#cause I wouldn’t have made this without clarification otherwise

[mxtxfanatic]

The Validity of Jin Guangyao’s Lookout Towers

There’s been a lot of discourse for a while about the validity of the lookout towers that Jin Guangyao builds in his capacity as Chief Cultivator: whether or not they were a good or bad thing, whether they helped civilians or not, and what the real motivation behind building them was. I’ll be going over my thoughts on these lookout towers, using quotes from the exr, fanyiyi, and boat-full-of-lotus pods translations as well as a translated snippet from @jiangwanyinscatmom for every instance the lookout towers are mentioned in the story. Be warned that with this in mind, this will get long. Analysis under the cut:

The first time the reader is introduced to the concept of the lookout towers is in Chapter 42 (Flora X for fanyiyi, Grasses for exr). Wangxian and the junior disciples had just escaped Yi City, and Wei Wuxian is lamenting the fact that lookout towers (which he had seen along their path and which Lan Wangji explained the purpose of to him) were not built anywhere near the city. This is the explanation for their building provided by the 3rd POV narrator:

These “lookout towers” were distributed across distant, desolate locations, and disciples were chosen from each clan and posted to them. If something strange appeared, they were to act immediately. In the event that they couldn’t solve the problem on their own, they were supposed to promptly request help from other clans or wandering cultivators. In the event that the cultivators who answered the call asked for compensation, the funds the Lanling Jin Clan raised each year were enough to cover it in spite of the locals’ inability to bear the financial burden.

–fanyiyi

These “lookout towers” were scattered around the more remote places. Every one of them were assigned disciples from certain sects. If anything strange happened, they’d take action at once. When they couldn’t deal with the matter, they’d send out messages to other sects or rogue cultivators for help. Even if the cultivators who came wanted something in return while the locals were too poor to give them any, the money that the LanlingJin Sect gathered throughout each year would be enough to support them.

–exr

However, before they were built, they were met with a lot of resistance and backlash:

After Jin Guangyao had officially succeeded Jin Guangshan as Clan Chief and risen to the position of Chief Cultivator, he had begun gathering and deploying personnel and resources from each clan, putting his hand to the task of realizing his earlier plan. Immediately, he was met by a wave of resistance; many suspected the Lanling Jin Clan of using the project as a pretext to stuff their own pockets and seize more power. Jin Guangyao plastered a smile on his face and spent five full years grinding down the opposition. In that time, he made a countless number of alliances, and a countless number of enemies. After much coaxing with the carrot, prodding with the stick, and generally deploying every strategy at his disposal, he finally prevailed. Over one thousand two hundred “lookout towers” went up throughout the land...

...All of this occurred after the death of the Yiling Laozu. Wei Wuxian had only gotten the whole story from Lan Wangji after the two had passed a few lookout towers during their journey. He had heard reports that Jinlin Terrace1 was preparing to build a second round of lookout towers, expanding the number to three thousand and covering an even greater area. After the existing set of lookout towers had been built, their effectiveness garnered them widespread approval, but nonetheless, the sounds of doubt and ridicule had never abated.

–fanyiyi

After Jin GuangYao officially succeeded the position of Sect Leader and became the Chief Cultivator, he immediately gathered people and resources from the sects, and started to carry out his past goals. In the beginning, the voices of opposition were deafening. A lot of people suspected that the LanlingJin Sect used it to gain personal benefits and stuff its own pockets. With a smiling face, Jin GuangYao persisted for five years. During the years, he allied but also fell out with countless people. Using both gentle and forceful methods, he did all that he could and what he wished for was finally completed. More than twelve hundred “lookout towers” had been built...

...All of these happened after the death of the YiLing Patriarch. Wei WuXian only heard the ins and outs from Lan WangJi after they passed a few lookout towers during their journey. Rumors had it that Koi Tower was preparing to build the next batch of lookout towers, increasing them to three thousand in number so that they covered a greater area. Although after the first lookout towers were built, they received widespread approvals due to their notable effects, the voices of suspicion and ridicule had never died either. When the time came, the cultivation world would definitely be thrown into chaos again.

–exr

The backlash was specifically because Jin Guangyao was “gathering and deploying personnel and resources from each clan” (fanyiyi). Yet, the opposition is eventually suppressed enough to proceed with construction after 5 years. How so? Well the 3rd POV narrator explains once again:

Back then, in order to build the lookout towers, Jin GuangYao not only faced quite a number of opposers, but also displeased a handful of sects. One of the opposing sect’s leaders lost the arguments, and went into a murderous rage, killing Jin GuangYao and Qin Su’s only son. The boy had always been a good child and he couple had always loved him dearly. Under resentment, Jin GuangYao tore down the entire sect in revenge.

–Chapt. 47: Guile, exr

An opposing clan leader killed Jin Rusong, Jin Guangyao’s son, and Jin Guangyao massacred the entire clan in retaliation. This is the second time the lookout towers are mentioned in the text, and this gives a more detailed explanation on exactly what “forceful methods” (exr) Jin Guangyao used at his disposal to push his plans through. The next time we hear about the lookout towers, it is very briefly mentioned in Chapt. 49: Guile (exr) where Jin Guangyao is seen through Empathy discussing the blueprints with Lan Xichen, and the last time they are ever mentioned is in Chapt. 86: Loyalty (exr, boat-full-of-lotus-pods, and @/jiangwanyinscatmom segment) when the clans gather at Lotus Pier following the failed second siege of the Burial Mounds to discuss Jin Guangyao’s treachery.

So first question: did the lookout towers create a positive change for civilians? From the little we are told, “their effectiveness garnered them widespread approval“ (fanyiyi) / “they received widespread approvals due to their notable effects“ (exr), so on the surface, yes. But we don’t actually see this approval or effectiveness in the story. For all that the lookout towers were meant to cover cultivator-less areas, remote places like Yi City* were still left untouched by their sights. On top of that, the previous system of night-hunting was that areas would be overseen by local cultivation families. Yi City became a blindspot partially because the Chang clan–the nearest cultivation family–had already been wiped out, and none other had come to replace them.

Futhermore, cultivators–particularly those from the big clans–were notorious for turning away night-hunts that they felt would not bring them glory, would not pay well, or were too troublesome (On Yi City: ”These places were usually located in relatively remote areas, beyond the control of cultivators. Of course, cultivators didn’t want to deal with them either, as doing so was extremely troublesome, even worse than dealing with an aquatic abyss.” chapt. 33, fanyiyi). In a perfect world, cultivators would pick up any task, but in the world of mdzs pre-Wei Wuxian’s resurrection, only Lan Wangji accepts any night-hunt with no compensation, hence his title of Hanguang-jun. As for the pay: well, the explanation says that if locals cannot afford the cultivators’ fees, the Jin would pay for it with “the funds the Lanling Jin Clan raised,” which remember: the Jin are using the resources of other clans to fund the lookout towers. Those clans would, therefore, still be footing the bill in a roundabout way. At best, the effects of the lookout towers are nebulous as, essentially, nothing has actually changed under this system: remote areas are still unprotected, cultivators can still refuse night-hunts they don’t like, and clans will still have to foot the bill for locals who can’t afford their fees.

Second question: was the building of the lookout towers a categorically good thing? I say no. The problem wasn’t that the idea was bad, but the execution of it was paid in blood. Jin Rusong was used as a convenient pawn to excuse Jin Guangyao’s slaughter of his political opponents. Clan Leader Yao (for once) makes the connection perfectly in Chapt. 86:

Sect Leader Yao continued, “And the one who killed Jin RuSong just happened to be the sect leader who opposed his construction of the lookout towers—how could there be such a coincidence?” He snorted, “Either way, no matter what, Jin GuangYao didn’t need to keep a son who’d likely turn out to be an idiot. He killed Jin RuSong, framed the sect leader who opposed him, and crusaded against sects that refused to accept him fair and square, in the name of revenge for his son—although it was heartless, it killed two birds with one stone. What tactics, LianFang-Zun!”

–exr

Sect Leader Yao continued, “Plus, the one who supposedly murdered Jin RuSong also just so happened to be the sect leader in opposition of Jin GuangYao building the lookout towers. Isn’t that too much of a coincidence?” He smirked, “Either way, there was very little reason for Jin GuangYao to keep a stunted offspring. He’d be much better off having Jin RuSong killed and framing it on an opposing sect leader. That way he could use justice and revenge as excuse to prosecute the sect that he could not tame. It’s a cruel yet very efficient method, getting rid of two birds with one stone. LianFang-Zun is a brilliant manipulator!”

–boat-full-of-lotus-pods

Master Yao continued, “And at the time, the person who poisoned Jin Rusong happened to be the leader of the clan who opposed Jin Guangyao's watchtowers. Can there be such a coincidence?" He sneered, "Anyway, no matter what, Jin Guangyao didn't need to keep a son who was likely to be an idiot. Kill Jin Rusong, kill the leader who opposed him, and then in the name of avenging his son, he justly kills that family who did not accept his rule. Although ruthless, it kills two birds with one stone. What a strategy Lianfeng-zun!"

–@/jiangwanyinscatmom

Jin Guangyao was specifically being opposed for how he was commandeering the disciples and resources of other clans while claiming to be putting the Jin Clan’s resources on the line. Meanwhile behind the scenes, he was scheming for ways to get rid of detractors and landed on using his son’s murder as the catalyst. (A murder which he admits to: “Jin GuangYao easily read what his eyes meant, laughing out of anger, ‘Lan XiChen! In this life, I’ve lied countless times, killed countless times. Like you said, I killed my father, my brother, my wife, my son...’” Chapt. 108, exr)

@/jiangwanyinscatmom’s translation even makes clear the distinction that what Jin Guangyao was being opposed on was not the lookout towers, themselves, but the massive overreach of power by which Jin Guangyao was allowed to commandeer the other clans or wipe them from the planet at his own whim and discretion. And he would have been planning for this for a long time, as he entangled Lan Xichen into his plans for the lookout towers (remember that very brief flashback) and then pulled him into grieving for his son, thereby gaining the approval of at least one other great clan to do as he pleased on this matter. If this was to truly be considered a good project, it should not have been accomplished by such underhanded and bloody means.

And my last question: if not to help civilians, then what was the motivation behind the lookout towers? Well Jin “rapist of sex workers” Guangyao, Jin “instigator of multiple clan and sex worker massacres” Guangyao, Jin “knew about the massacre of Yi City but kept it under wraps to save face” Guangyao does not care about civilians, so we can definitely cross that out. Looking at the evidence still in Chapt. 86, a few pages down from Clan Leader Yao’s explanation, we get this:

“I’ll say a secret too. The money and resources he used to build the lookout towers were all collected from other sects, right? Every sect helped out a bit. I heard that he secretly takes... this amount.”

“Oh Heavens... So much? He really is shameless. I thought he really wanted do good back then. All of our sincerity was fed to the dogs!”

Wei WuXian felt that things were rather comical, If they’re rumors, why the hurry to believe them? If they’re secrets, why would you come to know them?

These rumors didn’t happen in just the one day. However, in the past, when Jin GuangYao was popular, they were suppressed quite well. Almost nobody took them seriously. Yet, tonight, all of the rumors seemed to have become absolute truths, forming the rocks and bricks of Jin GuangYao’s supposedly-committed crimes, proving his lack of morality.

–exr

“Let me share a secret as well then. The money and resources needed to build those lookout towers of his were all gathered from other sects, right? Each sec would receive the portions they’ve contributed, but I’ve heard that he’d actually retain for himself…… this much.”

“Oh Heavens…… that much? How shameless! And here I thought he was honestly trying to do things with them. We’ve been feeding our devotions to the dogs!”

Wei WuXian found this all to be quite amusing. He mused in his heart, ‘If you know it’s only rumors, then why believe it without question? If it’s really a secret, then how did you come to know about it?’

None of these rumors were fresh or new. While the tides had favoured Jin GuangYao, they were effectively contained, and no one really believed them to be true. Yet, in the span of one night, it was as if all the rumors had suddenly become solid evidence, and one by one they became the cornerstone foundation to Jin GuangYao’s tower of sins; proof of his madness.

–boat-full-of-lotus-pods

Jin Guangyao was using the lookout towers as a test run to see how far he could stretch his newfound power as Chief Cultivator, a running theme for all of the previous chief cultivators in the novel (Wen Ruohan and the indoctrination camp escalating into the supervision offices escalating into flat-out war, Jin Guangshan and the Wen labor camp at Qiongqi Path run by the Jin Clan but employing disciples of other clans escalating into the Nightless City banquet and first siege of the Burial Mounds). Can Jin Guangyao as Chief Cultivator command other clans’ disciples without need of permission from their leaders? Yes. Can he seize other clans’ money and resources for his own expenditures? Yes. Can he annihilate clans without any pushback? Yes.

But I also want to draw attention to my bolded emphasis on not only the explanation but also the little chunk of text at the end of the quote. Before that segment, Wei Wuxian (rightfully) points out that these nameless cultivators are running with rumors as truth, the same way they had run with rumors to justify murdering him 13 years prior and accusing him of kidnapping the junior disciples just that day at the second siege. This is a fair observation to make, but the 3rd POV narrator (bolded) swiftly comes in to cap any sympathy that may have begun budding for our fallen villain by telling us what Wei Wuxian does not know: these rumors have existed from the moment Jin Guangyao seized power and began to test his boundaries; it’s just that Jin Guangyao had the power to suppress them before. Now that he has been dethroned and relegated back to “son of a whore,” there is nothing stopping people from recalling the opposition that had always been levied against him from the very beginning. There is nothing stopping them from tearing down the reputation he built in blood.

So there you have it, folks: everything mdzs has to say on Jin Guangyao’s lookout towers, with a little analysis by me on how I think we are meant to view their role in the story. Hope you enjoyed!

*Note: The lookout towers were built after Xue Yang had been expelled from the Jin Clan, but Jin Guangyao still kept an eye on him, as evidenced by the fact that Su She knew where to find him and that yin tiger tally was with him in Yi City. Yi City was sacrificed to Xue Yang to uphold Jin Guangyao’s reputation and hide away his dirty secrets from being exposed.

[bakujho]

Another rant about some Shady Eels

So, back again to talk about the shady eels though this time focusing on how with the information we’ve been given we can pretty well confirm the Leech family are mafia. We’ve gotten a few solid gems of information the last little while, pretty well confirming what we always figured. Octavinelle has got that mafia theme, so everyone expected some shadiness, but the info we’ve been fed about the Leech parents really brings home that it’s not just the dorm theme, and that the twins and Azul aren’t just “cosplaying as mafia baddies for aesthetic”. 

So what exactly do we KNOW? 

The twins were taught self defense by their parents from a young age. (Jade voice lines)

When they were children their parents ‘associates’ would buy them luxury or rare  birthday gifts...then were made to sign waivers saying that the gift had no ulterior motives and wouldn’t constitute a favour in return.  (Jade birthday)

Their father has told them that appearances on land are important, and to pay close attention to the little details. (When Idia asks for further clarification, he cuts Floyd off before he goes further saying that any further and he feels like he’d be “ensnared by darkness”) (Floyd dance and wishes wish)

There were many parties back in the Leech household, but they were more formal in nature. (floyd birthday)

Eels have a “tough guy” image in the sea, and them being carnivores doesn’t help. (floyd birthday)

Mama leech worries about her babies and contacts them often (jade birthday)

That they have a family run business, that has contacts with a LOT of kinds of different people. Jade tells us it’s VERY normal. (jade birthday)

Leech parents have spoiled their kids before, so they’re likely fairly well off. (floyd birthday)

Floyd seems to have a bit of a sore spot regarding humans (floyd robes) 

So obviously, without 100% confirmation, it’s impossible to say MAFIA LEECH ARE CANON, but with everything we’ve been given I’m pretty confident in saying it’s damn likely. That’s not even the fun part, cause it’s so surface level obvious considering Octavinelles theme, I decided to jump into it more. @chillableu​ had posted a comment in a shared discord that really got my brain whirring about WHY the mafia fam is maybe a bigger thing than just aesthetic, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since. Headcanon accepted, chilla. I thank you. (I took out your name in case you didn’t want anyone on discord to find you by it)

  I’ll put the rest of this under a cut since it’s really just me theorizing and head canoning a whole ton of shit about the Leech fam based on humans treating fish as lesser beings incapable of the same level of emotions and intelligence as themselves, adding in bits from other media that has mermaids, mythology, and a touch of the history of the mafia.

Not even really sure where to start with this, but here we go. So, What if the Leech fam (be it great grandpa/grandma leech or current Leeches) started the mafia as a way to protect themselves due to the mistreatment of merfolk that were more “monster” like than the regular human kind mermaids we’ve only seen up until now. Its reported that the original Sicilian mafia started as a way for certain families that were facing persecution from the rest of the towns that eventually spiraled into the crime syndicates we all know from various media today. Outside of the twins and Azul, all the other merfolk that have been shown in game have been the “fully human on top, fish bottom” type, and with Azul being bullied because we was a rare 8 legged mermaid, and the magicamonsters from the Halloween event seeing merfloyd and remarking how RARE it was to see one, so I’m thinking that maybe the Leech fam started as a way to protect themselves, since if carnivorous merfolk are seen as more brutish, they may have seen a lot of discrimination from other merfolk and humans alike. 

It’s no secret that Toboso has been covering a lot of heavy topics dressed up in Disney clothes, and has already addressed discrimination and fetishization with the scarabia, savanaclaw, and more recently Diasomnia boys (well, mostly Malleus in the halloween event being treated like an object). So what I’m thinking is that there’s an underlying problem in the twstverse, where non-humans are treated badly, and non-humans with monster features even more so. So the leech fam bands together with whatever other monster like merfolk families there are and create their own little area in the coral sea, and eventually expand out into other types of business until they’re in a comfortable enough position to not really worry about any backlash anymore. Floyd has shown some distaste before about being ordered around by humans, which could be an ingrained quality from his parents, or he himself may have experienced some form of mistreatment at the hands of humans before. If the leech fam has a lot of ‘associates’ I think it’s safe to say that they weren’t the only ones feeling abandoned by the normal merfolk and humans .

In Japanese folklore there are creatures called Ningyo (basically human fish), which were both feared as creatures that would bring calamity and misfortune, and prized as their flesh was supposed to be sweet tasting and grant near immortality if eaten. Mermaids in a lot of more modern media are also more nuanced than the “beautiful fish that sailors fall in love with”. Even in One Piece, there’s the mermaids that are captured and sold off to the rich as prize objects to collect and display, and the Fishmen, which are the strong brutes that are ostracised by nearly everyone in series for them simply being fish. If Toboso wanted to touch on the mythology in TWST it would make sense that the more monster-like mermaids have created their own sub-society separate from the regular merfolk. During the Halloween event, the children seem to be pretty scared by Floyd because he’s huge, so what if that’s nothing new for him and why he’s so good with kids? Cause as a mermaid they’re used to people being openly scared of them without any good reason outside of their appearance. I also suspect that Floyd and Jade have a few more siblings, since in one of Floyds home screen lines he says that he’s not the youngest nor the oldest, and tbh, eels lay thousands of eggs, so it wouldn’t be surprising that he knew how to deal with the kid without any struggle. 

What if, when the eels are first hatched they’re a lot smaller than they were and like in the original article that started all of this, humans were needlessly cruel to them and many of them died out of sheer neglect, or that humans just didn’t think merfolk as capable as having acute emotions and saw them as lowly fish rather than sentient beings. We saw with the Magicamonsters that there’s a complete disregard for the feelings of Malleus when they made it a challenge to touch his horns and get a picture, so I imagine that has to extend to merfolk as well when they’re actually seen. That same mindset could have extended to the regular mermaids as well, which is why mermaids like Azul were so tormented for being different, even though they’re all fucking mermaids at the end of the day. So bringing this back to the Leech fam, they decided that they weren’t going to stand for the same level of discrimination from humans and other merfolk alike and began building their own empire. They have contacts in the sea that extend to those on land (otherwise how would the twins get the rare land items for their birthdays), and have an extensive network of associates, with the added bonus of brilliant mermaid twins, one of which is incredibly cunning, the other quick to violence and both of them raised to defend themselves should the need arise. 

So basically, I’m fully on the ��Mafia Leech Fam is canon for real” train and at this point it’s going to be very hard to change my mind. I feel like there were a few more things I wanted to touch on with this but they’ve poofed themselves into the depths of my mind somewhere, so I may have to come back to them later. If you have anything to add, please let me know cause brain rotting about the Leech fam is honestly one of my favourite past times right now.

[bruhlsbees]

sweet disposition ; 3/? || modern!alex kerner x fem!professor!reader

summary: after a month of not speaking, you finally approach alex

pairing: modern!alex kerner x fem!professor!reader

warnings: wet dream, teacher/student fantasy, smut, virginity loss, almost car sex, mommy kink, this one really is just a smut fest, 18+, minors dni, nsfw

word count: 8,880

a/n: hope y'all are buckled in for this one - this one might be messy just cause i'm half awake posting this so i might go back and clean it up tomorrow

One month.

One lousy fucking month it had been since you and Alex stopped talking. He wanted to say that he had been doing good, say that he had forgotten about you and could look you in the eyes and tell you to shove off for how you reacted. But even then, even after everything, he knew deep down he still wouldn’t be able to.

Alex had kept himself busy though throughout February and the beginning few days of March. He picked up more hours at work and hung out with Denis and his new girlfriend, Lara, more. Alex never would admit it to Denis, cause he would hate to see how upset Denis would get, but he hated being the third wheel. Why was it that Denis could get a girl and Alex couldn’t even find someone attractive? Well, other than you that is.

He also gravitated towards drinking more. Alex found himself drinking at least two beers when he got home and another before going to bed. It was bad to say, he knew that, but it helped dull the pain he had in his chest. Dare he say, a heart break? No - that was just silly to say, how could he be heartbroken over someone that he hardly knew?

But whether Alex would admit it or not, he was heartbroken. He found himself becoming desperate, wandering into the English department one day and towards your office. He wasn’t going to bother you, he just wanted to see how you were doing. You were with a student at the time, a guy probably a year or two younger than himself. You were smiling and laughing at whatever the student was telling you and it sent a boil into Alex’s chest.

It wasn’t until he saw you grab the student’s hand that he was sent into a rage. Turning around on his heels, Alex headed back down the hall with a huff, his footsteps heavy as he stomped away to leave, making it to the entranceway for that side of the office before coming to a stop at the sound of his voice.

Turning around, he glared at the sight of Professor Thorne coming out of his office, looking down at Alex with a frown, “Hey, Alex. You okay?” Rolling his eyes, Alex knew that the last person he wanted to speak with then was Professor Thorne, although if he were to just turn and walk away, that would just start an entirely new ordeal that Alex didn’t have room to deal with at the moment.

“Yeah, peachy.” Alex said through gritted teeth. Before he could ask what he wanted though, Professor Thorne beat Alex to it.

“Okay…” He began, not entirely believing him, but also not caring enough to press on. “Listen, you’re the only one who hasn’t met with me yet to discuss your senior project. Do you have time tomorrow to meet with me? I gotta know where you’re at and see if there is anything I can help you with.”

There was a reason Alex hadn’t met with him yet - it was because he was still getting over whatever it was he told you back in January. Alex still wanted to beat him up, but he knew that he couldn’t - since he was his professor and everything.

But Alex knew that this was part of his grade, meeting with him to discuss his progress. He found it so painful to even answer, but finally he did.

“Yeah, sure, whatever. I can come into your office hours tomorrow.”

Taking a step forward, Professor Thorne clapped Alex’s shoulder, “Great! I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

Before Thorne could get another word out, Alex was already turning and going out of the department to leave for the day.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

“Okay class, thanks for the great discussion today! As you’re looking over your critiques from me on your past project, feel free to contact me if you have any questions, alright? If I don’t hear from you I’ll assume you’re satisfied with your grade.”

The class began to pack up, shuffling down the steps of the auditorium and out the exit doors to head to their next classes or wherever it was they went afterwards. You became distracted by your own critique grade, the bold letters in red stating ‘SEE ME AFTER CLASS’ hitting you in the face like a brick. You thought you had done so well on that past project, but it seemed as though the professor thought otherwise.

When you approached his desk, he was finishing his conversation with another student, who proudly talked about how he would be sending his film in for a contest sometime this week.

“That’s great to hear, Jaxon! You’ll have to let me know how it goes.” Jaxon nodded his head, turning towards you and smiled shyly, waving awkwardly before excusing himself from the class. When the door clicked shut, you cleared your throat to get the professor’s attention.

“Excuse me, Professor Kerner? You asked to see me about my project?” It was more so of a clarification than a question, although your timidness would make others think otherwise. You stood in front of his desk, watching as he looked up from his laptop with a smile.

“Yes, of course. Do you have time to discuss this in my office? I believe there is another class in here shortly after us and I’d hate to be interrupted.” Before you could answer him, though, he was already on his feet, packing the desk up.

“S-Sure! Yeah, I have time. I don’t have anything else going on today.” Your mouth twitched into a smile, cheeks growing red as you watched him round the desk, standing beside you with his hand on your back.

“Shall we?”

It didn’t take long to get to his office, going to the third floor where the English department resided. You kept on his heels, not wanting to get lost as classes dismissed and professors frantically went from the hall and into their offices or vice versa. You nearly ran into one of the professors on your way to Professor Kerner’s office.

But when you finally stepped through the door and into his office, you let out a sigh of relief, closing your eyes to catch your breath before the sound of the door shutting caught your attention.

Turning, you watched as Professor Kerner set his things down on his desk, motioning towards the round table in the middle, “Please, have a seat. I just need to get my laptop out.”

You sat down at the table, your backpack resting beside you while the graded critique laid in front of you. You weren’t sure what to do with your hands suddenly and found yourself toying with the corner of the paper. It didn’t take him long before he sat across from you, slipping his jean jacket off and throwing it behind him and into the open chair at his desk.

“Professor, I’m sorry if my project didn’t meet the require-”

“Alex.” He said suddenly cutting you off from your apology.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you looked up from the empty spot at the table and up at him, “Pardon?”

He laughed, shaking his head before opening his laptop to pull open your project. “Alex. My name. Call me that when we’re in here. I do have a name, not just Professor.” He teased you, glancing up at you to see your reaction.

He was so smooth with his words, maybe that’s why his screenwriting unit was so good - it’s cause he knew how words were supposed to flow. You nodded your head slow, blinking as you tried to recollect your thoughts.

“Okay, Alex...I’m sorry if my project didn’t meet the requirements in the rubric. I really thought I did a go-”

“What makes you think you didn’t?”

Your mouth snapped shut as he interrupted you again, this time your face growing red with annoyance rather than from the suaveness of his words. If he let you finish your sentence, maybe he’d know what you were trying to ask him.

But you didn’t get the chance to then, he turned his laptop towards you and began to play your project, continuing on while the video played in the background.

“You’re not a film student, are you?” He asked, leaning forward to rest his chin on his hands. You shook your head, “No, I’m an English Literature major.”

He nodded once before moving to hit the spacebar on his laptop, pausing the video before looking back at you. “I can tell...but that shouldn’t be taken badly - what I mean by that is your work shows it. You think out of the box with assignments compared to the traditional route.”

You shrugged your shoulders, blushing as you stared at him. “I just did what I felt was right.”

The answer seemed to satisfy him, although there was a flicker of something darker that hit his eyes. You leaned back in your chair and moved your hands towards you, picking at the loose threads in your jeans.

“Is there a reason you wanted to see me, Professor?” You watched as he stared at you for another moment before standing up, walking over to the door of his office, looking out the window before shutting the blinds and locking the door. He stuffed his hands into his pockets before turning back to look at you.

“I want you to show me how you got some of those shots. Please, get out your camera.”

As he sat back down in his chair, he moved it back to sit out from under the table, his legs spreading out wide as his hands rested on his thighs. You weren’t sure where this was leading, but you had a sinking suspicion that there was more to it than just showing him how you got some shots.

You stood up from your own seat, holding the camera in your hands as you slowly made your way to him, standing in front of him while looking down at him, your face red.

“So I...um, I don’t zoom in unless I have to. If your subject works with you, you shouldn’t have a problem getting a tight shot of their face without them getting distracted.” You explained, your grip on your camera tightening.

Alex nodded his head and smiled, motioning for you to step closer, “Well then, why don’t you show me? I’m more of a visual learner myself.” He explained, his hands running up and down his thighs.

For a brief second you didn’t move, your brain not sure with what to do. It’s not that you were uncomfortable, it just felt like a weird dream - a really weird sexual fantasy that you knew you shouldn’t be having.

“I, Professor, I'm sorry, but I have to go. I have something coming u-”

“It’s Alex, remember? And you told me that you didn’t have anything after class...were you lying to me?” He questioned, sitting up straighter as he stared you down. The look he was giving you wasn’t sinister necessarily, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

“No, Professor, I just forgot-”

But before you could get the sentence out, you felt his hand on your wrist, pulling you to him until you were settled on his lap, only inches from his face. You tried to get comfortable, but it was hard when you felt his obvious erection under your leg.

“Come now, don’t get shy on me now. Why don’t you turn that camera on and show me what I asked you to?” His hand was now on your waist, holding you down on his lap so you wouldn’t run off. You found yourself giving in, nodding your head as you turned your camera on and brought it up to your face, watching through the screen.

It was hard to stay focused, your hands shaking which made the quality of the shot blurry, almost impossible to identify what you were looking at. You knew that Alex could tell that you were struggling and took the camera from you gently, holding it away from you as he pushed his fingers under your shirt, running his fingertips up your side.

“Oh that’s just not going to work now, is it? You’re far too shaky,” He paused a moment, tilting his head before his crooked grin spread, “Why don’t you get on your pretty little knees for me and guide me through with what you mean, yeah?”

Whether you wanted to protest or not, he was already coaxing you down on your knees in front of him, sitting up as he pointed the camera on you, the lens right in your face. “Good, now be a good girl and help me out, yeah?”

But before anything happened, Alex was woken up by the sounds of sirens coming from outside his window. Jolting awake, Alex found himself panting from the sudden alarm that was going off outside along with the intense dream he was having. He sat up, sitting forward to look out his window and saw two cop cars sitting outside the club. Rolling his eyes, Alex fell back into his bed, not caring to watch and see what drunken fool was getting tossed out.

As he laid on his back, rubbing his face to wake himself up, he felt a sudden breeze hit his thighs. Looking down, he scoffed at the outrageous tent in his boxers, his dick standing straight up. He reached his hand up and onto the top of his dick, feeling that his precum had already soaked through.

He hooked his fingers at the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down, shimming out of them before kicking them onto the floor, his dick now proudly standing up. He wrapped his right hand around the base of him, squeezing himself once before beginning to pump, avoiding his swollen head that was still leaking.

A groan escaped his lips as his head fell back, his left hand reaching down to squeeze his balls that were growing tight. God, why did he have to have such a good dream just to be cut off before the good stuff even happened? When he closed his eyes, picturing you on top of him, your breasts bouncing in his face, his mouth fell open with a moan escaping - so faint that it almost sounded like a whine. His pace quickened as he began to stroke himself harder, his hips rocking in his hands as his toes began to curl.

It didn’t take him long to finish, already painfully close when he woke up. He flinched when he felt his own seed hit him in the face, cringing at the warm feeling that now began to roll down down his lips and chin, spilling onto his chest.

“Fuck…” He breathed, catching his breath as he laid in his bed, regaining his focus before deciding that he needed to go take a shower before it dried out on him. Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, he held his hand at his stomach so nothing fell and hit the carpet - a mess he did not want to clean up.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Alex was dragging that morning, moving painfully slow to get around and meet with Professor Thorne that morning. It was his day off from work and the last thing he wanted to do was go and meet with him about his senior project. Alex hadn’t even begun to think of his project for class and time was running out. He had just about two months left before it was due - he knew he had time, but deep down Alex knew that he was panicking just a little.

He didn’t bother to wear anything nice - throwing on an old shirt from high school and a pair of faded jeans. It was cold that morning, so he decided it would be best to wear his jean jacket on his ride to campus. Alex could only hope that it would be sufficed.

It didn’t take him long to get onto campus, traffic not as busy as he imagined it would be that morning. He parked in his usual spot, taking his helmet off and sticking it inside the storage compartment under the seat of his scooter. He pulled out his bag, locked up the storage, and headed into the building and to Professor Thorne’s office.

By the time he arrived he noticed that Professor Thorne was just walking in. He looked tired, like he was hungover. Alex couldn’t help the smirk that came to face. He knew it was wrong, but seeing Professor Dick having a rough time only made Alex’s day better. As Alex approached his office, he glanced to his left and noticed your office light on, the door opened. His heart sank, wishing that he could be over there instead of here.

“I wouldn’t bother, she’s been in a piss mood all semester.”

Turning, Alex frowned as Professor Thorne sat at the table, pulling out a notebook while a cup of coffee rested in his hands. He took a long sip, sighing before his eyes looked up at Alex, motioning for him to come in. “Please, come in.”

He didn’t have to be told twice. Walking in, Alex tossed his bag on the ground before settling in the chair across from Thorne, looking down at the notebook to see if he could read what was written. Alex failed to make out anything, noticing how sloppy the handwriting was, before looking up ahead of him at Thorne.

“So, you have about two months left before the end of your semester and your senior project is due. Have you started it yet? You can be honest.” Alex watched as Thorne began to scribble some notes down next to Alex’s name, he assumed that he would be taking notes on what his project plans were.

“I haven’t, no,” Alex cleared his throat and sat up a bit in his seat, “I’ve been busy with work and it’s just kind of slipped my mind. I planned on starting it this weekend though since I have it off from work.” He wouldn’t have been surprised if Thorne was angry with his answer, but to his surprise he wasn’t and just nodded his head, writing down what he said.

“And have you given it any thought as to how you are going to approach the project theme?”

He hadn’t. The theme wasn’t challenging, but it wasn’t something that Alex had ever worked on before. He enjoyed filming rather basic ideas - news reporters, nature...things like that. Filming something that answers the question of ‘how would your life change if you had the number one thing you wanted’ was so out there for Alex that he couldn’t even wrap his brain around what it was that he wanted.

Shrugging his shoulders, Alex crossed his arms over his chest, “Maybe something to do with school? I don’t know, graduating and getting a job.” It was this answer that Thorne stopped in his tracks for. Looking up, he frowned at Alex, his head tilted to the side.

“That’s what you’re going to do? Alex...come on now,” He set his pencil down and copied Alex’s posture, leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest. “I think it’s quite obvious that we don’t like each other all that much, but I would be lying if I said you weren’t one of my favorite students. You’re better than picking a path so simple that a freshman could do it. I want you to think outside of the box. It’s your senior project, I expect senior quality.”

It came to a surprise for Alex to hear that he was one of Thorne’s favorite students. Alex knew that the two weren’t fond of one another, but even so Thorne still enjoyed Alex and his work. Alex, never caring for what Thorne thought of him, felt a weird pain in his chest - was Alex for the first time actually feeling bad for letting him down in some way? No, no not a chance in Hell. Not until pigs flew across the sky.

“I’ll make it senior quality, Professor. That you don’t have to worry about.” Alex replied back flatly. At his response, Thorne nodded and scribbled something down on the notebook before closing it.

“Good, because these are going to be shown at the department celebration at the end of the semester and I expect that you will have the best one there.” Alex nodded his head in understandment, letting out a sigh before looking up at Thorne.

“Was that all that you wanted to discuss?”

Nodding, Thorne watched as Alex stood up, grabbing his bag and turning to leave before stopping in the doorway at the sound of Thorne’s voice.

“If you happen to run into her, would you let her know that I miss her?” He asked suddenly. Alex was glad that his back was facing Thorne, so that he didn’t see him roll his eyes in disgust.

“Yeah, sure.” He answered, although he had no intentions of doing so. Thorne nodded, smiling sadly before he rolled the chair over to his desk, “Thanks, Alex. If you don’t mind, can you shut the door on your way out?”

And he did. As he walked out of his office, he shut the door behind him and took a step to go down the hall before freezing in his tracks. At the end of the hall, only a few feet in front of him, was you - standing with a cup of coffee in your hand and a half-eaten muffin in the other.

It was the first time since January that the two of you had crossed paths. To say that it was uncomfortable was an understatement.

“Good morning, Professor.” Alex greeted casually, trying to not make the interaction anymore awkward than it had to be.

“Alex, hello. How has your semester been?” You felt your throat tighten at the question - you knew how it was going for him, you didn’t even have to ask, because your semester had been going the same.

He shrugged his shoulders, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. “As good as it can be, I suppose,” At first he didn’t want to say anything more, his own anger building up inside of him. But he could see it on your face, the guilt that was eating you away. Did you feel bad for shooing him off? The next words came out so fast, that Alex didn’t even have time to stop himself.

“You look really good. I suppose you’ve been having a good year?” He asked, his mouth twitching at the sound of your laugh. Alex didn’t know how much he had missed that sound until hearing it just then.

“I’m glad to hear that someone thinks so. After my birthday it seems like I really started showing my age,” He titled his head to the side in confusion before you rolled your eyes, laughing it off. “I turned thirty-three last weekend. Trust me when I say, once you hit thirty, it all goes down.”

Alex smiled, watching as you tried so obviously to not think too much on the fact that you just had another birthday. “Well if it means anything, I don’t think you look a day over twenty-six,” His own cheeks went pink at the sight of you blushing, your eyes dropping down to the ground, mumbling a thanks. “Did you do anything fun for your birthday?”

Shaking your head, you looked up with a sigh, “Besides the bottle of wine? No, no I just graded papers, drank a little too much, and went to bed. You know, the boring adult life.”

