#even if the voice acting only occured in the scenes they were in they’d be so much better!

[pocketfullofjoltiks]

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Could you do a snippet where Hero is going into cardiac arrest and Villain tries to do CPR to save them?

(Did you know that approximately only 45% of out-of-hospital cardiac arrest victims survive when a bystander administers CPR? Also, after 10 minutes of a cardiac arrest, brain death is mostly likely to occur with a very small chance of the person surviving at all.)

When the villain arrived at the scene, they started to panic. They didn’t know how much blood there was exactly, but they remembered the gruesomeness of it. It burnt into their brain, giving them nightmares years after, traumatising them to a violent point. It was stuff made out of nightmares, waking them up in the middle of the night, sweating and retching.

It was a crime scene.

“Hey…” The villain dropped next to the wheezing hero who tried to get some air back into their lungs. Without thinking about it, they took their jacket off and pressed the fabric into the hero’s wound, hoping it would stop the bleeding. It was rather wishful thinking.

“Called you first,” the hero said. “The others…”

The blood came out of their suit like water came out of a fountain and the villain knew what that meant. Quick and fast and dipping their suit into red. These injuries were caused by brutal trauma and sheer force. Internal bleeding, aortic rupture…haemorrhage so much haemorrhage…

The villain took in a shaky breath, looking over the battered body and pushing themselves to see the hero as a thing, rather than an individual.

Like a medical problem that needed a solution.

It was so fucking hard.

“Hey, focus on me. Don’t think about them,” the villain said, voice breaking, “they’re on their way, okay? We’re gonna get you out of here.” They took the hero’s hand and squeezed gently, hopefully reassuring. They looked into those beautiful eyes like so many times before, held them like they’d hold them once before, felt something they’d never felt before.

Love was a weird thing, they supposed. They were angry at the hero. Angry for going alone, angry for getting hurt. And yet, they were panicking at the thought of losing them.

What on earth would there be left without them?

But it happened too fast.

The hero took gulps of air in, whispered a heartbreaking “please” in an attempt at meaningful last words and eventually lost consciousness.

It happened so quickly that the villain didn’t even register the uncontrollable and heavy tears pouring out of their eyes, flowing down their face. The villain checked the hero’s pulse multiple times but they found nothing, whereas their own heart was beating in their throat.

“No. No no no no—” This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t.

Though, the methodical side of their brain kicked in and though they wanted to be calculated and smart about this, the tears wouldn’t stop. They just wouldn’t stop.

Immediately, they started with chest compressions and they knew, oh god, they knew how deep their hands would have to sink into the hero’s chest to make a difference.

“Please,” the villain whispered, forcing themselves to use more strength. They stopped, performed mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, continued compressions. It went on like this steadily — a cycle they would do for eternity if it could change the hero’s fate.

They felt it under their fingers, their fingers that were slowly getting covered in the hero’s blood. They felt how the hero’s ribs broke off the sternum, how the sternum itself started to crack, how with each push it got weaker.

Even though the villain knew what it felt like to feel breaking bone under their hands, this was insane. It was a sin. And still an unforgiving act of love.

When it finally broke, the villain squeezed their eyes together, tears falling and falling. The skin under their fingers was warm and wet from blood and this should’ve been it. But they checked the pulse and— nothing. So, they continued, knowing they wanted to stop but realising they couldn’t.

After that, there were more cracks and the villain assumed those belonged to the hero’s ribs breaking as well.

Now, the villain was the one to gulp for air, begging quietly for the hero to wake up and cough and live. It was hell, felt more illegal than any crime they’d ever committed. But they continued, hurt and desperate.

Later, they learnt that the whole thing had lasted mere minutes, but right now, it felt like hours. Hours of torture, hours of breaking their beloved hero’s bones to save them. Blood covered the hero’s chest more and more, indicating hopelessness.

When finally the other heroes arrived, the usually reserved villain was an uncontrollable mess who turned out to be the hero’s last hope. Shaking, they looked up at the rescuers who had defibrillator and ambu bag in their hands. Someone was shouting, more and more people joined them and someone was kind enough to lay a hand on the villain’s shoulder.

“Thank you, we’ll take it from here,” that someone said. Reluctantly, the villain let go of their hero, nodding and losing more and more of their sight due to tears. They stumbled back a few steps and stared at their own hands, then at the hero.

Another person asked if they were injured themselves and the villain shook their head absentmindedly, watching as the medics opened the hero’s suit to position the electrodes. Their chest was red and sunken in, covered in blood — indisputable evidence of the villain’s effort. When the hero’s chest jumped up from the electricity, the villain wanted to puke. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

Yesterday, the hero had laughed about the dumbest joke the villain had ever made, they had talked about their pet and apartment. Christ, they’d been fine. Better than fine.

The villain was instructed to come with someone but they refused, for their eyes couldn’t leave the hero alone. They couldn’t leave them behind. With every jump of the hero’s chest, the villain hoped it would be the last.

Eventually someone tore them away, despite their struggles, giving them a shock blanket, forcing a medical examination upon them.

Though the person examining the villain tried to shield the view from them, the villain noticed that they didn’t use the defibrillator anymore. But then finally, finally, someone came towards them and said the most beautiful thing the villain had ever heard.

“They’re stable.”

[lovinkiri]

More Than A Wild Cat, Chapter Five

Author's thoughts: I hope this is received well! The Hex and Hatasu scene is actually my favorite!

Warnings: Swearing, implied murder, implied trauma/PTSD, mention of torture, etc.

OC Credit: @jix-the-dragon

Art Credit: @.jabberwockyface

Sasha sat at the edge of the coffee table in the common room, her arms folded tightly across her chest. She wasn’t looking at anyone, her amber eyes distant and lost in a sea of memories. It was clear to her classmates that whatever she had been through had left scars deeper than any villain’s attack could ever, and they hated it, especially Eijirou.

He walked over and sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder,his eyes gentle but serious. “You don’t have to tell us if you’re not ready,” He said softly, kissing her head.

“No,” Sasha said, her voice low but steady. “I need to. You all need to understand what they really are. The Commission... they don’t care about heroes. Not the way we’re taught here, not the way you think.”

She paused, as if choosing her words carefully. The weight of what she was about to say hung in the air. She didn’t what she spoke of to affect her friend’s dreams, or to make them feel hopeless. Still, she didn’t exactly want to sugarcoat her own experience.

“When I was younger, they found me. The Commission recruits promising kids who show potential early on. They asked if I wanted to be a agent. They barely gave me a choice.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “They asked me if I wanted to find my parents, and I did. They said that it as the only way. I was enrolled in their training program before I even knew what was happening.”

“That sounds... intense,” Denki muttered, his usual carefree tone replaced with unease. 

Sasha nodded, her gaze hardening. “It was. The training wasn’t like UA’s. It wasn’t about making you stronger or better. It was about breaking you down. They push you past your limits—mentally, physically. Day after day, they forced me to fight, to hone my Quirk until I could barely stand. And if you failed? They’d make sure you regretted it.” 

“They... punished you?” Ochako asked quietly, her voice filled with shock. She wasn’t the only one who was already concerned as to where the story was going.

Sasha’s lips twisted into a bitter smile, and her gaze seemed to glaze over for a moment. “Punished isn’t the word. It was torture. They’d isolate you, deprive you of sleep, food. They’d put you in situations where you had no choice but to fight for your life—against simulations, sometimes against other trainees. And they’d watch. Always watching, recording everything. It was all just... experiments to them. To see how far we could go before we broke.”

Izuku’s eyes widened in horror. “That’s inhumane! How could they—”

“They wanted perfect agents,” Sasha interrupted, her tone sharp. “Not heroes. They wanted weapons they could control. They didn’t care about what we wanted. They didn’t care about what it did to us. We weren’t meant to be adored and cheered for. We were meant to get the jobs done that the public couldn’t handle. That the heroes couldn’t handle.”

Todoroki’s voice was cold when he spoke. “They treated you like tools. Like a means to an end.” That was something he knew well, and it seemed Sasha had experienced it to the extreme.

Sasha nodded slowly. “Exactly. I wasn’t Sasha to them. I was ‘Agent Wild Cat.’ Just another agent in their system. They tried to erase our identities, made us believe that being a hero was about following orders, no matter how wrong they felt. We were trained to act without thinking about morals or our own feelings, to obey, no matter the cost.”

