... he wasn't sure. Disappointment, maybe, but not the anger that he would have expected. "You... did you sleep with him?"

"No," Sebastian replied immediately, a little too adamantly. "He kissed me. And I didn't... I didn't stop him. I kissed him back and then when I realized what I'd done I pushed him away and freaked out and made him go, but... I did it."

Jon looked him in the eye until he was finished, and then he dropped his eyes and took a long, deep breath. Then, as Sebastian watched with bated breath and a chest full of anxiety, Jon nodded and seemed to be inwardly debating something. Sebastian watched and waited until he couldn't take it anymore, blurting, "If you want me to go I'll go. I just... I wanted to tell you in person. I'm so sorry. I'm a piece of shit and I fucking hate myself and -"

Jon, aghast at Sebastian's words, shook his head and shocked the other man by pulling him into a hug that was far more comforting than Sebastian felt he deserved. "No, no, Sebastian," Jon murmured. "Don't say that."

Sebastian buried his face in Jon's shoulder, hot tears springing to his eyes. "But it's true," he muttered. "You've been so damn good to me and you deserve so much fuckin' better."

But all Jon did was shush him gently and then lead him to the king sized bed in the suite, sitting him down on the side of it and sitting next to him, keeping his arm around him and placing his other hand on Sebastian's face. "I'm not angry, Sebastian."

Sebastian blinked and sniffed back his tears. "What?"

"I'm not angry," he repeated gently.

"... How? I fuckin'... I cheated, Jon. And with him."

Jon shook his head. "You love him," he stated gently. "I can't change that."

"But I love you," Sebastian insisted. "I swear I do."

"I know you do," Jon assured him. "And you love him, too. It's okay."

"No it's not," Sebastian argued softly. "I hate it. I hate what he does to me and how the second he shows up I just fuckin' lose it. I'm a piece of -"

"Sebastian," Jon interrupted gently, "It's okay to love more than one person. And you are so... sweet and full of love and have so much to give. I would never want to change that about you - it made me fall in love with you."

Sebastian's heart throbbed with pain, his guilt growing immeasurably worse thanks to Jon's seemingly utter lack of anger. He wasn't happy about it but he wasn't mad or particularly frustrated either, and the lack of a conventional response left Sebastian completely unsure as to what the hell to do with himself and his feelings.

"Why don't you hate me?" Sebastian asked quietly, and Jon winced as if the question physically hurt him.

"I've told you before, mi vida - I could never hate you."

Sebastian couldn't help but cry even more at those words. Jon pulled him into another hug, whispering comforting words into his ear and running soothing fingers through his hair. Within a few moments they ended up laying in bed together, shoes and jackets off and Sebastian curled up in the safety and warmth of Jon's arms. His head was on Jon's chest and Jon comforted him until the tears finally stopped coming and his breathing evened out.

Sebastian was exhausted from not only his flight but also from the outpouring of emotion that he was still grappling with. It was surreal in a way, Jon being so sweet and understanding despite what Sebastian had done, and Seb just... could hardly comprehend it.

"Are you sure you're not mad?" Sebastian asked quietly, peeking up at Jon.

"At you, no," Jon replied. "But Chris... he plays with your heart. What he does to you is cruel."

"He doesn't mean to be," Sebastian said, his knee jerk reaction to defend Chris at all costs still very much alive and well. "He just..."

"You make excuses for him and always have. You shouldn't."

Sebastian let out a breath and lowered his eyes, closing them as he snuggled deeper into Jon's chest. "I know. I'm an idiot."

"He is the idiot," Jon chuckled.

"Yeah." Sebastian paused. "But I love him."

Jon kissed his forehead. "But you love him."

Sebastian looked up at him, eyes earnest and honest. "I love you, too."

"And I love you," Jon replied softly, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on his lips.

".... What do we do?" Sebastian asked Jon in a whisper, at a loss for where to go from here.

"Whatever makes us happy," Jon shrugged. "And you make me happy."

"You do, too," Sebastian insisted, meaning it with everything he had in him.

"Then we will figure it out," Jon assured him, kissing him one more time, and somehow despite his guilt, shame, confusion and inner turmoil... Sebastian believed him.

He might never fully believe that he was worthy of Jon's love and forgiveness, but he was grateful more than words could ever begin to say. He wished that his love for Jon would just push his love for Chris out of his heart and into the past, but instead they coexisted for better or worse. He loved them both so damn much and he couldn't imagine that ever changing.

What the hell were they gonna do?

----

The next morning Sebastian awoke to soft, tender kisses on his neck and gentle hands roaming his body, Jon coaxing him into what proved to be the best makeup sex Seb had ever had. A part of him still felt like he wasn't worthy of such pleasure but Jon went to great lengths to convince him otherwise, and Sebastian loved him all the more for it.