It made Alex frown a little, knowing that your birthday had passed and you didn’t do anything fun. Would it be inappropriate to ask if you wanted to catch up over coffee? As a late birthday celebration? Probably, but he didn’t care. Right now, he was just in the moment and didn’t want to think about all the wrongs of what was going on between them, or at least what he wanted to have happen between them.

He opened his mouth to ask what you were doing, but the words seemed to get lost going out, nothing coming out before he finally clamped his mouth shut, deciding against it. “Well, maybe you and your friends will be able to do something fun this weekend? A late celebration is better than none at all…” Alex paused and watched as you nodded, taking a bite of your muffin. “Well, I should get going. It was- it was nice to see you. I hope the rest of your semester goes well.”

You smiled weakly and nodded, “You too,” You replied, mouth muffled by the muffin. Your attention turned as he walked around you, heading to leave before you found yourself speaking, “Alex?” You asked suddenly, gaining his attention to stop and turn around at you, a confused expression on his face.

“Are you free tonight? Would you want to go get a drink and maybe catch up?” You felt your cheeks grow red and cleared your throat, trying to be casual about it, “I, I realize that I was a bit brash on you earlier this semester, and I’m sorry, but I’d like to think that since you aren’t my student, that it would be fine.”

You weren’t sure if he’d agree, as his expression fell blank. He was probably thinking - but was he thinking of how to turn you down or what to snap at you? Either way, you would have deserved it. He didn’t deserve to get the short end of the stick that you gave him, he was just being a kind person - you were the one over thinking things. As far as you knew, he wasn’t the type of student to go after a teacher in that way.

But he surprised you, and when he agreed - all you could do was smile. “O-Oh! Great! Lovely, would you like to meet outside the Blue Fox around eight? It’s the club down the road from me...I sort of got banned from the Sour Apple so I’m a regular there now.” You admitted, watching as Alex’s eyes went wide, a laugh escaping from you.

“Banned? What did you do?” He asked and you shook your head. Alex grinned at you and shook his head back, “Oh no, you can’t just drop that bombshell on me and then expect me to not ask what happened. Come on, you can tell me.”

And you did, over a basket of mozzarella sticks that night at the Blue Fox. The entire time Alex couldn’t contain himself at your ridiculous story that led to you not being able on the premise. How it led to you grading papers on your thirty-third birthday.

“Wait, wait, so you jumped him?” Alex questioned, laughing as he looked at you, grinning as you shook your head, setting the bottle of beer you were nursing back on the bar.

“Not entirely...I was drunk and dancing on the bar and he kept pestering me to get down. Well something happened behind him and when he turned, I took the chance and jumped on his back,” You couldn’t hold back your own laughs now, shaking your head as Alex grabbed your arm, his head falling back to laugh. “So technically I jumped on him...but I didn’t jump him.”

Rolling his eyes, Alex pulled his hand away from you to grab another stick from the basket, pouring an obscene amount of marinara sauce on before stuffing it into his mouth, nearly choking on the cheese as he swallowed too quickly. “Either way, you got banned from the Sour Apple because you were drunk and dancing on the bar...man, wish I was there to see that. Seems like a great way to end the big thirty-two-”

Before you let him get the last word out, you sent a punch to his arm, grinning as he fake groaned, nudging you back before he licked his fingers, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. You weren’t sure if it was the marinara he just barely missed off his face, or the fact that he had been the first person to show you an ounce of kindness in the past month - but either way, you found yourself looking at him as something more than just a student, but Alex. Was this feeling right? No, but for once your brain didn’t try and analyze the situation and let your heart take the lead.

“Listen...again, I’m really sorry for before. I don’t know what came over me to snap at you like I did. All you were doing was showing me kindness and I freaked out. The truth is, between Professor Thorne and I - he’s been trying to get me to go out with him for a while now, and that night I snapped at him because he was accusing me of sleeping around with you,” You laughed at how ridiculous it was to say out loud, “When you took care of me that night I was so embarrassed at how bad I got that night. Usually I’m not the one who needs to be taken care of, and when I found out it was a student of mine that I had known for not even a full two days, well, you can see where I came from.”

You jumped slightly when you felt Alex touch your shoulder, smiling at you before carefully moving his hand to your face, tucking some hair behind your ear to uncover your face. “I get it...now at least. I didn’t back then, and I spent the last month so angry, but now that you’ve told me, it feels like a big weight has been lifted off my shoulders,” He took his other hand and gently turned your face to look at him, staring into each other’s eyes, “You deserve someone better Professor Thorne. That’s why I pressed on so much about him...because I didn’t want you to give in. You deserve someone better, someone like, like-”

“Like you?”

It came out so smoothly it almost felt right. You could tell Alex was taken back by what you had told me because his body retracted back slightly, although his hands still rested on your face. A sad smile spread across his face as he caressed your face for a moment before pulling away.

“No, someone even better.”

Turning back towards the bar, Alex picked his beer up and took a good few sips before settling it back down. You didn’t mean to upset him more, and you wondered if your comment about seeing someone like him made him uncomfortable. He wasn’t though, but you didn’t know, what was going through his head was how head over heels he was for you, and how he finally figured out what he wanted his senior project to be.

How would Alex’s life change if he had the number one thing he wanted? Well for starters, what was it that he wanted so badly? It was you. You. Perhaps it was love at first sight, or whatever cheesy trope this was between the both of you, but he realized that what he wanted was you. And it wasn’t just you in the sense of having drinks and going back to fuck, no, what he wanted was to share the rest of his life with you. Be there for you to rub your feet after work, cook meals together, and tell you every day just how beautiful you were.

So how would his life change? That he wasn’t quite sure on. All he knew was that he wanted you and he’d be damned if he went his entire life without you.

The music shifted from a mainstream flop that repeated every hour in the club and to a slower, more heavier bass song. Watching as those on the floor began to slow their movements, pulling close to their partners, you smiled and glanced at Alex, who was watching too.

“Alex? Would you like to dance?” You were elated when he grinned, nodding his head eagerly before standing up, extending his hand out to help you up before pulling you to the dancefloor. He suddenly wasn’t sure where to put his hands, not wanting to overstep his boundaries. However, you figured that it would just be best to take control of the situation - pulling his hands behind you, you positioned them on your lower back, running your hands up his arms to wrap around his neck.

The blue lights illuminated across his face, alternating with the white light that swayed the other way in the room. It could be a real eyesore at times, but right now, you didn’t even pay attention, all your attention went ahead of you to Alex. Even under the club’s spotlights, you could still tell his sweet face was blushing.

As the two of you rocked hips together, swaying to the beat of the song, you couldn’t help but stare up at him, your fingers moving now across his jawline and to his lips, taking in how soft his skin was. There wasn’t a single wrinkle on his face, hardly any blemishes either - he was perfect.

You suddenly felt conscious with being so close to him and went to move back but was caught to stay in place, feeling Alex’s grip on your waist to hold you in place. “Don’t...you’re beautiful.” He said lowly, moving his hand to cup the side of your face.

Nobody leaned in first - it was so insync that it was like you both mentally had said something to one another. When your lips met, it was almost perfect how well your lips meshed. It would’ve been completely perfect if Alex’s eagerness didn’t get the best of him and knocked his teeth against your’s - even then though, you didn’t care.

You only pulled away when you needed to catch your breath, and when you realized just how many people were watching, hooting and hollering you guys on, you could only laugh and shake your head, covering your face for a moment before looking back up at him. Standing on your toes, you grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him until your lips met his ear - at this point all teacher codes of ethics out the window.

“You wanna get out of here? My car is out back.” You pulled away to see his expression, hoping that he was on the same page as you. When his smile turned into a bigger grin, nodding his head eagerly, you pulled him behind you, him keeping up like a lost puppy.

When you got to your car you fumbled in your jacket to find the keys, biting down on your bottom lip to stop yourself from moaning out as Alex stood behind you, pressing himself up against you as he kissed down your neck. At the sound of the doors unlocking, you turned and grabbed him by the front of his shirt again, spinning him around and pushing him back in the backseat of your car, crawling in after him and locking the car up.

It only took a matter of seconds before he was on you again, holding you down onto his lap as he kissed your lips feverishly, almost desperately. You didn’t mind though, you knew it was so sudden and in the moment that you wouldn’t be taking your time with this. Your hands rested on his neck, keeping his head tilted up as you nipped at his bottom lip, kissing down his face and along his jawline.

“I haven’t had car sex in forever,” You breathed, leaning back to unbutton your shirt. You tried to ignore how hard Alex was staring at you, his chest rising and falling. You wondered if he had ever done something like this before, “You ever have car sex?” You asked, slipping off your blouse and setting it beside you, sitting in his lap now with just your bra on.

He wished that you had nothing on, but given the location, he could get by with having you just have your blouse off. He leaned forward and couldn’t help himself, kissing the tops of your breasts that spilled out of your bra. Sucking dark bruises across your chest before he finally shook his head.

“No,” He explained, his hands moving behind your bra to try and unhook it. He was struggling and his face rested in between your breasts, groaning in frustration. Should he tell you the truth? That it wasn’t just a car he hadn’t had sex in...but sex at all. “I’m kind of...kind of a virgin.” He mumbled against your skin.

You didn’t mean to push him back the way you did, but it came off so sudden that it threw you off. Looking down at him, you held an expression of bewilderment, “You’re...you’re a virgin?”

Now he looked just embarrassed, a frown on his face as he looked down, nodding his head. Did you not want to do it with him anymore? Now that you knew he was a virgin? Of course that wasn’t the case, but you weren’t going to let him lose his virginity in the back of your car. He deserved better than that. You grabbed his cheeks and pushed his head up, smiling at how cute he looked with squished cheeks. Leaning forward, you kissed him once before pulling away.

“I don’t care, okay? But I’m not gonna take away your virginity in the back of a car in some club parking lot,” You looked around the backseat before grabbing a sweatshirt from the very back, slipping it on over you to get out without exposing anymore - not wanting to bother with the buttons of your blouse, “Come on, I’ll drive us back to my place. It’s only about a mile away.”

Climbing off his lap and into the front seat, you grabbed your keys and started up your car, laughing as Alex struggled to climb into the front, nearly kicking you in the process. When he finally was in the passenger seat, settled in and buckled up, you smiled at him and nodded, driving out of the lot and down the road towards your place.

It took maybe five minutes to get back, not even. When you did you parked out front and got out, grinning as Alex rushed out, following you close behind. You weren’t one to usually bring home guests, so this was all new for you. Your brain began to speed think at everything that could possibly be embarrassing that was lying out. You had the couple stuffed animals in your bed, but maybe he wouldn’t pay too much attention to them. Hopefully he didn’t look too long at the awkward younger photos of you with your family.

When you got up to your apartment, unlocking it and pushing the door open, you stepped off to the side to let him in, smiling shyly as he looked around, a smile on his face.

“Uh, if you could take your shoes off here that’d be great..thanks.” You cringed at how much of a mother you sounded like. The dirt wasn’t going to ruin your carpet and if anything, you probably just made him more embarrassed.

But he didn’t seem to take it too much to heart, mumbling out a quick ‘sorry’ before stepping on the back of his shoes to pull his feet out, setting them by the other shoes you had near the door. Before you forgot, you leaned over and locked the door, looking up at him with a smile on your face. You never realized how much taller he was than you until that very moment.

“So, umm, this really your first time?” You asked, smiling when he laughed. “Yeah, just...never found someone I guess.”

His confession made your heart skip a beat, and the anxiety began to settle. You knew you weren’t bad, but you were a bit out of practice. You wanted it to be good for him and you could only hope that you satisfied him enough. As you nodded your head, you took his hand in your own before beginning to pull him out of the living room and down the hall, into your bedroom.

When you got in your room, you took a step towards him, smiling as you leaned forward, pressing your lips gently to his. He took your face in his hands, holding you tenderly as he kissed you back. As the two of you kissed, you reached down and began to tug his belt off, finding the button of his jeans and undoing them, zipping his pants down and pushing them off.

Alex hissed at the cold air that hit his legs, pulling away from you before he accidentally bit you. You smiled and dropped to your knees, your face only inches away from his dick that still stood up under his boxers. “Alex? Has anyone ever sucked you off?”

He went red almost instantly, his face red as he shook his head, watching as you grabbed him through his boxers, slowly pumping him before taking the sides of his boxers and pulling them down, letting his dick spring up in your face. You sat back, staring ahead as you took him in before hearing him moan from above. You were glad to see that he was enjoying all of this.

“Why don’t you go sit on my bed, I don’t need you falling over, okay? Take your shirt off too.” You didn’t mean to come off so demanding, but you wanted him to get comfortable. You watched as he smiled, nodding before pulling off his shirt and tossing it on the ground beside his boxers and jeans, peeling his socks off too before he sat on the edge of your bed.

On your hands and knees you crawled over to him, settling down between him, grabbing his knees and spreading his legs open. You took him in your hand again and leaned forward to finally take him in your mouth before he stopped you suddenly. Looking up, you watched as he shook his head. Oh great, you were moving too quickly, now you freaked him out.

But that wasn’t it at all. He smiled and pulled at your sweatshirt, motioning at how you were still in all your clothes. Looking down, you scoffed and shook your head before standing up, pulling off your sweatshirt again and unclipped your bra, moving down to your jeans to pull the bottom half of your clothes off. You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face as he grinned up at you, so lusted over the moment.

When you were back on your knees, you pulled your hair into one hand, holding it back as you prepared yourself for him. Just as your lips were about to touch his tip, you felt his hands in your hair, pulling it back for you so you could have your hands.

Alex was too fucking sweet on you, it made you sick. His gentle movements - holding your hair back, rubbing your back, you almost forgot that this was about him and not you. Looking up to meet his eyes, you kissed his inner thigh before moving your face up, taking his hard dick in your hand before grasping him at the base, your mouth covering him as you pushed your head down until you couldn’t take it any longer.

The moan that escaped Alex as he fell back into your bed was almost too obscene to be real - sounding like it came from one of those horribly made adult films. You grinned around him, sucking him as you began bobbing your head, feeling his hips shift under you, trying to relieve more pressure.

Pulling away with a ‘pop’, you looked up at him as you began to pump his cock, your other hand squeezing his thigh as he sat up, looking down at you. “Fuck...it feels so, so…” He groaned and thrusted into your hand, closing his eyes tight as his hands fell from your hair and down to the sheets, clenching at them as he tried his best not to already finish.

And you knew it was wrong, but your movements began agonizingly slow so suddenly, teasing him as he whined out loud, “So what, Alex? Do you want me to stop?” You smirked a little, watching his face contorted, the feeling becoming too overwhelming for Alex, tears in his eyes.

“No...mommy...I-”

But then your movements did stop. You didn’t mean to, but just like before, he said it so casually that it caught you off guard. He didn’t realize he had even said it until he caught himself saying it again, this time sitting up and opening his mouth, mortified with what he called you.

“I-, oh god, shit, fuck, I-I didn’t mean to call you th-”

Before he had a heart attack, you stood up and leaned forward, kissing him to shut him up. You crouched in front of him, pulling away with a smile. “Alex, shh, it’s fine. Okay?” You had never been called it before, granted you never fucked anyone so much younger than you, but you surprisingly didn’t hate it.

Furrowing his brows, Alex frowned and scooted back for you to rest on his lap, “Really?” You nodded and smiled, wrapping his arms around his neck before kissing him again, “Really, now will you be a good boy and let mommy fuck you?”

Alex swore he had died and gone to Heaven just then. His eyes, lulled down in lust, nodded as you pushed him to lay on his back, climbing onto him fully before beginning to rock yourself onto him, your wet slit running up and down his dick.

“I’m gonna ride you now, okay? It’s gonna be tight so just relax until I adjust before you try anything,” You coaxed, running your hands up and down his chest, watching as he nodded before you reached down and lined him up, sinking down onto him almost instantly.

You both moaned together, your head falling back at how well he filled you up. You didn’t realize how wet he had already made you until he slid into you so easily. You took a minute to adjust to his size before nodding, grabbing his wrists and pulling him to sit up, smiling at how close he was to you now.

“Just tell me what feels good, okay? It’s about you tonight, remember? Not me.” You began to slowly ride him, rising and sinking down onto him as you kissed him, holding his face close to you as his hands rested on your hips, guiding you up and down on him. The slapping noises became louder the wetter you got, and you truthfully didn’t realize you could get that wet.

You could tell he was getting close with how bad he was twitching in you, moaning into your neck now as he buried his face there, you holding his head close. “It’s okay Alex, I got you. You’re doing so good. You’re being a very good boy.” You coaxed, running your fingernails down the back of his neck and spine.

“Mmm, Mommy, I’m gonna cu-”

“Where do you want to cum, baby? Tell me and Mommy will make it happen.” You promised, pushing him back to look down at him, continuing to ride him as your hair now stuck to your sweat covered forehead.

The tears that were in his eyes were now spilling down his cheeks, everything sending Alex overboard with how intense his emotions were. He swallowed the lump in his throat and let out a whine as you asked him again, trying to get him to answer before he finished too quickly.

“I-I wanna cum…” His eyes rolled in the back of his head, grunting as you snapped his hips up into you, panting as he felt your hand on his face, forcing him to look at you and answer you.

“Your tits! I wanna cum on them.” He answered, voice muffled as his cheeks squished together in your hands. You smiled in satisfaction at the answer, nodding before you pushed off him suddenly, whining yourself at the sudden loss of weight in you. You fell to your knees and guided him to stand up, feeling his dick slip between your tits as he fucked them, one hand holding your hair, the other at his side.

You held your own breasts in your hands, pressing them around Alex’s dick as he fucked them, glancing at his free hand as he stroked your face, moving his index finger towards your lips, pushing it between your lips to have you suck on his finger.

And you did, moaning around his finger while his pace quickened, becoming sloppy as he gripped your hair tighter, a little too tight, before suddenly letting go of your hair to grab his dick, pumping it in his hand until his hot spews of cum shot out, coaxing your tits until they were rolling down your chest and stomach.

He didn’t mean to fall, but his knees locked up and he stumbled back onto your bed, panting like he had never panted before, his eyes closed as he tried to regain his focus, ignoring the white specs that danced under his eyelids. You, on the other hand, sat back on the floor, feeling your own climax roll down your thighs, your eyes falling back in your head as you caught your breath.

“That was…” You began, although Alex beat you to the punch.

“Really fucking good.” You could hear how satisfied he was and you could only giggle, nodding in agreement before sitting up slightly, “Yeah, you could say that again.”

When the silence fell over the two of you, you decided to go and get a wet rag to clean you both off with, you yourself too tired to bother with a shower. You wiped yourself off first in the bathroom, rinsing the rag before going back into your room, crawling in the bed beside him to clean him up.

He watched as you cleaned him, a small smile on his face, “Sorry if I finished too quick...it was hard for me to hold it in any longer.” What made his smile grow, however, was the tender kiss you pressed against his temple as you took care of him, “Alex...don’t worry, okay? I enjoyed myself, promise. I’m glad for your first time, it was good.”

Alex sat up fully now, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulled you to him, grinning at the sound of your giggle before kissing your cheek. “It was better than good. It was fan-fucking-tastic.” He leaned down and kissed your bare shoulder before resting his head against your chest, letting you hold him as the two laid in bed.

You wanted to say that it was just from the long day you had, but truthfully you knew that he tired you out. It had been too long since you had something as good as what you had with Alex that night, and your brain was still spinning. As you held him in your arms, stroking his face and running your fingers through his hair, you became tired and felt yourself drifting off.

On the other hand, Alex was still awake, thinking about what had just happened and how every crazy and fucked up dream he had led to this. He felt like a god at this point...okay, maybe that was a bit too far. When he felt your fingers come to a stop, he looked up and saw you sleeping, your breathing steady. He smiled and sat up carefully, not wanting to wake you as he pulled the blankets back and helped you under the covers.

When he placed the covers back over you, he stood up to find his clothes and go to the couch, not wanting to hover too long. Yeah, you guys had just hooked up, but he knew that probably to you that was all that was - a hookup - to him though, well-

“Alex?”

He turned from where he sat beside the bed, his jeans in his hands as he got ready to put them on. He stopped though, moving closer as he looked down at you, letting you take his hand into yours.

“Will you stay with me tonight? In here?”

The innocent plea for his company sent butterflies into his stomach. Nodding, he dropped his jeans back onto the ground before crawling under the covers beside you, freezing for a brief moment at how quickly you curled up to him, hugging him with your head pressed against his chest. Alex found himself smiling, wondering how he got so lucky. Kissing the top of your head, he rubbed your back until the two of you both fell asleep, tangled in each other’s arms.

[sassooda]

Worlds Away JJK AU / Chapter 39 - Run

w/c - 7,590

**Warnings- This chapter is very violent.**

               The waiter returns with replacement drinks and sets them down accordingly. He doesn’t stay long this time but he once again intensely stares at them all. Toji postures himself and rolls his shoulders back while unabashedly glaring him down. He’s sure the waiter can tell but his brown eyed gaze is now of Elska as he leaves. Toji grumbles, “He’s begging for an ass whooping doll, would you be upset if I delivered?”. She giggles out, “You are not allowed to hit him!”, and bumps him with her shoulder playfully.

               Naoya cracks up from Toji’s words and adds, “I’ve felt your punch, you’ll fucking kill the guy!”. His deep laughter carries through the patio causing the young parents of the three kids to look over awkwardly and smile. Naoya nods and waves to offer the universal gesture that he wasn’t intending to be that loud. He looks over to Toji and Elska with a grin while lifting his glass into the air, “I just want to say that I’m grateful to be here with you two today.”. He brings his eyes to Toji, “I’ve always looked up to you and hoped that I could be that cool when I grew up…,” he chuckles with slight embarrassment, “…and I know things with all of us are, unique but I appreciate you having the room in your heart for me, it means a lot...”. Toji’s face experienced a quick wash of gentleness that Naoya was happy he saw, returning it without being shy. The Zenin now looks at Elska, “And you my princess…”, he sighs at her sweet eyes, “Thank you for showing me what it means to be cared for by a woman. Come what may, I will always be rich in all things with you by my side.”. He watches Elska sip her wine with watery eyes as he drinks his Mojito until the opportunity to kiss her arises. After he hums to the feeling of perfection, he pulls back and chuckles, “It’s so peaceful without Gojo around, isn’t it?”, he admits as Toji cackles and leans forward while setting his drink on the table.

Elska sips her wine and puts the glass down before wrapping her arms into both of theirs. “Thank you so much for bringing me out here today!”, she feels it’s impossible to address both of them at the same time so she scoots back, “You two bring so much happiness into my life, Sati too…”. She squeezes their arms, “I can’t imagine what life would be like without you.”. Her eyes now take to the kids as the youngest is waving at them in the awkward manner that a toddler would. “We’ve made a friend!”, she laughs as she waves back. ‘Could I be a mother? A good one?’, she asks herself as she watches Naoya interacting with the child, wearing a goofy face. ‘He would be a good father…I know he would.’, the idea creeps into her heart as she heavily considers giving him what he wants. Naoya leans back and says, “They’re reeeeally cute actually. It doesn’t help my baby fever whatsoever.”. Elska inhales sharply after a stark possibility blares into her brain, “I could already be pregnant and not even know it...”, her words sounded dreadful but only because she wouldn’t have the first fucking clue as to who the child would belong to. She didn’t want to say anything out loud but Toji was hot on her trail of thought.

“Any one of us could be the father!”, Toji’s eyes widen as he’s not even considered what a quandary that could turn out to be. He looks over at Naoya who’s left eye is twitching and feels defensive, “Boy don’t make that face, I never pull out.”. As soon as the words left his lips, he can feel the heated aura from Elska, “Doll, I have no idea why I just said that...”, but is relieved to find he’s not in the doghouse after she says, “I’m going to pretend that didn’t happen!” with a squinted expression.

“You dirty old bastard!”, Naoya does not like the idea of anyone else knocking her up. “You’re not supposed…she’s a princess!”, and looks at Elska with a furrowed brow. She seems pretty uncomfortable and he assumes it’s because of his reaction so he feels bad. He huffs, “Well I don’t either!”. Elska can be heard humming like she’s thinking of a punishment but his mind takes to the night of him, Gojo and Elska. He recalls something he feels is important and darts his eyes to Toji with a devious grin, “But Gojo does.”.

“Naoya…I’m about to take your drink away again!”, she buries her face into her hands as she tries to not feel grossed out by herself. Naoya pulls her hands away and turns her in his direction, “Baby! Like I said before…we’re unique!”, and brings his drink within his guard. She feels his lips against her own and somehow the simple action instantly comforts her. ‘We’re all degenerates…’. She leans back into her seat after they break away and looks up to the sky. Thinking of a great comeback she smirks and flippantly says, “Maybe Choso’s the daddy.”. She laughs when Naoya gasps with anxiety but is surprised by how Toji saw right through her.

“Baby? Are you messing with me right now?”, he knows she’s laughing but is honestly afraid of that thought after the lack of clarification with what happened between her and the being. “Tell me you’re just kidding!”, he leans up and pokes at her sides until she admits that it was just a bad joke. Once he’s satisfied and reassured, he sits back again and threatens, “That deserves a spanking...”, and bites his lip as he envisions it. He looks to Toji, “How were you able to be so calm?!”, but pouts when Toji shrugs and says, “I just know better.”, and Naoya now feels silly for getting worked up. “That’s two spankings now since my pride is hurt as well!”. He giggles with her as she doesn’t seem to protest against the idea. ‘Just you wait, Elska!’, he’s now planning to give them to her tonight.

The waiter approaches them again, still eyeing Toji. “Ugh…not again…”, Toji feels the man staring at him and wants to avoid having to directly deal with him but the brown eyed fellow walks over to Toji’s side. He gives Elska and Naoya a loathing look as he warns of his tolerance being low. The waiter says, “I’ll explain the menu since you’re unfamiliar with the language.”, but his tone was different. Toji abruptly states, “I’ll take anything chicken.”, and starts to feel aggressive as the waiter remains. The man leans down and places a hand on Toji’s shoulder and the moment it makes contact, Toji feels a surge of pain shoot through his arm and bellows out an inhuman screech. Naoya stands up immediately and asks what’s wrong but Toji’s unable to respond.

               Naoya looks at the waiter, “What the fuck did you do? WHO ARE YOU?!”, and then back at Toji who has doubled over, heaving in pain as his presence darkens. “Baby, get up…GET UP NOW!”, He grabs Elska and moves her away while glaring at the waiter who arrogantly standing by the giant. The man laughs wildly and says, “This is for Master Kokoro…”. The waiter goes to lower his hand back onto his shoulder but Toji snatches it, crushes his wrist and cries out as his wings start to form. “Oh fuck…”. The Zenin man yells to the other tables, “GET OUT OF HERE NOW!”. Naoya steps back with Elska tightly in his grasp and worries about everyone around them. All of the people sitting outside have now tuned in and are watching in horror as the skin of Toji’s back stretches to form the bones and feathers…but they do not move.

               “TOJI DON’T!”, Elska breaks away from Naoya to run to her beloved but before she can reach him, Toji yanks the waiter down by the wrist and proceeds to send energy at the man’s torso, hollowing him out completely. The body remains standing for what seemed like forever as Elska views the beautiful river through him until he collapses. Screams erupt chaotically as terrified people try to flee but Elska’s only focus was on Toji, who seems to be falling progressively deeper into this dark energized way. “TOJI!”, she cries out to him again but feels Naoya securing her. The children can be heard squealing in tears at the top of their lungs as their parents struggle to function well enough to gather the kids. “Why…This is…?! Naoya!”, she’s already crying as he takes hold of her. The clamor of fear booming around them was almost too much all together but it abruptly silences as a warm liquid sprays her and Naoya. In what seemed like slow motion, the entire family and table was crushed into the pavement, leaving nothing but a compressed pile of bones and flesh where their beautiful faces used to be. She can’t move. She can’t avert her eyes. She can only watch in absolute horror.

               “Oh my God…”, Naoya is also left otherwise speechless and mortified as the high chairs can still be made out due to their green color, amongst the mounds of human tissue. He calls out to Elska who is back in his arms but she’s unresponsive and hysterical. Toji flies past them and Naoya screams when he watches his cousin shred through a businessman before turning to one of the middle-aged women, tearing her arms off simultaneously. The woman screams but soon falls into shock and seizes on the ground. “TOJI!!”, Naoya finds himself crying too, shaking while Toji uses his strength to literally rip through the innocent humans. “Holy fuck…he’s going to kill them all!”, his cries are muffled as he dips his face into Elska’s hair, not knowing how to react. He needs to stop his cousin but understanding that this is an attack, he doesn’t want to leave Elska alone. “Baby… What do I do?!”, he sobs with her. The others that were outside with them are unable to open the door to the building for some reason and he perceives another of the businessmen try to make a break for the water. Naoya screams again as he helplessly watches Toji tackle him and tear the man’s neck from his shoulders. Toji now turns around eerily and targets him while the remaining survivors cower and mentally decompose.  With wide eyes, Naoya picks Elska up and activates his projection technique. He feels so heavy when he engages it and can’t understand why Toji is getting closer as he exerts his full force into the speed. ‘It’s not working!’, the weight of the dread hindering his usual decisiveness brings him to a new low as he surmounts the worse of outcomes. He holds Elska tighter and says through his cries, “Baby, you have to run. I need you to run.”. He’s not sure if he’s going to make it out of this but knows it will be worth it as long as she escapes. His heart breaks while he lowers her down fearing that this will be the last time they’ll see each other. He shouts with urgency as tears stream down his face, “RUN ELSKA!”.

She’s aware that she’s being placed back on her feet but feels so cold without Naoya’s body heat. “The children…”, she’s still in shock. Upon looking around she notices the other bodies, at least 2 overlapping each other near the door leading inside. She stands there, dazed and numb until the restaurant and all neighboring buildings explode. The powerful shock wave sends her flying towards the water as she feels a blunt object hit her side accompanied by internal cracking. Moments pass as she lies there incoherent as multiple smaller explosions erupt from the establishments around them. Her ears are ringing loudly. She tries to push herself off of the ground but her equilibrium is shot so she falls over to her right side. Her eyes are struggling to focus but when they do, she sees that the object that likely cracked her ribs is some poor man’s mangled leg. She can’t make out her own voice but she cries for Naoya and shuts her eyes to the fear that him and Toji were caught in the blast. Her own bloodcurdling sounds now make way to her ears, finding she doesn’t recognize her own voice. Only when she can feel her body being jostled around do her eyes unfasten.

Naoya was thrown into a table near the edge of the patio. He feels the burns lacing up his body as he stumbles over to Elska. She’s covered in cuts from the glass and can tell she’s not breathing normally but is alive. ‘BABY!”, he scoops her up into his arms but they fall backward since he’s yet to fully regain his senses. He sits up and tries again while looking around and witnesses the gore and destruction. His breath is hitched in his throat as he sees the dismembered pieces of people all around them, some bits floating in the water nearby. He’s crying again as he struggles to his feet with her, “Baby, we have to run!”, is all he can say as his eyes finally spot the wings. “TOJI!”, he wails as he sees the charred feathers, it looking like he suffered burns as well. He finally is able to stand up and releases more tears when he sees Toji stirring. “Thank fucking God…”. He checks around for other survivors but is unable to make out anything amongst the body parts and debris. To his left a table is crushed right before his eyes, leaving a depression into the concrete. ‘Getou’. His eyes widen when he hears Toji release another wild call. “Baby…”, he shakes Elska, trying to get her to respond. “BABY YOU HAVE TO SNAP OUT OF IT!”, and panics as Toji growls and picks up speed towards them. “SHIT!”, he places Elska back down, straining from his melted skin and whispers in tears, “I love you Elska, forever.”, before charging the best he could towards Toji.

She heard him. His voice itself guided her out of her own mind and back to the disaster that’s before them. She fully comes to when she sees Naoya and Toji exchanging energy. Upon trying to stand, she sways but doesn’t fall and has yet to realize all of her wounds as the adrenaline kicks in. She screams feverishly at the two men to stop but is forced to watch them struggle against each other, Toji having the upper hand as he seems to have lost his usual reservation. “NAOYA!”. The scene around her is completely disturbing as the heat from the flaming buildings add to the smell of over-cooked flesh. She starts running towards Naoya and Toji but an unfamiliar voice calls out to her so she turns around to see where it came from.

               “Elska Oda!”, Genghis hollers out as Getou and the other Titers now manifest into view. Genghis is especially thrilled by the scene and claps his hands together in praise to Toji’s handiwork. “He has surpassed my expectations greatly!”, He nudges Getou joyously as his pupil studies Elska. He as well takes in how bloodied Elska is and wishes that she wouldn’t have been harmed in the process.

               When she sees Getou, Elska completely snaps. “YOU FUCKING DID THIS?!”, and forms her metal wings instantly. “I am going to fucking tear you APAAAART!”, she growls before trying to charge him blindly. She’s consumed with rage as she thinks about the children, the unsuspecting innocents and Toji and Naoya. “FUCKING COWARD!”, she screams at him and is almost taken back by how remorseful his expression is.

               Lidia was hoping this would happen. “Winged bitch.”, she mutters while drawing her arm back, aiming her spear. ‘I knew she wasn’t right for Master Suguru…’. She notices Toji become aware of her actions and gets freaked out, so she hurls the weapon towards Elska before he can get any closer. Naoya can be seen trying to run towards Elska. To her dismay, she hears Getou scream for her to stop but it had already left her hands. She turns to him, “She’s trying to kill you Master Suguru!”, and feels her heart stop as he finally looks at her but with absolute abhorrence and wrath. She watches Getou try to stop the spear with gravity but he’s unable to.

               Elska was so furious that she didn’t even think about how utterly moronic attacking head on would be. The spear is heading straight for her, leaving no time to react as she simply failed to notice it because of her focus on Getou. Knowing that she’s about to be impaled only fuels her more though as she can’t let this opportunity go to waste. Right before what she assumed were possibly her last moments, she briefly closes her eyes and tries to remember all the good she’s experienced up until this point. The laughs and love she’s received and shared with Satoru, Toji, Naoya and everyone else flood her as she’s so desperate to live but is willing to throw it all away for their safety. ‘I have to kill him.’. The end never comes but her soul leaves her body along with all of her sensibilities.

               Naoya staggers in front of her. He was able to use his projection at least this time but the look on her face shatters his heart as he follows her eyes down to see the spear’s large tip sticking out of his sternum. “B…Bab…y…”, he feels the world spinning around him as he falls, no longer having the ability to remain on his feet. He hears Elska shriek and feels her warmth but he can’t focus his eyes or make them stay open. “Bab…y…” is all he can manage to articulate. ‘I made it...’, soothes his mind as blood pours from his smiling mouth.

               Toji dashes past them towards the Titers and manages to kill one upon contact. Elska heard the short-lived cries but finds solace in it as she attempts to catch Naoya. They both fall to the ground and the spear tip punctures her hip. She frantically tries to lay him on his side in a specific manner and sobs as she brushes the hair away from his eyes. Using her wings, she slices open her wrist and holds Naoya’s mouth open to force her blood into him but her arm is shaking so violently that it’s causing her essence to get all over his face and neck. “FUCK! NAOYA!”, she yells through her tears as she’s desperate to save him. “My prince…please…you can’t…”, she heaves in shuddering breaths, “You can’t leave me!”. She attempts to take a deep breath but there’s no calming down, he’s barely taking the blood even when some lands into his mouth. “Naoya…please…no…”. She’s met with a choice but before she can decide for herself the ancestral guide within barrels through her.

               “TURN HIM.”

               She absolves all of her previous restraint on the matter and doesn’t hesitate. After repositioning and somewhat side straddling Naoya, she turns around to see all of the Titers fending off Toji except two. Getou and a shorter but older man are both watching her but with different expressions. Getou looks mystified, probably not understanding because he thinks Naoya is already dead. The other man, next to him, appears to be brimming with anticipation. She says nothing to them as she places her left hand over Naoya’s heart, becoming submerged with relief as it still beats, albeit faintly but then it stops. She screams his name while her world disintegrates.

“SAVE HIM!”.

When she feels the surge of ancient energy course in her veins, she leans down into her prince’s neck and whispers, “I love you Naoya. Please…stay here with me.”. She licks the targeted area and pierces him immediately afterwards.

               Toji is taken out of his hypnotic ferocity when he feels Elska’s energy shift. His eyes come clear as he’s surrounded by five Titers. “ELSKA!” He can’t see her initially and panics as his recent actions immobilize his mind. ‘I…killed…I did that?’. Through his own eyes he saw everything but was unable to stop. The complete devastation that was caused by the explosion rocks him again and his frustration with everything happening reaches its peak. He releases a wave of energy that sends all of the Titer’s flying backwards with superficial injuries but can finally can see her. He drops to his knees when he takes in the spear that’s lodged through Naoya and strains into a cry that has no sound. He now understands what Elska is doing and although he’s always hated the idea, he’s not ready to say goodbye to his younger cousin so he finds himself hoping with every cell he’s made from that she’s successful. He hurriedly crawls over to them, becoming more distressed as the details of Naoya’s condition are more apparent. Violet energy travels over Naoya’s body and he jolts like she’s shocking his heart but is otherwise completely still and pale aside from his burns. He hears her moan as she drinks and sees the tears running down her face. Her presence darkens immediately and he holds his breath as he waits worriedly to gauge her. When Elska lifts her head from Naoya’s neck, Toji finds himself overcome with a foreign emotion. Her eyes glow bright purple still but the green dashes are clearly visible and for the first time ever, Toji’s welcoming this. He darts his eyes down to Naoya and notices he’s breathing, “Boy don’t scare me like that ever again…”, and bends down to wrap his arms around Naoya’s head as he was frightened that Naoya wouldn’t have been sustainable in that state. He goes to pick Naoya up but Elska stops him and says in the lowly voice, “He’s safer on the ground, as are you, my beloved.”. Her expression doesn’t feign any emotion but she grips the handle of the spear hanging out of his back and splinters it with ease but holds onto it. With wild eyes she looks down at Naoya, brushing the hair from his face and seethes, “If this doesn’t work, I will enslave and destroy this entire world.”. She now calmly stands up and turns around to head in the direction of the Titers. “My beloved, protect him.”.