“What about Naomasa?” Eijirou asked, wondering where Sasha’s guardian had been this entire time. Sasha could understand, that seemed like a pretty obvious question.

“Don’t be too hard on, Nao. I made his life hell until he agreed. Just like everyone else, of course he had faith in them, it hadn’t even occurred to him that they’d do all the heinous things they did,” She sighed, laying her head against Eijirou’s shoulder. “And he still doesn’t know.”

“You didn’t tell him?” Bakugou grunted, finally speaking him with a look of disbelief. “We’re findin’ out before him?”

“I’d just tell him I was spending the night at the agency, which wasn’t a lie. I was spending the nights to get ‘punished’, but I couldn’t tell him.” She looked up to meet his gaze. “How could I? He’d have done everything in his power to get me out. And, fine, that sounds right now. But back then? I was a child, and I was fairly new to living in Japan, and I was missing my parents. It felt like the only choice I had.”

Momo, who sat across from her on the couch, placed a hand on her knee. “Sasha, why didn’t you tell him after you left?” She asked softly, not wanting to make Sasha feel like she was being blamed for her own suffering.

Feeling her intentions, Sasha smiled and placed a hand over hers. “How are you supposed to tell someone something like that, knowing that they’d only blame themselves. I don’t know how to tell him.”

Eijirou gently rubbed her shoulder, holding her close to him. It broke his heart to see all of the apin she had been carrying. It was no wonder she had a bad habit of keeping secrets. It was the only way she’d been able to protect the people she loved from getting hurt all this time.

They gave her a moment before they asked her anything else, and she appreciated it. She hadn’t realized this would be so hard to talk about after so many years. For a while, she’d suffered from nightmares after leaving the commission, but those had died down. She figured that was a sign that those memories had  no hold on her anymore. 

God, she hated being wrong about these things.

Then came the question that was on everyone’s mind for a long time now. A question no one had really had the nerve to ask. “Did you ever—” Denki began, but Sasha cut him off. She could tell from his expression, he wanted to know if she’d ever killed anyone.

“They trained us to be perfect agents,” Sasha said, trying to keep her voice calm. She really hated talking about this, but it was about time she did. “But that wasn’t just about learning how to fight or survive. They taught us how to follow orders without question, to carry out missions no matter what... even if it meant hurting people. Civilians, sometimes. Other agents. Anyone in the way.”

Her words hit the room like a punch to the gut. They had already known the answer, but hearing it from her was something else altogether. No one could imagine what it must have been like, being manipulated into being a soldier who hurts anyone.

“I’ve hurt a lot people,” She said, her voice wavering a bit this time. “People who were scared, confused, just trying to live their lives. And I did it because I was told to. I didn’t question it for too long. It was easier not to.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “They told me it was for the greater good, that it was necessary for peace and order. And for a long time... I believed them.”

Ochako’s eyes filled with sadness as she reached out, her voice soft. “Sasha, that wasn’t your fault. They conditioned you—”

“But I still did it!” Sasha snapped, surprising herself with the force of her words. Her whole body tensed, her emotions finally spilling over as she spoke faster, her voice growing more frantic. “I can’t just say it wasn’t my fault and walk away from what I’ve done. I still see their faces. Every single person I hurt. I remember the way they looked at me, the fear in their eyes.”

Sasha’s eyes burned with unshed tears, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts. “And every night... I would see them in my dreams. No matter how hard I tried to forget, they were always there. Haunting me.” She looked away from them, hoping that it would aid in hiding these feelings she’d kept locked away. 

The room was suffocatingly quiet, but the weight of her words hung in the air like a storm cloud. Sasha could feel their eyes on her, but she didn’t want to meet them. She didn’t want to see the judgment, the disgust that she thought surely must be there.

“I dont have those nightmares anymore, not often anyway, but I don’t need to be asleep to be reminded of what I’ve done.” She paused to wipe her amber eyes, though that didn’t stop her from tearing up all over again  I try to tell myself I’m different now, that I’ve escaped, but... those things I did... they’ll never leave me.”

Eijirou’s voice, surprisingly calm but firm, broke the silence. “You were manipulated, Sasha. Used. They twisted you into something you weren’t meant to be.” He said, nuzzling his face into her hair. 

Sasha shook her head, her voice dropping to low murmur. “But I let them. I let them turn me into a monster.”

“No,” He said, his eyes fierce. “You’re not a monster. Not now, not ever. You were forced into something terrible, but you chose to leave. You chose to be better. That’s what matters.”

“What if I can never make up for what I’ve done? What if those faces never go away?” Sasha bit her lip to stop it from trembling. 

“They might not,” Todoroki said, his tone somber but full of understanding. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to heal. I’ve done things I regret too... things I can’t take back. But that doesn’t mean we stop trying to be better.”

Eijirou continued to speak with a quiet intensity, fiercely believing in every word he spoke. “You’re here now. You’re in UA because you want to learn to be a real hero. That’s what counts. You didn’t let them break you.”

Sasha finally looked up, her eyes shining with unshed tears. The sight broke Eijirou’s heart into a million pieces. It wasn’t often Sasha cried, so this must have been bothering her for years. He should have asked sooner. “But what if it’s too late? What if I’ve already done too much damage?” She asked, leaning into her boyfriend.

Bakugou, who had been silently listening for the most part, scoffed. “Too late? That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” He stood up straight, his hands shoved into his pockets, but his voice was serious. “We’ve all screwed up at some point. Some more than others,” he added, glancing toward Izuku with a solemn, almost apologetic, look in his eyes. “But you don’t stop fighting just because you’ve got some dirt on your hands. You keep going. You keep moving forward.”

Izuku nodded in agreement. “Kacchan’s right. Being a hero isn’t about being perfect. It’s about making choices that count now. You can’t change the past, but you can decide what kind of hero you’re going to be from here on.” He spoke in that voice that made everyone admire him. That voice full of conviction, the one that made everyone feel like they could move forward.

Sasha looked around the room, seeing not judgment in their faces, but understanding. Compassion. Even from Bakugou, in his own abrasive way. She had braced herself for rejection, for them to see her the way she sometimes saw herself—a villain masquerading as a hero. But that wasn’t what she found in their eyes.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive myself,” Sasha said softly, “but... I want to try. I want to try to be someone better. Someone who makes the people around them proud, not sad. Someone who saves people and doesn’t hurt them.”

“And you will,” Izuku said firmly, a determined smile on his face. “Because you’re not alone in this anymore. You have us. You have everyone, Sasha.”

Eijirou smiled down at her softly and pulled her into his lap for a bear hug. His big, strong arms felt so loving and reassuring, enveloping her like a security blanket. “We’re all trying to be better, one day at a time, babe. That’s what makes us heroes.”

Tears finally slipped down Sasha’s cheeks, but this time, they weren’t just tears of pain. She quickly moved to wipe them, letting out a emotional laugh. “Thanks, everyone..  You guys mean so much to me.”

Todoroki gave her a small nod, his expression softening. “We’ve all got our demons, Sasha. But you don’t have to face yours alone. Like Izuku said, you have us. So lean on us sometimes.”

…

As Sasha stepped out of UA’s main building, the cold autumn air hit her like a wave, but she didn’t mind. After the heavy conversation with her classmates, she needed space to think. Her thoughts swirled like a storm in her mind, but the crisp air helped clear it, even if only a little. She’d only shared a part of her past, she knew this wouldn’t be the first conversation they had. 

Baby steps.

They let her go, but not without hesitance. Eijirou didn’t want to leave her alone, but she’d said she needed space, so he wouldn’t deny her. He just hoped that she had truly started to believe what they said. That she wasn’t out there beating herself up, and that she could heal now.

The campus was quiet now, the late afternoon sun starting to disappear behind thick clouds. As she walked along the path that wound through the training grounds, she took a deep breath. Her classmates were right. She wasn’t "Agent Wild Cat" anymore.

That name had once filled her with purpose, but now it only brought memories of pain, regret, and the broken person she had been forced to become. No, that wasn’t her anymore. It had been years since she walked away from the Commission, and every step she took was a reminder that she had left that part of her behind.

Now, she was "Namir."

“Namir,” she thought to herself, letting the name roll through her mind. It was who she chose to be now. A hero who fought for hope, not for orders. She was no longer an agent for someone else’s twisted vision of peace. She was her own person—a hero trying to make things right.