The rest of his trip passed by pleasantly and all too quickly, the two men enjoying each other's comforting company and making a few public strolls together. They both had to deal with a lot more paparazzi since coming out but it was a part of life and it rarely bothered them. What did bother Sebastian, however, was the nagging little voice in the back of his head wondering how Chris was doing and if he was seeing the pictures as they hit the Internet. Sebastian wanted to reach out and make sure that he was okay, that he wasn't hurting after what happened, but silence had lapsed between them again and he just didn't know how to proceed.

Sebastian flew home at the end of his trip conflicted and worried but relieved that he and Jon were still together despite his lapse in judgement. Soon after he jetted off to LA for a new film and, for the time being at least, left his problems on the back burner in favor of work. It was a bandaid really but he was used to it.

Three weeks into filming, Jon's project wrapped up and he had a week free to visit Sebastian in LA. He packed up and flew his way, stopping for a layover at JFK that left him waiting for an hour and a half before his next flight began boarding. He grabbed lunch and coffee at one of the restaurants and sat at a table towards the back as he made a few phone calls and texted Seb to keep him updated as to his ETA.

Everything was going perfectly smoothly until he finished his food and happened to glance up at the right moment and noticed a particular patron at the counter waiting on his order. Jon wasn't sure at first until the man turned his head a certain way, better displaying a bearded jaw that a NASA hat and sunglasses couldn't hide, and then Jon knew beyond a doubt who the man was. He took a deep breath and looked away, wondering what kind of ridiculous sense of humor the universe had to cross their particular paths on that particular day.

Then again, maybe the universe had a good reason for it.

He got up and headed to the front of the restaurant, quietly disposing of his now-empty coffee cup and walking the short distance to where Chris stood. He took a deep breath and hesitated only for a few seconds before reaching out and gently tapping his upper arm. Chris immediately swiveled around and, upon making eye contact with Jon, immediately performed his best impression of a deer in headlights.

".... Hi," Chris blurted, eyes wide and mouth hanging slightly open. Jon, not as much of a saint as he seemed to be at times, couldn't deny the little bit of satisfaction he got from Chris' clearly panicked reaction.

"Heading home?" Jon asked quietly, glancing around them to ensure that nobody was watching them or paying them any mind. They weren't.

"No, Atlanta," Chris replied, visibly perplexed by the casual line of questioning. He seemed to just go with it, however, asking next, "You?"

"Back to LA. Sebastian's waiting for me."

Chris stared at him, anxiety sealing up his mouth for once and leaving him speechless. Jon watched him squirm for only a few seconds before letting out a breath and throwing him a bone.

"I know what happened. He told me weeks ago," Jon told Chris, whose brows quirked in surprise. "We don't keep secrets."

"Listen," Chris muttered after swallowing nervously, tone as quiet as possible, "I never meant to -"

Jon held up a hand to silence him. "I don't know what you mean to do. You are always playing with him and coming and going as you please, and he deserves better than that."

"I know," Chris replied, visibly and audibly pained. "And I'm sorry. To both of you. I had no right to do what I did. It won't happen again."

"I think it will," Jon shrugged slightly. "He loves you too much to ever say no to you. And you - I don't know what you want from him but I don't trust you."

".... I wouldn't trust me either," Chris muttered, clearly ashamed. It was all in his blue eyes, plain as day for anyone to see. "I don't wanna fuck you guys up anymore than I already have. I'll leave him alone."

"That's not what I want," Jon shook his head. "I want him to be happy."

Now Chris was really confused. He gave a small shake of his head and furrowed his brows. "What do you mean?"

"He needs you, I think. I can't change that. But unless you stop being a coward and using him whenever you feel like it, you'll never deserve him or his time."

"I'm not trying to take him from you," Chris blinked, unsure of how to take Jon's words. "I just..." he paused and trailed off, eyes averting aimlessly. "I miss him."

"Maybe you should stop missing him and start earning his love," Jon suggested. "Stop breaking his heart."

".... Don't you hate me?" Chris asked, bewildered. "I don't understand."

"I don't hate anybody," Jon shrugged. "Not even you."

A pause of silence passed between them, and then with all the sincerity in the world Chris finally murmured, "I'm sorry."

Before Jon could accept the apology, Chris' order was called out from the counter. He glanced over his shoulder and then back to Jon, who simply moved his hands into his pockets and said, "Have a safe flight, Chris."

"You too," Chris replied, eyes still bewildered as he watched Jon walk away and out of the restaurant.

Nerves now shot, Jon felt the nagging need for a cigarette start to grow as he began heading towards his gate. He hoped that Chris would listen and put an end to this nonsense for Sebastian's sake, whatever that ultimately meant for him and Jon. Whatever came of them in the end, so long as Sebastian was happy and had what he wanted, that was enough for Jon. That was how love was supposed to be - selfless, unconditional.

And maybe not always limited to one person and one person alone.

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