               Genghis just fell in love. As the true Elska walks towards them he finds himself in complete awe to her presence and mannerisms. “Even covered in blood…”, he sighs and notes how lucky Suguru is. He leans over to his pupil who has become shaken by her switch, “I think we just witnessed Zenin’s rebirth!”. Getou turns to him with an angry face and asks, “How the fuck is any of this good?!”. Suguru wears the expression of a man who has been betrayed but Genghis brushes it off and chalks it up to shock. Seeing that Suguru was not mentally up to the task right now, Genghis smirks and raises his hands high in the air as he takes two steps towards Elska, gesturing that he would like to engage in conversation. In a composed and submissive tone, he tells her, “Miss Oda, there’s something I must do for you.”.

               Getou finds himself disgusted by how the plan was enacted. When he engaged his gravity to crush the tables, he didn’t realize there were children present. It reminds him of Kechi all over again and his rage slowly becomes directed towards his mentor. He’s unnerved by how happy Genghis is and finally puts more weight into the idea that something is wrong with him. Watching Elska approach them with the frayed spear handle, he feels the absolute urge to defend her as he no longer knows what to expect but understands this whole situation has only fueled her hatred for him. ‘She thinks this was my idea…’, he glares over at Lidia and desires to smash her into the concrete beneath them as her actions were severely out of line. Elska’s desperation over Naoya wrecked his cold demeanor as the sheer sounds of her breaking in front of him were not as sweet as he once imagined. He doesn’t know why he’s feeling these things but he comprehends that somewhere along the way, he stopped hating her and begins to question if he ever really did to begin with.

               Elska stops out of curiosity. It makes no difference to her but she’s intrigued by the Titer Man’s lack of fear. “Proceed.”, is all she says. She becomes more entertained by him when he grabs the red headed girl who threw the spear and brings her back to where he was standing. He announces, “My name is Temujin Genghis, I lead the Titer clan and I am hoping we can be friends. This is Lidia…”, Elska smirks with approval as Genghis jerks her head around by her curly long locks, “…When she attacked you, that was of her own accord. I have never carried any intentions of causing you harm, I admire you deeply.”. Elska can’t help but acknowledge that every word said seems to be truthful although she’s still not moved. She walks up coolly as Lidia struggles, trying to explain her side of the story. Elska sends her glowing red eyes at Genghis who pleasurably shivers into a smile before she turns her attention to the girl and wrenches her grip around her face. In the same lowly and demanding tone she says, “You…you misjudged your situation and threw that spear into my prince.”. Elska notices that the words sting Getou but he seems unphased by the girl being in peril. ‘I see.’. Elska brings her hand into the Lidia’s hair, yanks her head to the side and exposes her fangs. Getou’s eyes shoot open and she keeps her glowing gaze on him and she bites down into the girl’s neck, causing Lidia to moan loudly from the sensation.

Getou can’t take his eyes from Elska as she drinks. He’s so perplexed by Lidia’s reaction as she continues to moan and whimper and wonders why that would be happening. ‘Does it feel good?’, he asks internally but his question is answered as he recalls how territorial Naoya was about her feeding. His lips part as the realization hits him fully and he whispers, “The missing piece of the puzzle…”. Elska flashes him an evil smirk after lifting her head back up as if to help sanction his uncertainties. Suguru is feeling like she’s making a show out of biting Lidia for him alone and is severely confused by her actions.

Lidia has no idea what that was but as the sensation fades, she’s still gasping whimpers. She feels Genghis tug on her hair again and can feel that he’s forming an erection as its pressed against her from his hold. Through her eyelashes she sees Elska glaring into her with superiority but is now noticing that her neck is still bleeding. ‘What…was that?’, she wishes she could see Suguru but instead her eyes take to Toji. His bore holes into her as he bears his fangs maliciously from afar.

Elska wipes her mouth, bringing her concentration back on Lidia and continues, “It’s such a shame…all of this natural beauty is wasted on such a stupid woman.”. Elska was able to decipher the girl with ease and if she could feel anything, it would be pity for the distressed damsel.  Elska speaks to Getou while lifting the spear handle up, “This woman is in love with you and she threw the spear to be rid of her biggest obstacle.”. She grabs Lidia’s face again and smiles maniacally, “Me.”. When she tightens her grip, she hears Genghis’s heart start to race and thinks of how strange of a human he is for being so turned on. Looking back to Lidia she says, “Your entire life has been pointless but today you gave me my prince. I would thank you if you were worth it…”. Elska now watches the horror blanket Lidia’s expression as she brings her arm back. “…But you’re not.”, and aggressively flails her wings and laughs as the girl flinches and wails with regret. “Since you don’t use them well…”, she steps aside so Naoya can be in the girl’s view, “…I don’t see why you should be burdened with these anymore.”. She quickly jabs the jagged handle into both of Lidia’s eyes with precision. She closes her own and inhales satisfyingly as the screams erupt through the air and opens them to smile at the leaking vitreous fluid running down Lidia’s reddened face as she panics to being brutally blinded. Elska thinks about Naoya again and finds that was not enough so she takes the handle and violently shoves it downwards into Lidia’s throat, penetrating it through the back of her neck. The woman still lives but is clearly distraught by the mutilation and struggles to breathe. Elska hisses, “Stupid woman.”, but then takes a few steps back while scowling at the pathetic redhead.

               Toji stands up now, ‘Master…’. He can’t believe what he just saw but is enthralled by the revenge. He knows this isn’t his Elska but is reassured that her in this form was extremely beneficial. He wonders though, ‘Why is she toying with them?’. He looks down at his cousin with heartache until he notices, ‘He stopped bleeding!’, but is still worried as he hasn’t figured out how they’re going to remove the giant spear. Naoya starts violently seizing so he cries out, “ELSKA!”, and looks to her, being completely confused by the smile along her lips. He remains by Naoya’s side, trying to steady him because of the spear. Tears well in his eyes as Naoya flops next to him but he hears Elska’s voice in his mind, “Don’t fret my beloved, that means it’s working...”. His head snaps up in amazement as her eyes meet his. He thinks, ‘Did I just imagine that?’, but jumps when he hears her again, “No you did not. We are able to communicate like this.”. Instantly, he’s brought back to the day he fed from his cousin and how he swore he could sense and hear her screams, becoming marveled. He listens to Lidia’s gurgled broken shrieks of terror but finds they don’t bother him one bit. Naoya settles back into the ground which causes Elska to whip her head in his direction with a hint of disbelief on her face. Toji becomes startled again as he looks back down to Naoya but he hears her, “His transformation is rather rapid…”. Regaining his hope after being fed this knowledge, he unintentionally lets out a grateful sob. He looks to Elska and thinks, ‘Tell me when.’. Toji knew from the moment he saw the green dashes that she was going to hopelessly decimate them. This Elska holds such immense power and was completely ruthless, being the exact and only reason he happy to see her switch.

               Genghis is smitten by this version of Elska and is enthusiastic about demonstrating this fact to her. He pushes Lidia to the ground, lodging the handle deeper through her flesh and places a foot on her back before saying, “Miss Oda, I would be more than pleased if you would accept this act as a token of Master Suguru’s and my own affection.”. He leans down to grab Lidia’s red curls again while she struggles in absolute fear and pins her underneath his left foot. She screams, “Master Suguru!”, or it at least sounded like that could be it but Genghis takes his right leg from ground and bends his knee, balancing on her spine while pulling back on her head. He sighs breathlessly when Elska grins to the obvious pain Lidia is experiencing and although he would like to relish this moment, he kicks his right leg out. He can feel the trauma to her cervical vertebrae vibrate through her bones the moment she finally silences. He takes notice to how the handle was launched back out her mouth as it now lays, bloodied in front of them. ‘Godddd it feels so good to finally be able to do that…’, he speaks internally as he releases her hair, allowing her head and body to bounce off of the ground and straightens his posture.

               Getou stands in complete disbelief, ‘That’s what he meant by Lidia’s purpose?!’. He’s not upset by her death but he finds himself in complete incredulity from listening to how his mentor behaves around this Elska. He thinks about how spearing Naoya was the wrong route to take now as he can sense the darkness and hostility still seeping from her. Suguru can tell how strong she is by her presence and finally understands why Genghis has been so adamant about her cooperation. ‘Would I be able to overpower her?’, he’s convinced that he isn’t capable and wonders how his mentor can seem so calm in this situation. ‘Does he want her for himself?’, Suguru doesn’t actually believe that but wonders where this strange fascination for her came from. He looks back over to Elska who stands stoically as her smile fades back to that resting ominous expression. He feels like he’s supposed to say something when she looks at him. The cold chill that runs down his back compels him to bow to her, “Elska, I apologize for hurting you in the past.”, but finds that somewhere in him, he actually meant it. He slowly brings his body back upright and feels his tension skyrocket as she near him.

Elska stands before Getou and raises her hand to his face. He flinches which causes her to grin and can see the look of uncertainty in Genghis’s expression. She quickly snatches Suguru’s hair and pulls him down to his knees, being enticed by his lack of resistance. He remains studying her but she can see his apprehension and enjoys causing him such muddle. She now grabs both sides of face and lowers hers down to hover over it. Toji’s presence can be felt magnetizing but thinks to him “I need more energy.”, but he doesn’t respond. She quietly speaks in her lowly tone to Suguru, “You would be suitable if you had you own thoughts…”, and gently kisses the scar on his cheek. He gasps with bewilderment as she thinks to give herself a little more time in this form. She whispers seductively, “I’m going to provide evidence for your suspicions…”, and sinks her fangs into him.

Suguru is stunned immediately as he feels the bliss circulate through him. It takes him a moment to realize that he’s moaning deeply and has even since placed his hands on Elska, holding her as she draws from him. His moans turn into whimpers as he clings to her waist and thigh all while not understanding how this feeling could be possible. He shuts his eyes as he feels his body give and fall to the side but she drops down with him in order to not break their connection. Titers start rushing towards him aggressively but hears Genghis say, “Do not interfere!”, with full authority. What his ears pick up now cause his eyes to roll back as Elska moans into his neck. He feels her presence surge back up but it lowers a little each time until she swallows. He now finds that the hand not supporting his weight is now wrapped in her hair and loosens his grip so that can be gentle. When she’s done, she closes his wounds and whines lowly, “You need more time but you could be worthy.”. Their eyes meet and she continues in a much colder tone, “Be weary of how you approach me in the future…and don’t you dare come after my lovers again.”, as he can see she’s lethally serious.

Genghis helps Suguru to his feet, trying to provide the balance for them both after Elska walks back to Toji. He struggles to steady his swaying pupil and can’t believe that she actually bit him right then and there. Getou is still heavily breathing with wide eyes that are fixated on her. He whispers, “That was incredible…”, and finds that Getou’s expression is now that of someone who longs for the other. He calls out sheepishly, “Th-Thank you for not harming him.”, and shifts their stance as Getou seems to be finding composure.

               Elska is so amused by these two. She has a much better understanding of Getou now that she experienced his taste. “Delicious.”, she states as she licks her fangs. Toji huffs out of spite and glares at her but she quickly whispers, “The hybrid isn’t here so that was necessary…”, noting that he doesn’t seem ok with is still. With all eyes on them, she turns to Toji and slowly pulls his head down towards her, giving the soft command, “Kiss me, my beloved.”. Toji’s eyes glow and his wings flutter even with the indecision plaguing his features. When their lips meet, she moans wholeheartedly as she found her turned’s touch to be completely intoxicating. His hesitancy remains although he’s kissing her back but she’s satisfied enough that he obeyed. She feels a weak signal from Naoya, and it steals her attention. He’s not gotten any worse but his energy is already changing. An emotion creeps into her dark heart and it aches as she remembers the actual love she harbors for her prince and Toji both. “I’m going to tend to you two right now.”, she whispers to Toji and nips his bottom lip. Elska knows for a fact that the Titers have more up their sleeve and wishes to draw a curtain on this charade for the sake of her lovers. She locks her lips to Toji’s once more, addicted to the way he feels. After their extended meeting, Elska turns her head to observe the two men’s reaction and laughs when they’re exactly what she predicted. Genghis watches with an endearing envy as Getou’s eyes express heartache. She looks over at the other Titers that are grouped together, on edge. “They will suffice.”. They’re all cowering to her but remain in a defensive stance, one of the men bears beautiful grey eyes but they’re trained on to Lidia’s body. She smirks and kisses Toji again but this time places her right hand flat against her chest and holds it there as her red lightning surrounds them. While experiencing Toji’s tongue, she extends her arm in the direction of the huddled Titers, bends her fingers and unleashes it. The red light travels so fast that three of the four Titers are unable to evade it, their bodies torn through by the energy while being crystalized at the same time. Genghis gasps in confusion as he seemed to think things were going his way. Blood pumps out of Elska’s wings into a pattern of symbols that surrounds her and Toji and then the markings glow. Toji ‘s eyes respond along with hers as his widen, remembering that same blood design around her in the park. She thinks to him, ‘I take life from death.’, and smiles to his wide-eyed nod. What’s left of the Titers bodies breaks down into a red powder, swirls into a vortex in the air and then travels gracefully over to Toji and Elska. The Titer dust blankets around their wounds and fuses with the exposed tissue, healing them both. She waves her hand to direct the remnants and sends it towards Naoya. As the glass shards push out of her body, she watches Toji’s burns become nonexistent and hums with gratification. Naoya’s presence increases as he’s rapidly healed, his burns disappearing as well. His wavelengths tell her he’s still in pain, even when unconscious but she knows it due to his body now rejecting the spear. “That should do it.”. She nudges her beloved to show him and listens to him exhale relief. “He’s taking to the change extremely well.”, she says to Toji confidently, hiding her bafflement of the rate in which the DNA synthesis is working. Her being in true form was surely going to speed up the process but he shouldn’t have such an intense aura already. She runs her hand down Toji’s chest while still studying Naoya, “He is going to be strong.”, and contemplates on his perfection, “Just like you.”.

               Genghis retracts his smile as soon as he realizes his fellow clansmen are no more and that things are not going as planned. ‘WHY WOULD SHE DO THAT?!’. He turns to Getou who’s mirroring his wide eyes but doesn’t know how handle this right away. Not once in any of the futures he seen has this happened. He was aware of the possibility of alteration but this goes far beyond anything he prepared for. “Something’s wrong.”, he panics, “We won’t be able to take her.”, is all he can say as he thinks of what to do next. Sain appears by them as he was the one Titer that escaped her lightning and Genghis sighs being overjoyed that he at least survived.

               Getou is so astonished by what he witnessed and says, “We need to run.”. He’s still figuring out his new emotions but doesn’t mistake for a second that she won’t kill them too. He thinks of all of the times her importance has been reiterated to him and it finally makes sense. Suguru fails to see how he would be able to control her though and also now understands why Genghis has been pushing him to face his feelings about her. Now he has. The convergence of puzzle pieces lock together to form the bigger picture but he fears that he’s even further away from their goal of her affections as he gathers they’ve royally pissed her off with their actions. His mentor doesn’t seem as eager to flee and Suguru’s had about enough of his twisted games. He grabs Genghis in a panic, “WE NEED TO RUN!”.

               Genghis understands Getou’s reaction but turns to Sain, “I have the most daunting task for you but if you can achieve it, the rewards will be endless…”, and passes him a syringe filled with sedative. This will shift all of their plans but he knows there’s really not another choice left at this point. He may even be foolish for attempting this. He brings stern eyes to Getou and whispers, “We need leverage first.”.

               Elska watches the third Titer disappear into thin air and becomes aggravated by their inability to take her seriously. Her collected demeanor fades momentarily when she senses him behind them, near Naoya. She bears her fangs and roars as she launches herself towards the man while he bends down over him. She salivates at the idea of ripping his throat out but before she can reach him, he disappears again. She ends up having to use her wings to slow her speed so she can lean over Naoya to make sure he’s not been harmed further. The emotions that usually flow through her begin to resurface as she becomes weary for his safety while searching his body, noticing the spear has almost worked its way out. She sighs gratefully, “My prince…” and feels the love for him melt away at her ability to maintain her form so she steps away, ‘There’s still more to do first.’. She hears Genghis yell, “We will be in contact!”, but quickly snaps her head when she hears Toji struggling. Getou can be heard screaming, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”, and before she knew it, she was racing against time trying to reach her beloved that has fallen limp in the third Titer’s hold with a needle sticking out of his arm. She howls in anguish when her finger tips grasp at nothing, revealing the stark fact that she was too late. They took Toji with them. She doesn’t even breathe as her failure boils through. Looking up to the sky she cries out the demonic like sound while her energy releases a tremoring wave that further devastates the structures that remain around her. When the wave travels into the restaurant, it fans in oxygen, further feeding the flames and she can’t help but think the heat has nothing on rage inside of her. She continues to send out wave after wave until the building begins to crumble and she remembers that she still has Naoya who is defenseless. “My beloved…”, she whimpers under her breath as her presence begins to fade knowing that her time in this state is up, feeling heavy. She walks over to where Naoya lays and drops to her knees beside him. Tears fall from her face as she takes his hand and asks, “What do I do?”. Feeling hopeless and exhausted, she lays down next to him and curls up near his chest while his unconscious body faces her. “I lost Toji…”. After a few minutes of sobbing into Naoya she feels her awareness fading and clings to him desperately. She hears her name being screamed following by her body being lifted off of the ground and against someone’s warmth. The last thing she sees before completely passing out is Satoru’s teary eyes.

               “ELSKA!”, his voice is distant as her limbs relax, not having any strength left.

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tagging: @angelofthorr

[cruelfeline]

Agh, it got so long I had to read-more it; no one look at this; I just had to get it out of my mind, but don’t look at it just ignore this and go examine a pretty nature photo; honestly these just keep getting worse why does this keep happening? And I hate dialogue. And I hate characterization. Ugghhh... just insert a Mermista groan here.

also a more mature Catra helping Hordak on his journey provides me with happiness don’t judge me

Please consider, a concept:

A few months have passed since Prime’s demise. Reconstruction of Etheria’s damaged settlements is well underway, and all parties involved have gotten... if not entirely comfortable with one another, then at least able to interact with civility. Enough so that, when Entrapta and Bow end up delayed on one of their interplanetary trips, Hordak is only moderately uneasy about heading off to Bright Moon on his own. Oh, of course he’d rather wait for Entrapta, but certain planned meetings (dictated by Etheria’s terribly inconvenient seasons) simply cannot be delayed. So off he goes, determined to maintain decorum and dignity and uphold his end of all relevant treaties. He is received by Glimmer, Adora, and Catra. The other Princesses are all otherwise engaged (with what, he cares little, though he is admittedly amused to learn that Mermista and Perfuma are occupied with an apparently disastrous seaweed-related snafu). So it is the four of them against a whole mess of administrative work.

The girls, for their part, are equally uneasy but likewise determined to proceed as usual (Adora and Catra seeming particularly determined). They meet Hordak’s reserved politeness with a tentative poise of their own, and the group’s work commences.

And for a number of days, it goes fairly well. Even Glimmer has to admit that, whatever anyone’s misgivings about how an Entrapta-less Hordak might behave, things are running smoothly. She maintains control of the meetings, guiding them through agenda after agenda, while Adora and Catra provide input based upon their recent scouting trips to Etheria’s various corners. Hordak rounds the discussions out with whatever technological information is relevant. Their sessions run long most nights (too long, if Catra were asked her opinion on the matter, which she pointedly is not), but they are productive. The four of them get an impressive amount of work done, and all without any tense moments or uncomfortable quarrels. One might even say that they are getting along quite well, all things considered.

In fact, Catra is nearly certain that, when Adora mentions appreciating the work of some Dryl-made construction bots in a seaside village, Hordak subtly quirks his lips in what a careful observer could term a smile.

So the three girls are legitimately stunned when, about three-quarters of the way through their intended time together, Hordak’s behavior abruptly changes. His calm demeanor turns sullen and tense. Previously comprehensive explanations gain a taciturn edge, eventually devolving into clipped, half-snarled responses and sneered refusals to provide clarification. More and more often, words are accompanied by the baring of red teeth and the angry glare of red eyes. 

Glimmer is... less than pleased, but between her own determination to make this treaty work and Adora’s dogged, somewhat frantic optimism, she strives to maintain civility long enough to get through the last few days. But, well... limits are limits. And limits are surpassed when, one evening, Hordak furiously declares that he has lost patience with their “embarrassing incompetence” and, with nary another word, storms out of the conference room. 

“That’s it! How dare he?!”

Glimmer promptly explodes, and Catra spends the next few minutes watching Adora try to quiet what is proving to be a very loud, very angry, moderately uncouth Queenly rant. It is in the midst of this rant that Adora catches her eye and, with a quiet groan and a nod and a mental wish of good luck, Catra slips away with Melog silently following at her heels. 

“I guess this is better than dealing with Sparkles,” she mutters to herself as she stands at the door to Hordak’s temporary quarters. Beside her, Melog trills encouragement, and she sighs. They’re right, of course: between the two of them, Adora has more experience dealing with an upset Glimmer. And Catra... okay, so she doesn’t have “experience dealing with an upset Hordak.” Not... not good experience. But she worked with him for nearly a year. And, given what she’s seen, what she knows... she has a fair idea of what’s been happening. She’d been quietly hoping that it would work itself out, or that it wouldn’t become enough of a problem to cause trouble before they finished their work, but alas: it seems that that sort of luck just isn’t on their side.

Which, given the fact that Hordak seems to have the worst luck of anyone she knows, probably should have been something she’d seen coming.

Melog trills again, adding a gentle headbutt this time.

“Okay, okay... give me a second.”

She takes a breath, lifts a hand to knock, grimaces, and drops said hand. She clears her throat.

“Hordak?”

Nothing. She frowns and tries again.

“Hordak? Are you-”

“Leave.”

His snarl is all-too familiar, and even muffled through a door, it causes her hackles to rise, her ears to pin back, her tail to lash.

“Look, I just-”

“Go. Away.”

She grits her teeth, clenches her fists, and turns away, ready to return downstairs with nothing to show for her efforts but a bad mood. Next to her, Melog meows in protest. She rounds on them.

“What? If he wants to be a jerk about it, then that’s his problem! Besides, what am I supposed to do? Break down the door?”

And she resumes making her way back to the staircase, ignoring Melog’s continued protest (which, come to think of it, sounds fairly alarmed, but... well, what is she to do?) and... she freezes. The world around her is starting to shimmer. She knows that shimmer: teleportation via alien cat.

“Wait! I said-!”

And just like that, they’re in his room, and though Catra’s first instinct is to make her displeasure very loudly known, said instinct quickly fades at the sight of Hordak.

“Oh, damn it.”

From his place on the floor, crumpled in a sweating, trembling heap, Hordak looks up at the intrusion. His eyes widen, face twisting with fury as he prepares to shout what Catra predicts will be his trademark “get out,” only to choke up and curl in on himself as some sort of painful spasm races through him. 

Once upon a time, this sight might have spurred Catra into a bout of cruel gloating, but circumstances are vastly different today. 

Today, before either of them can really take stock of what is happening, she helps him up and half-leads, half-carries him to the corner sofa, depositing him with a strained grunt before taking a step back and giving him a moment to collect himself. Which he does while glaring at her.

For some time, the only sound between them is the ugly rasp of Hordak’s panting, then: “Get. Out.”

Ah. There it is. As expected. As anticipated. Catra’s ears flick at the command.

A part of her still bristles at his snarling, at his combative ire, at his accusatory glare... but a different part notices instead how that glare comes through dull eyes, how that snarling fades into exhausted panting, how he’s still trembling, even before his very unwanted audience. As the seconds pass, this part maintains its position at the forefront of her mind, until:

“You want some water?”

“...”

“...”

“...what?”

There’s a sudden lightness to her thoughts.

“I’m gonna get you some water. Just... stay there, okay?”

Melog punctuates her words with a happy chirp before providing the necessary teleport. A minute later, they’re back from the kitchens, glass of cool water in hand. Hordak remains where they left him, though he actually gives a bit of a start when they reappear. The momentary surprise disappears under a scowl as Catra holds the glass out to him.

He curls his lip. He doesn’t take it.

Catra remains steady. Next to her, Melog sits, tail waving a constant, slow path in the air.

Hordak bares his teeth.

“I do not require your pity, Catra.”

“Good, ‘cause all I’ve got is this glass of water.”

He gapes at her.

“Which, y’know, you should take. Because my arm is getting tired.”

His expression closes off again in another scowl (he never did see the humor in her sass, did he?), but after a few more moments, Hordak relents. Slowly, clearly trying to keep his hand from trembling too much, he takes the offered glass.

Catra sighs and, suddenly drained, sits down on the ground a few feet away from him, resting her back against the arm of the sofa. Melog stretches out beside her, and Catra turns her back to Hordak to focus on providing the desired belly rub. She swivels an ear towards him, listening for him to finish draining the glass. He does so. 

She can hear that his breath has lost that ugly rasp, and a tightness in her chest that she hadn’t been aware of loosens.

“So,” she begins, trying to keep her tone casual, “do you... need to call Entrapta? Is it... is it your-”

“Entrapta is currently beyond the reach of our communication modules.” She’d steeled herself for another snarled response, but his voice is calm, almost quiet. “And no; it is not my armor.”

“...oh.”

A minute passes. Two. Catra starts to tentatively turn around, wishing to steal a glance, but Melog thrusts their head into her lap and refocuses her gaze downwards. Another minute passes, then:

“It... it has proven somewhat...” He starts, stops, starts again. Stops again. Something that is not pain chokes his words, and though she wants to somehow encourage him, a soft rumble from Melog compels her to wait.

“Even with the armor, there are times that I... have difficulties.” He is breathing quicker again, she can hear; not quite panting, but definitely breathing quicker. In her lap, Melog seems attentive but otherwise unconcerned.

“Particularly during periods of higher stress, or exertion. Though,” he suddenly hisses, and Catra hears claws scrape against fabric, “hardly anything about our current work should merit this... exacerbation.”

He falls quiet, and for what feels like a long while, neither of them say anything. Melog’s soft purring fills the silence.

“Sparkles is mad,” Catra finally says, “Adora’s calming her down.”

This time, when she tries to turn her gaze back to him, Melog remains quiet. She watches Hordak nod, sees his ears droop.

“My behavior has been... unacceptable. I shall go request an audience with Queen Glimmer and make an apology-”

“Uh-uh.”

He frowns at her. 

“Oh, I mean, yeah! Definitely apologize. You were a jerk. But not now; you should rest first. I’ll go tell them that you’re not feeling great, and-”

His scowl returns.

“That is not necessary.”

She matches his frown with her own and scoffs. “Uh, according to what just happened, it is. What? You’re just gonna... pretend you’re fine and keep going?”

He looks like he wishes to say something less-than-polite, scowl deepening, but instead he turns away with a quiet huff. His ears droop even further.

“The terms of the treaty are fair, and it is my duty to adhere to them. This... lapse... aside, I am entirely capable of doing so.” He sighs and seems to will his ears into a more neutral position. “So yes: I shall ‘keep going.’” 

Catra blinks at him.

“That’s... really stupid.”

He blinks at her. 

“...what?”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s stupid. What’s the point of it... pushing yourself like that when you’ve obviously had enough? If you need a break, then-”

Suddenly he snarls, he rounds on her, teeth and eyes glowing too-brightly, and she nearly jerks back. Melog tenses beside her but remains still.

“Then what?! I should inform the Queen, and she will suspend proceedings and accept needless delays for my comfort? That is... that is-”

He stops abruptly because she’s laughing, a dry sort of chuckle that might have infuriated him save for the fact that, when she notices his attention and stops, it’s to smile at him. Catra smiles at him, and the expression holds an honest sincerity that he’s never seen her exhibit before. His indignation fades; his aggressive posture deflates.

“Yeah. That’s exactly what she’ll do.”

At first, he only stares at her, as if uncertain that he has heard what he believes he has heard, but eventually Hordak swallows, glances away, glances back, presses his lips together.

“That is... highly illogical, given the circumstances. I am not... I do not...” His voice fades, and his ears all but wilt.

For the second time that day, Catra does something without thinking, settling herself into the seat next to him and placing a hand over one of his. It’s tense and cold to the touch; her thumb begins to stroke his knuckles without her realizing it. Hordak remains silent, lips slightly parted, transfixed. He does not even react when, on his other side, Melog presses their body gently against his leg.

“It’s a treaty, Hordak,” she begins, and her voice nearly strains for a moment when her brain catches up with her actions, but she steels her resolve and continues, “not a sentence. Not a punishment. I thought it was, at first. I figured it had to be, because of all we’ve done... all I’ve done. But it’s not.”

Catra remembers how she first felt, all those months ago, and she makes the connection between her old fears and his current ones, unconsciously pausing to squeeze his hand; her ears have pinned back, and her chest is suddenly tight again.

“It’s not supposed to... to hurt. For either of us. Y’know? I mean... I was out with the flu for a week a couple of months ago, and the worst thing that happened was having to choke down Perfuma’s gross herbal junk.” She huffs out a laugh, but there’s no amusement in it. “This...”

Now her voice does strain, and she has to stop for a moment before continuing. Beside her, Hordak is breathing quickly again and trying very hard to stop.

“This isn’t the Horde. Either Horde. How we feel matters. How... how you feel matters. So if you need a break, you get a break. ...okay?”

It takes him some time to answer, and in that time Catra realizes what her hand has been doing; she snatches it back just as he finds his voice.

“If... if you believe that your suggestion is... appropriate, then I shall agree to it.”

Catra lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The smile returns to her face, and she nods. Melog trills happily and rewards each of them with a gentle headbutt.

~

For what had seemed such a dramatic conversation, the aftermath is anything but. Catra and Melog return downstairs and tell Glimmer and Adora of what has transpired. Their reaction is as expected: the work is postponed, and Hordak is given leave to rest as long as is necessary, no questions asked. 

He spends the remainder of that day and the next in bed, rising in the late afternoon to deliver a very formal, semi-awkward apology to Glimmer. She responds with a very formal, semi-awkward acceptance. Their working session resumes, though Hordak finds that he needs to excuse himself again after only a couple of hours. That evening, Glimmer has a basket of strawberry tarts delivered to his room. She also makes a point of ensuring that their sessions no longer extend into the late night hours.

Catra remains nearby, much to Hordak’s (admittedly only half-sincere) chagrin, and between her stubbornness and Melog’s perception, he is kept well-supplied with snacks, water, extra blankets and, though both refuse to admit it, friendly company. Adora spends her time trying to contact Darla; when she succeeds, Hordak happily accepts Entrapta’s enthusiastic check-in (and assures her that, yes, he is being provided an adequate amount of soup). 

A few days later, he is able to rejoin the group in full capacity, and they finish their work with little harm done by their extended schedule. 

Then it is time for him to return to Dryl (Entrapta arrives the next day), but before he boards his transport, he takes a moment to do something he’d once never imagined he’d do: thank Catra. Awkwardly, as seems is his communicative style this trip, but sincerely. 

She grimaces slightly, refusing to meet his eyes, and scratches absently at the back of her head. Next to her, Melog utters a noise that sounds like a warbling coo, their mane glowing a faint pink.

“Yeah... well... better than you passing out and bringing the wrath of Entrapta down on us. Bright Moon’s still rebuilding, y’know.”

This elicits an actual laugh from Hordak, sudden and rather loud, and Catra fails to keep the surprise from her face as he regains control of himself and gives his final farewell with a small, genuine smile.

Despite Melog confirming for the world that she is blushing under her fur, Catra smiles back.

[energyanon]

Hi Guys,  I hate doing this, I am sorry if this is harsh, I’m trying to come at this as nicely as I can, but I do need to be FIRM on this aswell. This isn’t an attack, merely an education. This was a nice little area for a while, now its started to go too far: 

Over the past couple of days and especially last night, I have seen an influx of people sending me their own readings. 

This is my fault, I have been encouraged and interested in seeing others try this out - it was my assumption that these had been done with knowledge or experience, and that there would be one MAYBE two others. Multiple readings that I received last night were not. 

I have been doing this for enough years to know that constellations are rare for people to know and even rarer for people to be able to facilitate. Considering you have to train for it, and read about it, practice with multiple situations and scenarios for years. This isn’t just another version of tarot thats “easier”, just as tarot takes years to perfect and understand what you are feeling, so does this. The difference is, if you get it wrong, you are fucking with someone’s energy. Which is exactly what I have been sent. 

Unfortunately everyone is on anon I can’t pinpoint the people exactly, and I can’t speak to them privately, hence the public notice. Note: Not everyone fucked up, so I am sorry that you are being included in this, as you are anon i can’t tell you who you are or arent. You will know if you are apart of this once you have read:

I cant stop you from doing this, some of you seem to believe you can just step into it, without any proper set up or consideration to the energy. Fine, I can’t stop you. But please be more cautious with what you are doing. I have said before that when you’re doing readings, they should not know that they are happening, but with what a couple of people sent me last night, id be surprised if they weren’t feeling weird AF today with how many people were warping their shit on their behalf. Only one of you did this correctly, but still said something concerning which is why I also have to bring it up. 

Here are some guidelines that if you are going to continue at least follow these: 

1. Once the energy has stopped, you stop. If something is hidden to you, you stop. You do not “see if you can try again” you stop. It’s hidden from you for a reason. Remember, if this were being done on you and you wanted to protect someone, something or a secret, you have the right to protect that. No one has a right to gain access or force access into that. 

2. You observe the energy ONLY. do not CONTACT the person. You do not encourage anyone to go on to a different path that they are currently on. You don’t speak to them as you v them. Can you IMAGINE if some random came up to you and started talking about your life and trying to get you go or do something else? Youre quite literally hijacking that person. NEVER do that. Never ever do that. Never. 

3. When i do questions, notice that I wait until the energy has no further movement. until that is done, you will not be getting an accurate answer, as the energy is not done moving. When I ask questions, I am not giving them suggestions or help, I ask a question, they answer. If i need clarification, I’ll get one, but I otherwise move on.  4. Answers are short for a reason, if your person is speaking in full sentences, that is you getting in your head about it. 

5. And every single one of you should have felt when the energy was off. I even read that the energy is off, I don’t know how you wouldn’t feel it. If you didn’t feel it, you need to practice more, if you did feel it and ignored it, you need to stop what you’re doing.

6. You cannot just walk into a reading and hammer these people with questions, technically it’s not wrong, but it’s not respectful. They don’t owe you anything. You need to be more careful with this.  Please, please, if you are going to continue this practice with a friend or with yourself that has given permission. This isn’t a joke, I know it seems like something that is easy, but it’s not, you have to cleanse yourself and the energy afterwards, you need to be attuned to if the person in front of you is uncomfortable and guide them back to the place they were before you jumped in.  One question you need to ask: If this goes south, and they have a sudden reaction, if you’ve set up the field wrong and they’re now feeling YOU, do you know how to guide them out of that?  Because i’ll tell you that once happened to me while I had a practice session with someone - they didn’t know that what where they were gonna place me would trigger me, they didn’t realise what was happening soon enough and I went into a straight up panic attack, Hyperventilating, crying, we had to end it, even the facilitator had to take an hour to get me back to a calm (because the person wasn’t even able to close it properly, they got spooked and just ended it). That calm isn’t where it ended, I was in a depression for days. This isn’t something to fuck around with. If you’re doing it wrong, you can cause harm. If you don’t know how to get them out of it. DO NOT. DO IT. I will not post any more readings from anyone else unless I can see that the above guidelines have been followed. I understand that some people were curious or excited, that’s really great, i’m not here to dull your enthusiasm, but please please practice elsewhere until you are able to follow the above without even having to think about it, and until you know how to guide them back if the reading goes to shit. Not just for their sake, but for you aswell.  I know some of you said that you “continued to feel x for hours” you should feel nothing else but yourself immediately after the reading is done if you have gotten yourself out of it. If you do not know how to do this, please do not do a reading until you know how to do this, or practice with someone who can get you out.

This is also my mistake, I was getting a bit silly in my responses yesterday, we were all having fun. I have also had some fun with my own readings in terms of my commentary, this could also have been misinterpreted, from now, I will make sure that the reading is the reading only, and it is written in a more serious manner. I can understand how that was misinterpreted as readings just being light and fun. My mistake. I apologise.

I also understand that all of you only had pure intentions. The intentions aren’t the issue, it’s the actions that were made. I’m not mad at anyone, you just need to understand what can happen.

[the-sympathetic-villain]

You Belong With Me - Chapter 24

AO3 | First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

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

Word Count: 7665

Chapter Warnings: Romance, Angst, Anxiety, Low-Self Worth, Restraints (Let me know if I need to add anything!)

Author’s note: If you didn’t realize, I posted two chapters last weekend! If you didn’t catch that, make sure you read Chapter 23! Otherwise, this is going to be super confusing! I’m going to leave that chapter pinned to the top of my blog for a while and the ‘Previous’ link should work too.

-

    Logan yawned, stretching his arms above his head. His eyes fluttered open, slowly adjusting to the soft morning light peeking through the slit in the curtain. He blinked uncertainly for a moment before remembering where he was. Logan smiled as Roman stirred next to him. He stilled his movement, careful not to wake the man snoring adorably next to him.