As if the universe had decided to match her mood, the first raindrops began to fall from the gray sky. Sasha felt a cold drop land on her cheek and looked up as the rain began to pick up, soaking through her clothes almost instantly. She sighed, shaking her head with a humorless laugh. “Just my luck,” she muttered.

The sky opened up, the rain falling harder, and for a moment, she stood there in the downpour, feeling the weight of the water on her shoulders. She had expected to feel more alone out here, but oddly, she didn’t. Maybe it was the conversation, or maybe it was the fact that, for the first time in a long time, she knew she wasn’t carrying her burdens alone.

The sound of splashing footsteps broke through her thoughts. She turned around, blinking through the rain, and saw a group of familiar figures approaching her, huddled under their umbrellas. Bakugou, Denki, Sero, Mina—and at the front, holding the umbrella high with his seemingly unbreakable smile, was Eijirou.

“Sasha!” Eijirou called out, his voice filled with warmth. “Are you okay? We came to find you, you shouldn’t be just sitting out in the rain.”

Mina gave her a playful pout as she stood under the umbrella. “You didn’t think we’d just let you brood out here all by yourself, did you?”

Sasha felt a smile tugging at her lips despite the rain. Eijirou came closer, holding his umbrella over her head to shield her from the rain, the others crowding around as well.

“Come on, dumbass,” Bakugo grumbled, though his voice lacked its usual sharp edge. He stuffed his free hand in his pocket, looking away. “You’re gonna catch a cold if you stay out here.”

Denki shot her a thumbs up, grinning at her brightly. “We can’t have you getting sick, Namir! You’ve got hero training and well… Now you’ve got to train us. Something tells me we’re gonna need our new teacher.”

Sero nodded, balancing on the balls of his feet as he looked up at the umbrella. “Besides, the rain’s not gonna make things better. Trust me, we’ve all tried that at one point. You just end up cold!”

She laughed, a real laugh this time, the kind that felt like having a weight lifted off of her chest. It wasn’t loud or dramatic, but it felt... right. “Thanks,” she said, her voice softer than before, her heart warming at the sight of her friends gathered around her. And then her eyes drifted up to Eijirou. He gave her that encouraging look that always seemed to make everything just a little bit better.

He took her hand in his, squeezing it gently. “You’re not alone anymore, Sasha. We’re here with you. So let’s get out of this rain, yeah?” He suggested, tilting his head. 

Reaching up, she cupped his cheek and gently brought him down, pressing a loving kiss to his lips. Eijirou seemed to pause, surprised by the sudden action, before returning the kiss. She could hear the others “aweing” and whispering, excluding Bakugou who gave an exasperated groan. 

She pulled away after a moment and grinned up at him. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m thinking some hot chocolate or some of Momo’s tea sounds good right now,” She suggested, squeezing his hand back and linking their fingers.

As the group made their way back toward the dorms, the rain continued to come down around them. Sasha walked close to Eijirou, feeling his steady presence at her side, but it was Bakugou’s voice that broke through her thoughts.

“Oi, Cat,” Bakugo called out, glancing over at her, his voice gruff but not as loud. “I get it, y’know. About having regrets.”

Sasha blinked, surprised that Bakugou, Explosion Boy, of all people was about to open up. She raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. Kirishima and the others listened, too, a little curious about where this was going.

Bakugou shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, his eyes fixed on the ground ahead. “I’ve screwed up, too. More than once. When I was younger... I was a real asshole to Izuku. Like, way worse than I was when we first met. Treated him like trash, like I was better than him.”

Denki and Sero exchanged glances, clearly not expecting this level of honesty from Bakugou, but no one interrupted him.

He huffed, almost embarrassed. “Looking back on it now... it’s pretty damn humiliating. The guy was the only real friend I had, and I treated him like crap. Didn’t realize it at the time, but that... it’s one of the things that haunted me.”

Sasha’s eyes softened. She hadn’t expected Bakugou to admit something like this, and she could feel the weight of his words. Even Bakugou had regrets, and they were clearly still with him, just as hers were.

“But here’s the thing,” Bakugou continued, his voice growing firmer and his gaze getting sharper. “You’ve gotta move on from your screw-ups, or you’ll never get better. If you let that shit hang over you forever, you’ll always be left behind. And I don’t know about you, but I’m not planning on being left behind by anyone.”

Sasha couldn’t help but smile. The way he said it was classic Bakugou—rough around the edges but real, and his message hit home. She chuckled softly, feeling lighter than she had in a while.

“Aww, you big softie,” she teased, playfully bumping his shoulder.

Bakugou barely had time to react before her nudge sent him flying, his feet slipping out from under him as he fell backward into a large puddle with a loud splash. The water and mud splattered everywhere, covering him from head to toe as he sat up, looking absolutely furious.

For a moment, there was dead silence—then everyone burst into laughter. Kirishima doubled over, clutching his stomach, while Mina and Sero pointed at Bakugou, tears of laughter streaming down their faces.

“Oh man, Kacchan! You okay down there?” Denki wheezed between fits of giggles.

Sasha stood there, her hands covering her mouth as she tried and failed to stop laughing. “I-I’m so sorry!” she said, barely able to speak through her laughter. She stepped forward, offering her hand to Bakugou. “Here, let me help you up.”

Bakugou glared at her but took her hand, pretending to accept the help. Just as she began to pull him to his feet, his lips curled into a wicked grin. Before she knew what was happening, he yanked her down with him, sending her tumbling face-first into the mud beside him with a gasp.

Now it was Sasha’s turn to be soaked in mud. The others exploded into fresh laughter as she sat up, covered in muck, her hair plastered to her face. She blinked, shocked for a second, before a grin spread across her face.

“You jerk!” she laughed, shoving Bakugou, which only made him smirk.

“Payback’s a bitch, huh?” he said, leaning back with that smug expression.

Sasha couldn’t help it. She lunged at him, tackling him back into the mud, laughing as they wrestled in the puddle. The others cheered them on, Mina and Denki practically rolling on the ground from laughter.

Kirishima shook his head, smiling fondly as he watched the scene unfold. “Well, that’s one way to cheer up. I’ve got my bet on Sasha!” He joked, wiping tears from all the laughter.

Eventually, Sasha and Bakugou sat up, both covered head to toe in mud but laughing nonetheless. Sasha wiped the grime from her face, still smiling as she looked at her friends– Her family. They weren’t just classmates anymore; they were people who cared about her, and in this moment, despite everything she’d been through that day, she felt a sense of peace.

…

Sero grinned. “At least you’ve got a new style going on, man. I’d say the muddy look really suits you. Might wanna add it to your hero suit!” He teased the ash blonde, pomeranian like man.

“Shut up,” Bakugou growled, but there was no real bite in his words. Even he couldn’t help but fight the urge to crack a smile.

When they entered the dorm, the rest of Class 1-A was lounging around in the common room, and immediately, everyone turned their heads. The moment they saw the state Sasha and Bakugou were in, the teasing began in full force.

“Oh wow, you two look like you had a fun time outside,” Koda joked, grinning from ear to ear. “We were worried about you when it started raining.”

Jirou smirked, shaking her head as Denki sat beside her, putting a wet arm around her shoulder “Yeah, the mud wrestling championship came early this year.”

Sasha rolled her eyes but smiled. “Alright, alright, laugh it up. We’re going to shower.”

Eijirou laughed along with everyone but gave her a warm smile as she walked past. “We’ll wait up for you, Sasha.”

She gave him a quick smile in return before heading to the showers, grateful to wash off the mud and the heaviness of the day. As the hot water poured over her, Sasha let herself unwind, her muscles relaxing after everything that had happened. The mud and the tension from earlier seemed to wash away down the drain, leaving her feeling lighter and happier. 

A good shower really could do wonders for the soul.

Once she was done, she dried off and pulled on a pair of Eijirou’s old sweatpants and one of his shirts, the soft fabric and his familiar scent comforting her more than she could explain. Her hair, still damp, was tied back loosely, and her leopard tail swayed gently behind her as she walked to her room.

When she opened the door, she found Eijirou waiting for her, sitting on her bed with a bright smile that immediately warmed her heart. His crimson eyes lit up when he saw her, and his whole face beamed as soon as he saw her face. “There she is,” He said softly, standing up and walking over to her. “The national muddle puddle wrestling campion.” 