    A few seconds later, Roman settled back into sleep and Logan relaxed, letting his arm rest gently Roman's shoulder. He wrapped his hand around the back of Roman’s neck, staring up at him. The warmth of Roman’s legs resting against his radiated up through his body and he sighed, breathless.

    Roman’s face was peaceful even as he slept. He was still beautifully put together, despite the fact that his usually pristine hair was mussed from sleep, dropping down over his eyes. Logan smiled as he slowly pushed the hair out of Roman’s eyes, attempting to do so without waking the sleeping prince. He chuckled softly, knowing he'd failed as he felt Roman's arm wrap tighter around his waist. Logan's skin tingled as Roman’s fingers moved across his back. He looked up to see Roman’s big, brown eyes sparkling down him in the morning light.

    “Good morning.” Roman smiled peacefully.

    “Morning, princey.” Logan yawned, smirking playfully up at Roman.

    Roman cracked a smile at him. His eyes were only half open as he raised an eyebrow. “You’re getting to be awfully bold, Lo.”

    Logan blushed nervously. “Is that okay?”

    “Of course. Never stop, Lo.” Roman grinned, pulling Logan closer. “I like it when you're brave.”

    Logan smiled as he reached his hand up, brushing his fingertips down Roman’s jaw. Roman's eyes closed and he leaned into Logan's hand, exhaling slowly.

    “What does this mean for us, princey?” Logan asked, sadness creeping into his voice.

    “What do you want it to mean?” Roman leaned his head forward, gently resting his forehead on Logan's.

    “I don't know.”

    “It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Roman reassured him. “not if you don't want it to.”

    Logan was quiet for a long moment. He pondered Roman's words for a moment before replying. “I want it to mean something, Roman.”

    “Then, it means something." Roman tipped his head up, kissing Logan’s forehead. "This is whatever you want it to be, Logan.”

    “Roman," Logan's voice ached with sadness. He hesitated, barely able to spit out his words. "Please, stop. You can't—”

    Roman froze. He nearly pulled his hands away as he turned down to look at him, but he froze at the sight of Logan's eyes glistening with tears. "What do you want me to stop, Logan?"

    Logan bit his lip, growing tense. He seemed to hold his breath before exhaling sharply. “You can't keep just giving me what I want.”

    “Why not?” Roman’s tension eased as he started to tease Logan. “I enjoy giving you what you want.”

    “Roman, be serious for one minute.” Logan frowned. “What do you want out of this?”

    Roman relaxed his head down on the pillow, speaking thoughtfully.“I want to give you everything you want, Logan.”

    Logan started to pull away from him when Roman reached his hand up around the back of Logan’s neck. Logan looked up at him to see a serious expression on the princes face.

   “I'm not joking, Logan. I want to make sure you never want for anything again.” Roman stared dreamily into Logan's bright blue eyes. “Your smile makes me weak and I'd give anything to see it, love.”

    “Roman, I…” Logan's voice trailed off as he stared up into Roman's eyes, still at a loss for words.

     After a moment of silence, Roman spoke again. “Logan, I am all in right now. Whatever moments with you I can steal from this world that would keep us apart, I want them. That's why this is your choice, Lo. You set the boundaries of what you feel comfortable with and I will take whatever that ends up being. Okay?”

    “There’s no scenario where this works out well for either of us.” Logan whispered.

    “It's not a situation that is likely to work out in our favor.” Roman sighed, leaning back from Logan. He looked down into Logan’s eyes. “Logan, I want to remind you that you don't have to do any of this. If this morning with you is all I get, then so be it. I will respect whatever decision you make.”

    Logan looked away, hesitantly putting a hand on Roman's arm. His voice was quiet when he finally spoke again. "What would happen if our relationship was discovered?”

    “In all likelihood, nothing at all, Logan.” Roman rolled over onto his back. “I am a prince. It is more or less expected for me to entertain other relationships outside of the suitors court for my attentions.”

    Logan raised his hands to Roman’s chest and looked up at him nervously. “It's not against the law then?”

    “God, no.” Roman’s grip on him tightened. “I wouldn’t consider taking the risk if it was illegal. You’re not getting arrested on my behalf again.”

     “Is it safe, Roman?”

     “Nothing is without risk, Lo, but the only people with enough power to cause problems for us are the acting king" Roman paused hesitantly. "and possibly Remus, if he made enough of a fuss.”

    Logan tensed.

    “We can hold this secret from Remus. He never needs to know and even if he did, I would have to give him reason to think I am not capable of doing my job.” He paused. “And my father will only intervene if our relationship impairs my ability to follow through on my duties.”

    Logan bit his lip, his hands instinctively clenching onto the fabric of Roman's shirt. “Roman, I've done nothing but distract you from your duties from the moment I met you.”

    “Lo, you saved my life. Whether you realize it or not, you are already in my father's good graces.” Roman smirked Not to mention, though you may at the center of my thoughts rather constantly, it hasn't affected my ability to do my job. I know it is hard to believe but I do actually work when I leave you with Virgil.”

    Logan smiled up at him, relieved. “I'm grateful to head that the chaos I've caused hasn't been a detriment to your responsibilities.”

     “Not at all. If anything, I've been more energized to handle my responsibilities in a timely manner with you around.” Roman  looked into Logan’s eyes and brought their interlaced hands up to his face, kissing Logan’s knuckles. He sighed. “Logan, I'm going to be transparent with you.”

    “Okay.” Logan’s hairs on his arm stood on end with anxiety.

    “If we got involved, I would still have to entertain suitors.” Roman paused, exhaling slowly with a serious look in his eyes. “I’m expected to marry for political gain, and if I were to stop, it would raise concern about our relationship affecting my priorities.”

    Logan was quiet, staring down at their hands, interlaced together.

    “It doesn’t have to mean anything, Lo. I can fake my way through that. Honestly, it wouldn't be much of a change from before. Those who have come seeking my hand have had a track record of being rather boring.”

    Logan pulled his hand back from Roman's. Gently, he pushed Roman’s hand open so that their outstretched palms pressed against each other in between them.

    “But eventually, you'd have to follow through." Logan said tiredly. “You can't remain a perpetual bachelor in your position.”

    “You’re right, Lo. I can't promise you a happy ending.” Roman nodded and leaned close. “I'll understand if you want to don't want this.”

    “You're not giving me a choice, Roman.”

    Roman opened his mouth to protest but before he could make a sound, Logan's lips pressed against his own. He ran his fingers through the prince's soft hair. He wrapped his hand around the back of the Roman’s head pulling him closer. Logan took over, kissing Roman until he was out of breath.

     When Logan finally pulled away, he rolled onto his back, breathing hard. He spoke between breaths, resting his head as he smiled up at Roman. “It's entirely irrational, but I want to see where this goes. Truly, we have passed the figurative point of no return.”

    Roman smiled, raising an eyebrow. “You don't have to say ‘figurative’. I am aware we aren’t at a literal point of no return.”

    Logan blushed, smiling at him. “A little clarification never hurt anyone.”

    Roman smiled and then paused, his face becoming serious. “Are you sure about this, Lo?”

    “Absolutely certain, my prince.” Logan leaned into Roman’s chest, feeling Roman hesitantly wrap his arms around him. They laid together for a long while, simply enjoying each other’s warmth, until Logan heard a bell tower toll in the distance. Logan lifted his head, counting the strikes of the bell. Roman groaned as the tower chimed the either hour.

    Logan turned his head down to him, concerned. “What's wrong, Ro?”

    Roman moaned, leaning his forehead into Logan’s shoulder. “I have to go.”

    “Don’t go.” Logan whined. "Stay with me a little longer."

    Roman laughed quietly. “What happened to not distracting me from my responsibilities?”

    “I reserve the right to change my mind.” Logan grumbled pitifully.

    “I'm sorry, Lo. I can't be late for this meeting.” Roman smiled as he turned and jumped off the bed, leaving Logan looking dejected.

    “Who's really going to miss you, Ro?” Logan teased, hanging his arm over the edge of the bed as he watched Roman scramble to gather himself.

     “My father will probably notice if I don’t show up, so I think this is one for me to take seriously.” Roman called over his shoulder while digging through his wardrobe.

    Logan exhaled dramatically. Honestly, he had to admit it was entertaining to watch Roman get flustered while he rushed. “Fine. I suppose I will accept that as valid excuse for abandoning me.”

    Roman paused to look back at him with an over-exaggerated roll of his eyes before smiled at Logan and turning to pull various articles of clothing out of the drawers.

    “Alright. If you must go, I’ll leave you to get dressed.” Logan smiled at him and rolled lazily off the bed and turned to go.

    “I'll be out in a minute, Lo.” The prince called after him and he smiled as the door closed behind him.

-

    Logan wandered into the main room, staring at the ground with a happy smile. Lifting his head, he froze in place. A chill ran up his spine as he noticed a fire already burning in the fireplace. He stepped forward slowly, cautiously eyeing the edges of the room as he moved. Skirting the end of the couch, he peeked over the corner and relaxed, seeing Virgil lying haphazardly across the cushions.

    “Good morning, Vee.” Logan straightened and smiled, coming around the front of the sofa. Heat radiated out of the fireplace and Logan shivered, enjoying the warm contrast to the chilling morning air.

    “Morning, L.” Virgil muttered tiredly, making room for Logan.

    Logan dropped down beside him and yawned. “You’re here early.”

    Virgil shrugged and sunk deeper into the corner of the armrest. “I knew princey had to leave early this morning.”

    “How long have you been out here?” Logan crossed his arms across his chest, curling himself into the opposite corner.

    “About an hour or so.”

    “I'm sorry, Vee. If I’d realized, I would have come out sooner.” Logan ran his fingers through his hair and leaned his elbow onto the back of the couch.

    “It's all good, L." Virgil smiled. "You both needed your rest.”

    “I appreciate the thought.” Logan smiled, biting his reddened lip, knowing well that he had certainly not been asleep for the past hour.

    “Did you sleep okay?” Virgil crossed his arms over his legs, leaning forward.

    “Better than I have in a long time.”

    Virgil raised an eyebrow and Logan couldn’t help notice him glance back at Roman’s door before turning back to Logan curiously. “Good, L. I'm glad.”

    Logan paused for a moment, stiffening as he glanced around the room. “Where’s Patton?”

    Virgil shrugged. “He had to go back to work. I escorted him to the greenhouses this morning before I came here.”

    “Is that safe?” Logan looked at him cautiously, still concerned.

     Virgil nodded tiredly. “I assigned one guard to accompany him and another two to guard each entrance to the greenhouse he's in today. Even if Remus has a few of them in his pocket, they won't act openly in the middle of the day. Not when I know the identities of the men I left him with.” Virgil smirked. “I also informed those men if anything happened to him, I'd personally ensure they spent the rest of their miserable lives in prison.”

    “You have the authority to do that?” Logan asked, surprised.

   “To give them life in prison?” Virgil snorted. “No, but they don’t need to know that.”

    Logan looked at him with confusion. “But you have the authority to reassign them at your own will?”

    “Yes.” Virgil smirked, blowing his hair out of his eyes. “You've seen me give orders to the guard before. Why is that so surprising?"

    “I suppose you're correct.” Logan furrowed his brow. “I guess I was under the assumption that they followed your orders because they recognized me as Roman's charge. I didn't assume the guards acted on your authority alone.”

   “Well, I am officially ranked as part of the kingdom’s knighthood.” Virgil smirked at the look of shock on Logan’s face. “So, yes. They damn well better answer to my authority.”

    “You're a knight?” Logan looked at him in disbelief.

    “What's so hard to believe?” Virgil prodded, smiling at Logan.

    “I'm sorry. I just…” Logan paused, trying to find the words. “To be frank, I guess I may have based my expectations for a knight on a inaccurate stereotype.”

    “Nah, your stereotype if probably more accurate than you think. My appointment was not typical. Most knights are the children of nobles looking to gain a little notoriety by serving under Roman. They apprentice to be one and spend years learning to fight,” Virgil shrugged nonchalantly but Logan could see pride in his eyes as Virgil looked up at him. “but I was knighted as an honor for services to the crown.”

    “Services to the crown?” Logan asked, curiously.

    “I’ve saved Roman's life a few times over the years. The king apparently thought that it'd be best to give me a title with the ability to issue commands under Roman's authority." Virgil winked at him with a cocky expression on his face. "Just in case princey gets himself in trouble, and needs me to bail him out again."

    Logan chewed on his lip nervously. “Doesn’t that mean that you owe loyalty to the all of the royal family?”

    Virgil snorted in disgust. “No. I only agreed to swear fealty to Roman. I owe no more loyalty to the kings or Remus than you do.”

    Logan raised an eyebrow “The king allowed you to stipulate conditions on your knighthood?”

    Virgil proud grin widened. “At first, I flat-out refused the appointment. I think that surprised the acting king. He pried into my reasoning for denying him and I chose not to hide my distrust of authority. Fortunately, my loyalty to Roman is absolute. He chose to allow me to only swear fealty to Roman, because he knows I will do everything in my power to keep him safe.”

    "The acting king?"

    Virgil nodded. "There are two kings. Roman and Remus' fathers, but only one of them controls the throne. He is the acting king."

    Logan blinked, confused. "This may be an odd question, but are Roman and Remus biological heirs to the throne?"

    "It's complicated, but yes. The throne has access to magical healers that are well above Patton's level. The rulers of our kingdom have the ability to conceive through the use of a surrogate mother, if they need to do so." Virgil paused. "Though it is worth noting that if the kings had chosen to adopt, the child would have been recognized as a legitimate heir to the throne. Roman's family remains in power so long as they are deemed worthy of the throne. They earn their right to rule through their actions, not through supposed divinity like other kingdoms. The bloodline doesn't matter so much as their how well they do their job."

    "Does that mean he can lose his throne?"

    Virgil shrugged. "Not easily, but yes. For instance, if he's a bumbling idiot and gives an official oath, failure to keep his promise could get his claim to the throne revoked."

    “Interesting.” Logan pondered out loud, lost in thought. “So, if you're a knight, shouldn’t I refer to you by title? Like Sir Virgil?”

    “If you call me that, L, I will personally cut out your tongue.” Virgil snarled with a wicked grin.

    “Don't threaten Logan, Virgil.” Roman said, coming out of his room, idly fixing the cuffs on his shirt as he moved about distractedly.

     “Logan brought this on himself, princey. You can't protect him from me.” Virgil called over to him in a mocking tone. “Besides, you don't have time to be stop me. You’re going to be late.”

    “You’re right. Sorry, Lo. You’re on your own.” Roman smirked looked around. “You've sorted out Patton, Virge?”

    “He's protected. I imagine we'll join him again here shortly.”

    “Thank you for your help, Virgil.” Roman said, appreciatively. “Do either of you need anything else from me?”

     Virgil looked to Logan. “I think we're good, princey.”

    “Lo?” Roman inquired.

    “I'm okay. I'll see you later today.” Logan smiled sweetly at him.

    Roman smiled back. “Okay. I will see you both later. Take care of yourselves.”

    Virgil and Logan said their goodbyes as Roman headed out the door. As the door swung shut, Logan turned back to Virgil. “So what now, Vee?”

    Virgil jumped to his feet. “I promised Patton I'd bring you down to him so he can take a look at that cut on your face.”

    “Okay.” Logan nodded. “Well, I supposed it is fortunate that I still have some clothing here from when we were stuck here for a week.”

    “Yeah, that’s true." Virgil paused, watching Logan stand up, thoughtfully. "We probably should eventually get you settled back in your place again.”

    Logan was careful to keep his face neutral as his heart dropped. He felt a twinge of disappointment, knowing he couldn’t spend every night with Roman. “You’re probably right, Vee.”

    “Yeah.” Virgil looked like he might say something but he shook his head. “I'm not sure how that's going to work anyway. It was one thing when Roman and I were trading off protecting you, but now, we've got to keep an eye on Patton as well.”

    Logan bit his lip, feeling guilty. “I'm sorry for all the inconveniences I've caused you.”

    Virgil stared at him for a moment. “Stop apologizing, L.”

    “Sorr—”

    Virgil raised an eyebrow.

    Logan paused and sighed. “I don't know how to stop, Vee. I can't possibly convey how much I appreciate what you guys have put yourselves through to help me.”

    “I'm not saying you can’t appreciate our support, L,” Virgil looked up at Logan. “but you don't need to feel guilty. You’re worth the effort.”

    Logan fidgeted uncomfortably as another wave of guilt washed over him. Virgil moved over to him, gently resting his hands on Logan’s shoulders. “I can't imagine how all of this has affected you, but you don't need to worry. I told you so much the first day I met you. Roman doesn’t abandon people and neither do I.”

    Logan suddenly felt weak. Virgil’s words were simultaneously comforting and overwhelming.

    “In almost any case, we'll embrace you, L.” Virgil smiled as Logan glanced up at him appreciatively. “I'm sorry. That was pretty heavy. Go get dressed and let’s go find Pat, okay?”

    “Okay, Vee.” Logan took a step back and started to head to the other room before pausing thoughtfully. “Virgil?”

    “Yeah, L?” Virgil looked over at him as Logan turned around.

    “I am a bit overwhelmed at the moment but your words—” Logan looked up at him with a grateful smile. “—they help. Thank you.”

    “Good.” Virgil smiled.

-

    “Logan! Good morning!” Patton came running up to him as he followed Virgil into the greenhouse. This building was one he'd visited with Roman, when he'd first been introduced to Patton. The greenhouse had dozens of rows of planters arranged in neat rows, all separated out by plant type. The air smelled sweet from the exotic greenery as Patton dashed between them.

      Patton nearly knocked him over with the force of his hug as he bounded over to them. A guard slowly followed behind him and Logan tensed, watching him over Patton’s shoulder as they approached while he spoke to Patton. “Good morning. It would seem you finally got an adequate amount of rest, Pat.”

    “I feel a lot better.” Patton beamed up at him. “How about you, kiddo? Did you sleep okay?”

    “I slept better than I have in years, Patton.” Logan smiled appreciatively. “Thank you.”

    Patton beamed at him. “Good. I'm glad. How's the rest of your body feel?”

    Logan “My muscles are still weak and little stiff, but the pain is basically negligible at this point.”

    “Good, Lo. I think, if everything looks okay, the bandages could probably come off today. Except for your face, of course.”

    “You think so?” Logan asked, surprised.

    “Yeah, at this point, it'd be better if they could breathe a little, kiddo. Assuming they've closed, we shouldn't have to worry about infection anymore.” Patton paused. He glanced over to Virgil. “You still need to be very careful though. Too much activity could open them up again.”

    “What’s that look for, Pat?” Virgil teased, leaning on the wall. “Do you think I was going to work him too hard?”

    “Can you blame me?” Patton looked at him suspiciously. “You won’t tell me what you’re doing with him today and it makes me nervous.”

    Virgil's expression softened a bit. “Pat, nothing I'm planning on doing anything that will get him hurt. You don't have to worry.”

    “So, tell me—”

    “No.” Virgil cut him off sternly. “It’s better for everyone if only Logan knows.”

    Logan looked between their serious expressions in confusion. He could feel the hair on his neck stand on end as the tension in the room grew unbearable for him. “Can I know what we're doing, Vee?”

    Virgil glanced away from Patton, noticing Logan’s nervousness. He flashed Logan a reassuring smile and put a hand on Logan’s good shoulder. “After we leave here, L. Patton's just being overprotective. There’s nothing to worry about, okay?”

    “Okay, Vee.” Logan exhaled forcing himself to relax. “I trust you.”

    “Okay, fine. Let’s get started then. Come on, Lo!” Patton brightened and gestured overly enthusiastically for them to follow him to his hut. Logan smiled, appreciating Patton’s attempt to defuse the tension of the situation.

     Logan turned to follow him, flinching back as the guard behind Patton followed them toward the exit. He crossed his arms across his chest shrinking away from the armed man. A breath of relief escaped him as Virgil stepped between him and the guard, waving him away. The guard nodded an acknowledgement, moving away from them.

     Logan gasped with relief as Virgil wrapped an arm around him, leading him away. “T-thank you, Vee.”

     “Not a problem, L.” Virgil whispered, tightening his grip on Logan’s shoulder. “I want you to be comfortable.”

-

    Patton smiled at him. “Your wounds have closed properly, kiddo. I’m going to leave them be, but I'll give you a balm to keep them from drying out. You'll have to apply that a few times a day, but otherwise, just be careful not to overextend yourself.”

    “Will do, Pat.”

    Patton finished dressing Logan's face and started putting his things away. Logan buttoned his shirt and turned to Virgil.

    “What's next, Vee?”

    Virgil stood up and came around to stand by Logan, offering him a hand up. He pulled Logan to his feet. “Well, we take Patton back to the greenhouse. Then, we'll head up to my chambers.”

    “Why are we going to your place?” Logan pressed him, his curiosity growing.

    “I'll explain when we get there, L.” Virgil smiled reassuringly at him before pausing. “Patton, can you get away this afternoon?”

    Patton tilted his head in confusion. “I'd assume so. Why?”

    “I'd like to try and make it to the library to see if we can do anything about Logan's cursed amulet.”

    Patton’s face lit up in realization. “Oh, sure, Virge! I'll find a way to get away!”

    “Thanks, Pat. We'll come by and grab you some time this afternoon.” Virgil turned back to Logan. “Are you ready, L?”

    Logan nodded, warily.

    “Good, let's go.”

-

    Logan lengthened his stride to keep up with Virgil as they climbed the stairs of the northern tower of the castle. He'd never been down these particular halls. The shadows seemed darker than the rest of the castle and the halls were nearly empty as they neared the top of the tower. The quietness of the empty halls held an ominous aura that Logan couldn't quite shake. He couldn't help but be glad that Roman hadn't assigned his personal accommodations to this tower

    Moving quickly, Logan nearly plowed into Virgil as he stopped abruptly in front of him, glancing behind them. Virgil’s eyes flicked around nervously before he turned and unlocked the door next to them. He held it open for Logan, gesturing for him to enter and then followed him quickly into his room, shutting it resolutely behind them.

     Once inside, Virgil locked the door behind them. Logan couldn't help noticing the multiple locks and chains on the door lined up on the door. He watched Virgil set to work locking all of them. “Are you honestly that worried about someone breaking in?”

    Virgil turned, raising an eyebrow. “After all that's happened to you and Patton,  can you blame me?”

    “Those encounters happened recently, Virgil.” Logan gestured at the door skeptically. “Those locks appear to have been installed long before any issues with Patton and I would have occurred.”

    “In my line of work, it's best be safe. It's easy to make enemies and my room is not nearly as well guarded as Roman's.” Virgil shrugged. "This isn't the first time Roman and I have gotten on the wrong side of some bad people."

    “I suppose not." Logan thought about it for a minute, staring at the door, before looking up at Virgil again. He glanced around the room. Unlike his own, Virgil's seemed to only have the bare minimum. The walls were undecorated stone and the room only had a few pieces of old-looking furniture. "Okay then, Virgil, I do believe you owe me an explanation for why I'm here.”

    “Okay.” Virgil’s expression turned serious. “Just to be clear, you do not have to do this.”

    “You haven’t even revealed what we’re doing.” Logan crossed his arms, growing impatient.

    “You can't tell Roman or anyone else that I showed you this little trick. I'm not allowed to teach anyone this without permission from the king.” Virgil paused. “Not even Roman has the authority to allow me to teach you this.”

     Logan looked at him suspiciously. “Teach me what?”

     “I want to show you a few things, but today, I’m going to start with showing you how pick locks.” Virgil stared at him, gauging his reaction. “But you don't have to if you don't want to, L.”

     “You’ve piqued my interest, Vee.” Logan stared at Virgil, confused. “Why are you so concerned that this topic might distress me?”

    Virgil flashed a sympathetic glance at him before leaning down and reaching underneath the sofa. Tense, Logan watched as he pulled a black, leather case and move to set it on the table behind them. Virgil paused briefly before flipping it open to reveal dozens of locks. Logan swallowed, nervously crossing his arms and stepping back as he noticed several pairs of shackles and cuffs.

    Virgil watched Logan’s face carefully. “Judging by the state of your wrists, it seems Remus enjoys binding his captives. I think it would be best if you knew how to get out of them, L.”

    Logan was quiet, almost frozen in place.

    Virgil watched him carefully.  “You don't have to do th—”

    “No, Vee. You’re right.” His voice was strained, almost shaking as he stared, unblinking, down at the case. “I want to learn.”

    “Don’t worry, L.” Virgil stepped forward, gripping Logan’s shoulder. “We're not putting them on anytime soon. I have other locks for you to start with.”

    Logan nodded numbly.

    “I have a key to all of them.” Virgil reassured him. “You can back out at any time.”

    “I'm fine, Vee.” Logan muttered.

    “You don't seem fine.”

    “I am.” Logan brushed him off, stepping forward. “Where do we start?”

    Virgil dug around in the case and pulled out an old, brass lock. “We'll start simple and work up to more complicated locks. This one is good for getting used to manipulating the pins.”

     “Okay.” Logan nodded seriously.

    “I'll show you how to use my lock-picking kit first,” Virgil paused, reaching into his pocket. “but I've got some other less obvious items you could keep on you that work okay in a pinch.”

    Virgil pulled out a ring of long metal tools and began to demonstrated how to use them to move the pins to open the lock. Logan nodded along quietly. He tucked his hands behind his back as he listened intently to Virgil’s instructions, watching closely as he picked the lock. He finally blinked only as the lock popped open in Virgil’s hand.

    “Give it a shot.” Virgil said, clicking the lock shut and holding it out to Logan.

    Logan nodded. He took the lock from Virgil, sitting down at the desk. He fiddled with the tools clumsily. Gradually, he started to manipulate at pins in the lock.

    “That's good, L.” Virgil commented, leaning over his shoulder. “but slow down. Get used to feeling how the pins move.”

    Logan took a breath, focusing on moving the pins. He worked in silence for a few minutes until he heard a soft click of the lock popping open.

    “Good, L.” Virgil picked the lock up, clicking it shut again. He slid it across the table back to Logan. “Do it again. Faster.”

    Virgil made him pick the same lock half a dozen more times until he could do it in a matter of seconds before trading it out for another.

    They continued for this way for a while. Occasionally, Virgil changed out the locks or gave Logan different tools to work with. When Logan struggled, Virgil would demonstrate again until Logan was able to open the lock. As the hours passed, Logan’s movements became more confident. He nearly forgot to be worried as he focused on the task in front of him.

    After several hours, they’d worked through most of Virgil’s simple locks and had started into some of the more intricate locks.

    Virgil finally relaxed and leaned back on the couch behind him. “You're a natural, L. Before long, you'll be able to pick them all.”

    Logan leaned back, satisfied. Only a moment passed before his contentment turned to a frown. He reached over and picked up a pair of shackles that looked similar to ones he'd been bound with in his cell. “Maybe it's time to for a different challenge.”

    Virgil looked uncomfortable. “You've been going for a long time, L. You've got to be exhausted. Maybe we should come back to it tomorrow.”

     Logan pondered, feeling the metal in his hands. “Is this not the ideal time for me to practice? Should I find myself in that situation again, it is reasonable to assume my state of mind will be less than ideal.”

    Virgil thought about it for a moment. “It's a good time to practice but not necessarily a good time to learn, L. You should get used to the feelings before you try it exhausted.”

    “Just let me try, Vee.” Logan looked up at him, determined.

    Virgil bit his lip uncertainly and sighed, gesturing for Logan to follow him. “Fine. Come sit over here then. I want a better line of sight if you’re going to do this.”

    Logan followed him around the edge of the room and Virgil gestured for him to sit on one end of the couch. “Sit there and face me.”

    Logan complied. He sat across from Virgil, crossing his legs in front of him.

    Virgil looked at him sternly. “If this gets uncomfortable for you, we stop. Okay?”

     Logan nodded.

     “I need to hear you say it, L.” Virgil waited until Logan looked up at him and smiled patiently at him. “The last thing I want to do is trigger a panic attack.”

    Logan's shoulders slumped and his gaze slipped to the ground, despondent. “It didn’t trigger a panic attack at the Fae Crossing.”

    “You were in danger, L.” Virgil replied sternly. “Believe it or not, it's easier to let the panic take over somewhere that feels safe.”

    “That's irrational.” Logan didn't look up.

    “You have to process that fear at some point, but you can't do it while you’re in danger. Your brain waits until it's safe.”

    “I guess there’s a trace of logic to your statement.” Logan admitted quietly, staring at the shackles sitting on the cushions between them.

    “I still haven’t heard you say it, L.”

    Logan sighed and looked up at him. “If I’m uncomfortable, we will stop.”

    “Okay. Hold out your hands.”

    Logan held out his wrists and Virgil snapped the shackles on his wrists, locking them with the key. Virgil laid the key on the couch in between them within Logan’s reach. Logan's skin crawled at the familiar weight of his binds.

    “Okay, L. Keep your breath steady.” Virgil waited for Logan to meet his gaze. “Count if you need to. Inhale for four. Hold for seven. Exhale for eight. Just like we've done before.”

    Logan closed his eyes. He focused on his breath, ignoring the binds until he felt calm again. Logan nodded at Virgil.

    “Okay. Start with the cuff on your non-dominant hand. Your range of motion is limited so work with what gives you the most control.” Virgil watched him carefully. “It's a simple lock, but the angle makes difficult to keep your hands steady.

    Logan nodded and slipped the lockpick into the cuff on his right hand. He bent his wrist to start to manipulate the pins. He could feel the strain on his wrist to hold the tools in place.

    “I know it's not comfortable but be patient.” Virgil shifted to get a better sight line. “Rushing only makes it harder.”

     Logan breathed, trying to focus on the moving pins. His wrist started to burn from the unnatural positioning of his hand. He managed to get the first two pins before his hand started shaking from the effort.

    “Take a break, L.” Virgil scooted closer, putting his hand on Logan’s knee. “You'll get it.”

    Logan could feel frustration and anxiety start to build inside him. After only a moment, he tried again. This time, he only managed to get one pin before his hand cramped. He groaned and clenched his fist trying to stretch the muscles in his wrist.

    Virgil watched sadly as Logan winced in pain. He slowly reached over and took Logan’s right hand, gently massaging the muscles on Logan’s wrist until the cramp subsided. Logan clenched his jaw in frustration.

    “You’re doing fine, L.” Virgil smiled over at him. “You’re not used to using these muscles. Be gentle. We'll practice until they’re stronger.”

     Logan nodded and smiled back sadly.  He could feel his frustration start to dissipate. Virgil pulled his hand back, resting it on Logan’s knee again.

    Logan tried again. He made more progress on his second attempt. He managed to stretch his wrist a little further and get the first two pins with ease. The third pin fell into place as his wrist started to burn. He decided to give up before it cramped completely.

    Virgil smiled reassuringly. “Try the other one for a bit. You may not get out of them today but building those muscles gets you that much closer to doing it tomorrow.”

    Logan struggled with practicing the other arm for a while. He worked for several minutes and Virgil watched his progress closely. Logan focused intently but despite his effort, he made less progress on this wrist before he was forced to stop by a sudden cramping in his wrists.

    Virgil reached over and started to massage Logan's other wrist. “Be patient, L. You don't have to push yourself until your hand cramps up."

    “I want to get it.” Logan looked down at the shackles, defeated.

    “You will. I'll make sure of it.” Virgil grabbed the key off the couch and reached over to unlatch Logan’s binds. Logan didn't move as they came loose. Virgil dropped the shackles off the side of the couch, reaching over and resting his hands on Logan's knees. Logan looked up at him. The dark circles under Virgil’s eyes were suddenly more pronounced in the dim light. “Seriously, you got pretty damn close for your first attempt. It's not even lack of skill that's the problem. You just need a little more strength and flexibility to hold the tools steady.”

    “I guess.” Logan looked dejected, absentmindedly rubbing his wrists.

    “You're not going anywhere, L. You've got the time to learn.” Virgil watched Logan intensely.

    “This isn’t over, Vee. It's impossible to predict when they will make their next move. I don't know how long I have to learn.” He gritted his teeth.

    Virgil looked over at him, picking his head up from where it was resting in his hand. “They?”

    Logan’s head shot up, looking at Virgil with wide eyes. His eyes darted down to his neck, waiting for green sparks, but nothing came.

    “L,” Virgil looked at him seriously. “Was there someone other than Remus involved the other night?”

    Logan tore his gaze from Virgil, feeling the metal heat up around his neck. “I—”

    “Don’t answer. Your hesitation is enough for me to make assumptions.” Virgil watched Logan curiously as he sank back in his seat, relieved. He crossed his legs up on the couch, leaning forward and resting his chin in his hands. “That’s interesting, Logan. I didn’t think Remus was capable of playing nice with his anyone else, let alone letting them have a role in whatever he's planning.”

    Hanging his head, Logan stared down at his lap. He could feel the heat around his neck begin to dissipate slowly as he attempted to clear his mind. The heat had nearly gone completely when a thought entered his mind. Logan turned his head up to stare at Virgil, feeling the heat return to his neck.

     Virgil watched him curiously, noticing the sudden determination in his eyes. He leaned closer. “What?”

    “Virgil, I was never told I couldn’t talk about Remus.” Logan took a deep breath, trying to convince himself as Virgil that this didn't break the amulet’s rules.

     Virgil paused, confused. “Okay, but we know about Remus. I don’t see how that changes anything.”

     “It doesn’t.” Logan smirked confidently. “We are only discussing topics you already know about, Vee.”

    “Okay…” Virgil watched him carefully.

    “You know that Remus didn't hurt Patton,” Logan pointed to the bandages on his face. “and that he wouldn’t have caused me harm if I hadn't called out to you for assistance.”

    Virgil watched him quietly and nodded, still unsure of where Logan was going with this line of thought.

    “Now, you mentioned you found these behaviors to be atypical of Remus, given his treatment of me in the past.”

    “Yeah. I thought it was weird." Virgil stared at him blankly. “I don't know what you’re trying to tell me, L.”

    “I'm only reiterating ideas you had come to on your own.” Logan smiled knowingly. The metal around his neck was cool as he continued to speak. “What you infer about why Remus acted the way he did is entirely on you.”

    Virgil stared at him, quietly contemplating Logan's words. He was silent for a long time. Logan had begun to lose hope when Virgil finally spoke again. He looked up at Logan seriously. “Whoever he's working with kept Remus from hurting you. didn't they?”

    Logan bit his lip, keeping his face neutral despite his excitement. “I can’t say.”

    “So, yes.” Virgil shook his head, looking up at Logan. “I don't like the idea that someone’s giving direction to his destruction.”

    “I don't—” Logan nearly clamped down on his tongue as heat radiated off the amulet and it glowed with a bright green light. He tensed himself for impact. A single spark escaped the gem, burning into his skin. He groaned, relaxing only as the ember slowly abated.

    “Okay. We're done playing this game.” Virgil leaned forward. “Don't hurt yourself.”

    “I'm fine, Vee.” Logan muttered breathlessly, looking away. “It’s not that bad.”

    “You’re not a good judge of what is or isn't a normal level of pain, L.” Virgil scolded gently. “You need to stop.”

    “I—I can keep going.” Logan pleaded quietly. “It's important.”

    “You don’t need to, L.” Virgil leaned forward sympathetically. “This was good, but you don’t have to hurt yourself. We'll figure it out without torturing you for information.”

    “But what if we don’t, Vee?” Logan suddenly found himself unable to stop his fingernails digging into his skin as his arms crossed tighter across his chest. “What if we fail—” He glanced sadly up at Virgil. “—and I could have made a difference if I pushed myself a little further?”

    “We’re going to figure it out.”

    “You can't know that, Vee.”

    “You don’t that this will help either, L.” Virgil sighed. “It could do nothing but hurt you.”

    “I can take it,” Logan growled. “especially if it means all of you would be safe.”

    “You’re not hearing me, L.” Virgil smiled faintly at him. “I’m not going to let you hurt yourself. None of us are willing let you get hurt to save our own skin.”

    Logan looked down at his lap. “What we're doing, it has to be enough, Vee.”

    “It will be.”

    “You don’t have enough data to assert that conclusion.” Logan muttered quietly, biting his lip.

    “Fine.” Virgil sighed. “It either will be enough or it won’t. No amount of stress changes that. We’re spending all day making sure you’re ready if something happens and we're going to spend tonight trying to figure out how to get rid of that amulet around your neck.”

    “If I can develop these skills at a quick enough pace, I can increase the probability of success of foiling Remus and—” Logan hesitated, correcting himself. “—of foiling Remus' plan.”

    Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Driving yourself into the ground doesn’t do anyone any good.”

   “It has to be enough, Vee,” Logan muttered quietly and he was quiet for a long time before he looked up at Virgil. Virgil jolted upright as he noticed tears in Logan's eyes. “This has to be enough or this is the cruelest torture Remus has forced me to endure.”

    “Whoa, L.” Concerned, Virgil slid across the couch toward him, pulling Logan into his arms. “What does that mean?”

    Logan leaned in to Virgil’s warmth. “Allowing me to experience a life with you, Patton, and Roman, only to have him rip that away from me would be far crueler than anything he's done to me thus far.”

    “Come here.” Virgil turned and pulled Logan closer to him. Logan laid his head on Virgil’s shoulder, letting his muscles relax as Virgil ran his fingers through Logan’s hair. “You’re not going anywhere, L.”

    “You can't know th—”

    “Yes, I can. Roman, Patton and I are here to protect you and Remus doesn’t stand a chance against us.”

    “I’m sorry, Vee.” Logan was breathless, lost between his racing thoughts and Virgil’s light touch.