Sasha smiled, feeling her heart swell at the sight of him. She padded over to him, her bare feet quiet against the floor. “Hey,” she said, her voice gentle. “I’m all clean now.”

Eijirou grinned, his eyes dropping to the shirt she was wearing. “You look good in my clothes,” he said, a soft chuckle escaping him. “But you always look good.”

She laughed softly and playfully nudged him. “Charmer.”

Without saying anything more, he gently took her hand and guided her onto to the bed with him, sitting her down. He moved behind her and started running his fingers through her tail, carefully brushing out the damp fur. His touch was gentle, calming, and Sasha felt herself completely relax under his care.

“Mmm, that feels nice,” She murmured, leaning back slightly as he continued to brush her tail. His touch was always so tender, so full of love, and she felt safe with him—like all the weight she carried melted away.

Eijirou’s hand moved gently, brushing through her fur as he leaned forward slightly, his breath warm against the back of her neck. “You deserve to relax, Sasha. You’ve been through a lot... I’m proud of you for facing it.”

Sasha’s heart fluttered at his words. She leaned into him, her back resting against his chest as she tilted her head back to look at him. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” She said softly, her voice full of sincerity.

His eyes softened as he looked down at her, his hand still resting on her tail. “You’re stronger than you think, Sasha. I’m just lucky I get to be by your side.”

The warmth in his voice and the loving look in his eyes made her heart swell. Slowly, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before he pulled back just enough to look into her eyes.

Sasha gazed up at him, her heart racing as they shared a moment of perfect peace, their connection deeper than words could express. She reached up, gently cupping his face, her thumb brushing over his cheek as she whispered, “I love you, Eijirou.”

His smile grew even brighter, his eyes shimmering with warmth and adoration. “I love you too, Sasha,” he whispered back, his voice full of emotion.

And then, slowly, he leaned down, his lips meeting hers in a tender, loving kiss. It was soft at first, full of warmth and care, but it deepened as they held onto each other, the world fading away around them. In that moment, it was just the two of them, wrapped in each other’s love and the comfort they brought one another.

When they finally pulled away, Sasha rested her forehead against his, her heart still racing but filled with happiness. Kirishima smiled, his hand moving to brush a strand of hair from her face, her gorgeous face. 

“Whatever happens,” he whispered, “we’ll get through it together.”

Sasha smiled back, her heart full. “Yeah. Together.”

And with that, they settled into the peaceful quiet of the evening, wrapped in each other’s warmth as the rain outside slowed to a gentle patter.

- “Yasei no neko” Apartment Complex, 11:38 PM -

In a dimly lit, rundown apartment, the faint glow of a single lamp flickered, casting long shadows over the peeling wallpaper. The apartment was bare, save for a few chairs, a rickety table, and a dartboard nailed haphazardly to the wall—Sasha’s face glaring back from over the bullseye. Agent Hatasu sat in one of the chairs, his posture calm and collected. Across from him, his partner Hex paced back and forth, his movements jerky, restless, the sharp gleam of a pocket knife twirling between his fingers.

“I’m telling you, we should just grab her,” Hex growled, frustration etched onto his expression. “Drag her back to the Commission and force her to comply. Torture if we have to. It’s the fastest way to get her in line.”

Hatasu looked up from the old notebook in his lap, his cold, calculating eyes meeting Hex’s fiery gaze. His expression didn’t change—no anger, no annoyance, just that same unsettling calm.

“That method,” Hatasu began, his voice smooth and measured, “is far too messy. You’re thinking like a thug, Hex. Sasha—Namir—isn’t someone we can simply break. Not anymore.”

Hex scoffed, his temper flaring. He hated how composed Hatasu always was, how nothing ever seemed to rattle him. And he hated how he referred to her as that “stupid” name, Namir. “She’s soft now,” Hex spat. “All cuddled up with those idiot hero wannabes. She’s not the agent she used to be, but she could be. We break her spirit, remind her who she really is, and she’ll come crawling back.”

But Hatasu only smiled faintly, closing the notebook and setting it aside with deliberate care. “And if we break her? Then what? A shattered agent is no use to the Commission. No, we need her intact—mentally, physically, emotionally.”

Hex scowled, clenching the knife tighter. He hated this part—the waiting, the subtlety. It wasn’t his style. He wanted action, and he wanted it now. “So what, then? We just wait for her to come back?”

Hatasu stood slowly, walking toward the dartboard with an eerie grace. His fingers traced the edge of the dartboard, right over Sasha’s printed face. “We use what’s already in her heart. The loss of her parents... it still haunts her, as it should. We keep planting the seeds, reminding her of the pain, of the guilt. Eventually, she’ll look to us for answers.”

“And then?” Hex snapped, his impatience barely contained.

Hatasu turned, his eyes gleaming in the low light. “Then, we offer her the one thing she wants most in this world—closure. We make her believe we can give her that. And when she trusts us enough... She’ll come back of her own accord.”

Hex rolled his eyes but couldn’t entirely dismiss the plan. Hatasu’s methods were slow, sure, but they were often effective. Still, the idea of waiting pissed him off. He needed action, violence—he needed to make her pay for leaving, for thinking she could turn her back on the Commission.

With a frustrated snarl, Hex threw his knife, watching as it embedded itself with a thunk right between Sasha’s eyes on the dartboard, and right between Hatasu’s fingers. Still, the close-call didn’t mean anything to either of them. “I still say we should just take her out. But fine. We’ll do it your way.”

He crossed his arms, glaring at Sasha’s image as if it were the real thing. “But I swear, I’ll get her one way or another. Just wait and see, Wild Cat.”

Hatasu simply smiled that cold, calm smile. “Patience, Hex. Our time will come.”

[dragonleighs]

@abigailspinach I went looking for snippets that were cut and found an entire scene that I really liked that was cut from Quieten the Chorus. Originally I'd planned to use multiple POVs but ended up just sticking with Cal so this no longer had a place. Since I don't have time to edit a chapter this week, I humbly offer this roughly edited bit instead.

The clatter of dropped cutlery rang through the Mantis, startling Greez awake. It took him a moment to fully come to terms with wakefulness, and another few for it to click that someone was in the kitchen making a racket. He was tempted to let it slide as a one off and go back to sleep when there was more noise from the galley. Fearing what might be going on out there, he reluctantly got up.

Cal had only been on the Mantis for a few days, and he and Greez hadn’t exactly been getting on. Greez was mature enough to admit the blame lay entirely with him. Cal hadn’t done anything wrong, Greez just hadn’t expected... well any of what had happened in the immediate aftermath of rescuing him from Bracca. He was ashamed to admit he’d been freaked out by the way Cal had behaved, acting erratically and talking to himself. He’d tried to make amends, but it was hard to build trust when they’d already gotten off on the wrong foot.

The lights in the kitchen were dim thanks to the night cycle. Either Cal hadn’t wanted to risk disturbing anyone by turning them on, or it simply hadn’t occurred to him to do so. When Greez rounded the corner, he found the kid on one knee, retrieving a dropped spoon. Weirdly, this was the second time now he’d found Cal messing around with his cutlery.

“Cal?” Greez said softly. Cal grabbed the spoon and lifted his head slowly, blinking at Greez for a couple of seconds while he tried to figure out what was going on. Greez didn’t rush him. Cere had told him what she’d seen happen on the station. The poor kid was in worse shape than he let on. Though looking at him now all rumpled from sleep he looked a lot more vulnerable.

“Greez?” he said after a moment, his voice thick with sleep. He reached for the counter, spoon still in hand, and pulled himself to his feet, swaying slightly.

“You alright there?” he asked, beginning to suspect Cal might not be entirely awake with the way his eyes were barely open.

“Soup,” he said. Greez noticed then that a half finished bowl of soup they’d had for lunch was sitting on the counter, too close to the edge for comfort. Greez was still figuring out what to feed him. He was far too skinny and barely ate anything. He seemed okay with soup though which was a good start. Greez could work with soup.

“Hungry, eh? Not surprised since you skipped dinner.”

Cal grumbled something unintelligible and picked the bowl up to head back to the engine room. “Woah, hey, hold on,” Greez said, blocking his path. Cal stopped suddenly enough that Greez braced himself for the soup to slosh all over him. Miraculously, it stayed in the bowl. “ Okay, first, no food in the engine room. Or the cockpit while we’re at it. I don’t care how careful you think you are; I’m not taking any risks.”

“Oh,” was all Cal said far too flatly for Greez to believe he was actually taking any of this in.

“Second, did you even heat that up?” he said, reaching out to take the bowl from him. Cal didn’t resist, handing the bowl over. Sure enough, it was stone cold in Greez’s hands, fresh out the conservator. “Sit down would you,” he said as he moved past Cal, nudging him out of the way in the direction of the table.

Cal did as he was told and sat while Greez stuck the soup in the cooker to reheat it. Cal looked like he was about to fall asleep any moment, which at this point would be a problem since he could really do with some food in him.

Greez ought to talk to him. An apology would be a good place to start, but he doubted Cal was going to remember much of this incident, and he’d rather not have to go through it more than once. Instead, he turned to one of his favourite subjects, food and cooking. “Hey kid, you got any allergies I should know about?” That was a reasonable and neutral thing to ask, right?

“Hmm?” Cal said tiredly, lifting his head from where he was resting it on his folded arms.

“Allergies kid. You got any?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. Greez waited for him to tell him what they were but instead he rubbed his eyes and shook his head. “Oh. No, sorry,” he said a little clearer.

“Which is it?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Good to know. Hey, what kind of things did you used to eat on Bracca?” Maybe he could cook something up that he liked as an apology.

“Ration bars and polystarch.”

To say Greez was horrified was an understatement. That wasn’t food. Not really. Sure, it would keep you going, but there was no love in it. Kriff, there was barely any taste. “What else?” he asked, already dreading the answer.

“That was it,” Cal shrugged. “I didn’t have the credits for anything else.”

“For five years?” he almost screeched, remembering at the last second that Cere was actually sleeping for once.

Cal shrugged. Before Greez could say anything else, the cooker beeped, letting him know the soup was done heating up. Greez carefully took it out with a mitt, placing the now steaming bowl in front of Cal. “Careful, it’s hot,” he said.

Cal hummed, looking like he might fall asleep in the bowl if he wasn’t careful. He picked up the spoon he’d since set aside and idly stirred the soup, waiting for it to cool. Part of Greez wanted to keep him company and make sure he actually made it back to his bed when he was done. But the louder part of him told him Cal wouldn’t want to be supervised. Besides, Greez really wanted to go back to sleep. “You gonna be alright if I leave you to it?”

“’m fine, just tired.”

“Okay, well don’t worry about cleaning up when you’re done, I’ll get it tomorrow.”

“Night Greez,” he said before picking up his spoon.

“Night kid.”

Greez headed back into his cabin and crawled into bed, fully intending to go straight back to sleep. Instead he found himself staring at the ceiling, waiting for the sound of Cal returning to the engine room. Only then did sleep come back to claim him.

Ask re: WIPs, you choose whichever of these seems most fun to answer.

a story idea you haven’t written yet

a trope you’re really into right now

favorite weather for writing

favorite place to write

if you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic

are you able to write with other people around?

Oh wow! Thank you for these questions!

Story idea I haven't written yet: recently I've been thinking about some kind of order 66 time loop situation where Cal keeps trying to escape with both himself and Master Tapal alive but it never works. Still figuring out exactly how I gonna do it, but I've been rotating it in my mind.

Trope I really into right now: I'm not really sure there's a specific trope, but I'm always here for destroying characters in the name of comfort further down the line.

Favourite weather for writing: afraid I don't really have one. I'll write whenever.

Favourite place to write: at my desk. Anywhere else I can't concentrate and will get sooo distracted.

Deleted scene: I'm afraid I don't have access to my laptop until Sunday and I'm not sure if I've kept anything that's been cut, but I'll have a look when I can and tag you if I find something

Writing with other people: sometimes? Depends on what's going on because I have the same problem with distraction (yay, adhd). But I have been able to write if they're talking about things I don't care about and we're just hanging out.

[riddlecrux]

Why rejection leads to the endgame: Rowaelin and Elriel comparison.

This meta is based solely on textual pieces of evidence that can be found through the whole ACTOAR and TOG series written by SJM. My observations come from the text and what was given to us, the audience, by the author of the book. This post is going to be about two very prominent scenes that occur to the main characters and how they are played in the books, setting-wise but also plot-wise. Of course, a small warning: this is strictly pro-Elriel meta, so if it isn't your cup of tea you are in the wrong place. Also: SPOILERS FOR TOG!

I would like to start this meta with a short preface about how I am going to approach the subject. The things I will be looking into are setting, wording, and emotional attachments. (With a sprinkle of speculations).

We will begin with Rowaelin and how the rejection scene developed. The plotline setting is after a very tense situation, which was confronting Arobynn.

Queen of Shadows, pg. 321

Rowan was done waiting. (...) The lamplight glinted off the combs in her hair and along the golden dragon on the dress.

Emphasis on: - hair - light, and how it glides across combs of Aelin hair - "glinted"

Also worth mentioning is how Rowan finally overcame his inner battle. He became impatient.

Azriel POV, pg. 1

Azriel couldn't stop it. (...) he found himself leaving the room. Entering the foyer. (...) and there she was. The faelights gilded Elain's unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn.

Emphasis on: - hair - light, and how it lightens Elain hair - "gilded"

Again, we have a male who is questioning his inner feelings and after an imminent mind battle, he decides to move and goes towards a place when he meets up with a female.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 321-322

She half turned toward him. (...) The look in her eyes���guilt, anger, agony—hit him like a blow to the gut.

(...) and though she tried to hide it, he could see the fear in her gaze, and the guilt.

Rowan can read Aelin without words. Just one look and he knows exactly what she feels or what hides behind her words - which often are laced with lies. Yet, he, Rowan was able to always see beneath the false facade - even before they were told about them being true mates.

Azriel POV, pg. 2

Lie. Well, the second part was a lie. He didn't need his shadows to read her tone, the slight tightening of her face.

Elain's large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.

Azriel, just as Rowan can easily deduct lies underneath Elain's words. Him being a shadowsinger and spymaster could help him in knowing the truth, yet we have an emphasis on the fact that he didn't need his powers to realize and catch Elain's lie based on her tone and facial expressions.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 322

He watched her throat bob as she swallowed.

Azriel POV, pg. 2

He watched her swallow.

The same imagery, similar wording. Both males are focused on the females' emotions and their nervousness/trepidation.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 322

She rested her head against his chest, the tips of the bat-wing combs digging into him enough that he eased them one at a time from her hair. The gold was slick and cold in his hands (...)

Emphasis on: - Aelin initiating physical contact - piece of jewelry - golden color - Aelin's hair

Azriel POV, pg. 2-3

"Put it on me?" His head went quiet. But he took the necklace, opening the clasp as she exposed her back, sweeping her hair up in one hand to bare her long, creamy neck.

The golden necklace seemed ordinary -- its chain unremarkable.

Emphasis on: - Elain initiating physical contact - piece of jewelry - golden color - Elain's hair

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 323

She huffed a laugh that might have been a sob and wrapped her arms around his waist as if trying to steal his warmth.

He flattened his hand against her waist, his fingers contracting once as if debating letting her go.

We have Aelin seeking Rowan's touch, she is the one who pushes on the physical line between them. It's important to note that it's her constantly assessing Rowan, trying to close the distance between them. She's acting on her feelings and a need for closure.

Emphasis on the wording used by SJM: - "flattened his hand (...)"

Azriel POV pg. 3

Elain shivered, and he took a damn long time fastening the clasp.

Slowly, Elain pivoted into his touch. Until his palm lay flat against her neck.

Emphasis on: - "until his palm lay flat (...)"

In this setting, we have Elain who, once again, closes on the distance between her and Azriel. Just like Aelin she chooses to move along her feelings - which are obstructed from the reader's point of view due to the text being singular POV. It is her who slowly builds up the courage and makes Azriel touch her. Settle on her skin.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 323

She waited for him to pull back, but he just stared at her—stared into her in that way he always did. Friends, but more. So much more, and she’d known it longer than she wanted to admit.

Carefully, she stroked her thumb across his cheekbone, his face slick with the rain.