    “Stop apologizing, L.” Virgil said gently as he brushed Logan’s hair behind his ears. He looked down at him. “We don't want you to go anywhere. You know that, right?”

    Logan was quiet, almost like he was holding his breath.

    “This is your home Logan, and we'll fight to keep you here.” Virgil reached down to Logan’s shoulder, pulling his shoulder down so Logan was looking up at him. “You belong here with us, Logan.”

    Logan nodded up at Virgil, closing his eyes. His breathing became deeper and slower as Virgil’s fingers ran through his hair.

    “I belong here.” The words felt unfamiliar on Logan’s tongue but still, a smile formed on his face from how good it felt to say.

    Virgil smiled down at him, contented to see Logan let go of some of his fear.

    “L,  promise me you won’t run yourself into the ground.” Virgil looked down at him. “Promise me you’ll at least try to enjoy your life, even with everything going on.”

    Logan closed his eyes, feeling Virgil's fingers in his hair. “If you make the experience this pleasurable, I don’t think I'll have the will to fight you.”

    “I'll take that challenge, L.” Virgil smirked down at him.

    Logan smiled, letting himself relax again. “When are we supposed to meet Patton?”

    “Soon.” Virgil shrugged.

    “Should we go?” Logan blinked tiredly.

    “Are you ready to go?”

    “I can be, if necessary.”

    “We can stay here for a little longer, L.” Virgil smiled as Logan relaxed into his lap. “We'll head out in a bit, okay?”

    “Okay, Vee.” Logan closed his eyes. He leaned into the warmth radiating off Virgil’s body, breathing in time with Virgil’s breathe and, despite his best efforts, Logan found himself drifting off to sleep.

-

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[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 102

Okay, trying to queue this again after it apparently got eaten along with chapter 101.

Y’all pray for me to whatever higher powers you believe in or can make up on the spot. Thanks.

Thanks for this chapter goes to the fabulous anon who sent me an ask about Jedis. I really, really hope you are seeing this chapter and I hope you like it. I also want to thank @baelpenrose​ as my resident Star Wars expert, who checked, double checked, and triple checked my writing to make sure everything was as entertaining/accurate as possible.

Before you all cringe at some comments Sophia makes, she is deliberately downplaying her knowledge of Star Wars in an attempt to see if she can give some of the other characters a twitchy eye.

After an extraordinarily bizarre situation regarding my former foe and who I assumed was his partner, I was profoundly relieved to find myself in a very boring, very normal situation a couple of weeks later. Even the regular family dinner was pretty normal: grilled cheese on a very good sourdough, with a tomato soup so garlicky that even I had no objections to it. I made a point to puree it, so Derek was very happy with the texture and I was happy with the flavor. Arthur shot me odd looks once in a while, but it was a happy, calm dinner.

And things were going… so well… I thought as Maverick dragged everyone into his quiet argument with Sam.

“Sam,” He stated emphatically as he dunked his sandwich and ripped a tomato-soaked piece from it. “We all want it to be real but… humans don’t exist outside of Earth and the Ark.”

“Yoda is not human,” Sam insisted loudly, grinning the entire time.

I choked on my soup. “Yoda? You two have been arguing Star Wars this whole time?”

“Maverick insists they are not real,” Sam enunciated carefully. When he got excited about a topic he loved, he had a tendency to rush everything and drop syllables, making his words nearly impossible to understand.

“They meaning Jedi?” Arthur asked, eyeballing the pile of sandwiches on the table. Finally he snagged his third half-sandwich and dunked it without ceremony. “As much as I wish they were real, I have my doubts.”

So did I. “Human beings who can use telepathy, telekinesis, and distance-empathy?” I scrunched my nose. “I think that’s a bit far-fetched.”

“But extraterrestrials exist,” Sam pointed out.

Conor nodded. “They do, obviously. Otherwise, Noah would be a bloody big figment of our imagination.” Shaking his head, he smiled. “If we didn’t make Santa real as children, I doubt we could make up someone like Noah, right?”

Sam only got more serious. “I was always taught that aliens don’t exist. My teachers told me that the only life off of Earth were bacteria. But, even if Else is bacteria, Noah isn’t. So, maybe other things we thought were pretend are real.”

The table was silent for a moment, shattered only by Derek dusting bread crumbs from his hands as ceremoniously and loudly as humanly possible. “Sam has a point,” he signed. “Fabricators exist, aliens exist.. Hell, telepathy exists - “

“Not telepathy,” Miys interjected from above.

“Neuro-pheremonal communication exists,” Derek finger-spelled, making a point of how cumbersome the term was in a way none of the rest of us really could. Seven minutes later, he took a slurp of soup and continued. “Unicorns exist, even if they are chubby. Why not Jedi?”

I opened my mouth to refute, then realized I couldn’t: we had the genetic code for both narwhals and rhinoceros in the gene bank. Good effing luck convincing anyone unicorns don’t exist, I guess. Instead, I grasped on my one last leg of logic. “But humans, like Luke Starkiller and Obi-whatsit Kenoshi don’t actually exist.”

Maverick looked absolutely revolted by something, which confused me. He liked tomato soup, and actually chose the cheese for the sandwiches himself. “Sophia. Have you even seen those movies?” He was absolutely aghast as he posed his question, and I suddenly understood what he was revolted by.

“Of course I did,” I sighed, rolling my eyes. “In college, in Intro to Adolescent Literature.”

Soup abruptly coated everything on the table as both Arthur and Conor spat violently at my clarification. Arthur scrubbed his chin the fastest, so had the honor of levelling his incredulity at me. “Sophia Reid. Do you mean to tell me that you have only seen Star Wars ONE TIME?”

I shook my head, confused. “No. I’ve seen all three.”

“ELEVEN,” Sam corrected me loudly. “There are eleven movies.”

“Please, please tell me you at least saw Rogue One,” Maverick begged. “You may not have known it was a Star Wars movie?”

“Is that the one where the robot hits the guy and says he has another fresh one?” I asked carefully.

Maverick nodded. Arthur, however, looked like he was about to start breathing fire. “I am going to force you to consume every bit of Star Wars media worth consuming if I have to get Charly and Derek to program the audio versions to play in every room you enter.”

“I can do that,” Derek signed, unhelpfully.

Arthur just nodded. “See? I can make this happen. Your quarters will feel like Hoth, all digital communications will sound like C-3PO, and many Bothans will die before your datapad functions.”

Alarmingly, Miys interjected. “Wisdom, Bothans are an endangered species. Please do not encourage Educator Farro to commit atrocities.”

I was still gasping in confusion when Arthur recovered from his choking. “Oh shit. Bothans are real? They were a very back-stabby race of dog-type people who fought against fascists in Terran media. I thought, at least. I wouldn’t actually kill a real one… I am far more high functioning of a sociopath than that, thank you.”

“Noah,” I choked out. “Are you serious? Are Bothans real?”

“Affirmative,” they responded, setting off an entirely new round of choking and sputtering. I would need to have something done about my floors if this kept up. “And while they do resemble Terran canines on a very superficial level, they are genetically more closely related to a Terran fern.”

Arthur looked like his heart had been ripped out of his chest. “That is the least back-stabbing and least threatening plant I can possibly think of.”

Conor, not to be outdone, was still curious. “Boston or Fiddlehead?”

“Asparagus fern, Human Conor,” was the reply that set off a thousand coughs.

Sam recovered first. “That does not mean Jedi don’t exist,” he insisted.

“Of course Jedi exist,” Miys answered in a tone that was as close to being confused as I had ever heard.

Almost immediately, Arthur, Maverick, and Sam started cheering and high-fiving. Conor looked confused, while I spat my soup out again.

“WHAT?” I choked out between attempts at keeping tomatoes and garlic out of my lungs.

“They are as real as any member of any other Terran religion.”

Silence ruled the room for a split second, broken first by Arthur throwing his fork in the air behind him.  Like a signal, it led to Sam and Maverick dropping their head to their forearms with a groan.

I managed to recover enough to slide my food away, lest I risk death over an absurd conversation. “Are there anything like Jedi in the known galaxy?” I asked, receiving a thumbs up from Arthur, who was still trying not to choke on his soup.

“Only in small measures.”

That seemed like the magic phrase to snap Arthur out of whatever coughing fit he was having. “Are there any species in the galaxy that have Jedi abilities?”

“You will need to be more specific.”

Conor, laughter out of his system, joined gamely. “Is there anything that can move physical objects without touching them directly?” he started.

“Several species can,” Miys conceded. “Those who only experience what you consider ‘sight’ as changes in air currents can, in fifty-four percent of cases so far, also change the air currents in a sufficient way as to move physical objects.”

“Wait,” I interrupted. “They can stare at something hard enough to move it?”

“Wisdom, if I experienced physical pain, I am certain that your oversimplification just now would have caused such a sensation.”

Without rebutting, I waved for Miys to continue and ignored the laughter caused by the comment.

“Similarly, there are species more limited than Hujylsogox, who can perceive the physical world strictly through sound,” they continued. “In such cases, it is not uncommon for these species to also alter their surroundings by vibrating physical objects at a frequency that causes them to move within physical space.” A brief pause before, “And no, Wisdom, that does not mean they scream at objects until such objects move. I would also like to point out, Educator Farro, that the same species can cause internal organs to vibrate as a sufficient frequency as to cut off air flow.”

“Force choke is real,” Arthur whisper-shouted, mildly horrified. Clearing his throat, he spoke more clearly for his next question. “What about ‘there is a disturbance in the Force, as if many voices cried out’ etc?”

Miys buzzed thoughtfully for a moment before replying more clearly. “There are number of species who are able to perceive and interpret with great accuracy any changes in interstellar radiation, no matter how small. Should, say, a star go nova or collapse into a black hole, they are very reliable in providing information to cartographers. Should such a species state with certainty that a planet ceased to exist, I would need to see the planet from orbit in order to disbelieve them.”

Maverick let loose a low whistle, but it was Sam who spoke next. “But what about living beings, on an individual level. I know you can do that, but can any other species?”

“It is, perhaps, the most common trait in the known galaxy,” Miys admitted. “Even humans can do this, to a degree, although you tend to ignore it against all logic.”

“Okay. What about force lightning, though?”

I actually started to respond to that, having an answer finally, but Miys beat me to the draw. “Species who communicate through electrical currents are more numerous in the galaxy than those who can see. In the same way, they need to be able to manipulate such currents. Their young are frequently sequestered on their home worlds in order to prevent electrocution of species whose neural organs can be disrupted by uncontrolled communication. The same species are capable of using those same currents to increase their own synaptic response and reflexes.”

I almost wanted to laugh at Maverick’s face. He looked frustrated and ashamed in a way that I could not figure out. Maybe because these abilities existed, but not in humans? Regardless, his tone was frustrated when he asked his next question. “What about force ghosts? Please tell me those are real?”

“Very much so,” Miys confirmed. “Though likely not in the way you think. What you consider ‘Force Ghosts’ are, in the galaxy as it is, the result of technological advancement combined with spiritual beliefs.” A few groans surrounded the table, but Maverick perked up slightly. “Many species believe, as a result of their evolution, that their predecessors’ life energy persists after death. In these cultures, it is so common as to be unremarkable for a person to have a synaptic recording chip installed shortly after birth, to record their entire lives. They, then, pass their chip on to their successor in  position.” Wait a minute… I thought, but Miys continued before I could put everything together. “In such circumstances, many species’s neural organs will manifest a… personality, separate from the original, in order to preserve mental stability. Such manifestations are very similar to what Terran media considers a ‘Force ghost’.”

“Hang on,” I ventured, holding my hand up emphatically to cut off any other questions from the table. “That. Stop there.” Taking a deep breath, I thought back through everything I had read in the past. “I thought the idea of deliberately having multiple, distinct identities was… a story, honestly.”

“Even in your own past, it was discovered that the human brain can host two distinct personalities with no difficulty, Wisdom,” Miys admonished. “These species, however, are uniquely adapted so that, along with the memory implant, they suffer no actual combination or confusion of experiences. What their ancestor experienced is their ancestor’s memory, and what the person experiences is the person's memory. A person cannot overwrite an ancestral core. Only speak to it.”

“Can humans do that?” Sam asked, dazed in wonder at this new revelation.

“Not yet,” Miys responded. “But I do insist on the word ‘yet’, as you were never meant to do many of the things you do now.”

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[mimssides]

One Spade for five Hearts: Chapter 5

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___

“It’s more than one,” Logan heard himself say.

He could punch himself right in the face. Virgil had just given him the perfect out of the situation; Just say that you don’t want to tell them who it is. But no, Logan had to be honest and admit that he had not only one but several soulmates. What was wrong with him?

“Huh, didn’t take you for the polyamorous type…” Remus commented as Logan buried his head in his hands and sighed woefully.

“I was just as surprised, thank you very much,” Logan retorted bitterly and decided to never look up again.

His three friends shared a look in in the meantime. Their otherwise always so knowledgeable and prepared companion seemed to be rather at loss as for what he was to do next. A bit hesitant Virgil put his hand on Logan’s shoulder as Patton put their homework to the side and got out a few snacks from their bag. As they placed a package of cookies on the table, they shot Remus a look with raised eyebrows, prompting kæm to say something.

Taken by surprise Remus cleared kæs throat and told Logan: “Feelings are always surprising, specs. I have tons of them and I’m still getting blindsided by them half the time. But having feelings for several people is fine, man. You’re good.”

“And,” Patton added softly putting a few cookies in front of Logan, “you have no obligation to get involved with your soulmates in any way. It’s not a rule and you are free to do what you deem fit, as long as you are not hurting yourself or others.”

Logan sighed again and Remus raised kæs eyebrow at his dramatic display. Like that he almost reminded kæm of Roman’s dramatics.

“Come on, Lo. We get that you don’t like this but we just wanna help you out. There’s no judgement here,” Virgil tried to get Logan to at least look up for a moment.

Logan didn’t look up though. He kept his eyes shut in his face buried in his hands.  He really just wanted this to stop. Also, he very much doubted that they wouldn’t judge him for this. All of this would certainly mess with their friendship and Logan didn’t want to risk that.

And as if Virgil had heard his thoughts he asked suddenly in shock: “Wait. Are you scared us knowing because we know them?”

“Uuh! Juicy! What a bad boy you are, Logie!” Remus said with a chuckle.

And just then Logan made the mistake of looking up to Remus. Immediately his face flushed more, he could feel it, and hid his face again in his hands. That move did not go unnoticed by the three others and their thoughts were racing.

Was it Remus? No, it couldn’t be otherwise Logan would not have come. Logan would never make a mistake like that. But why then would he blush even more looking at Remus? Did kæ remind him of his crush?

“Are you-” Remus started hit by a sudden realisation, “are you in love with my sister? Oh, my gods do you have the hots for my siSTER!”

Logan let his head drop on the table and let out a pained wince which answered Remus’s question adequately. Remus flapped kæs hands and started squealing for a few moments, while Patton and Virgil were still recovering from that revelation. But it did make sense. And it made quite clear why Logan was so worried. This could very well change their group dynamic completely and Virgil knew how much Logan liked what he had with them. These were their first friends who weren’t Spades and Logan loved their company and time spent together more than anything.

“I - wow,” mumbled Patton before they motioned Remus to dial it back a little. “Logan this is. This. Well. It is a little unexpected to say the least but Roman is a fine person and I am sure she wouldn’t be mad if you told her.”

Logan groaned against the table top and the three others exchanged looks once more. This would be harder than they had anticipated. Especially considering that Roman was not the only soulmate Logan had according to him. And Remus knew too well that Roman wasn’t one for sharing.

“Not to make you more uncomfortable, if that’s even possible,” kæ said forcing kæmself to sound nonchalantly, “but who is the other one? Like, if it’s anyone but Erin I think Ro might get upset if she had to share you. But what are the odds of the other one being her, right?”

Remus snickered a little after kæs comment only to rapidly stop when Logan sat up and stared kæm right in the eyes. As he looked at kæm, he took a deep breath and took one of the cookies in front of him.

“Well, I clearly beat all he odds then,” Logan commented defeatedly and took a bite from the sweet treat.

Remus blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. And then kæ asked: “Are you serious?”

Logan wanted to point to his tie but remembered just in time that today he wasn’t wearing one and instead settled with the answer: “Yes, I am fucking serious. Can I now please die peacefully of embarrassment?”

“Oh, sweetie no!” Patton told him fiercely. “Feelings are not embarrassing and certainly something you would die of. It’s okay! I am sure you can make it work. They are both very sweet people and if you talk with them, they’ll be happy to find a solution with you. No matter what that looks like.”

Logan just huffed and looked down. They didn’t understand how difficult this was. Of course, they couldn’t since they didn’t know he lo- liked them as well. And he wanted them all. He wanted them all to know and be okay with it but he also didn’t want to tell them and see their reactions.

“They’ll be happier together without me,” Logan eventually said not looking to Patton. “I’m not good at this and they can be perfectly happy without me messing things up for them. It’s better like this.”

There followed a beat of silence.

“This is so not “better like this”, man. You sound miserable talking about not being with them! Are you really telling yourself that you are going to be happy without ever admitting your feelings to yourself or them?” Remus asked.

Logan jerked his head up and glared at kæm with tears welling up in his eyes: “How could I deny this! It’s - It’s far too strong to ignore how much they mean to me and I just don’t want to hurt them with my stupid emotions! Their lives are complicated enough without some stupid nerd fawning over them. I don’t want to add to their stress. I – I just want them to be happy and I don’t know that I could make them happy. Not as much as I want them to be, anyway.”

Another beat of silence followed by the sound of gentle cooing by Patton accompanied by the sweetest little Tings Logan had ever heard.

“That is such a sweet sentiment, Logan!” Patton squealed very unaware of the fact that they just caused Logan to fluster even more.

Then Logan felt Virgil’s hand on his shoulder and heard a small change in Virgil’s melody, which he really didn’t like but could not exactly explain why.

He didn’t get to muse over it as Virgil asked him: “Are you that serious about them, Lo? Are they truly that important to you that you think you should suffer for them to be happy?”

Logan just wanted to say yes. Of course, they were worth it. Of course, he would suffer for them if it made their lives better. No questions there. But he couldn’t say that now. Not when he couldn’t tell Virgil that he felt just the same for him.

“Erin is lovely. She is graceful and such a great improviser. She is so wickedly intelligent and knows so well how to read people when I have no clue what is even going on. She listens so well and she doesn’t use sarcasm around me as much because I have expressed my difficulties of understanding sarcastic remarks. And her voice is very nice. Very nice. And Roman... Roman is like a freight train. I don’t know how to stop her and sometimes she makes me not want to stop her, even though it is stupid and dangerous. She is so much prouder than I could be and she is so unafraid to hold my hand or hug me even though so many other people shy away from me because of my name. They are both amazing and I don’t want to make them worry or sad because of some stupid crush or soulmate curse. They deserve someone to woo them correctly and love them best.”

They really were amazing, Logan realized once more as he was talking and felt even more inadequate than he had before. They truly deserved the world and not some stupid boy like him.

“Oh, honey.”

“Logan no.”

“Lo...”

And so, did those three. Their compassion made Logan weak and he glimpsed to Virgil by his side. He looked at him with such sorrow that Logan could not help himself but slump together.

“Lo, please that’s simply not true,” Virgil said oh so gently and Logan really wanted to believe him. “You’re an amazing guy and I do think they both like you well enough. I don’t know if they are in love with you but – They might be and then it would hurt them a lot if they didn’t get a chance to be with you just because you decide you are not good enough for them. Because, trust me, you are amazing. I’ve seen you be spectacular and Roman certainly thinks the same considering you caught her and Erin after she jumped out of a window.”

“I fell, though,” Logan faintly objected.

Remus almost audibly rolled kæs eyes and retorted to that: “She didn’t warn you that she’d jump. And while you are strong, catching two people is not an easy task, dearest shield. Also, you caught them nevertheless, so don’t worry about it.”

Logan looked up to kæm and allowed himself to feel a bit comforted by kæs words. He had caught them after all. Quietly, he looked at the cookie in his hand and gulped for a moment. Maybe it would work out eventually.

“Is that when it happened? When you caught them?” Virgil caught him off guard and he jerked his head up to look at him.

“The moment of harmony?” Logan asked for clarification and to buy himself some time. “I think it was a little later, when we started running, but I didn’t realize until after. Then I heard it.”

“Heard what?” Patton asked curiously.

Logan cleared his throat. He still hadn’t figured out what the melodies really were. He was positive that they were instruments but he could not clearly point out what kind of instruments, since all of this was very new to him. Maybe bringing it up with Virgil would make things easier now. He knew part of it now, so why not try to utilise his newfound resources.

“So,” Logan started rubbing his thumb over the cookie, “that fact about the curse had never been mentioned to me before but I hear some sort of music around my soulmates? Not- not like music you listen to, Virgil. It is just one thing that makes the melody and, uhm, beat and, uh, rhythm, I think? No voices singing or something like that. I think, it’s just one instrument for each of them and they change according to things they feel, but I am really bad at reading that and I did not have a lot of practice figuring that out.”

“That’s so cool!” Virgil immediately said and unlocked his phone. “Do you want help with figuring out what instruments they have?”

“Please yes, very much so.”

And so, Virgil helped Logan to get acquainted with different instruments. Both Remus and Patton gave their inputs as well, and were highly entertained by Logan’s all too concentrated face as he tried to focus on the music that was playing. It took them a while until they figured out that both had string instruments. Erin was identified first as a violin and Roman apparently had some sort of harp.

“Good fits,” Remus commented after thinking for a moment, while Logan finally ate the cookie he had been given. “The minimal changes you can create with a violin really fit Erin’s micro expressions and the harp is just extra enough to fit Ro.”

“Oh, don’t be so mean to her! It’s also a very miraculous instrument and fits her finer and dreamier side very well,” Patton scolded and the couple bickered for a moment.

Virgil listened to them with a grin and shot Logan a side look to see if he was just as amused as he was. But instead of amusement he found a frown on his friend’s face, as he munched on his cookie. Subtly, Virgil nudged him and Logan looked up to him.

For a moment there was a wordless exchange until Logan admitted in a small voice: “I miss hearing them. I missed hearing you too, but talking about them and listening to their instruments makes me – it makes me want to hear them more.”

“Good news then!” Remus exclaimed scaring both Spades successfully. “The rehearsal is still on! We can go there and listen to them sing, specs! There’s a song at the end of the thing and you might like to hear that.”

Logan did not get much of a choice after that. Patton was immediately enraptured with the idea and apparently, they had a contagious effect on Virgil as he immediately went with the idea and help the two other boys pack up their stuff and then pulled Logan along as they went to the assembly hall where the rehearsal took place. Logan tried to chicken out, telling Virgil that they had to finish their reading but was thoroughly ignored. And the last protests that was left in him died the second they had pushed him inside the assembly hall and Roman’s voice and her melody filled the room as she was delivering a rather dramatic monologue.

From that moment on, Logan was simply pulled along by the others and stared to the stage where Roman was performing with another kid, apparently the villain of the story. They took a seat in a middle row but Logan barely noticed anything as Erin just entered the stage and backed Roman’s character up. Their melodies were resonating and despite the tense scene that was taking place in the play, Roman’s Plings were playful and accompanied the quick and light mmmngs from Erin.

Logan was mesmerized by their acting and he didn’t notice the fond looks Patton and Virgil exchanged as they watched him. No, Logan was so captured in their performance that he barely noticed how fast his heart was beating and how happy it made him to see them like this. Their passion and talent were extraordinary and Logan wanted them to feel this happy all the time.

And then the song came. Roman and Erin started to sing a soft little duet, just accompanied by a guitar. It wasn’t a complicated song by any means but something about it went right into Logan’s heart and he grabbed Virgil’s hand vigorously. He didn’t know why, just that he needed to hold something or otherwise his heart would figuratively jump out of his chest and explode.

Virgil flinched a little, when Logan’s hand was suddenly on his but recovered quickly when he realised that Logan was probably overwhelmed by all the music and singing in this very moment. Most Spades were rather sensitive to sound and connected outstandingly well over music. Logan hadn’t been exposed to music in the past and right now it was coming all at once for him. So, Virgil kept watching Logan cautiously, ready to get him outside if need be.

Luckily, that did not end up being the case and Roman and Erin ended their duet and the theatre kids bowed proudly as their rehearsal had ended. Remus then forced Logan to get up and pulled him along towards the stage. Patton was following kæm closely and tried to get him to cool down but before they could stop, Roman had jumped down from the stage and approached the little group with a big smile on her face. Both Patton and Virgil kept a close eye on Logan who looked extremely stiff as Roman walked up to him.

And as Remus stepped to the side Roman quickened her pace and tackle hugged Logan with a little sprint on her last steps towards him. Logan had to catch his breath before he could gingerly put his hands around Roman’s shoulder and hugged her back.

“Man specs! You really scared us with your disappearing act, you know?” Roman said after pulling back from the hug.

Logan absentmindedly nodded and told her: “That wasn’t my intention. I did not mean to worry you.”

Roman laughed lightly at the stern tone of his voice and shook her head fondly.

“Oh, don’t feel bad about it! I’m glad you’re back! Did you talk with Virgil? He was so worried about you,” Roman asked him vividly.

For a few seconds Logan just heard Roman’s Plings. They made him feel warm and listening close to this melody he somehow got the sense of relieve and joy coming from Roman, before he actually heard what Roman had said. And then he turned around and shot Virgil a panicked look. Yet before Logan could dissolve into panic, Erin’s voice pulled him out and he turned back to see her standing behind Roman and holding her by the shoulder.

Smoothly Erin said to Logan: “Don’t think about it too hard, Logan. Ro is forgetting herself. And we all know how easily worried Virgil is.”

Virgil’s first instinct was to snap at Erin but he did not do that in favour of giving Logan a reassuring nod. Logan was more important than a petty jab with the laughable Dimond.

Erin then asked if they had enjoyed the show, which Logan awkwardly confirmed and told them that he really liked the song. For a minute they talked a bit longer, before Roman and Erin had to go back and the four which were left back needed to get ready for class.

Logan and Virgil headed to Geography and Virgil made sure to make enough notes for the both of them as he saw Logan still being a bit lightheaded after all that had transpired in the last two hours. It probably also was the first time ever for him to Logan an answer the teacher had asked him. Eventually, the class ended and the two headed home.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” Logan said after a few minutes of quiet walking together.

Virgil raised his eyebrows. That was a rather emotional wording for Logan and he scratched his nose and looked down to the wheels of his bike.

“She’s not wrong to say that I worry too much, Lo. It’s fine.”

“It’s not.”

Virgil looked up and saw the guilty look on Logan’s face. He wanted to say something to console him but Logan was quicker.

“You know me better than they do, and I should have been more considerate about all of this. Having a soulmate or not having a soulmate is such an insignificant thing and I clearly blew it out of proportion. And while I agree that having emotions is difficult and that I am allowed to feel them, I should not make you suffer because of that. Just because I have difficulties you shouldn’t have to have them too. I’m truly sorry for what I did and I will try and do better from now on.”

Virgil stopped in his step and gaped at Logan for a moment. He stood there with this determined face and the little cease between his brows his father had too, when he was promising something that he really, really wanted to fulfil. Virgil loved it. Frankly, he loved Logan for a good while, around eleven years now, and moments like this always made him fall deeper.

And it also made it harder for him to tell Logan what he told him next: “Apology accepted if you promise me to keep me updated on this soulmate situation. I know how you think about the curse and that you don’t think that soulmates are important but I think today in the rehearsal I almost saw you have a heart attack because of them singing together and I’d say that does mean something.”

Logan’s cheeks flushed again and he began to vent over how fast his heart was beating around them and how inconvenient that was. Virgil laughed a little, as Logan went on and explained how the feelings had been there before but he hadn’t noticed it until that moment when they started running and now, they were getting stronger and more distracting. Even as they reached Logan’s home the boy went on and for the first time since last Tuesday, Virgil stopped and listened to his friend in front of the driveway for a few minutes. This was okay even if it meant that he would help Logan with figuring out what to do about his very obvious crushes and probably giving away his own chance to ever be together with his best friend.

But that was okay. Virgil just wanted to be close with Logan and he believed that his friend wouldn’t abandon him for any romantic interest in the world.

___

@varthandi

@sammy-is-obsessed / @exhaustedfander

@alexisrealgay

@softie-sushi

@wolfs-feder

@just-a-neoclassical-painting

@winter-jay-official

@a-ghostlight-for-roman

@mychemically-imbalanced-romance

@whattheremus

( @frawkeye - you liked the pictures of the AU, but if you don’t want to be tagged for the story just tell me^^)

@turnedthefreakingfrogsgay (don’t worry I won’t tag you in any more stuff (excpet you want me to^^) but I wanted to say that I did post this chapter on tumblr because of you reblogging it. The story isn’t doing great in the fandom but I am happy it makes at least you happy <3)

[yeolsmuffin]

The EXO List || Two

Paring: chanyeolXreader

Genre: Smut, Angst || Best friend!Chanyeol, Best friend!EXO, Roomate!EXO

Summary: When you lose your best friend and only person you’ve ever loved.

Word Count: 6.8k

When you came to, you found yourself covered in a familiar beige blanket adorned with little spots.

Kyungsoo.  

You woke slowly, body tense as you dragged yourself to sit. Kyungsoo was nearby, watching you carefully.

“Good morning,” he said lightly. “You were out for a bit.”

You yawned as you stretched your arms over your head, “What happened?” For just a moment you were groggy and confused. The moment didn’t last long enough.

“You hit Chanyeol.” And then it all came falling back down on you. You were angry all over again, blood beginning to boil. The way he spoke to you was thick in your mind and even though you tried to push it away, you couldn’t help but want to see him in that moment. You just needed to explain that it wasn’t okay – although you did that by putting your hands on him, something you thoroughly regretted. You never wanted things to escalate to physical but you were just too angry to think.  

You sighed, you couldn’t believe you hit him.  

“Where is he?”

Kyungsoo watched your expression, “He needed a breather.”

You groaned and fell back into Kyungsoo’s bed, regretting everything that had transpired between you and Chanyeol – including sleeping with him. You still loved him because it wasn’t that easy to stop but hell if you didn’t hate him in the moment. He slut shamed you and he did so after seducing you. It didn’t get any worse than that.  

You were sure he hated you too. He had to after you laid your hands on him and he had to after the Kyungsoo incident. Even if he had no reason to care if you slept with someone else, it was apparent he did and you hadn’t intended on hurting Chanyeol. You just needed your own hurting to stop.  

“Wanna tell me what happened?” Kyungsoo asked quietly.

Tossing an arm over your face, you mumbled, “He was slut shaming me, Soo.”

“Slut shaming?” Kyungsoo asked for clarification with shock in his voice, “What did he say?”

“Something along the lines of me slutting it up.”

Kyungsoo let out a low growl, “He’s one to talk. I can’t believe he would say that. Like you shouldn’t have hit him but at the same time you should have hit him. Does that make any sense?”

You nodded, “Complete sense.”

You were still in shock that things had escalated so much with Chanyeol. Your friendship had never been aggressive before and the two of you had never had a fight so this was new. Chanyeol’s behavior was also new. He had never slut shamed you before. Surely, it was wrong to sleep with his friends – wait what? Why was it wrong to sleep with his friends? You weren’t nor had you dated or were dating Chanyeol. So why did it matter? Why was Chanyeol caring so much? You wanted to scream so you covered your face with a pillow and groaned as loudly as you could. What was with these conflicting and confusing emotions?

“I’m sorry,” Kyungsoo said softly.  

You pulled the pillow away from your face and your eyes reached for him, “Why are you sorry?”

“I’m sorry he caught us and I’m sorry it caused this. You don’t deserve it.”

“Not your fault, Soo. It was my decision.”

He shook his head, “Our decision.”

You let out a slow breath, “Still.”

“You should talk it out with him, you know. You guys have been friends for years.”

“I don’t know if I can.” You wanted to for several reasons but mostly because you were so pissed. You needed to get the answer to all the questions boiling in your mind, but you didn’t think Chanyeol intended on giving you any answers. You also needed so desperately to apologize because no matter what happened, you should never lay your hands on someone you loved. You loved him so much it made you violent and the thought of that made you sick. You surely would puke.

It was getting more apparent that Chanyeol just wasn’t a part of your destiny. How could he be? How could someone you hurt and who was hurting you be someone that was supposed to be in your life? It wasn’t supposed to work out that way.

Kyungsoo glared at you, “Do it anyway. You should talk about your feelings too. He needs to hear what he did to you.”

“I already told him. He doesn’t care.”

Kyungsoo was getting angry but you could tell it wasn’t at you. He stood, “Well make him care. I can’t stand to watch him treat you like this. None of us can. So maybe talking it out will help.”

You sat up and pointed at him, “Or make things worse.”

He pointed back, “Or fix things.”

You shrugged, “Chanyeol cares for me way less than you think. But I’ll try it.”

Just because you loved him didn’t mean he loved you anywhere near the way you loved him, and you weren’t sure Kyungsoo could see that.

He was just an outsider unfortunately and no matter what he did, or you did with him, it wouldn’t fix anything because all the memories had resurfaced, and your heart was aching. Every touch, every kiss, and every move felt like it just happened yesterday and you were growing exhausted from fighting it off.

♣ ♣ ♣

When you saw him, you didn’t think your heart could beat any faster. He looked more disheveled than you had seen him in a while. Hair a mess, bags under his eyes, and a slight mark from where you had hit him adorning his cheek. You approached him carefully and nervously as he did the same.

It was his first time home in four days. The time had given you the space the calm your angry nerves but now you were just left feeling a gap. A gap that Chanyeol normally filled. You felt guilt, anger and uncertainty. Any doubts you had about yourself was normally smoothed over by your best friend but it had been so long since he had smoothed over any of your hard edges. Things just hadn’t been the same since you slept with him. Even though you loved him and the sex had been meaningful for you, you wanted to go back in time more than anything to that moment and you wanted to say no.

Part of you felt like you took advantage of him even though you were both drunk. You knew how you felt and he didn’t.  

You should have said no.  

You should have hit yourself.

How did you go from blaming Chanyeol to blaming yourself?

“Chanyeol,” you said quietly.

He nodded, closing the distance between you two and pulling you into a rough embrace.  

You were shocked by the sudden contact and you couldn’t help but let out a surprised gasp. You also couldn’t seem to close his arms around him back, so you stood still as he hugged you until you felt numb. His embrace had felt so foreign as he hadn’t hugged you, let alone touched you, in months. He had especially kept his distance after the night you slept with him and while it hurt, you were thankful.

The hug, it was unwelcomed, and you didn’t know how to protest without offending him, so you allowed it, sinking in agony on your own. You’d have to pick your battles.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.  

When he released you, you looked at his worn face and shook your head. “No, I’m sorry.”

He seemed surprised by your confession, “You don’t need to be sorry about Kyungsoo,” he sighed, guilt ghosting over his face.  

You shook your head slowly, “Not Kyungsoo. About hitting you.”

He watched you, “You’re not sorry about Kyungsoo?”

“Didn’t you just tell me I didn’t have to be?” You said startled.  

He nodded and then shook his head, “I’m sorry. I’m overwhelmed with emotions. I know you didn’t mean to hit me. You’ve never done so before. I forgive you.”

“You shouldn’t. It was really wrong of me and I’m entirely sorry.”

He gave you a smile, “Have we made up then?”

But how was it that easy? Why would it be that easy? There was still so much broken between the two of you that words couldn’t even begin to repair the fractured bits.

But you hesitated, stepping back from him. “I need to apologize for something else.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry for letting you sleep with me. I took advantage of you and I should have said no.” Instead of asking for answers, you made them up yourself.

He froze, “Y/N-“

“I can’t expect you to have known how I felt. You were horny and I was there - you were right that it meant nothing. I’ve had time to reflect and feel like it really was nothing. It doesn’t change how I feel so please be mindful of my feelings, but I do now realize, you hadn’t intended on hurting me and that it was my fault.” But even though your words said otherwise, part of you screamed at you – wanting Chanyeol to take the fall for some of it. It took two in this game of breaking hearts.

He shook his head, “What?”

“I know that I should have pushed you away. I’m sorry.”

“Y/N, I-“

“I’m doing my best to get over you, Chanyeol. I don’t need Kyungsoo to love me but I just needed his embrace. Does that make any sense?” His embrace and not Chanyeol’s. Fuck, anyone but Chanyeol’s. You couldn’t even bare the brush of his fingertips against you.

He stopped what he was trying to say and nodded, “I’m sorry for slut shaming you. I had no right after what I did. I won’t get involved again. I promise. I’m sorry I got so mad. I-“

You shook your head at him this time, “You don’t have to explain yourself.” Okay, Y/N, what happened to the plan of asking for answers?

You couldn’t help but be soft for Chanyeol at the end of the day and prodding him when he just came back, didn’t seem right even though one half of you was urging you to do so. You were so soft for him but yet your defenses had raised so high. Your whole mind and heart were having a battle and it was exhausting.

“I don’t know if I can. I’m sorry though. You’re right that it’s not my business. Just because what happened between us did, doesn’t mean I can involve myself anymore I’m your sex life. And I won’t.”

You let out a breath of relief and Chanyeol grabbed you once more, embracing you again. “Can we time travel?” Your body tensed, still not responding to his hug.

You laughed half heartedly, “I’ll let you know if I figure out how.”

“I’d give anything to go back two months ago and redo everything.”

And your heart sunk just hearing his words. You wanted to go back too and you regretted what happened but knowing he regretted it too proved that he could never love you. Surely you knew that by now but it still hurt to hear it out loud.  