Aelin realizes her feelings. She comes with the terms of their friendship and its possible development - both she and Rowan started out on the wrong foot, yet they formed an amazing friendship. They built their relation slowly, surely with many heartful moments that bordered on the line of friendship and something more.

Emphasis on: - Aelin "stroking" Rowan's face

Azriel POV pg. 3

It had never gone this far. They'd exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching.

Azriel's fingers lingered at her nape, atop the first knob of her spine.

Letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet-soft texture.

As in the Rowaelin case, Elain and Azriel also built their relationship from a friendship. It was formed during the very dark period of time on Elain's behalf - just like it was for Aelin's. Both Azriel and Elain found comfort with each other, they both started to enjoy the company of the other - sitting in comfortable silence. Yet, we have an idea that this friendship slowly started to bloom into something riskier, more emotional. Both, Azriel and Elain already had their first love ripped away, never fulfilled, and ending in a painful manner. And for the first time when we are inside Azriel POV, it confirms that they balanced on this thin line for a while.

Emphasis on: - Azriel "brushing" Elain's throat and nape

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 323

It hit her like a stone—the wanting. She was a fool to have dodged it, denied it, even when a part of her had screamed it every morning that she’d blindly reached for the empty half of the bed.

Emphasis on: - realization of desire - mornings in the bed - desperate search for Rowan in the sheets

Azriel POV, pg. 2-3

Prayed she didn't understand the shift in his scent. He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night.

(...) a headache powder he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind. Not to use, but just to look at. Which he'd done every night he’d slept there. Or attempted to sleep there.

Emphasis on: - desire - night and bed - looking at the gift from Elain on his nightstand

Both scenes and paragraphs signalize that both Aelin and Azriel fought with their newfound feelings. They were realizing that the friendship was slowly turning into something more - a feeling of desire to not only be close to the other person but also a desire to close the distance between friends and lovers.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

She lifted her other hand to his face and his eyes locked onto hers, his breathing ragged as she traced the lines of the tattoo along his temple.

His hands tightened slightly on her waist, his thumbs grazing the bottom of her ribcage. It was an effort not to arch into his touch.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

(...) his thumb sweeping in long strokes along the side of her throat.

But Azriel just stroked her neck again. Elain shuddered, drifting closer.

Emphasis on: - constant engaging in physical contact - touching vulnerable parts of the other person - answering to the touch

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

“Rowan,” she breathed, his name a plea and a prayer. She slid her fingers down the side of his tattooed cheek, and—

Azriel POV pg. 4

“Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.

Emphasis on: - how the last word before the almost kiss is breathed - "religious" themes such as comparison to Rowan's name to the prayer - Mother (a "religious" figure) being present during this intimate scene between Elain and Azriel

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

Faster than she could see, he grabbed one wrist and then the other, yanking them away from his face and snarling softly. The world yawned open around her, cold and still.

He dropped her hands as if they were on fire, stepping away, those green eyes flat and dull in a way she hadn’t seen for some time now. Her throat closed up even before he said, “Don’t do that. Don’t—touch me like that.”

Rowan rejected Aelin in a brusque manner - and it wasn't necessarily because he didn't want to engage in expanding their relationship past the friendship. Rowan at this moment still lacks self-reassurance about how he should feel after Lyria. He is scared. It is something different than the feelings that restrained him from the kiss.

Azriel POV, pg. 4

Rhys's voice thundered through him, halting him mere inches from Elain's sweet mouth.

His stomach twisted as he pulled his hand from her hair and stepped back. Forced himself to say, "This was a mistake.”

We have Azriel who rejects the kiss because of Rhysand. It was not on his own terms. It was an order of his High Lord that involuntarily stopped him from kissing Elain.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

There was a roaring in her ears, a burning in her face, and she swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t mean—” She backed away a step, toward the door on the other side of the roof. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “It was nothing.”

Azriel POV pg. 4

She opened her eyes, hurt and confusion warring there before she whispered, "I’m sorry."

He shook his head, unable to stand the bleakness he'd brought to her expression.

In both scenes, it's the female that apologizes. The one who initiated physical contact. Aelin apologizes twice, meanwhile, Elain is rendered speechless and hurt - and it's Azriel who assures her that it is she doesn't need to apologize. However, Elain is left alone without an explanation and Azriel can't stand seeing her like that.

Both scenes are built in a similar manner - we have friendships border lining on a thin line of something more. Both Elain and Aelin are the ones who initiate physical contact and are the ones who are "rejected", left hurt, and confused. Rowan and Azriel are battling their self-hatred and feeling of unworthiness that is very sound in both of their POVS. There is a lot of things that contribute to the rejection - especially their feelings. Rowan and Azriel feel the romantic pull towards their loved ones - they know that desire and their feelings are reciprocated. Yet, their inner struggles are in the way of fully accepting the fact that the female they yearn for is able to accept them.

More parallels:

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 322

He’d almost fallen to his knees when he’d first seen her earlier tonight.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it.

Both males are on the verge of falling to their knees in front of Aelin/Elain. They are ready to submit to their loved ones.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

(...) understood that though she’d seen his eyes shine with hunger—hunger for her—it didn’t mean he wanted to act on it. Didn’t mean he might not hate himself for it.

In this chapter in Queen Of Shadows, we are presented with dual POV, both from Rowan and Aelin so it's easier to see what Aelin had felt when she was rejected. She tells the audience that she was aware of the fact that Rowan exhibited a desire for her. Furthermore, we have another instance of Aelin being able to understand Rowan without words. She knows that Rowan feeling lust for her might have resulted in him hating himself for that because of what had happened with Lyria.

Azriel POV, pg. 2

Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.

We are obstructed from Elain's point of view and her understanding is explained by Azriel. He knows that Elain understands him. It's an important thing to remember since their friendship was built on the comfortable silence in which both of them bask. Elain and Azriel, just like Aelin and Rowan understand each other without words.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 337

He hated it. Hated that he couldn’t reach her when she was that person. Hated that he’d snapped at her last night, had panicked at the touch of her hands. Now she’d shut him out entirely. This person she’d become today had no kindness, no joy.

Azriel POV, pg. 2-4

(...) Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much.

He shook his head, unable to stand the bleakness he'd brought to her expression.

Both Rowan and Azriel don't want to hurt their significant other. They battle their inner demons, their inner self-worth problems while trying not to put the weight of it on Aelin and Elain. Rowan has his mind troubled because he, at this moment in the books, is still burdened with what had happened to his "mate". On the other hand, we have Azriel who can't bring himself to be in the same room as Elain and Lucien due to their bond. A mate that Elain doesn't want. Azriel's reaction to the mating bond is also very strange - he can see it and scent it. Which I believe should be very telling if we're taking true mate/second mate theories into consideration. So, overall the problem of both males stems from the notion of "mate".

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 345

Even now, he honestly couldn’t decide if he was amused or enraged by Rowan’s words—Don’t touch me like that—when it was obvious the warrior-prince felt quite the opposite.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

He needed to know what the skin of her neck tasted like. What those perfect lips tasted like. Her breasts. Her sex. He needed her coming on his tongue --

Rowan and Azriel want to indulge in their desire for Aelin and Elain. Both of them weren't able to do so because of the "rejection", yet we are presented with the fact that even the rejection doesn't mean anything as long as both males feel completely opposite to what they had told during the refusal scenes.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

Her scent hit him as she unbound her hair and nestled into the pile of pillows. That scent had always struck him, had always been a call and a challenge. It had shaken him so thoroughly from centuries encased in ice that he’d hated her at first. And now … now that scent drove him out of his mind.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it.

Emphasis on: - the scent - how it affects the male

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

They were both really damn lucky that she currently couldn’t shift into her Fae form and smell what was pounding through his blood. It had been hard enough to conceal it from her until now.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

Azriel's cock strained behind his pants, aching so fiercely he could hardly think. He prayed she didn't peer down. Prayed she didn't understand the shift in his scent.

Both males explain to the audience that their desire and lust were and are something they are battling as well. Rowan and Azriel are anxious because of their own problems with self-worth that they are struggling to keep as a secret.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

He’d seen her naked before—a few times. And gods, yes, there had been moments when he’d considered it, but he’d mastered himself. He’d learned to keep those useless thoughts on a short, short leash. Like that time she’d moaned at the breeze he sent her way on Beltane—the arch of her neck, the parting of that mouth of hers, the sound that came out of her—

Azriel POV, pg. 3

He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night. Had only allowed his hand to fist his cock and think about her then, when even his shadows had gone to sleep. How that beautiful face might appear as he entered her, what sounds she'd make.

Emphasis on: - keeping the desire to himself - imagery of the female body - the sounds/moans

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

She was now lying on her side, her back to him. “About last night,” he said through his teeth. “It’s fine. It was a mistake.”

Azriel POV, pg. 4

His stomach twisted as he pulled his hand from her hair and stepped back. Forced himself to say, "This was a mistake.”

I think this is self-explanatory. The same words, similar situation. Rejection followed by a declaration of it being a mistake when the truth is that both couples are yearning for each other and want to be with one another.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 349

The desire hadn’t been what shook him at all. It was just … Aelin had driven him insane these past few weeks, and yet he hadn’t considered what it would be like to have her look at him with interest.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent.

So close one deep breath would brush her breasts against his chest. She looked up at him, her face so trusting and hopeful and open (...)

Rowan and Azriel didn't even think about the fact that their desire could be reciprocated- and more than lust they were shocked that Aelin/Elain would look at them with interest, longing, hope. They weren't ready to acknowledge the fact that they weren't alone in this spiral of emotions and feelings.

Moving forward we have the acceptance stage and romantic moments for Rowaelin in Queen Of Shadows. Of course in the case of Elriel we are limited to an extra chapter, however, there are still very prominent similarities in setting and wording.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 378

“Aelin,” he breathed. Not in reprimand or warning, but … a plea. It sounded like a plea. He lowered his head to her exposed neck and hovered a hair’s breadth away. She arched her neck farther, a silent invitation. Rowan let out a soft groan and grazed his teeth against her skin.

He let out another low groan, answer and confirmation and request, and the rumble echoed inside her

Azriel POV, pg. 4

“Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision.

Azriel's hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain's mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut. Offer and permission. He nearly groaned with relief and need as he lowered his head toward hers.

Both couples operate without words. In the case of Rowaelin we have: - a plea - a silent invitation - an answer - a confirmation - a request

In the case of Elriel we have: - an offer - a permission - a decision - a relief - a need

The same setting, very similar description, and usage of words. As I was saying, in the case of Elain and Azriel relationship we are obstructed from Elain's point of view due to the content being a bonus chapter. Yet, we can draw a comparison between both couples. Why? Because SJM structured both rejections in the same way. Rowaeiln's rejection leads to a relationship, later to a discovery of being true mates. Is it a coincidence? From a writer's point of view and an avid reader - I don't believe so. She structured both rejections, in the same manner, using very similar vocabulary and even the familiar setting. In the case of Elriel - Azriel's "rejection" is what essentially builds a start for their relationship in the next book. We also have to remember that in Elain and Azriel situation we have:

- a mate - political background - forbidden romance - compatible powers - blood duel - connection to Koschei SJM gave us a setup for the premise of the next book which we know is Elain's. Azriel and Feyre's POV focus on her, but we know that it's one couple per book. Which perfectly aligns with Elriel and their rejection and pining. In SJM universe such rejections as the ones presented are used to further develop a couple, not to bring it down. The parallels are evident and if you are thinking that she doesn't use foreshadowing and she doesn't focus on details I would recommend rereading both series and see that SJM is an expert in foreshadowing - even the tiniest bits of it come out through the series.

That's why in the cases of her HEA couples rejection means endgame.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 379

“This changes things,” she said, hardly able to get the words out. “Things have been changing for a while already. We’ll deal with it.”

[whump-a-la-mode]

Hi! Sorry to be annoying but its been a worm in my brain about what's going to happen to the nauseous villain. Whats going to be their reaction with the villains? Are they going to just insist that they want to go home and the villains won't understand that they want to go to the facility they were trained into nauseousness in? Again sorry for being annoying!

Sorry this took so long! I tried a little bit of a new storytelling device in here-- a frame story. I really hope you enjoy! This series is so so fun, and so very whumpy.

Continued from here, first part can be found here.

CW//Emetophobia, restraints, sedation, insults and swearing, mentions of poisoning, muzzles

“They’re sleeping.”

Doctor’s tone was quiet enough to nearly be described as a whisper, words barely audible above the background noise of the base’s medical wing. Based simply upon their facial expression, it seemed as though they, too, would very much like to be asleep as well-- lines of fatigue were carved deep under their eyes, showing that they’d been awake for far, far too long.

The bandage wrapped tightly about their forearm displayed an entirely different issue, but it seemed to be one that they were far too exhausted to pay much mind to.

“They’re sleeping?” Supervillain echoed. Fatigue crept, too, at their bones, yet it was not an exhaustion wrought by work. Rather, it had been brought on by worry.

“Mhm.” The doctor spoke with a nod. “For now.”

“They’re... They’re okay, then?”

“They’re...” They bit their lower lip. “They’ve calmed down.”

“Are they themself again?” Supervillain’s voice turned to the epitome of eagerness, almost childish in their excitement. “Are they acting- They’re acting normal?”

A moment of tense, sorrowful silence.

“No.” Doctor shook their head after a long pause. “No, they aren’t. I’m sorry. We had to sedate them.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry.” They repeated. “They were getting worse.”

“It’s okay. I trust your judgement. You did what you had to.” The supervillain murmured in a low voice. “Can I see them? Is... Is that okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you.”

Supervillain couldn’t ignore the way that sickness threatened to boil within their chest at the words. They could see them. They could see their friend, their ward, their kid. And, now that they were asleep, they couldn’t be terrified.

They couldn’t be terrified of their own friend. Not while they were unconscious.

There was a horribly sorrowful air to the way that Doctor moved, turning back towards the hospital room door, as though they were leading their boss to a morgue. The knob clicked as it was turned, and the room beyond was unveiled.

Villain was sleeping. At long last, their eyes were closed-- the slightest peace visible there, even as it was buried beneath tension and twitching eyelids.

And, yet, the remnants of their terror could be seen clear as day. The restraints made sure of that. There was almost more leather, metal, and fabric upon their body than there was skin.

The muzzle was what drew their attention the quickest. A contraption of black mesh, held in place by leather straps-- straps that danced in tandem with those holding an oversized pair of headphones to their skull. Similar lines of leather criss-crossed the rest of their body in an elaborate pattern, holding down their wrists, their ankles, their midsection, their limbs, and even their head, eliminating all by the slightest of movements. Odd, leather pieces had been fastened over their hands: Mitt cuffs, keeping their fingers curled and hands useless.

A particularly odd restraint had been placed upon their upper arm and wrist-- a sort of flat, plastic, white-stained board, with straps to hold their wrist and elbow in place. Between the straps, an IV line ran, fastened down with all manner of surgical tape.

“I’m sorry.” It seemed as though Doctor couldn’t stop themself from repeating the phrase. “I’m so sorry. I know they’re- They’re our friend. I didn’t want to have to tie them down like this...”

Supervillain understood. They did, really, even as they felt as though their heartstrings were being played with a violin’s bow. Villain was their friend, they saw them as almost their child, in some ways, even as they would never admit to. They had once been the kindest, the youngest among them, and now...

“I trust your judgement.” They spoke, voice nearly quivering with a whimper. “I know you would only do what you have to.”

Doctor nodded somberly.

“They... They were really scared. We don’t know what was wrong with them. We still don’t.”

“Are you they going to be okay?” Supervillain couldn’t help themself from wandering nearer to the bedside. Staring down at their friend, shackled like a wild beast. “They look...” They trailed off.

“We’re doing everything we can.” Of course they were, but would it be enough? “We don’t know what’s wrong. I’m really sorry.”

“You did what you had to.” They truly wished that the medic would cease their apologies. They had only helped.  They had spent so long in their own quarters, worrying and pacing until they wore through their socks.

“Do you know what happened? Before we arrived? No one has had a clear story.”

“Well...”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

“They’re going to be scared.” Supervillain’s voice was marked by the slightest of nervous prickles as they moved around their vehicle, from driver’s seat to rear doors. It was a van of considerable size and white bulk. They had taken it for a reason, had intended for Villain to ride in the back, since the beginning. For their own safety. So they wouldn’t be seen. As it had turned out, however, there was another benefit to that fact.