“Me too,” but part of you felt like that was a lie.  

You had him for just a moment and part of you was thankful for that one moment even if you did regret it.

Even if you still wanted to go back in time.

You didn’t really know where you stood but what you did know was that you could never go back and you and Chanyeol would never be the same no matter how many times you made up.  

No amount of words or hugs could undo the damage that was done.

♣ ♣ ♣

The next mistake you made didn’t take long. Three weeks after sleeping with Kyungsoo, you found yourself in another fight with Chanyeol. This time, over you spending more time with Kyungsoo than him.  

What did he expect? Sure, you had made up but that didn’t stop the ache in your chest. The ache that was only stopped by Kyungsoo’s attention and affection.  

You hadn’t even been sleeping with Kyungsoo – the two of you agreed it should stay a one time thing, no matter how much you enjoyed it. It was for the best to avoid further complicating things. But during that time, you couldn’t keep scrubbing away the thought of Chanyeol still. The memories resurfaced and coated your being. The thought of his hands splaying over your belly, the thought of his mouth on your skin and the remembrance of the marks he left on your skin felt bone deep. You swore you could still remember exactly where he had marked you. And it was fucking killing you.  

You needed to be embraced by anyone just to make the yearning stop and you half wished you could have Kyungsoo again.  

But fate and being trapped home alone with one other man, led you right to where you wanted when Yixing woke you up to ask if you wanted to help him make cake for his friends eight year anniversary together.  

You hadn’t had much experience with baking as you were more of a chef so you assumed, it was the same.  

It was not.  

You were over stirring the batter when Yixing laughed softly and grabbed the spoon out of your hand, “You need to fold it more, Y/N. If you over stir, the cake will be stiff.”

You put a hand up in protest, “But what if it’s not stirred enough.”

He showed you the motions with his hand and then gestured for you to do the same, you followed instruction, folding the batter slowly before stopping when he said so, “But what if it’s not fully combined?” you asked once more.

He shook his head, “It is, you want it to be fluffy and airy, over stirring takes that air out. It’s better to be under stirred than over. Trust me.”

You hummed to yourself, watching as he poured the batter into the pan. “When did you become such a baker?”

He laughed, “Well when you have to parent seven grown men, you have to learn. They demand their sweets. What about you? Why haven’t you learned much?”

The question could have been construed as rude but with Yixing, it was just out of curiosity. Especially when you had an extreme sweet tooth. If anything, you should have been good at baking. Smiling softly, you leaned against the counter, “I didn’t have the best childhood. I never had opportunities to do things fun such as baking but when I was in foster care, I had to do a lot of the cooking for the house. So, I developed cooking skills more. We didn’t really get sweets.”

Yixing breathed in harshly, “I never knew you were in foster care.”

“It’s where I met Chanyeol. He volunteered with his family to help involve us foster kids in normal family activities. His family would come for holidays and act as long distance relatives. It was to promote normalcy in a very not normal situation.”

Yixing touched your shoulder softly, “That’s really sweet. No wonder he loves you so much.”

You shrugged, he didn’t really love you that much after all, “I am thankful to him for being with me during those times but now I think we’re growing apart. And it’s for the best, but… I’m lonely.”

Yixing cocked his head, “Why are you growing apart?”

You breathed out of your nose, keeping your lips sealed for a moment, “That’s a tale for another day, Yixing. Regardless, Chanyeol’s absence is leaving me with such a lonely emptiness.”

“I’m lonely too. In this house of ten people who would imagine that? But sometimes I just want to be embraced, honestly,” and then his cheeks heated up, “Sorry I don’t know why I’m telling you that.”

Your eyes fell shut as you tried to remember Kyungsoo’s momentary embrace but all you could think about was Chanyeol and your skin started to crawl. You shook your head at his hesitance, “Me too, Yixing. It’s okay.”

“Chanyeol only sees you as a friend?” He asked hesitantly. “I was under the impression of different.”

Scoffing, you watched Yixing’s reaction, “Contrary to that common belief, we are just friends. We will never be more. Which makes me that more lonely.”

Yixing hesitated again, “Do you have feelings for him?”

You paused wondering how much you should open up but knowing Yixing, your feelings were safe with him – as if you had anyone to hide them from since Chanyeol already knew. “I do but I’m working on getting over him. It’s just hard. I have no outlet. I just… this is going to sound slutty, need to have sex. With anyone. I’ve noticed it’s the only thing to stop the burn, so to speak,” you laughed lightly, “but I know I shouldn’t.”

He gave you a look, “That’s not slutty. Guys sleep around all the time.”

You furrowed your brows in thought, “Yes, but the world will always look at women differently.”

“Like Chanyeol did,” Yixing said quietly.  

You nodded, “Yes.”

“Well,” he started, “for the record as long as your safe, I don’t see what the big deal is. Sleep around all you want Y/N. I would too if I could.”

You raised a brow now, “Why can’t you?”

“I want to be with someone I trust. Even if it’s not for a relationship I just want to trust them, ya know?”

Thinking of Kyungsoo, you nodded once, “I know what you mean.”

Silence fell between the two of you before Yixing touched you once more, “Um, Y/N?”

Your gaze shot up to his uneasy eyes. “Hmm?”

“If you ever get lonely, you’re welcome to visit my room.”

And in that moment, you shook with nerves. Yixing was offering you an escape from your feelings once more and you were definitely going to take him up on it if you got desperate. You just hoped he meant what you to thought so you very softly asked, “Am I someone you trust?”

He didn’t even blink when he said “Yes,”  

You just found your next relief and the thought had you anxious.

You very well knew you shouldn’t sleep with another one of your roommates, but you also very well knew, you were going to.  

♣ ♣ ♣

“What does he have that I don’t?” Chanyeol threw his hands in the air.

You groaned, “Why is it a competition, Chanyeol? I can have other friends.”

Just another day Chanyeol was jealous of you spending time with Kyungsoo. You had to admit, you were spending more time with him, but you also had to admit that being around Chanyeol was hard. It seemed like it wasn’t a bad idea that the two of you had some time apart from each other. It may even be better than spending time together.

No matter how much you loved and cared for him, you hurt just as equally and sometimes you had to look out for your own feelings – especially when the other person wasn’t.  

He paced your bedroom, “Okay, but you’re neglecting me and all you do is hang out with Kyungsoo. I thought we were good? Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not avoiding you,” you said simply as you shrugged your shoulders. So you weren’t avoiding him necessarily but you were taking a break. You would still talk to him and see him but hanging out was hard.  

His finger pointed accusingly at you, “But you’ve ditched on all of our plans and spent all of you time with him. You won’t even get coffee with me. What’s the deal?”

You guys always got coffee together on Monday and Wednesday just as you had in your younger years but you couldn’t bear it lately.

You glared at him, “Do you really want the answer?”

“Say it,” he spat.

“Kyungsoo is easier to be around.”

He groaned, “I thought we were past everything. You apologized and so did I. What else could be left?”

“There are still remains, Chanyeol. As much as I want to get past our past, I can’t.”

He was stunned. “You slept with Kyungsoo too!” he yelled, “But things are just fine between you. How?”

“Stop bringing it up, Chanyeol!”

“You started it!”

You stood, pointing to your door, “Get out, I’m not doing this.”

“I’ll leave when you tell me what the difference is.”

You blinked at him. Once. Twice. And three times before laughing, “You already know.”

He cocked his head, “If I did why would I ask?”

“It’s because I love you, you fucking idiot.”

His body tensed as he shook his head, “You’ve got to stop saying that.”

“Then stop making me.”

He let out a puff of air, “Tell me, Y/N, what can I do to fix this? What can I do to make us stop to make us stop arguing?”

“Stop coming at me for not spending time with you. Sometimes, I know it’s hard to imagine, but you’re hard to be around because my feelings are so strong. I have distinct memories, Chanyeol and they hurt me. If you love me,” he flinched, “as a friend, then you’ll give me space. I just need space.”

“All you want is space. What about what I want?”

“I have to suffer to do what you want, Chanyeol. Do you want me to suffer?”

He tapped his foot, “Can you not suffer for me? You love me but you can’t suffer for me?”

You glared at him with furrowed brows, “You want me to suffer for you? You don’t want me to love you, but you think if I love you, I’d suffer?”

He didn’t say anything.

“Just leave Chanyeol. It’s not worth it.”

“What’s not worth it?”

“The fighting, the friendship, anything!”

He threw his hands in the air. “Fuck you too, Y/N. This is not how you treat someone you love!”

You lifted a pillow into the air and flung it at him, “This is not how you treat someone who loves you.” He caught it before it could touch him and looked at you baffled.  

“I never asked you to love me!” He yelled.  

“I never asked to love you either!”

And just as Chanyeol did, he stormed out.  

You didn’t know how to make the fighting stop. Nothing you seemed to do was good enough for him. To make yourself suffer and spend time with him, would be difficult but you thought maybe if the two of you could ever get on common grounds enough that you could try. Try. You could try getting coffee with him again and see how bad that hurt.

But you knew it would hurt a lot.

It was that night, feeling weak and crying over Chanyeol that you snuck to Yixing’s room at half past midnight.

You knocked, meekly half hoping he wouldn’t answer but when he did, you were as startled as he.

“Y/N,” he said quietly before ushering you inside.

You looked around to be sure no one saw you and when the coast was clear, you went inside.

“What brings you here this late?”

You sighed, “I’m gonna sound pathetic.”

He sat on his bed, “I’m sure it’s a good reason.”

“Chanyeol and I fought again and I’m really not feeling so great. I just needed… an escape. If you’re not in the mood to-“

He put a hand up, silencing you, “No. you’re more than welcome. I was hoping to see you soon.”

You smiled at him, “Thank you.”

“For the record, the offer was for platonic relations as much as more… uh… romantic. If you want to just have someone to talk to I can be that too.”

You paused and sat next to him when he patted the bed next to him. “Well, don’t be offended but if I wanted platonic, I’d normally seek out Soo.”

He laughed, “Nothing is better than a woman who knows what she wants. I know we’re not very close but I assure you if you ever need it, I could be here for you like him too.”

“I feel inclined to tell you…” you trailed off momentarily.  

“What’s that?”

“I did sleep with Kyungsoo. We’re completely just friends but I felt like you should know… I don’t want to mislead you-“

He shook his head quickly, “It’s not my business. All that’s my business is what happens in here.”

You shook, “Thank you.”

He reached for your hand, taking it gently and giving you a small smile. “What can I do for you then, Y/N? What would you like from me?”

You giggled, “Don’t we just… see where it goes.”

He moved his head from one side to another, “We could. Or,” he tightened his grip on your hand, “You could tell me what you really want.”

You squeezed his hand and looked up into his big dark eyes, “I’m not sure… I didn’t think that far.”

His eyes searched yours, “There’s not time like the present. What do you really want that you don’t get often? What do you really feel like? You came to me, after all.”

You were sure your cheeks were bright red at the subject. You normally didn’t talk things out before you had sex so this was new. Not that it was a turn off because of anything, it was more of a turn on. Yixing wanted to be sure you did something you wanted and that made you excited.  

He gave you moments of silence so you could think, just holding your hand and being patient while you tried to imagine the things you wanted Yixing to do to you.

Oh, the things you wanted Yixing to do.

Considering the drunk stupid sex you had with Chanyeol, you wanted something more memorable and different. You needed something that would be left behind on your skin the way Chanyeol had. You needed something to block it.

And then it came to you.

“Um,” you began.  

He nodded eagerly, “Yes, angel?”

And you almost bust every vessel in your body in that one moment. Nobody had ever called you angel before and nobody had ever called you a pet name the way he did. It rolled so perfectly off of Yixing’s tongue that you would have swore he said it to you at thousand times. You visibly shivered. “I’m imagining… water…” you said carefully.  

He smirked and you saw his tongue poke out to lick his lips, “I was hoping you’d say that. Shower then?”

You nodded and Yixing stood, pulling you up with him. He led you carefully over to the bathroom, stopping just before the threshold and asked, “You sure?”

And remembering Kyungsoo, you decided to vocalize your answer. Nothing was sexier than consent, “Yes. Please Yixing.”

And then your back was pressed against the bathroom door as Yixing’s eyes prodded yours before he bent down, pressing his lips sweetly against yours. You moaned into his mouth as his hand that was still holding yours moved to your cheek and the other one to your waist. His lips moved expertly and part of you wondered who the hell made him so experienced. You couldn’t help but be jealous. His lips felt like fire and you felt like ice as you melted beneath him, barley able to stand on your own to feet as he continued his assault.

His lips left yours to move to your neck, kissing and biting the skin gently before asking, “Can I mark you? I don’t have to if you don’t want to - I’m just kind of into it.”

You groaned deeply and nodded, you loved when a man marked you. It made you feel possessed in the best moment and you were sure it would help scrub away any bad memories if not mentally, then physically. “Yes please.”

And then he bit down on your neck, sucking the skin of the hollow of your neck into his mouth. His teeth nipped at the skin, causing you pain but in turn, a whole lot more pleasure.  

You knew you were getting wet just from him biting you.  

He made his way up from the bottom of your neck all the way up to your chin before moving to the other side. From where he was pressed against you, you could feel his hardened cock pressed against your abdomen and you swore you felt like electric shocks had racked through your body. In the moment, you didn’t realize how much Yixing was really marking you up.

His lips made their way back to yours when they finished the assault on your neck and he smiled as he kissed you, “You’re gonna do so good, angel,” he cooed.

Your knees felt like jello at his words and the only thing holding you up was Yixing’s firm grip.

He left you for a moment, adjusting his hard member as he moved away and he turned on the shower, “I’m gonna warm it up for us. Do you like it hot?”

You nodded. You needed your skin to melt.

He smiled at you again, “Good. It’s going to be hot in there.”

After touching the water and being sure it was warm, he reached for you, spinning you around in his arms until you were standing in front of the mirror with him, your eyes moving over the marks on your neck as you pressed your ass against his boner.

His fingers trickled down your neck as he counted the marks, “You’re so pretty like this.”

You smiled, your hands reaching behind you to grab his neck. He took advantage of the moment to strip you, pulling your shirt over your arms and then pulling down your pajama pants and underwear in one quick swoop. He groaned at you, enjoying the view of you almost naked and pressed against him before he unsnapped your bra and threw it on the ground.  

His hands roamed over your body, delicately pressing into your skin as he felt all of your curves before they made their way back up to your breasts, cupping them gently with his hands before releasing them and watching them bounce.  

“Beautiful,” he praised.

You pressed your ass against him, “You too, Yixing,” you said in reference to his clothes.

He nodded, stepping away from you to strip quickly.

You watched in the mirror and the moment his cock sprang free, you were stunned. He was packing and you were thoroughly surprised at the boys in the house. Why hadn’t you thought of sleeping with them before?

Oh.

Chanyeol.  

You focused on Yixing, trying to push away the thought as he came up behind you, grasping your hips and pressing them into his. His cock rubbed against your ass cheeks as he did so.  

Both of you let out quiet moans before Yixing pulled you towards the shower, opening the glass door and pulling the two of you inside.  

He watched you as you stood under the stream of water and he grinned. “You’re really perfect. Has anyone told you that?”

You shook your head, nobody had really ever said that to you.  

Definitely not Chanyeol.  

Oh god.

There he was again. Coming back into your thoughts when you least needed it.

You reached for Yixing and he embraced you, rubbing his hands down your wet sides and kissing you.

“Yixing, please,” you begged, “I really need this.”

Hot water splashed down onto both of you as he gave you a look, “No foreplay?”

You laughed, “You’re enough foreplay. Feel me if you’re not sure, but I’m drenched.”

He growled before nodding and turning you around, bending your body over. “Is this okay?”

“Fuck yes,” you squeezed as he rubbed his hands over your ass. He dipped a finger inside you and groaned when he felt your wetness.

“You’re so ready for me,” he muttered.  

Your hands hung in the air, not really sure where to put them as you were bent over but that was the least of your worries when you felt Yixing push inside you.  

A strangled moan escaped your lips when he thrusted harder, forcing you to bend further down and your hands to press their palms into the tiled floor of the shower. You don’t know if you had ever had it like this before. You were so far arched that you could feel every movement from Yixing and every thrust was him hitting your cervix. The pain was delightful and took away all of your worries.

He grabbed your hips, pulling in and out of you, fast and slow all at the same time. His rhythm was unique and fuck if you needed it right then.

“You’re doing good, angel,” the words came out needy and whiny, but you found it arousing the way his words dripped with sincerity and emotion.

You moaned out his name, feeling the pressure building inside you as he thrusted faster. His moans were turning you on so much that you could hear the squelching sound your womanhood made when he pressed in and out. You felt slightly embarrassed but the more he fucked you, the more he fucked the embarrassment, worry and pain away.

His hand splayed over your back momentarily before coming down and around your breast, grabbing roughly and running his thumb over your nipple. When you let out a howl in pain, he released you, muttering a “Sorry, angel,” and releasing his hand.

One of his hands gripped your thigh, lifting it slightly and nearly causing you to eat shit against the tile, but he steadied you. Thrusting harder thanks to the new angle. You pressed your palms and heel into the tile as hard as you could as your mouth had fallen wide open and you couldn’t stop the loud moans that were escaping. Thankfully, the loud shower would cover them. Yixing’s new angle put pressure on your clit and it made things that much more intense for you.

After a couple of moments, he released your leg, letting out a loud moan and pressing his hands into the small of you back.

He continued his assault on your body, running his hands over your wet back and ass, caressing you in all the right places before pulling out without warning, forcing you to bend back over when you tried to stand and bending down behind you, his tongue lapping over your opening and clit.

You moaned loudly, reaching back to touch him and he grabbed your hand, holding it back.

His tongue moved up and down, wrapping around your clit when he got the chance and causing you to climax directly on his face when neither of you expected it. Way quicker than you had intended.

“Sorry,” you murmured as he just laughed.

“That was the goal, angel.”

“What about you?” You asked out of breath and still bent over in the hot shower. You could see the steam coating the glass door and the marks you guys had left on it.  

“I can just get off really quick, don’t you worry your little head about it.”

You shook your head and then stood, before getting down on your knees in front of him, facing away from the shower head.

You took him quickly in your mouth before he could oppose and he groaned loudly. You sucked hard and fast, not wanting to get anyone off as badly as you wanted to get him off in that moment. Your cheeks hallowed and you took him to the back of your throat, gagging as you did. One hand wrapped around his shaft that you couldn’t fit in your mouth and the other cupped his balls as you sucked faster.  

You could feel him thrusting into your mouth slightly in response to the feeling and it made you smile around him. You loved having Yixing like this. You loved having control over a man more than anything.

He came hard and you swallowed every bit that you could even if you gagged as he came when his cock hit the very back of your throat. Yixing took a few minutes to come too before pulling you up and kissing your lips lightly. “You’re great,” he complimented as he reached for his shampoo. “Ready for the good part though?”

You raised a brow and let out a heavy sigh as you tried to catch your breath, “What’s that?”

He scoffed, “Getting your hair shampooed.”

Your lips spread into a grin as your turned around and let Yixing wash your hair and body. He was gentle as his fingers massaged the woodsy smelling shampoo into your scalp. You let out a slight sigh as he scrubbed away at your scalp, being sure to coat every strand of hair in shampoo.  

When he was done with you, you gestured for him to bend down so you could do the same. He laughed, bending his head so you could rub your fingers into his scalp and coat his short hair. You made quick work of it though because you knew the angle was awkward for his neck.

With the shampoo washed out, he grabbed a loofa, dripping some body wash onto it before gesturing for you to stand in front of him with your arms out.  

You giggled as he gently tickled your body with the loofa, cleaning every crevice of your skin that he could.

It turned out, Yixing was quite the gentleman and his aftercare was the best you had received in years.

You finished up the shower Yixing after you helped wash his perfectly sculpted body, the two of you having stayed in there until the water ran cold and both of you sought the warmth of his large bath towels.

He apologized for the marks he left as the two of you dressed and you just waved him off, “I like them,” you responded and no matter how true it was, you were nervous to hide the marks since you barley wore makeup. If Chanyeol saw them, you were scared what would happen.

He helped you put your clothes on, gently and tenderly pulling every piece of material over your limbs and making you smile when he kissed your forehead when he was done.

“I wish you didn’t have to go. I’d love to keep you in my bed all night.”

You smirked at him, “I’m sure you would.”

And you could tell Yixing was starting to get hard again but unfortunately, you had to go before it was too late and someone noticed you weren’t where you were supposed to be.

Like the gentleman he was he gave you one last kiss before you left his room.  

You let the room just past two am, cold from getting out of the cool shower and nervous to run into anyone leaving his room.  

But fate was never on your side when you ran into Sehun in the hall. He eyed you suspiciously before pointing his fingers at his eyes then at you, “I’m watching you.”

You put your hands in the air in defense, “I’m not doing anything.”

He pursed his lips, “Explain coming out of Yixing’s room then.”

You stumbled over your words, “I was just hanging out with him.”

“Then who are those from?” He pressed, pointing at the marks on your neck.  

You froze, trying to cover them with your hands and your teeth started chattering, “What are you talking about?”

He had one brow raised, “Did you go to his room just to shower? Don’t you and Chanyeol share a bathroom?”

And then you freaked out when you heard his name, “Please for fuck sake don’t tell Chanyeol.”

He smirked, “So you were up to something,” he said with certainty.

“I-I-“

He laughed, “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me sweet Y/N, but don’t think I don’t know everything that goes on in this house.”

And you parted ways, panic was heavy in your heart things getting worse when you went back to your room and you found Chanyeol sleeping in your bed. You gasped in shock, not sure what to do at first but you tried to keep your cool. Chaneyol always used to sleep in bed with you, this should be nothing different. But fuck, it after you just slept with Yixing and seeing the man in your bed, all you could imagine was Chanyeol holding you that night all over again.

And the burn was only gone for so long as your heart started to press roughly against your chest, and you felt pain all the way up your throat.

You sighed, going to the bathroom quickly before joining the man in your bed, keeping an arm length distance and falling asleep.

♣ ♣ ♣

~ ❤ Three ❤ ~

tags: @yourexotextplus and @xiusoomygod​

[fulcrum-agent]

Comatose

Darkness.

Silence.

Distant gunfire.

Muffled clashes of metal.

Humming magitek.

Distant...

...closer...

...closer...

Her eyes open, sky blue gaze sweeping across a battlefield. Blue hues reflecting raging fires, glinting twisted metal, pools of blood. Her brow furrows as she realises where she is.

The Bozjan Southern Front.

She freezes in horror as it registers where she is.

When she is.

Eyes wide, she turns slowly, slowly...

A body lies on the ground, clad in familiar raiment, blood pooling beneath the figure.

***Blink.***

She kneels beside the body, frantically casting spell after spell, the weak regenerative and heals seeming to do nothing. Instantly, tears stream down her cheeks as she cries hysterically, rapidly burning away her still-meagre aether reserves. Her gaze flickers about the area, and she wonders why her twin and her lover aren't there.

"Because it's a dream, daughter-in-law."

Wide eyes refocus on the dying man she's attempting to save, her jaw falling at his voice and at his words.

How was he speaking? He couldn't speak...shouldn't talk...and why call her *that*...

A soft smile crosses the dying man's lips as he reiterates gently, "...because it's a dream, Aquila."

Slowly, the aether stops streaming out of her hands as she blinks at him over and over. And then the corner of his lip turns up in a faint smirk as she begins to understand what's going on. Then, weakly, his hand moves to lower hers entirely, placing them on her lap before covering one with his.

"So you're...still dead?" she queries with a deep frown.

The man nods as he replies, "Yeah. Nothing can change that. It was time."

His answer causes her to sigh before she places her other hand over his.

Brow furrowing further, she murmurs, "I...don't understand why we're here..."

She's given that slight smirk again as he states, "...you're sharper than that - my son wouldn't love you if you weren't."

Blue eyes widen again as she whispers a single word, "...Talekeeper..."

The man who would have been her father-in-law nods a few times, the motion just barely noticeable.

"Did he explain what the blade is?" he asks, glancing at the weapon on her right hip. "And what I was?"

Nodding again, she answers, "A little. He told me you were a Blade of Queen Gunnhildr and that the sword was forged for you."

Her response is greeted with a sigh and the faintest shake of his head.

"Telling you everything and nothing," he fondly murmurs, "sounds just like my son."

And then, the dying man does something he shouldn't be capable of at all - he sits up, albeit slowly. Reflexively, his other hand covers the worst of his wounds, blood flowing over his tanned skin. Otherwise, he seems undisturbed by the failing state of his body.

"Everyone in Bozja will tell you something different about what it means to be a Blade, outside of the obvious task of being the Queen's guards," he begins to explain to her. "Even within the Blades, you won't find an exact consensus - we all had different motivations for accepting the position."

She tries not to stare at the wound in his torso, at the blood spilling over his hand, forcing herself to focus on either the hand she's holding or his features and gaze. Had this been real and not a dream, he would have already bled out.

"When I first joined, it was during a time of peace - before the truth of what happened to save Bozja the first time was known. That's not to say we didn't have skirmishes with bandits and the like," he continues, nodding out to the battlefield. "This place wasn't at all like it is now; most of the country wasn't. Hells, sometimes it felt like I had to attend more social functions than actually fight."

"Then...why leave? I know Leth wasn't raised in Bozja," she asks before adding, "especially not going to a bunch of social functions..."

Her expression makes the dying man laugh, blood briefly gushing with each contraction of his midsection. He shakes his head a little, smiling at her for a brief moment.

"I am sorry for that. You've got your work cut out for you, but I'm sure you'll manage," he states, still grinning. "You'd already done quite a bit of good for him before we even met."

She can't help but flush a little. She'd known that her lover had changed in the time they've known one another, but she was surprised that it was as much as her dead father-in-law-to-be was claiming it was. But, unfortunately, she also has no idea what to say in response, so she just gives him a sheepish smile while waiting for him to continue.

"Anyroad, aside from serving my Queen and Bozja writ-large, I thought that it would provide a suitable environment for my wife and later Byleth," he resumes, his expression softening at the mention of his family before becoming worn again. "And then the Garleans invaded, and everything changed..."

There's an awkwardness about her now, at the mention of her homeland's penchant for conquest. He notices and gives her hand a squeeze, exuding reassurance and care.

"You're okay, daughter of mine. While I was a little hesitant when you all arrived in Bozja, I quickly realised you weren't like the people we were fighting," he quietly comforts. "If more Garleans had been like you and your twin, we'd never have had to fight in the first place."

Her head shoots up, her now wide-eyed gaze shifting from their hands to his features, jaw falling again.

"Why-- why do you keep calling me that?"

Despite having a gash across his back from shoulder to hip, despite having a fatal stab wound on his front, the question makes the dying man laugh hard. He's too amused to notice how much blood the movement causes to spill from his wounds, though it's much harder for her not to see.

"Because you're going to marry my son," he replies with mirth. "I'd planned on walking you down the aisle since your dad's well...more of a sperm donor than a dad."

For a moment, she has a stray thought, wondering why her lover hadn't inherited his father's humour - as shocking as his words were. She stares at him, much like some surprised little critter, mouth hanging open with surprise.

"I'm kidding. I know your brother'd likely be the one to do that part," he adds after a long moment of laughing at her shocked expression. "Anyroad, that established, I should finish explaining everything to you before it's too late."

"Too late?" she echoes in confusion.

The dying man nods a little as he points out, "It's a dream, kiddo. You're going to wake up in a little bit, and it'll all be over."

His words make sense, and she nods a little as she gives his hand a squeeze, waiting for him to continue speaking. Faintly, she can sense the presence of her twin, close at hand yet incredibly distant.

"I was nearly captured during the invasion, but my mentor managed to help me escape. For a time, Sitri, my wife, and I went into hiding," he continues, the amusement draining from his features as he speaks. "After she died, I felt it was safer to leave Bozja entirely, and so Sylvain and I took Byleth and started our company once we were well away."

As he speaks of his dead wife, she gives his hand a gentle pat and a squeeze, trying to emulate the comforting air he used on her. He notices the shift in her emotions, swiftly realising how uncannily similar his earlier concern had been. Realisation dawns, and he gazes at her with an entirely new understanding.

"Can you do that with anything?" he asks her.

Confused, she murmurs, "...do what?"

He hadn't expected that she wouldn't be consciously aware of her ability, but he nods faintly at her confusion before he attempts to explain.

"It's one thing to express the same emotion as someone else," he theorises, bloodied hand lifting to rub his chin, seemingly oblivious to the blood that covers such. "It's a whole different thing to express the same emotion with identical intent and reason. Most of us do the former, but you do the latter. I wonder how far such can go."

She's quiet for a brief moment, looking away towards where her brother would be back in the waking world. Then, she murmurs softly, "...it goes pretty far. I learned an Ilsabardian technique without being told how it works - I only saw it in use. I didn't even know what it was at the time. I just...summoned a weapon made out of aether...then had trouble drawing it back in because my opponent hadn't done so."

The revelation causes the man to pause, primarily due to having only ever seen or heard of the Blades of Gunnhildr being capable of the feat. His eyes fall to the blade on her right hip again before they shift back to stare at her.

"So...you have no way to regulate the use of aether?" he seeks clarification.

"I...sort of do. The Captain gave me a piece of Magicite to channel it through - it works sorta like a focus does," she clarifies for him. "But...I have to be conscious for it to work. The whole reason I'm asleep right now is that I got knocked out while using it...and it nearly drained me."

And then, all of a sudden, it becomes even more evident that this is a dream. Withdrawing his hand from between hers, the man who should be dead several times over by now...stands up. He reflexively covers the stab wound with his hand as he straightens, the other motioning to her blade.

"Let me see that a moment, Quil," he requests as he holds out his other hand.

For a very long moment, she just sits there staring at him with a pallid expression before she manages to nod. Then, standing as well, she passes the blade back to its original owner. He flicks his wrist several times, reacquainting himself with his old friend. He makes several slashes with it then, before falling into as much of an en garde as he can manage, with his insides trying to fall out.

"Watch and learn, daughter of mine," he softly states before suddenly channelling aether into the blade; he means it quite literally. He makes a series of motions with the sword, an aether trail forming behind it, and then suddenly flings the excess aether from the blade. It lodges into the husk of a mantis magitek nearby. Before she can even comment, he reactivates the rapier's Royal Armoury, mock-fighting once more before lowering the blade, the aether retreating back into his form - without his consciously thinking about it.

Falling into a more relaxed stance, he looks over to her with a questioning expression. "Do you need me to do it again?" he asks, head inclining just a little. "It's not something you'll master immediately, but do you think you can do it already?"

There was only one way to find out.

She holds her hand out for the sword, and he passes it back to her. Then, taking a deep breath, she assumes the seemingly counterintuitive stance she uses for fencing. Another deep breath, and she begins channelling aether down into the blade, although she doesn't make the series of cuts he had.

Instead, she focuses solely on how he'd discharged the aether from the blade. Without any sort of telegraph, she suddenly makes the same slashing motion he had. The aether that's released is far more chaotic than what he released, its form barely cohesive before it splatters against the same mech.

"The lead-up motions were important, though it might not be quite so obvious," he corrects gently. "It's a matter of piggybacking the aetheric energy off the kinetic energy."

Nodding, she tries again, this time executing an identical series of motions before releasing the aether. It has more form this time, though it's still quite pitiful compared to his; he nods his approval anyway, as he'd already stated it wasn't going to be something she could instantly master.

"Now, the other one," he instructs.

Taking another deep breath, she refocuses on the blade. Although she doesn't assume the mock-fighting was entirely necessary for this one, she did think it was likely good to learn how to cut off the Armoury amid combative movement. Again, she executes an identical series of motions before falling out of an aggressive mindset - not that there's much visible difference in how she stands or how she holds the blade.

Some of the aether flows back into her, but some of it still lingers within the blade. Frowning, she makes the same series of motions again before falling back out of combat.

"Stop thinking about it," he orders, tapping a finger to his temple. "Let your mind empty as you lower your guard."

"...it's not as easy as it looks," she murmurs, looking confused as he bursts out laughing again.

That doesn't sit well with her. However, it causes her to redouble her efforts.

Deep within her mind, the frayed remnants of the conditioning her father had created and her stalker had tried to erase finds something to finally cling to. It wraps itself around the techniques, around the ephemeral mantle being passed, reviving old triggers and creating new. Her eyes close as she concentrates, and she takes another slow, deep breath.

When her eyes open, they're not entirely focused. Instead, a trance-like quality stirs as she begins to execute the motions again - this time identical down to the tiniest fraction of measurement. And then, just as suddenly as she began repeating the moves, she drops out of combat once more; this time, the majority of the aether flows back into her.

He's torn about praising her for her success, debating on whether or not the cost was too high. Unsure of whether the battle-trance was something she learned by watching someone else, or something more, there's a moment of hesitance before he speaks.

"Aquila..." he softly calls as he moves over to her. A hand is placed on either of her upper arms, gently gripping. "I don't know what just happened, but I hope someday you can accomplish this without having to do that."

She gives him a confused look as darkness starts to invade upon the edges of her consciousness. He frowns, sensing not only her confusion but her mind's shifting towards wakefulness. His gaze drops to the sword she's holding, then back up to her features.

"Ask my son about my nickname," he urges in a manner that implies there's more than meets the eye to the request. "And...take care of him for me."

Her brow furrows as the darkness encroaches upon her vision, but she nods at the pair of requests, murmuring, "I promise...dad..."

Without warning, everything goes dark.

Sitting up, she reaches her hand out to where the dying many should have been.

"JERALT!" she shouts before she really focuses on the room.

Beside her, her twin startles from his sitting sleep, rising immediately, hand reaching for his scythe until the word finally processes. Then, hand lowering, he looks at her in confusion.

"You...had a nightmare about his death again, didn't you," he murmurs as he lowers himself down beside her, pulling her into a hug.

She shakes her head a little as she slumps against him, all of the pain her sleep had been keeping at bay flooding over her, especially her left hand.

"No, not a nightmare," she clarifies to him, "more like an extraordinary dream."

Frowning a little, her brother begins to gently pet through her hair, murmuring, "Well, you'll have to tell Leth and me about it once you've recovered."

Nodding, she rests her head against her twin's shoulder, eyes closing as his comforting presence begins to lull her back to sleep.

[cryxmercy]

Backdraft || Mercy & Arthur

When: A couple of weeks before New Year’s Eve. Immediately following this. Where: Arthur’s office @ the University. Who: Mercy and @arthurjdrake

TW: one mention of preventing potential head trauma, but no actual head trauma; possible memory loss tw (for a few brief moments of confusion)

Sometimes the simplest solution is not the right one. 

By the time Mercy had driven the distance from the house to the University, she’d managed to pull her scattered thoughts into some small semblance of order. She could still feel the unsettling pins and needles sensation across the skin of her arm, and her anxiety thrummed like a swarm of angry bees, but the former had at least faded a bit as she’d distanced herself from the cause. For now at least.

She didn’t linger too long in the parking lot, but also tried not to look hurried as she made her way towards Arthur’s office. As always, she entered without knocking, except this time she closed and locked the door before settling heavily into the chair opposite his desk. Mercy sat there, legs crossed, foot shaking up and down as she worried her lip with her teeth. 

“How’s marking?” she asked after a bit, indicating the enormous pile of papers on his desk (and promptly avoiding the real reason for her visit). “Want some help?” 

Arthur reclined in the aged leather chair a crisp winter breeze stirring some of the coursework papers stacked in piles upon his desk. His eyes tracked back and forth across each line of text as he read, still and quiet save for the lo-fi music drifting out of a bluetooth speaker on the shelf. Occasionally the stillness was broken with a reach for his fourth freshly brewed cup of coffee, a sip before its return to the ornate coffee mat off to one side of the desk. 

The process was methodical, reading through the coursework before a second read through was taken with pen to paper marking addendums or eliminations of unnecessary or particularly insightful details. And then the tedious task of checking each citation list for formatting errors - the most boring part of the process admittedly.

It wasn’t surprising for Mercy to arrive unannounced and deposit herself in the chair opposite and Arthur didn’t look up initially though the click of the lock was different. A flicker of his eyes followed, a quick track from the door to Mercy and then back in a fraction of a second until he finished reading and set the paper aside. “Honestly I’m actually almost done with them,” it wasn’t entirely true but it was clear as day she was skirting around something. “I’m surprised you came down. I’m almost done for the day to be honest.”

Mercy wasn’t bothered when Arthur didn’t immediately look up from his marking. It wasn’t as if her presence was anything unusual at this point, even if her behavior was slightly out of the ordinary this time. His decline of her offer to help was acknowledged with a distracted hum instead of Mercy’s usual sarcasm or witty retort, and although the rest of what Arthur said wasn’t phrased as a question, they had known each other long enough to know when one was being asked.  

This time it was Mercy’s gaze that flickered towards Arthur before sliding over the papers on his desk, and then to the other neatly stacked piles of letters and correspondence that sat here and there. She even glanced towards the rubbish bin, but there was nothing that caught her eye. Best get on with it then. 

“A letter came for me today.” At first, it sounded like nothing unusual. Everyone received letters in the mail on occasion. It was the addendum to that statement that made all the difference. 

“A Black Letter.” 

Arthur knew it was simply a matter of time, he didn’t need to probe or ask to know that eventually an answer to why she was here would present itself. He waited, giving her time to process and search for the words she wanted to put together, and as expected it came not much later. A letter. Not all that strange but he was sure there would be something that set this mail apart. 

The scratch of his fountain pen stilled with the further clarification; a dark blot staining the paper as the ink bled out his hesitation. The stark proof of his conflicted thoughts and feelings towards this revelation laid bare. 

Firstly: relief over the simple fact he hadn’t received such a notification himself. Wasn’t apparently still bound to a contract he too had signed and agreed to.

Secondly: ire that Mercy was still beholden to a contract signed such a long period of time ago which was somehow being seen as something she was beholden to act upon. It was nonsensical and illogical and made his blood steam in his veins. 

The ink continued to run for several long moments before Arthur finally retracted the pen and set it aside, cracking his knuckles individually as he finally looked at Mercy across the desk. “What do they want?”

A small furrow appeared in Mercy’s brow as she watched the ink blot spread across the paper. Further proof that Arthur hadn’t received a letter of his own. If he had, he would have already been aware of the fact. So she knew he had to be relieved. Why wouldn’t he be? He was a different person now, wasn’t he? The man that had signed that contract so many years ago now had long since died and been reborn. Many times over. 

Unlike Mercy. Who was as she’d always been. And always would be. 

But even so… surely there was a statute of limitations on such a thing? Surely she wasn’t beholden to a contract signed nearly half a millennium ago. Surely there was some mistake. 

The ache in her arm told her otherwise. 

So Mercy waited as Arthur absorbed the information. All the while, a voice in her head whispered ‘See? It doesn’t matter what you do… or who you try to be… how you try to live… you will never find peace… you will never be free…’ 

Fingers pressed against her temple as she forced the voice into silence. As she did, Arthur asked his question, to which Mercy could only shake her head. “I don’t know. I didn’t touch it yet.” Her hand flexed. “I thought you might’ve-” But she stopped short, letting out a sharp huff of air. Mercy set her jaw, her next words coming far steadier than she herself felt. “But I don’t suppose you would’ve. That’s good. That’s-” She nodded once, flexed her hand again. “- good.” And it was. She wouldn’t wish this on Arthur. Not ever.  

A bit of silence followed, until finally Mercy seemed to deflate.

“I don’t want to read it. I don’t… want anything to do with it.” She looked up at him finally, her eyes full of shadows. “I’m tired, Ren. I’m just… so fucking tired…”

Absentmindedly Arthur started to lightly pull at the sleeve of his jumper, worrying the fabric in thought now that his pen was out of his hand. It was an old habit, one that seemed to transcend lifetimes. To fiddle with any one of the many little knick knacks scattered across his desk and failing that stretch the sleeves of his jumpers into paws when his brain started to work overtime.

His eyes fixed on the letter, wondering just what the contents might pertain to. What they would want after all this time. Surely their contracts were done. Null and void to the dusts of time. But apparently not. How many more times would this happen across their lives? Something from centuries past cropping up to haunt them with living nightmares. “No it isn’t,” the words came out sharper than intended and a scowl marred his expression “no it isn’t good. This” he punctuated jabbing a finger at the letter “isn’t fair.” 

The silence that followed was deafening and Arthur’s scowl only deepened the more he looked at the letter.

“Then we burn it. We get rid of it. No letter no message.” It wasn’t that simple. It never was, but he had to suggest it at least. 

Mercy’s eyes drifted to Arthur’s hands, watching the familiar habit with a mixture of fondness and worry. Her thoughts moved in the same vein as his: how many more times would their past come back to haunt them? How many years - how many lifetimes - would they have to live before they were allowed to simply… be? Obviously 400 years didn’t mean that particular quota. 

It wasn’t until Arthur spoke that Mercy looked up again. Her frown deepened, and for just a moment she wanted to explain that she’d meant it was good that he hadn’t received a letter as well. But Mercy knew Arthur was perfectly aware of what she’d meant. So his anger wasn’t surprising. Part of Mercy was even glad for it… needed it even. But only because it solidified what she already knew: that they would find a way through this. Together. 

“No. It’s not.” Mercy’s scowl grew to nearly match Arthur’s as she watched him stare at the letter. 

The suggestion of simply burning the damn thing gave Mercy pause. Had they tried that before? Gods it had been so long ago… But the letter was still sealed. So whatever ‘contract’ lay inside was still inactive. Perhaps with enough of the right sort of fire, they could be shot of it. 

“It’s worth a try,” Mercy said. Though it was never that simple, was it? “We should go home. The firepit on the back porch should work fine.” Mercy stood, knowing Arthur would never be able to concentrate on his marking now, and feeling a wash of guilt - and the stirring of old fears - that couldn’t be helped. “I’m sorry, Ren, I- I thought this was behind me. Behind us.” 

There was something to be said about his tactile nature, a need to always have something on his person to keep his hands occupied and distracted. On the occasions he didn’t have any such object or item to fiddle or fidget, his fingers often sought out other alternatives. Such as his jumper, though it was typically the rotating dial on his iron plated watch. Today in his distraction though the cotton stretched over his fingers as he proceeded to rub his scruff lined chin idly with his thumb. “No,” he agreed, echoing her own words in his contemplation of the scenario, “no it’s not.”

He released the sleeves with a final huff and leaned forwards, snagging the letter and bringing it up to study intensely while Mercy answered. Why couldn’t they burn it? Surely that would be enough. If the letter wasn’t opened. If it simply… ceased to be. Perhaps it would buy them time to figure out what they needed to do in the interim. “Don’t be sorry,” his eyes flickered up from the intense stare he was currently directing towards the letter, the intensity of his expression easing into something softer. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” 

Without another word his attention returned once again to the thick folded parchment, the wax seal pressed in to hold it shut and the intensity of his focus narrowed to a pinpoint. He imagined each particle of the paper vibrating at an infinite frequency beyond what the eye could see, gradually building in frequency. He thought of the countless firesides the two of them had sat beside, sometimes in jovial jest and others in sorrowful grief, the warmth of drink in their cups and laughter in the air. But each fire began with a spark and he willed that spark to ignite here. To burn the very paper in his hands.

What Arthur failed to notice was the creeping drop in temperature, the heat being drawn forth and consumed, much as stars are crushed in the void of space. Infinite and precise, but where typically a flame would spark, curling the edges of the paper into a burning cinder his brow furrowed. 

Nothing. 

No spark. 

Absolutely nothing. 

There were few things in the world that could unsettle Mercy quite so abruptly as a Black Letter. Once, it had been a means to an end. A way to serve a purpose. A way to put her unique ‘talents’ to good use. Or so she’d thought. So they’d both thought. Arthur had been there too, right alongside her. Looking for something to help make sense out of so many lifetimes come and gone. And they had done good things back then, thievery and subterfuge aside. They had saved lives in keeping what wasn’t meant for humans out of their hands. But the altruism had eventually turned to something else. Something greedy and wicked that she and Arthur had been bound to regardless of their personal feelings. 

But they had fulfilled their contracts centuries ago. The agency was long disbanded, and the other creatures they’d worked with were long dead, barring perhaps a scant few that had been fae or undead. It simply made no sense. 

Mercy was silent again as Arthur picked up the letter. She tensed, expecting something to happen, but the letter remained quiet. Only when his gaze softened as he turned it towards her did some of that tension ease. Her expression followed suit, softening the tightness around her eyes, but she remained standing once their decision had been made. 

She’d seen Arthur do this thousands of times, and it still never ceased to amaze her. Yet in the countless lifetimes they’d spent together, Mercy had never seen him call forth the flames… and fail. Until today. The thought rested on her tongue that perhaps the letter simply couldn’t be burned. That perhaps whoever was sending it knew Arthur was with her and that he would try to destroy the letter. Perhaps it was simply charmed against phoenix fire. 

But Mercy never got the chance. 

The air she sucked into her lungs burned. Not with fire, but with ice. Mercy frowned deeply at the sensation, but it was so sudden and so frigid that it set off a violent coughing spell that left Mercy gasping for air - both hands braced against Arthur’s desk - before her healing factor kicked in. “Arthur, what -” She coughed again, and her breath rose in a white cloud as the temperature continued to drop. “- what’s happening?”

It was sudden and without warning that the snap-frost hit; sucking the very essence of warmth from the room and layering the windows in a thin striated pattern of ice crystals. It was a blast of energy, too much for his body to cope with and where typically he might’ve been able to absorb it at present it was too much. The overload caused a wrack of shivers to shudder through his frame where he sat his senses fried from the force of sudden adjustment.

The soft flutter of paper falling through the air broke the silence, brushing the wooden floor and vanishing under the desk forgotten for the moment and rather unimportant by most accounts in the moment. These strange bouts of power fluctuations had been growing increasingly more sporadic, first around the house but now any attempt to summon a flame practically short-circuited him for several hours at a time leaving him weak and so very cold.

He shuddered unable to support himself even sitting as he was and half slipped out of the chair, a rag-doll without a spine. Dark eyes slipped shut, eyelashes fluttering in sync with the chatter of his teeth and the rattle of his fingers “I- I-” but nothing more came, dissolving in a short cloud of cold breath.

The sluggish attempt of his supernatural constitution did little to help while attempting to pull himself back into the chair, trying to kickstart an engine that had presently flooded itself. All Arthur could groan, in a deep, grating rasp is “fuck.” 

The black letter was all but forgotten as Mercy watched Arthur start to crumple under the magical blowback of whatever had just gone horribly wrong. Her own breath still rose in a white cloud, but her supernatural healing factor was quickly pushing back at the cold. The same should have happened to Arthur, faster than Mercy honestly, but to her horror, it didn’t. 

“Arthur- Woah! Hey…” She bolted around the desk, trying to catch him before he could crack his skull open. He was trembling so badly that for a moment Mercy thought he was having a seizure. “Sshhh, it’s alright… don’t try to talk...” Then his eyes started to close. “No… no, hey. Ren… Hey! Stay awake…” she said, taking his face in her hands. Gods above, but he was so cold. “Just… don’t move, okay? I’ve got you.” 

She held him close, trying to warm him as best she could until whatever the hell this was passed. She tucked his arms beneath her jacket and sweater as best as she could manage with Arthur barely able to help. Then she pressed her palms to the sides of Arthur’s neck, over the great arteries that pulsed just beneath his half-frozen skin, in an attempt to keep the blood flowing to his head warm. She was shivering a bit herself, but she was still far warmer than Arthur. Though for how long?

Having spent the majority of her 1200 years with Arthur, Mercy knew how to care for all manner of things that had afflicted him over the years. But this was a first. So Mercy was at a loss. Other than trying to keep him warm. She would have to call for help if this didn’t let up. But the list of people she trusted was short. It contained two, maybe three people. Thank the gods she’d locked the door earlier. The last thing they needed was someone walking in right now. Arthur groaned, and Mercy rubbed a hand down his back.

“Where does it hurt?” she asked gently, hoping to keep him focused on staying awake if nothing else.  

As a general rule of thumb, Arthur prided himself on his resilience. The ability to withstand bad things when they happened; riding them out until they reached the other side or at least long enough until a semblance of light shone through. Right now there was naught save the bone-deep chill that had shot through his body in an instant. One moment he could recall being sat at the desk and the next he’d felt so tired and then there was a voice. Familiar yet distant.

The hands felt like searing points of heat against his skin; which itself was covered in a sheen of cold sweat. Too hot. It was too hot and frantically he attempted to push her hands away, writhing and fighting between tremors of his muscles. 

Arthur could swear the room was closing in on him, the walls growing increasingly confined and constricting. Or maybe that was just his airway, it was hard to tell in the mounting panic that was sinking into his current state of consciousness. The air rushing in and out, faster and faster until his head began to spin, every frantic blink causing the room to shift first to an office, then a library, a bar and eventually a dark cell. The sudden shock to his system had him scrambling, reaching for whatever was nearest (Frey’s arm if he had any recollection or understanding in his panic).

Each breath felt more laboured than the last, struggling to fill his lungs as he clawed and gasped. Please. Please. Oh Gods make it stop.

Mercy didn’t understand. She didn’t understand any of it. Other than it was all wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong. Only the scar on her hand throbbed and flared as it always did when Arthur was in distress, though the fact brought little comfort.  

She didn’t know her touch was hurting him, and could only assume that in his bleariness he was confused and frightened as he seemed to fight against her hold. But then as suddenly as he’d been trying to push her away, something shifted, and he was grasping for purchase instead. His clawing, scrambling hands seeking anything to hold onto, anything that would hold him steady as the world spun out of control and he started to panic. Sucking in lungfuls of air that would never be enough to satiate his shell-shocked body’s desperate need for oxygen. 

“Breathe, Aren…” Mercy said, holding onto him as best she could without making anything worse. “Breathe for me…” She clasped his hands and pressed them to her chest as she spoke, hoping the deliberately slow  rise and fall of her breathing would help him slow his own. “Breathe in…” Inhale. “Breathe out…” Exhale. Mercy would’ve used her power to try and influence his psychological state, but her Fury magic had never affected him. So she didn’t waste her energy. “Breathe in… breathe out… I’ve got you… you’re safe…” Mercy would repeat the mantra as long as she needed to. As long as it took to bring him back to right. 

The panic was instantaneous as shock began to set in, bewilderment at his own sheer inability to control himself. The room dropped several more degrees as Arthur’s body shuddered. He was left gasping to try and draw in much needed air while utterly unable to stabilise its core temperature that was steadily beginning to creep higher and higher steam rising in the cold air of the room before it would plummet just as quickly as a candle being snuffed out. “W-What’s g-going on?” 

In an instant he was plunged into the memories of a similar time of panic, an alternate dreamscape, a different time - in aid of a friend that had ultimately been for naught. For that friend was long since gone. Yet it was a time that he’d felt water for the very first time without pain, only to realise his inability to swim and almost drowned in the process.

So he clawed and grasped at the only anchor that existed in the moment, the only anchor that had ever existed across all of time until with time his mind began to quieten once more and the white noise began to fade into the rhythmic instructions of a familiar voice. 

Breathe in. 

Breathe out. 

Breathe. 

Several more minutes passed until the room gradually warmed, Arthur’s breathing growing calmer until he could turn his face into her arm. Another full minute came and went before he was wracked with another bout of shivers before weakly attempting to push himself back into a sitting position. “What happened?”

Mercy opened her mouth to tell him… something… anything… that might explain what was happening. But the truth was, Mercy had no idea. As long as they’d known one another, something like this had never happened. Was it the letter? Had trying to burn it caused some… critical disruption of Arthur’s magic? But no… there had been episodes of his powers malfunctioning - for lack of a better term - for a bit now. Whatever it was, it couldn’t continue indefinitely. Mercy’s breath shuddered as the temperature dropped again, but she ignored it. She would be alright, despite the way the cold made the few scars she had ache miserably. As for his question… “We’ll figure it out, I promise… but right now you have to try and breathe, okay?” 

The minutes seemed to stretch into hours until Arthur finally seemed to stabilize. When he was breathing normally again - or as close as he was likely to get at the moment - Mercy fell quiet. She stayed by his side, gently stroking his hair and then pressing a hand to his forehead to check his temperature when he shivered. When he tried to sit up, she gave him a bit of space, but kept a hand on his shoulder to steady him. Again, came his question. This time, Mercy was honest. “I don’t know. You tried to burn the letter, and then...” She frowned, but eventually relayed the short version of what had happened. 

“How d’you feel?” she asked, though it was clear he did not feel great. Not one bit. “Does anything hurt?”

Arthur blinked slowly, his head throbbing with each breath he took to fill his lungs and he rolled his tongue across his teeth, the parchment dry space of his mouth an uncomfortable sensation as he listened to Mercy talk. He wanted a drink and yet the very thought of having anything made him feel like his stomach would turn over on itself. There was little else he could do but sit and try to do as instructed.

“No,” he answered the question after a few moments of silence, his voice cracking when he chose to speak and he had to close his eyes for a moment to fight against the wave of sudden nausea that overcame him. “I-” he shivered again pulling his jacket tighter around his body “cold and sick.” Certainly not fit to stay here, eventually he opened his eyes looking tiredly at Freyja. “can we go home, please?”

Mercy frowned, unable to keep the concern from her expression. That nothing pained him was a small blessing at least. But the fact did nothing for the tight knot of fear that twisted in her gut. Or the helplessness she felt as Arthur shivered, his normally heated skin terrifyingly cold and pale. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him sick or hurt, but this was different. “Of course…” She took off her scarf and tucked it gently around his neck. “Of course we can go home.” 

As she buttoned his jacket so it wouldn’t slip loose, Mercy refused to think about what might happen if he had another episode like this. Or gods forbid… one that was worse. Instead, she turned all her attention to the here and now. To taking Arthur home and making him better. Everything else - the letter, Arthur’s marking, and the growing ache in Mercy’s arm - could wait.

~

[theasteriae-arc]

THE INTERVIEW. 

( or, when sebastian met katherine. the discord thread between @epiitaphs & myself, feat. our muses squabbling over @diabolicaltendencies’ jim ) 

WHITEHALL, c. 2009. 

Her heels make an impressive racket on the tiles, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the corridor like there’s an army of interrogators on their way to sink their teeth into him. Sebastian Moran. The slick haired, sharp tongued politician she had never liked—not even before she’d found out Jim was screwing him. It was just a shame that the thick carpet in his secretary’s office—in his office—muffled the quick ratatat of those stilettos. Her war cry. “No. Excuse me, madam, you can’t- Have you got an appointment? You can’t go in there without an appointment.” Kate ignored her and opened the door to Sebastian’s office. “My name is Katherine Conway,” she said crisply to the man behind the desk. “You’ll want to see me.” And without waiting to be invited, she took a seat across from him, putting her handbag down, and folding her hands expectantly in her lap.

Sebastian is, as always, busy. Everything's manageable at the moment - neither the country nor the party are falling into the abyss, but that doesn’t mean that he's got time to rest. There’s people and policy to keep up to date on, and he can't afford to ever fall behind. Which is why he makes sure to keep a couple steps ahead of where everyone’s supposed to be. It's what got him through school and through the first years of his job. It's also what keeps him at the office late, though that's decreased over time now that Jim's around. Much more appealing to be able to come home to someone and not just the cats. There was a commotion outside, Sebastian looking up from his work just as the door opened. “An interesting opening statement, Katherine Conway,” he replied. The name seemed familiar but not enough to be someone he kept active tabs on. “Will I?” It seemed very much like he would, given that she had clearly decided to make herself home. A nod at the secretary in the doorway and the door was shut. “In that case, I suppose I'd like to know just what it is that you think is so important to require an urgent, unscheduled meeting. My time is valuable and I have later meetings, so brief is best.”

“Cancel them. I’m here to talk about James, and knowing him, that could well take all night.” 

And wouldn’t he just love that? There was a bitter twist to her lips as she continued, “He called me last weekend, told me about the two of you. How serious would you say it was?” He had a pot of pens on his desk, sleek and black with shiny gold hooks so that he could slip one into his pocket without fear of it falling out. She reached forward to take one, testing its weight in her hand, twirling it in between her fingers. “Serious enough for him to call, I suppose. But not serious enough for him to have told you everything, am I right? Didn’t want you to run a background check on him?” Her free hand disappeared into her pocket and came out with a card. Katherine Conway, Named Partner at Conway O’Kelly, an all-female chambers in Dublin. There had been a glint of recognition in his eyes when he’d repeated her name back to her and she was sure this was why; he knew of her work, not her history with his boyfriend. She’d enjoy telling him then. “Well, let me clear up some of the confusion. I used to be his girlfriend. And he wants to introduce you to the daughter we share. So, I wanted to meet you first, to make sure I was happy with that. Politicians, you know, they’re not the most trustworthy people.”

“James, you say? That sounds rather serious.” He made no move to cancel the meetings. He was fairly certain the first one could go on without him, though he’d miss out. But they'd cross that bridge if they came to it. If this was about Jim, he'd rather hear what she had to say, but he didn't intend to be pushed into any particular action. Jim had called her? What could he possibly be up to? “Quite serious, I’d say. I assume you read the news.” If she wanted details, she could refer to that. He watched as she took a pen, wondering just what her intentions where, what her connections to Jim might be. Sebastian didn't indicate an answer one way or another to the first question. “He’s told me more than enough and I have respected his privacy when asked to do so.” Jim’s privacy. Not that of others, but that wasn't something he was going to admit to. Not when she'd given him one small fact - that Jim had called. Fact 2: Sebastian hadn't known. Fact 3: Sebastian didn't know everything. 

She pulled out her card - as if that would give him much more information. It’d give him information that he could find, which was exactly what this meeting was not about. This meeting was about gaps in knowledge and Sebastian hated being on the wrong side of that. She was more than simply her job and title - if she knew Jim, that is. “Thank you for the clarification. It's much appreciated.” The thin smile on his face suggested otherwise. That she was the mother was a surprise, but she didn't have to know that. “I’d be happy to meet his child, should I pass inspection.” That information hadn't been as much from Jim. “Some might say the same for your profession. I’d know - did you look into me at all?” He really hoped so, or he'd be sincerely disappointed. She'd shown initiative so far and it'd be unfortunate if that ended up being a false lead. Time for a little bit more of a gamble. “He did mention you, by the way. As a detail. Youthful mistakes, you know.”

Nothing about her expression, her demeanour, changed. She didn’t miss a breath or move a muscle. Not quite relaxed, because from her posture it was clear that she meant business, but authoritative. Refusing to be riled. Did you look into me at all? Ha. She wanted to scoff—the Dubliner in her who’d grown up in the wrong part of the city wanted to spit—but she didn’t. Instead, she smiled. “Of course. Sebastian Moran, graduated top of his class from Magdalen College, Oxford. Fast tracked into politics, no doubt helped by his Daddy, who’s the Labour Whip in the House of Lords. Sebastian Moran who dislocated his shoulder climbing up the drainpipe of his family home during a scrap with a sibling.” The information about Oxford and his father, she could have got from anywhere. The more personal details, though, they’re not such common knowledge. She could feel his eyes scanning her face, trying to determine her source. “Your sister told me. Moira. Well, obviously. Alex doesn’t talk, does she?” Kate’s smile grew wider, more pointed. “Still managing to cause a lot of trouble up in Manchester though, I hear. Moira and I work the same cases occasionally—opposite sides, of course, but it’s always good to have a glass of wine and catch up. I’d heard rumours about you and James and she all but confirmed them, but he’s never been one for commitment, so.” The comment about her being a mistake more than stung, but she couldn’t let herself lose her cool just yet. She brushed the hair out of her eyes and looked at his steadfastly across the wide expanse of his desk. “You’ll understand if I don’t want my family being dragged into the centre of a political scandal just for the sake of some fling?”

She didn't react, which told him only so much. Either it could be that neither of his hits had landed or that some of them had - and he wasn’t going to be able to tell which ones until she’d started on the offensive again. He didn't like her, but he had to admit she had at least done her research. Plenty of it, it seemed, given the much more personal anecdote tacked on the end. “A good summary of my CV. I’d keep the assumptions to a minimum, if I were you, though. I have an entirely different constituency from him - no handover there. Speaks just a little bit to his position on merit, wouldn't you say?” It was a blow that set him off each time he heard it, but Sebastian wasn't going to reveal weakness. “It's hardly surprising that it'd be easy to find inspiration in his work.”

An eyebrow raised as he stared, wondering just who she might have had access to - ah. Moira. Of course. No family loyalty - he should have known. They'd have to talk about that next time he saw her. In all, the story wasn't too damning, as long as no one looked too closely at how old he'd been at the time. The fact that Moira somehow approved of Conway was both a red flag and a promise that this would be interesting, no matter the way it turned out. “Oh, no, Alex simply has better judgement of who she speaks to.” The jab at Alex was another blow that landed. Conway really had done her research. A smile. “You know, given how close she and Jim are?” Just how far he’d gone since leaving Kate. He wouldn’t give her information that she didn't deserve - that Jim had been committed for far longer than the press knew. “I think he can be, with the right person. Maybe you didn't have enough faith.” The personal angle seemed a far richer vein for now. “I understand perfectly, though really it's up to you - when have I ever been implicated in a scandal, after all? It’d be awful to lose the reputation you've made, wouldn’t it? And I'm sure the scrutiny on the rest of your family would be uncomfortable as well.” It wasn't an outright threat. “All the same, I do understand the value placed on family - did Moira neglect to tell you about the times I've looked after her children?”

“I have plenty of faith, thank you. Actually, I found it was his that was lacking.” Tucked beneath the sharp collar of the severe white shirt ( court clothes; really, she should be at the hotel, prepping her closing statement for tomorrow ) was the battered gold crucifix her parents had given her for her First Communion. Her fingers tighten around one another in her lap so they don’t fly up to fiddle with it. No clues. “And reminding me about his lifestyle choices—" As if that was necessary. “—Won’t help you make your case, Mr. Moran.” Once upon a time, it had been James’s lack of conventionality that she had loved, the fact that he wore leather and make up and made her mother spit with fury whenever she saw them together. When had that changed? When she’d found out she was pregnant and the father of her child had fucked off to England, leaving her unmarried and in trouble and— 

Kate took a deep breath to calm herself, recentre her thoughts, and continued. “I’m sure you’re a fine babysitter,” she said stiffly. “But this is different. And the fact that you can sit there and threaten my family tells me everything I need to know. Unless you have anything else to add, this interview is over.” She pocketed his pen and bent down to retrieve her bag, getting back on her feet before she said, “You can give James my answer, and that is if he ever brings up introducing her to you—or attempts to do it behind my back—I shan’t let him anywhere near her again. We can take it to the courts if we have to; we all know who’s going to win.”

“A strong judgment, I'd say.” Perhaps not entirely unfair, depending on what sort of faith they were discussing, but still. “No, I suppose it wouldn’t. But one of my sisters is willing to avoid gossip about the family, and it’s not the one you’re friends with.” He’d really have to talk to Moira about tattling like that. It was annoying, more than anything, but all the same. She took a breath and - clearly, he’d set her off with one his remarks - this wasn't really how he'd wanted this to go. “I don't see how it's different. In fact, I'd say it's even more low risk than babysitting, given that all Jim has asked of you is an introduction.” He considered asking for his pen back. With her standing, ready to go, he’d have to take this seriously - more seriously than before. He might have told her not to be so sure about the outcome, but that would drive the wedge further between them. For Jim’s sake, he shouldn’t. 

“I know the statistics of custody awards, Miss Conway. There is no need to threaten.” Really, there was no need to resort to outright threats. “You do realize a court case would bring exactly the sort of eyes you’d like to avoid?" He stood as well, finally. “I appreciate how much you're willing to do to protect your family and I won't tell you how to do so, but I do think it incredibly unfair of you to not tell him your decision yourself. Not because I don't want to be the bearer of bad news, but because he - maturely - asked you for permission to do the barest minimum of actions and you're making assumptions based on a five minute interview that you began with no pretensions of civility.” She’d come in on the offensive and he’d replied in kind. "You don't have to like me - I hardly expect you would, but that doesn't seem like just grounds to punish Jim. Or your daughter, really, who I believe is old enough to ask questions. If I find that you've ever actually prevented him from seeing her because of me, then I really will take issue." Maybe a bit of a threat.

“Mrs.” She paused with her bag over her arm, glowering down at him until her got his feet, and then, even in heels, she was forced to look up. “I don't know what kind of woman you think I am, sir, but I'm not a single one, that's for sure. I've been married eleven years next month.” For their anniversary the year before, she and Richard had hoped to go to Italy. Perhaps this year, if they could find someone to mind the children for a long weekend, they'd actually make it to the art galleries in Florence, the catacombs under Rome. Maybe if Jim could take them ... There was no one else she trusted, but could she even trust him anymore? “You said you were short on time and I believe in getting straight to the point, so please forgive me if I didn't pause to make small talk; we're busy people and there's not a whole lot to say. I don't like to be threatened and that’s twice in five minutes you've threatened me and my family. I don't like you, and your attitude certainly isn't helping. How long have you and James been together?”

“Mrs. Conway, then.” They were past pretending to polite, but he might as well be correct. "Yes, that is what the records say, isn't it." Seb hadn't looked into Jim, but he had done some digging. Just to see what he could find. He'd looked less at her, still trying to keep from directly disobeying Jim's wishes, but the brother had been an opportunity. “I did, didn't I. It's still true, but at the same time you did say it could take a while. You seemed less bothered by time limits at the beginning of this.” Which meant most likely that he'd offended her. Which he'd been trying to do, to be fair. “Neither of those were direct threats, Mrs. Conway, but neither of us have time to argue semantics. You rudely marched in here, implied that I was courting scandal and have since mentioned cutting Jim off from his daughter as well as the possibility to take all of this to court. You're hardly innocent.” 

Here was the choice. They were at the rumor stage of the plan. Technically they'd been more or less together for a year by now, but no one else knew that. “You said you read the news - if they're to be believed, then I think you have your answer - that it all came together after his track.” A breadcrumb. “Moira would perhaps tell you that over a year ago, I was in charge of driving him to and from one of our family's gatherings.” And another breadcrumb dropped. If she wanted to pick them up, follow the trail, she could. Everything he'd said was true in its own way. The interpretation was up to her.

One of Kate's eyebrows went up. “If all I was interested in was second-hand gossip and the suppositions of the press,” she said coolly. “Do you think I'd be here? No. So, it doesn't take an Oxford-educated intellect to infer that what I would like to hear is the truth, straight from the horse's mouth, as it were. An alien concept to you maybe, but I’ll wait if I have to.” And so saying, she slipped out of her coat and sat back down, making a show of settling in for a long stalemate. “How did a politician and a musician who has publicly lambasted him on more than one occasion become a serious item?” Her tone was cold, but she was genuinely curious. Not so much in the how, though, more the, why this man, James? What the hell does someone like you see in him?

That had gotten her back, at least. Sebastian sat as well. “I haven’t lied to you, Mrs Conway,” he replied. He had perhaps misrepresented the truth, omitted, assumed, but he hadn't outright lied just yet. And sure, he'd threatened too, but only vaguely. “And did you ask Jim for the truth?” That was - though perhaps a bit of an attack - mostly just curiosity. “Or is he next? Making sure we can't coordinate our stories?” That was an unfair accusation, but he saw no reason to play fair with her. He shrugged, seemingly relaxed. “Maybe it's the public lambasting that makes it fun,” he replied, trying to think of just what he could or should tell her. She didn't deserve the details of their relationship - certainly no more than the general public did. “As much as it may shock you, we get along well. I think we represent a bit of a challenge to each other, and that's what keeps things interesting.”

TO BE CONTINUED ... 

[redledger]

texting with a 106 year old man, a discord thread (pt.2) with @epiitaphs​ (pt.1 here)

NAT

She waited on the doorstep, a little soggy from the rain and arms burdened with enough Thai food to feed a family of four. They could always drop some off to Marina in the unlikely event Bucky didn’t finish it. All her kit fit neatly in her rucksack, she travelled incredibly light on tips like this. She lent against the wall, wishing he would hurry the fuck up.

BUCKY

Once he sent the text in reply, Bucky straightened up his closet nest a little - it wouldn't make her stop worrying, but it couldn't hurt. And there was even some food still left in the cupboards. That was also good proof that he was doing fine. Everything settled, he padded over to the door, unlocking it  - and opening it without being told, Liho cradled in his flesh arm. "Welcome home. For a day or two."

NAT

The sight of the two of them was actually pretty adorable. It reminded her of the fake apartment in Novosibirsk. Coming out of the cold and into the even colder home they had shared. It probably felt like a decent chunk of his life, if he remembered if. It was only a fraction of hers, but some of the happiest memories she had ever had. It was enough to be close to another living person then.

She moved inside, pressing a kiss to his cheek and struggling to balance all the food herself till the made it through the hall and into the kitchen. “Is the news still on? Did they have a cause of death?”

BUCKY

The kiss felt like it held the weight of several decades. They'd done that before, then. He remembered some of their time together, but time combined with brainwashing kept those recollections scattered and out of focus. When he doubled down on trying to remember, it usually got better, but now wasn't hte time to get lost in the past. 

He followed her to the kitchen silently, gently petting Liho as he went. "I left it on." He shook his head. "Won't say. Just murder - mysterious causes, looking for perpetrator. They will cast blame soon, but they haven't yet." He held the cat out to her a little once she set the food down. "Say hello to her too."

NAT

She set everything down, immediately confronted by a big black fur all extended in her direction. She switched to Russian, and for a woman who claimed to not want a cat, Nat sounded like she was taking to a baby.

”Oh look at you, what did the mean man do to you? You just want a cuddle don’t you-“

Her arms opened, scooping the mass of fur into her chest and covering the cats head on kisses. She did miss the scrappy thing. And she made a fuss knowing it might make Bucky happy.

“I’ve text a source for more information. Plates? Do you think we need them?”

BUCKY

A quick smile crossed his face as she cooed at the cat, clearly disproving all of her earlier statements about disliking the furry thing. ”The mean man fed her and gave her lots of attention,” he informed her as he looked over the food she’d set down. Getting any of it out of the containers would have to wait her her cue, but it did at least smell good. 

”Careful not to spoil her.” There. A joke to her face. He was having a good day and that was proof. 

“Okay.” Involving more people could be dangerous, but if she had nothing at all, that was worse. “We don’t need them. But it might be helpful. Otherwise you won’t get anything of whatever I’ve chosen.”

NAT

It was welcome, to come home to him in such a good mood. Maybe it was the fact she was back, although more likely the fact he was hungry. She could live with that. The cat squirmed in her arms, wriggling at the smell of food. ”No, that’s not for you my little misery.” 

She set Liho down on the floor, pulling open the drawer to her left with cutlery. “You’re alright. I’ll just take the Pad Thai off the top, the rest is for you.” 

She paused, the reel on the TV catching her attention even though it just released what he said. “Go on, before you combust.”

BUCKY

"She's been very good for me. Maybe if you were around for her." There was no real point in attempting to convince Natasha to stay around. Both of them came and went as they pleased. He imagined she came back when he wasn't there, just as he stayed around mostly in her absence.

"Okay." That was good. He glanced over the bags she'd set down, calculating. Despite her accusations, he'd eaten while she was gone, but something like this would shore him up well for the future and for his current hunger. He assumed it was hunger, at least. Sometimes he wasn't really sure. 

"I took the explosives out of the arm, don't worry," he told her. For him, it felt like a joke, though sometimes those were hit or miss. Still, permission was helpful, even now. He took a couple containers for himself, reaching out for a utensil before going to sit on the floor in front of the TV.

NAT

They switched between Russian and English without delay, it was second nature after all. She handed him the fork, not really looking as her eyes were still glued to the tv. It was only when he sat down that it really registered in Nats brain want has happening. And she wasn’t hungry anyone. 

She missed his joke, missed his teasing. Here in the walls of her flat she could let her brain process, fully. No instead she reached for the bottle of wine and a glass. She hovered behind the breakfast bar in the kitchen, reading the scroll again.

“What we’re you doing? Whilst you were gone?” It couldn’t wait, not even until Bucky had finished eating. There was no stopping her when she was in this mood. “Where did you go?”

BUCKY

He ate, listening to the TV as he did. Chaos, confusion, death. It was, in its own way, old news. The world moved from death to death, from regime to regime, ultimately with more or less the same organizations calling the shot. That said, the fingerprints on this weren't obviously Hydra's. A good reason for them both to be concerned. 

"West Virginia. In the mountains, Point Pleasant area." If he told her, he could keep eating, and she was far enough away that there was no need to worry. "Cleaning up threats." He could tell her. She knew what they'd done to him, better than most. "There was a Chair there, I remembered. So I cleaned up."

And now here he was, back in the relative safety of her apartment, with her cat lurking around the far corner of the couch, waiting for a treat. He tossed a bite of chicken at her, which she ate with satisfaction. "Like I said. My own business."

NAT

“Threats to who?” Nat set the bottle down, swirling the wine in the glass. Finally she left the kitchen, completely forgetting about the food she has set aside and instead taking a seat on the sofa. She didn’t even look at him. She was concentrating on the face, trying to pull it forcibly from the depths of her memory.

“Hydra, not KGB then. Anything connected to this?”

BUCKY

“Me.” Or really - his continued freedom. He watched her approach, but her attention was directed to the TV, rather than him or his diminishing collection of food. “Maybe America, but I’m doing it for me.”

“KGB comes later. Their programming stuck better and lasted longer. Better off waiting. And Hydra presents the most credible threat at the moment because they want me returned or decommissioned.” Over all at least. “This base had a former KGB there. Ossi, not Russian. Started out Stasi, got comfortable with those holding the leash. Can’t remember why he defected.” There seemed to be a decent former Soviet to Hydra pipeline. “Human, though. Died in 2002. Not me.”

NAT

It was good, both seeing him eat and getting this much information from him. She set her glass don on the table, desperately running her hands through her hair as she bent low. None of this made sense, and what she had hoped would be breadcrumbs felt more like a wild goose chase. Another few minutes with the news reporter filling the silence was all she could manage.

“Any connection to the room? Or Madam?” She had to ask. The clarification Bucky wasn’t behind a targeted attack was something, especially given how messy and murky the timelines got. “Ex client? The American or the defector?”

BUCKY

He made use in the pause in her interrogation to keep eating. He considered leaving some of what was still sitting on the table for later, but decided to at least start in on some of it. Couldn't hurt. He was up and back by the time she asked her next question, sitting down quietly for someone his size and with a metal arm. 

"Madame, no. The Room, maybe. He had connections, I think. To many things." Their world was one big web of connections, reaching between every operative, whether they knew it or not. "The defector worked for Hydra, gave them information for me to use. Out of date, but better than nothing." That was parroted, clearly someone else's speech. "The Americans there...they are dead now. C4, controlled blasts. There's always been something funny about the old factory." Difference voice, different person's speech. "They were waiting for orders. Not responsible for Havanna, if that's what you're asking."

NAT

She didn’t pull her head out of her hands. Or move at all really. The cat followed him to food in the hopes of being involved but Natasha was buried in her own confusion.

”Fucking connections” She slipped for a moment back into her mother tongue, just because it angered her so much. She needed to pick over the details he had with a fine tooth comb at some point, as well as maybe scold him for being so reckless. He had always had a good memory, but she isn’t a fly felt him filling the gaps with what other people had said verbatim. “Waiting... four red room clients dead and counting. Always one step behind me. Havana was a message James, they’re not screwing around anymore. Not after the fall.”

Not after she had faced off with someone wearing her own image to play games. “Did you keep anything? Take any papers or hard drives?”

BUCKY

He tossed another bit of meat at the cat once he was seated and everything was arranged around him. She ate it in a flash. Bucky understood.

"Everyone knows someone." That had been true through the ages. He looked over a second. "Eat don't agonize. Hunger slows you down." He'd noticed on his trip back and forth. "Real food." That seemed necessary to emphasize. This was the man who'd taught her. "One step behind requires planning. They are watching. You need to find where from." What sort of surveillance they had set up. "They want you. Just you. Not me. Red Room, yes, but connected to you. Without question." Though he couldn't imagine some rogue faction would say no to having control of the Winter Soldier.

"I took the bus. No papers." He had indeed gone on a Greyhound and then on a hike. Not too much room for extra baggage there. "I have a drive from their computers, though." It was something he'd learned from her, though he wasn't planning on looking through the information at the moment. He didn't feel stable enough for that yet.

NAT

“Look at you, giving orders.” It was enough to crack a smile, even with her hands still firmly planted in her hair. He was right, she should eat. But she sat back, reaching for the glass of wine and finally taking a sip. “I am careful. Every job is vetted, you sweep this place for bugs constantly. I watch my back but they know the training...” 

It was harder to run when your every instinct was clear to someone else. She watched the cat gobble up her scraps eagerly, but she didn’t have the energy to call him out on it. “Will you let me decrypt it? I can take a first look. It might jog my memory, give me something to go off. The fake me... is there anything you remember about her that could help?”

At some point they needed to talk about his instinct for revenge. But not when it was actually coming in handy.

BUCKY

"I was in charge of you once." That's why he could do it. She had once been...not necessarily subordinate. But similar. And he had been in charge of training her. So it felt less wrong to tell her these things. It was simply how to be a good asset to them. "I would have noticed if you had gotten sloppy. If they know the training, then they must be somehow connected to it." It felt like it narrowed things down, a little bit. Not by much, but perhaps enough to find a good guess. "I have different operating procedures if you need modifications."

He nodded. "Yes." He dug in a pocket for a moment, tossing a flash drive to her once he'd found it. Better to keep the evidence close. "Shared data with other Hydra locations and local files as well. From my understanding as I watched it transfer." He hadn't done much of that - had gone off to complete some killings in the meantime.

The fake her. He had to think about that one, finishing a container off as he did. "Favorite." Not his, obviously, given whose apartment he was in. "Trained, but leniently. The only one I was told to avoid killing. Who says there is no favoritism among soviets." More thinking. "Did not stand out, but good at what she did."

NAT

“And you won’t be again. Trust me.” She was teasing, but from her perch it was nice to have some time together. The stress showed in her face and her shoulders but watching him eat was a good reminder her body functioned a little closer to his than she would like to admit. She was hungry, if she thought about it. 

She caught the drive, putting it in her own pocket for safe keeping. She’s get out her laptop once he was asleep and pour over the data, trying to find some kind of loophole she could use.

Natasha stood up, grabbing the container of abandoned pad Thai and a fork. Instead of heading back to the sofa though, she moved to the floor to lean against his side. “Agreed. She got lucky that she caught me off balance. It was definitely a her, you could tell by how she moved.”

She picked a three food with her fork, taking a few mouthfuls to consider his words. “I don’t know how old she was, the techniques were the same but the old masters might still be alive. She moved fast.”

She looked at the cat for a moment, then at him. “Maybe you shouldn’t stay here. If they are after me, I mean. Could be compromised.”

BUCKY

"Could you stop me?" Out of anyone, the answer was probably yes. Well - anyone who didn't have the words. "I don't want to be." No need, no desire. He just wanted to be his own person first. 

She stood, Bucky watching her closely to determine whether she was actually going to eat or get rid of it. He glared at her approach, but didn't strike out. As long as she stuck to her own business, he could manage. Maybe, since clearly he'd stopped eating. The lean was too much -  he nudged her back forward, wanting both arms free. Leaning to the other side, he kept eating once he'd determined that she was too. "Luck will not last forever." He nodded. "Not hard to tell much of the time. Especially not with who made her."

Another shrug. "New, I think. But I don't remember exactly." Another nod. "Some are. Very few, but I think there are two still living for sure." Those he would leave for much later. He couldn't destroy everything from his past, but if they remained a threat by the time he turned his attention to the Red Room more, he would reevaluate. 

He frowned. "Could be. I assume it is, usually. Someone's always watching, even if they don't know it yet themselves." He could go - he had other places he could live. And to call them less comfortable would be soft. "I can go when you do."

NAT

“Bet I could.” Not that she would. She was fine until he pushed her away, her eyes flicking up and down. She face masked any shock or hurt that would have registered. Perfectly neutral, and she shuffled away a little. Wanting to be close to someone and only having him to replicate it with was hard. Maybe she should call Clint once in a while. Maybe she should explain, or ask Bucky to use his words next time. But that was how things were. 

She took another forkful but her heart wasn’t in it. He’d pulled her mind out of it now. “Leave them for me. I’ve got plans. Promise?”

It wasn’t great, the idea of him leaving. Here he had someone to rely on him, even if it was just the cat. A bed he refused to sleep in, weapons dotted around where only he knew to find them. He could build his nest and block the world out, and she could breathe a little easier. 

“Tomorrow night. Your call. I’ll ask Marina to feed the cat if you’re not here. Where will you go?”

BUCKY

"We can spar." That was practice, though. Even if they fought to incapacitation, it wouldn't be the same as actually trying to stop him. Maybe when she was younger - there'd been more of a risk of death then. Or the times he'd tried to kill her. She moved away from him. Good. Just a little longer and he'd be ready to look forward to the two of them sleeping in her bed. 

"Alright. They're yours." As if they weren't discussing men who'd tortured and deserved the worst of tortures. Well - someone else might think that. For Bucky, they had trained well. Worked with him and on him. He'd been there to train the girls, but he had also learned many things that had ended up keeping hiim alive over the years. "Promise." Words meant nothing, but he would stay away.

"I will think it over." He hated choices like this. She was right - he shouldn't be returning even when there wasn't a huge chance this base was compromised. He was a fugitive. He was supposed to keep moving, and yet here he was. With a cat. He shrugged. "Somewhere." DC was destroyed. West Virginia was destroyed, and several others. "Maybe North Africa somewhere. Algeria. Could fit in there. Ouran, Algiers. Somewhere like that. But we'll see."

NAT

“We can, not tonight though.” She was careful not to say no to him when he put out suggestions. Shutting him down felt unfair, like kicking a puppy. He didn’t deserve that. Yet she was still tired tonight, from a long flight and what was sure to be a long week. Once he had his space he seemed a little less tense, and the cat was still sitting expectantly near them both. 

In time, when she had a full grasp of the truth, Natasha would track the old masters down and eliminate them. But there were other pieces of the plan in motion for now. She had no desire to play exterminator till she could be absolutely certain how it would end.

“Somewhere hot might be nice.” She didn’t even have details of where she was headed yet. That was a phone call and an encrypted email away. They were sharks, in their own way. Moving constantly to survive. That was the man she knew, although as his memories filtered back in he seemed to settle more. Maybe that was the American in him resurfacing. “Do you still want to go out to Colney island tomorrow? Up to you.”

BUCKY

“No, of course not. You wanted a quiet night.” With that came a quick grin. “And what would your neighbors think? You come home, you make noise, you leave.” Hardly neighborly. 

“Could be.” There had to be a base in that region. It’d just take memory and stolen files to find it. “Hot and dry.” He’d take that over a jungle any day. “Nights are cold in the desert. But not so bad.” He could see a night sky in front of him for a moment. He’d have to go through those memories to get anywhere. 

He set aside his last container, holding onto the fork for a moment. Because he could. And because she’d asked him a question. “Always making me make a choice, aren’t you.” It got on his nerves but it’d worked. “Sure. Middle of the day during the week and hope it rains.” That felt a little too easy to say. “For crowds, you know.”

NAT

“The neighbours might think I’ve got a man over. Who knows.” Others than Marina, Natasha kept to herself. A small smile here or a hello, just enough not to be a stranger but not enough to give anything away. A loner and a workaholic, even if what her job actually was seemed to escape them. She tossed a pice of chicken at the cat and handed him the container. She was done for now anyways. He clearly needed it more.

“You need help then you let me know. I can take a couple days off.” It might be good, to be in the field together again. To trust him and watch him work when her life wasn’t on the line. She spent too long chasing him down as a ghost, being on his side after over fifty years could be nice.

She smiled again. Small and slight, the corners of her mouth pulled up at his teasing. Someone had to give him a choice. “You got a jacket? I could get the bike out of storage. Or we take the subway.” It had been too long since she did something like that. It was funny, with an extended life how fast time seemed to slip by.

BUCKY

"They know you have me over sometimes." Whether he really counted was questionable, given everything - he was only sort of a person. He wondered what the neighbors said - beyond the eavesdropping he had already done. He stared at the container for a moment before taking it from her. It wasn't snatched back, so he dug in. 

"I will." Maybe. If he thought about it at the time. But she was a good option - he knew how she operated and he knew more or less exactly how much he could trust her. He'd probably also never hear the end of it if she found him doing anything particularly foolish.

"Yeah, I've got one with my stuff." It had occurred to him that he could keep things at her place if he really wanted to, but the thought of having it potentially found if something was compromised made him hesitate to keep anything besides weapons there. "Bike." That was an easy choice. "Subway's fine, but the bike would be nice."

NAT

“You’ve met the neighbours? Actually spoken to them?” If he had, she was shocked. It was decent, actual progress. It wasn’t like she hadn’t briefly had people come and go, but it was rare. Maybe only Clint counted. Even then it had been mostly his space, his place, his things. If there was someone else in the last decade it wasn’t anything in particular.

She watched him take the food, he looked like Liho. Permanently starved. “Your stuff?” He had to have a footprint, it just seemed wild to her. She thought about asking what stuff, or if he wanted to leave it here but that wasn’t really smart given the already present security concerns. “You want the bike then we take the bike.” She shuffled backwards, letting her back rest against the wall. She considered scooping the cat but it didn’t feel fair when the chance of food was still present. Liho got the privilege of sharing his meal, which Nat hadn’t earned. “I’ll get up early and head to the locker to get things sorted then.”

BUCKY

"Three times. And if they can see or hear anything, they know." Old people gossiped. He was pretty sure at least. Something told him that, at least. Probably a memory - though from when he had no idea. "Not for long, though." Bucky didn't really talk to people if he could avoid it. Sometimes it was nice, but so close to where he stayed felt like a risk. 

"I have a cache. And a backpack." A cache which he should probably move in a few weeks. Didn't hurt to be careful, after all. Especially when they seemed to be targeting Natasha. There were too many organizations in their pasts to ever lose the paranoia that clung to him. "Good. I want to see it, make sure it's a good one." Not that he didn't trust her, but Bucky was remembering amount of mechanical knowledge beyond how to do repairs on his arm. "Okay. You don't have to leave too early, though." He'd missed her, even if he hadn't yet admitted it. Maybe he would.

NAT

“Wow, and I keep making fun of you for being a shut in. You should have told me you’re turning into a social butterfly.” She watched him, green eyes reading his body. He was like an animal really, so much of him was instinct. “You still hungry?”

“Good.” Assets didn’t have stuff. Agents could drop everything with no warning and move. Leaving a footprint was a sign of real emotions, real connections. A footprint. “Oh it’s a good one. SHIELD don’t pay well but Stark loves to impress for birthday gifts. Apparently this was for my 30th.” That was what it said on file, anyways.

He was almost sweet as he said it. Almost kind. “Earlier we go, less people there will be. Don’t you want that?”

BUCKY

“Didn’t want you to lose a source of fun.” He tensed without tensing  when she asked, only his eyes moving to look down at the now empty container. Well - one more bite for Liho, which he tossed for the cat. “No. I’m good now.” He set aside the container, scooting a bit closer to her. 

He shrugged. “Weapons, mostly. Got no one just handing them over anymore.” And who knew exactly what he’d need next. “He should know, then. About motorcycles. Or at least machines.” He didn’t trust Stark but that seemed in the man’s wheelhouse. “How many 30th’s have you had?”

He shrugged, hearing the plates in his arm flutter. “I do. But you wanted rest.”

NAT

“There’s plenty of other things for me to make fun of, don’t you worry.” The second he inched close it was invitation enough. She loses the gap, settling on the side of his human shoulder and threading her fingers through his. She squeezed his hand just to check in, more for her benefit than his. “We should stop feeding her human food. It’s bound to be bad for her.”

They were both raised when animals got scraps from whatever was left on the table, but there was probably science to say half of it was toxic by now. Liho wasn’t super, like them.

“Anything fun? Anything normal?” So having stuff wasn’t necessarily a good thing. “You saying I don’t have taste? And asking how old I am? Did no one ever teach you manners?”

She rubbed her thumb over his knuckles, they very fake outrage in her voice matched with a smile. “A few. You missed a good one, in the eighties I had a gorgeous surprise party in Paris...” 

It had all been fake, obviously. The target needed an excuse to get her alone and as his live-in girlfriend it was the right move. But the cake was beautiful, and the champagne tasted good even if the tipsy act had been irritating.

“We’ll see how late we sleep and go from there.”

BUCKY

“I guess I’ll find out.” No worries there. She talked to him like he was another person - pretty much always had. She took the cue, moving closer herself and leaning on him. He squeezed back, remembering to be gentle. “I don’t do it often.” Which was probably telling of what he subsisted on when she was away. “But I can stop.” 

He could. He’d just have to find another way to spoil her. And persuade Liho that he wasn’t betraying her. 

 He was pretty sure weapons were normal. “Some clothes.” He wore layers, but his bag could also only hold so much.

“I am. Too practical.” Not that it was a bad thing when it came to vehicles, but in this case, it was nice to have fun. “I’m older, it’s okay.” He shook his head, punting a memory down the road. “No, wasn’t protocol.”

“Sounds like a good time.” Who knew what he was doing at that time. “Might’ve been in the freezer then.” Like ice cream, his brain provided. 

A nod. “A good plan.” Bucky was hopeful he’d get decent sleep, but he wasn’t capable of sleeping too long.

NAT

“She probably deserves it. Not like she was eating healthy before she found me.” That was important. Nat might have taken the poor scrap in but really it was Liho who should get the credit. Not just for making her life a little less lonely, but for making Bucky stick around too. 

“You could leave clothes here if you wanted.” It was nice to put the offer out there, maybe he’d take it if he ever felt ready. She laughed at his jab at her taste. “I’m practical because half of them get wrecked- Steve is a fucker for it. There’s no way a nice bike like this one is seeing any kind of Avengers duty.”

It was flashy. Bright red, more of a statement than a vehicle. But Stark liked his extravagance. “Come on. What about your family? Your Mom never tell you how to talk to a lady?”

Not that she was much of a lady, she just wanted to hear him talk. Natasha Romanoff was a weapon at best.

She nodded against his shoulder, tapping the floor with her free hand in hopes of coaxing the cat to join them.

BUCKY

“She does.” He firmly believed it, too, maybe seeing a little bit of himself in Liho from time to time. “If she’s eating, it means I’m eating too. You, I don’t know.” He’d seen how much was left in that container. 

“I could.” He’d have to think about which ones would seem normal or at least less suspicious of anyone ever looked through her place. A bit of a laugh. He squinted off across the room for a minute. “I think he’s been like that for a long time. And add in all of the Avengers, it will be worse.” He didn’t hate them - hatred was still an emotion he wasn’t sure how to tap into consistently - but he didn’t trust them. 

“Yeah, she did.” For a moment, his original accent stuck. “Too bad they burned all of that out.” He wished he could remember her better, but those memories were scrambled and painful. “Not sure I’d call you a lady like this, though.”

He watched Liho as she considered joining them. “Call her. That might help.”

NAT

“Long day, longer flight. That’s all, promise.” She didn’t eat enough, and sometimes wine counted as a food group. Not that she could be considered an alcoholic given the lack of side effects. Tonight she was simply distracted, but she’d make an effort tomorrow morning when they stopped somewhere. Pancakes at a diner, so he could devour a whole stack if he wanted. Maybe she should cook, she did know how. It was just that leaving again the day after made it feel a little useless. 

She read his squint, knowing that look. She loved her team, or what was her team. She missed them even if she was too jaded to admit it. Being on the outside was her resting state, but having people to have faith in and work beside... it was a nice change. She didn’t trust them, but that was her own issue. She didn’t trust anyone. Maybe worth the exception of the man on her arm.

“They egg each other on. Too much testosterone in one room sometimes. You’d like Thor, he’s a sweetheart. Very easy to mess with.” Nat shoved him a little for his remark. “It’s been too long since you’ve seen me in a dress, you need a reminder of how well I scrub up. You should call her, she likes you more.”

BUCKY

"Okay." He wasn't sure he believed that. What did either of them promising anything mean? Bucky could be ordered to tell the truth, but she couldn't. Not as easily, at least. "I know you can go a long time without it, but might as well stock up before it's a problem." Not that he thought she was heading for anything like that, but you really never knew. 

"It was like that in the war," he said. He was pretty sure at least. "Especially after Steve got there." That was after the experiments. A lot of that time was a little blurry and he wasn't sure how much he'd get back. "I remember the team a little." Moments, flashes, lunacy. 

"Sounds right up my alley. He's the alien. I want to know about that." What space was like, what he though about earth and other plants. What sort of things they had on his planet. Bucky smiled at the push. "You'll have to scrub up, then. Get fancy, make it look like you're slumming it with me." She did, but that was because he was around more. "Liho, come join us."

NAT

“I don’t work like you. All that food, I’d feel stuffed. Little and often is more my style.” That wasn’t a lie. She was a grazer by nature. It was less conspicuous. “I was thinking about breakfast on the road tomorrow, and then you can lecture me on how coffee isn’t a meal. How does that sound?”

She would make an effort, because it was better than giving him something else to worry about. She got up for a moment, slinking away from him to the breakfast bar to grab the spare wine glass and the bottle- and then her own from the coffee table. She poured one for him, curling back up against his side with tired eyes. Then Natasha extended it for him to take. It was good wine. Fruity and full bodied.

“What do you remember?” She didn’t have to keep pushing, but it was nice to hear there was a happy past somewhere. He had a family and a life before the war, something she had always wanted. She could share his memories like they were her own.

 “You’ll have to ask him sometime.” She hadn’t really quizzed the god of thunder, but if she was ever allowed to see them again then she would make an effort even if it was just to report back. “He speaks like a Shakespearean villain, so dramatic. Good texter though. Drives the others mad.”

Her friends. Or at least as close as she could get. “Next time I’ve got an event you could be my date. Have everyone jealous to have me on your arm.” It was a fantasy. One she would have liked if it had been reality. Instead he got here her, in unguarded moments. There was some kind of silver lining in that. She wasn’t performing, just at a resting state. The cat finally made a small noise, padding over with only her claws making noise on the hard wood floor and immediately purring as she clambered into his lap.

BUCKY

"Hm. You still need to eat at all, though." Wine wasn't a meal, but maybe that was just Bucky's need for a lot of sustenance to keep going talking. "Little doesn't mean nothing." He didn't need to push the issue. She was capable of taking care of herself. "Coffee is not a meal. I can tell you that now." But he shrugged. "That sounds nice."

Wine would not do anything to him. He knew this from before, he thought. Maybe not because of wine, but for some other reason. He took the glass from her when it was offered, her pressed up against his side. Something like this was not a meal - no need to protect it from her. 

He shrugged the shoulder she wasn't leaning against. "We fought in woods and fields and mud. A lot of mud. We'd scrape it off of everything. Throw it at each other until you got tackled. And then more muddy. It was one of those things - we knew we were wasting energy, but we needed something or we'd lose our minds." It was all jumbled together, but it was fairly linear. 

"You think I'll meet him?" It seemed like a big step when he already couldn't quite talk to Steve. Who he had known once. Warming up to Natasha had taken some time too. He didn't know how he'd approach a true stranger, much less an alien. "I wonder why he does." Maybe he had a translator device. That was from a radio drama, he thought. "How come? Because he knows how to text?"

A quick flash of a smile. "Metal or flesh?" They'd never get to that point. He was a fugitive from multiple governments, multiple agencies. Bucky didn't think he'd find internal or external peace for a long time. Maybe he never would. The cat listened to him - a victory. "See? You should come home more often. She thinks I'm the one who lives here." He petted the cat carefully, switching the wineglass to his metal hand.

NAT

“Alright doc, any other health advice for me?” It rolled off her tongue instantly, but not defensively. “I’ll have some biscuits from the cupboard or something if you’ve left me any. Does that sound fair?”

She noticed there was far less of a reaction this time, less of a drive to protect. Maybe it was because he was full, or he read that she was no real threat. Nat closed her eyes to listen to him, a soft smile spreading across her face. He had mud, where she had only known the bitter winters of war. The way Bucky spoke made it seem like the mythical good old days people referred to. The brotherhood and camaraderie that she had never fully known.

“If you want.” The chance was almost none. Not without a small miracle, yet it was no harm to anyone to pretend. “He’s dramatic. Good heart though, always means well. He send paragraphs, huge long statements of intent and it drives Tony mad. Someone might have told him it’s rude not to state the time and date at the start- oh and of course sign off.” She laughed, fully proud of herself.

She set her glass down to her left to wrap her arm under the one she was leaning on. Looping it lightly as he stroked the cat. “This one. Metal one is too stiff. Does it still hurt?” 

He didn’t have to say it. It was clear, both in how he held himself when no one was looking and how he slept. When he wasn’t in a blanket nest in the hall closet. “Yeah, I know.” It was the first time she fully conceded the point. But how was there a way to tell him this still didn’t feel like home? She was on the outs with the Avengers, her identity was known and she had a lot to answer for. Especially to Steve. 

She didn’t open her eyes but let out a heavy sigh. “If I know you’re here it’s more likely. I’ve not exactly got friends in New York right now.”

BUCKY

“Breakfast is healthy.” If she wanted to make fun of his suggestions, he could do the same. He considered. “That is okay.” Probably. She wouldn’t each much and since he had a base he could get more food. She had picked up food for him today. This was a fair exchange. “There is good in the cupboard by the refrigerator. The cat food is under the sink. Your choice.” A joke. 

She relaxed into him more fully, closing her eyes in his presence in a way that no one had dared do in a very long time. Maybe the last time had been her. 

He didn’t want things like that. He barely knew which brand of food he wanted over another. “Maybe.” Probably not. But he didn’t want to disappoint her. “He sounds like a nice friend for you. Not normal, but at least he’s nice.” A quick huff of a laugh. “Of course. A good protocol you designed.” It had to be her, if it annoyed the other ones. And if she was actually laughing like that. 

She got even closer, touch light. Escapable. The cat settled into his lap, purring almost imperceptibly. The metal one was an amazing piece of engineering, he’d been told. But it wasn’t really his. “Nothing above baseline. It’s stable.” There were some slightly damaged plates, and he was often on the edge of the weight of it causing problems. But today it hurt no more than usual. 

“I thought you might.” They’d talked about this before, and she wasn’t a fool. She sighed, air currents playing over his arm. “I can tell you when I’m here.” Right, yes, she’d blown every cover on record. “I’m a friend. I think, at least. I haven’t tried to kill you for at least a year.”

NAT

“I don’t know who it would be worse for you to take food from, you or little misery down here.” Her time was warm, it wasn’t an accusation. Just an observation. And he was funny, so he earned another soft laugh. It was a welcome distraction when he was funny, a reminder there was a human beneath the pain and hazy memories. 

“I think our definition of normal was broken a long time ago. I’ve been hanging out with men in spandex and robot armour, it’s hardly a good measure.” His maybe was non-communal. She didn’t miss it for a second, shattering her daydream just a little. It was fair for him to be skeptical though, and it wasn’t like she was going to be allowed back in stark tower anytime soon.

“You want me to take a look?” She was indeed tired, but that ball he slept in had to be making things worse. There was hardly much she could do, but she knew enough about the human side of his body. How it carried stress and how to relieve pain if need be.

“You’re a friend James. Definitely a friend.” That much she was certain of. As much as Natasha was attracted to danger, she wouldn’t be curled up on the floor with him like this if there was any doubt. The metallic sound of his arm was oddly soothing. “It’s refreshing, nee level of friendship for us.”

BUCKY

"Me. She cannot tear you from limb to limb." Bucky thought what he might be feeling was some sort of defensiveness. She hadn't taken anything from him, but there was always the possibility that one day she might. She could starve too. 

She laughed a little, though, and he relaxed slightly. "I agree." He couldn't imagine what that could be like. They'd always sent teams with him - normal people. "They stand out a lot more than you do."

He didn't know if he had the energy to want much - his body was still working through the food he'd just eaten. He could let her that close. He knew that. "If you want to." It wasn't a yes or a no, but he set down his glass at his side to pull his shirt off one-handed while trying not to disturb the cat. 

A friend. It was nice of her to think that. He still wasn't sure that was allowed, but it'd be nice. "Thanks." She had tried a little less to kill him. "I guess so. I take care of your cat for you, you make fun of me."

NAT

She hummed softly, knowing he wasn’t joking. He could pull her apart at the seams if he really wanted to. She just had enough trust that he didn’t. 

Natasha shuffled off the wall to get a better look at his back, hands on it the second the shirt was over his head. It had been a long time since she had seen it in real detail, and so many of the scars were new. Of course she knew how brutally cruel his life had been. But she was more than a little grateful he couldn’t read the sadness in her eyes as she surveyed the damage. She started at the base of his spine, digging her thumbs in with a little pressure and slowly, carefully moving them up towards his shoulders. 

It was hard to tell what was metal and what was knots. “If anything hurts, tell me. I mean it.” Once she hit underneath his shoulder blades, she ran her thumbs outwards, just underneath the curve.

“Seems like a fair exchange, although if I’m going to keep feeding you I might have to work a bit more. You eat like a racehorse.” Hopefully he would see that as more teasing and not a reason to stop showing up.

[tekka-dan]

you let her sleep in your bed because you needed comfort and when I asked you about it you became defensive.

you say nothing happened but then actually threaten me to drop it. to never bring it up again, because it’s not my business, “we aren’t together, so it shouldn’t matter”

no on all accounts fuck you. seriously from the bottom of my torn heart - fuck you.

I’ve always forgiven you. because I was always afraid to lose or leave you. but you finally gave me a fucking excuse to peace out without regrets, seriously fuck you.

you let another woman comfort you by sleeping in your bed and expect me to believe nothing happened but the next morning she sends you a heart felt text and asks you out? how is it that she was so comfortable with you from a single night that she is comfortable enough to ask you out? how is that? where did that energy come from all of the sudden?

and when I asked you about this - you got so angry you hung up the call. all because I fucking asked you where did she sleep. I “forced” you to tell the truth no mother fucker I made you fucking admit that you did more than just sleep with your so called friend because otherwise she wouldn’t have felt comfortable to ask you out the next day.

otherwise you wouldn’t have mutd her conversations when I’m around. otherwise you wouldn’t unplug your fucking microphone when she enters your room. otherwise I’d have a name or a damn picture of her for reference when you mention her - theres always been more to her and now that I’ve uprooted your fucking game you’re fucking out buddy.

you’re done. dead to me.

you could’ve left me and you did but you went and got angry when I asked about it, got defensive and then threatened me when I wanted clarification. you gave me vague and half assed details - what the fuck else can I assume went on between you both?

she can have you. and everybody else you kept telling me “you could get and fuck over in a heartbeat” can have you too. all this time I knew my intuition wasn’t fucking with me.

those days I sat up asking my mother fucking self why does it seem like he’s secretive about who he snapchats lately? watching porn of people who look nothing like me (skin color, size, nothing about the porn women you watched resembled me) you kept telling me you weren’t attracted to “not thick” girls but I was the exception because I have a brain and I didn’t wanna leave after we fucked.

wish I had.

you tell me I’m like all the other girls who came and left but the difference is they probably knew you weren’t shit at the jump and I wasted a year and two months thinking you’d come around.

my intuition never lies, you’ve been mother fucking playing me and I’m not about it.

like you got away with fucking with my feelings, making me emotionally attached and insecure for too damn long, I’m taking the responsibility of picking up the pieces and moving on.

this was the last straw. and you may sit there and say “you’ve been wanted to leave now you’re like the rest cause you wanna be the good guy since you have this dumb ass excuse”

no mother fucker I refuse to be cheated on and lied to my mother fucking face and threatened when confronting your bitch ass. step off about whose the victim and bullshit dude. seriously get the fuck over yourself and admit you fucked this up all on your own.

we were cool until you did that to me, for it I’ll never forgive you so congratulations you lost a real one for real, son.

[mittensmorgul]

What do you think about Samwena now? Do you think they can still be endgame?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The TNT loop has brought me up through 12.21 today, and it’s wild what new canon can do to recontextualize the past.

I’m putting this under a cut, so that saileen shippers won’t have to subject themselves to my rambling about Eileen and Sam in a way I know they’ll dislike... but I’m tired of feeling like I can’t talk about canon how I see it on my own blog.

Back when these episodes originally aired, with the week to week meta cycle in between, a lot of context was left up to us and never explicitly clarified in canon. Many of us were just thrilled at the notion that Sam had made one (1) friend that he seemed as close with as Dean did, if not closer. We were all ready to read way more into their interactions than was actually there, because Sam just gets so few of these sorts of personal relationships, at all, with anyone.

Things have been provided with clarification now in s15-- like the previous nature of Sam’s relationship with Eileen, and Sam’s repeated insistence to Dean’s teasing that they’re “not like that.” Which seems to be urging me to go back and reexamine everything from the past connected to her without the erroneous assumption that they already had a romantic relationship going offscreen. And let me tell you, that puts an entirely different spin on Eileen’s prior purpose in the narrative. As a parallel for Mary. Which is why I suppose I’ve been finding so many weird Mary parallels for her since her resurrection (starting with the fact that the spell that brought her back was designed to resurrect Mary instead and going right on through all the BMoL Free Will Erasure brainwashing plot literally in the episode where Eileen was murdered by Hellhound).

Lady Bevell: Well, not about this illusion of you that you hold on to. The perfect life. Loving husband and kids. But it never really was perfect, was it? All those secrets you kept from your beloved John – that you were a hunter. That you invited Azazel to visit when he spared John's life.Mary: How do you-Lady Bevell: I have sources, Mary. Everywhere. After you died, your beloved John was a man slowly going mad, searching for revenge. What? Your boys didn't tell you? The drunken rages? The weeks of abandonment? Child abuse, really. It's no wonder they're... damaged. So... enough with the fairy tale. We are returning you to a more pure version of yourself – Mary Campbell, natural born killer.

The “illusion” of the perfect life, the illusion of Free Will, in essence (especially now that we know Chuck was also behind the whole BMoL narrative). Not to mention that in this episode, Toni will later heavily imply that Mary was in fact the one who killed Eileen (even if it wasn’t true... Sam and Dean STILL don’t know who actually killed Eileen). I mean, the fact they found Mary in the process of attempting to murder Jody Mills probably sealed the belief that at the very least, it COULD’VE been Mary who’d done the deed. Even Mary wouldn’t know for sure if she had, because brainwashed:

SAM: Why you spying on us? Oh, and what do you know about Eileen Leahy?TONI: Who?DEAN: Did you – did – did your people, did they kill her?TONI: Probably. Rule of thumb – if you think we killed someone, then we probably did. Speaking of, you do realize that by attacking me, you invite the retribution of the entire British Men of Letters? Investigation, no trial. Just punishment and ruin. Possibly at the hands of Mary Winchester.DEAN: The hell is that supposed to mean?TONI: Your mother – she's our permanent guest.SAM: She's your prisoner? Why?TONI: Prisoner? Who said anything about prisoner? No, Mary's joined the team. Even has her own super secret decoder ring.SAM: You're lying.TONI: You're right. There is no ring. Oh, boys and their mums. See, you see her as Mummy. We see her as one of our best killers.

Sam’s main drive during s12 was doing whatever he could to desperately create any sort of relationship with Mary that he could (even willingly working with people who’d TORTURED him), and this is what haunted him into s13, as well, after destroying the BMoL to save Mary, and then almost immediately losing her again to the AU.

Do I think that Sam is considering the possibility of a real relationship with Eileen? Probably, yeah, after Dean’s prodding, especially. But Dean was fundamentally misunderstanding the nature of Sam’s “agreement” with Eileen there. It wasn’t about a romantic arrangement.

Because they aren’t like that.

Eileen propositioned Sam in 15.07 (in the name of doing something “fun”), yes, but I still can’t see Sam’s reaction there as anything but surprise and consternation. He seems almost relieved that Cas showed up when he did to interrupt what would otherwise have been an uncomfortable and probably embarrassing talk.

When Dean asked about Eileen in 15.08, it felt to me like Sam’s comment about them having an agreement was directly about the opening scene... where Sam had secretly followed her out on a hunt, and then nearly getting himself killed both by Eileen AND the vampire, all because he didn’t trust her to handle it or ask for help if she needed it.

Their agreement gets further contextualization via Sue’s comment to Eileen, taunting her about having to “get permission” to come out and help her on a hunt. Because that’s exactly what she had to do. That was the nature of her agreement with Sam-- that she wouldn’t just leave without at least leaving a note (Sam’s exact words to her in that opening scene... “You could’ve left a note.”)

DEAN: Yeah. Eileen did good, right? Getting us back from hell. She doing okay?SAM: Yeah. I guess.DEAN: You guess?SAM: If she needs something from me, she'll tell me. We have an agreement.

It felt like Sam was telling Dean that he didn’t know how Eileen was, because part of their agreement was that Sam... not pester her over this sort of thing. Sam seemed... disappointed over the whole situation. Dean immediately turned this into a relationship thing, though, leaving Sam slightly confused, but probably considering the option, at least.

DEAN: You have an agreement? That's adorable. Look, man, I didn't want to say anything, okay, 'cause I was kind of in... in a bad place, and, uh, yeah, I didn't want to jinx it or whatever, but, you know, I tried the family thing, right?SAM: Yeah, me too. And that's not for us.DEAN: No, not really. But I'm just saying if it was to work, Eileen, you know, she gets it. She gets us. She gets the life. She's hot.SAM: Dean. I mean, I'm not even...DEAN: Look, all I'm saying is you... you could do worse, okay? And she could certainly do better. Like, so much better. I'm happy for you, Sammy.

If only Dean hadn’t framed it as essentially “settling” for someone just because they conveniently ticked off the most basic “someone in the life” box.

And if only this hadn’t come two scenes after Sam found Rowena, dead, in Hell. And literally flinching at the change that he saw in her. Almost as if Dean was trying to give Sam the “it’s not so bad. You couldn’t save Rowena, but at least you have a backup romantic interest, since you can’t resurrect Rowena and make everything okay with her, because you already used Rowena’s own spell to resurrect Eileen...” It felt like a weirdly hearty consolation speech in that context.

And if this hadn’t felt like more of a comment on DEAN’S recent mental turnaround after his experiences in 15.07, and his tentative hope that things between him and Cas aren’t completely kaput, that Cas hadn’t completely written him off, after Rowena’s little Marriage Counselling session with them (again, two scenes earlier).

Now is this to say that Sam’s emotional investment in a relationship with Eileen can’t change going forward? Absolutely not! He might really, truly invest himself in a relationship with her!

I’m extremely interested to see what happens in 15.09, because I think that episode will hopefully give us so many of the answers we’ve been waiting for. Not necessarily about endgame love interests, but about Chuck’s involvement in the first half of the season’s unfolding drama. And I think Rowena will have a continuing part to play after that point.

Does that mean I think Sam’s emotional investment in a potential relationship with Rowena can’t be rekindled? We’ll have to wait and see, but as it stood after 15.08, Sam, at least, seemed to be shaken by the change that had come over her after her sacrifice.

SAM: Rowena, I...ROWENA: Samuel, please. You killing me was one of the best things that ever happened. Yes, there are things I miss about being alive. Flesh-on-flesh sex. Amazon doesn't deliver here... yet. But, lads, I'm queen. My subjects revere me. Well, fear me, which is better. I should have died a long time ago. Samuel, be a dear.SAM: Yeah.

This has to be like a knife to him, you know? He’d been so invested in her redemption, as the Fated Agent of her final demise. And for Sam, who knows what she feared and who she loved (but Sam doesn’t know he’s on that list, she told him flat out he wasn’t right before she told him to kill her), she represents his current biggest failure, you know? He capitulated to Destiny, because he had no other choice. And that is still the worst thing anyone on the show can possibly say.

THIS was the final straw that drove Dean to anger with Cas, too. Rowena’s death was the direct result of Cas’s choice to kill Belphegor rather than let him complete his spell. It’s all interconnected, and it’s all painful, and it’s all a direct result of Chuck’s breaking the story the way he did in 14.20.

So make of this what you will, but I’m tired of not talking about these far bigger themes to avoid upsetting shippers who want saileen to be endgame. We’re not there yet, and until we are, I want to talk about all of this in a nonjudgmental way, because I think it’s all interesting, not because I have some shipping agenda.

I know I have more to say about all of this, but this is a good start, at least.