So it seemed, every villain in the base had gathered in the underground garage. Some of them, they noted, didn’t even live within its walls-- someone had invited friends for this occasion. They had specifically been told not to do that.

But, they were here, now, and there was little to be done about that fact. A crowd of twenty-five, bustling with excitement like grade schoolers.

“Everybody back up!” The supervillain called, order ringing out in concrete walls. With just how uncommon their use of commands was, those they spoke to followed their words in an instant, spreading out into a sort of semi-circle formation. “Villain is terrified, right now. Give them space. They’re going right to the medical wing.”

Words in a half-dozen languages buzzed through the gathered crowd.

“Do you get that? Are you guys going to be chill?”

Twenty-five pairs of eyes shot to them, and twenty-five heads nodded.

“Okay. Try to- Just try not to scare them, okay? Please.”

With a nervous gait, Supervillain turned towards their vehicle. Why were they so frightened? This was their friend, after all. Their teammate. They weren’t dangerous-- of course they weren’t, even though the bar holding the van’s rear doors closed may have indicated otherwise to some. It was only for safety reasons, that was all.

They knocked on the doors once, then twice, then slowly, ever so slowly, slid the bar away.

From the back of the van, Villain erupted, as though a wild animal. Had they been waiting at the doors? Struggling at them? Fighting? Certainly they had been, or there would have been no way that they could have leapt with such speed.

The villain crashed to the ground, onto their knees. In an instant, every single person under Supervillain’s orders immediately violated everything they had told them.

‘Swarming��� was the only verb that would be accurate to what occurred in that moment. Nearly every single member of the crowd rushed forth. Some kept at least a foot or two of distance, while more than one crashed right into their toppled-over comrade.

“Villain!”

“You’re okay!”

“I missed you so much!”

“What happened?”

“Where were you?”

“What did they do to you?”

“Are you alright?”

All the concerns, the joys, and the cries raised in volume until they could be described only as a cacophony, a cluster of noise.

The voices were broken only by a scream. A pained scream, and a flash of red. Villain moved nigh-impossibly quickly, teeth gripping around the arm of one who had once been their friend. They tore, leaving great, bloody marks in their wake, as they reared back their head to scream:

“You fucking pieces of shit! Scum! I hate you all! Get away from me, get away from me! I’ll kill you all, I hate-”

Their tirade was ceased only as their body heaved forward, a dribble of bile exploding from their lips, dripping to the floor.

In an instant, the excitement of the scene was gone. The heaving continued, dry gagging spitting out less and less green each time Villain’s body was wracked. By the end, they could only expel air.

When at last they ceased, once more they struck out, teeth hardly missing the neck of another target who seemed to have been selected at random.

“Hold them down. Hold them down!” The cry came from someone in the crowd, someone Supervillain couldn’t identify in their panic. Yet, it was echoed, rippling through those who seemed as though they had been stricken by an odd sort of grief.

“Hold them down!”

“Hold them down!”

And such was done. Four villains moved to hold their hands against Villain’s back, keeping them against the floor, even as they writhed and spat like a beast.

It was then that the medical team arrived. It was then that Supervillain watched their friend, their ward, dragged away, all the while spitting their name as though it was an obscenity.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

“We thought they were sick.” Doctor admitted with a bowed head. “Their behavior seemed consistent with delirium, or some kind of hallucinogen. Between vomiting and confused behavior...”

“Did you find it?” Somehow, the words brought a burgeoning hope to Supervillain’s chest, replacing, in some capacity, the dread that their own story had brought on. “The drug? The- The poison? Or is it a disease? A fever?”

The silence that hung between the two was heavier than lead. At last, the doctor shook their head.

“We don’t know what’s wrong. We did everything we could. The symptoms were consistent with poisoning, and there was no time to test for that, so we acted as though it was.”

“Did you ask them?”

“We did but... They seemed a lot more intent on insulting us than answering any questions.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry. We pumped their stomach, and flushed it with charcoal, just for good measure. But... It didn’t help.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that if it was a poison, it wasn’t one that was ingested by mouth.”

“But it was a poison?”

“We don’t know that. I’m sorry. A certain time after ingestion, it’s hard to tell. We- We drew some blood. It tested negative for all common narcotics and poisons, but it could be something less common. It’s in the lab, now.”

“When will we know? A few hours?”

“A few weeks.”

“Weeks?”

“I’m sorry. It’s slow, I’m so sorry. Until then...”

“What?”

“Until then we’ll manage them, as best as we can. It was like a game of cat and mouse, Supervillain. I’m really sorry. We had to muzzle them. They bit me.” The doctor raised a hand, showing off the bandage they now wore.

“But what if they wanted to talk?”

“It’s only mesh. Stops biting, but not talking. Then, they tried to scratch at us, so we cuffed them. That made them scratch at themself, so, the mitts.”

“And you had to strap them down?”

“When we put in the IV, yes. There was no other way. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s just... Weird.”

“To see them tied up like this?”

“Yeah.”

“It is for me, too. I know. But it’s not them.” Doctor looked up, meeting the eyes of their commander. “You need to remember that, yeah? We all do. It’s not really Villain. Whatever is doing this to them, it’s not them.”

“I know. I- I just need to convince myself that that’s true.” Supervillain straightened themself, standing up taller. “What do you recommend? For their care going forward?”

The doctor seemed to sense the change in professionalism, and assumed a similar stance.

“We’ll continue to look into what’s causing their sickness. Until we can find a source, I’m advising nothing ingested by mouth, except for moderate amounts of water.”

“But- What if they get hungry?” And there went all that posturing, gone in an instant. “Won’t they get hungry?”

“We’re already giving them fluids and nutrients by IV. They’ll have all they need to survive.”

“But what if they get hungry?”

“We can give appetite suppressants if needed.” Doctor conceded. “Alongside fluids, I’m advising a constant drip of anti-nausea medication. With how much they were vomiting, choking is a real risk.”

“Okay. Granted, for both. What about... You said they were sedated?”

“That’s your choice, Sir. We sedated them in order to take samples. It’s less distressing for them, to take blood and the like while they’re asleep. The current dosage should wear off in four or so hours, giving them at least some sleep.”

“They need it.”

“They do. They may be unable to fall asleep at night on their own, and we may need to use sedatives to allow them to rest. As for during the day... That’s up to you.”

“What are my options?”

“We can forgo sedation altogether. It isn’t necessary medically, especially now that they have an IV placed. But in that case, they’re likely to be aggressive, and I can’t guarantee that they won’t present harm to themself or to others.

Or, we can provide a small, consistent level of sedative through an IV drip. Enough to keep them calm, and hopefully to quell any aggression. But that may also cause them some distress.”

“I don’t want to sedate them.” Supervillain admitted, after a terribly long pause. “No sedatives. Please.”

“Okay.”

They moved to the bedside, gripping the bedrails with their hands until their knuckles turned white. They were crying, oh, god, they were crying in front of their own medical staff.

“Villain.” They whispered. “Villain, I’m so, so sorry.”

And, in their sleep, Villain begun to dry heave.

[themattress]

With the scripts for “Team Rocket VS Team Plasma!” out now, everything I analyzed in the above posts holds even firmer than ever before. Catalyst #1 (the 3/11 disaster) appears to have only created one true “rewrite” in tandem with Catalyst #2 (Black 2/White 2), and that was to BW066: “Explorers of the Hero’s Ruin”. It is now patently obvious that Team Plasma was going to feature in that episode and that the Golden Dark Stone would mean significantly more than how it ended up, and that “Team Rocket VS Team Plasma!” would have been broadcast at the end of 2011 if the original version of that episode was still in place. But instead, it was rewritten, Team Plasma was removed, and the Golden Dark Stone just left behind where it rested instead of being taken by either Team Plasma or Cedric Juniper. 

Beyond that, all Catalyst #1 really did was rearrange the airdates of the episodes “A Fishing Connoisseur in a Fishy Competition”, “A Maractus Musical”, A Sawsbuck For All Seasons” and “Scraggy and the Demanding Gothita”, with the first and last one also receiving some edits to paper over continuity issues. It’s possible that there were mentions of Team Plasma in the major Team Rocket two-parters that got cut out as well given that Team Rocket taking over Unova before Team Plasma can was meant to be a big motivating factor for them, but we have no way of knowing for sure unless scans of those episodes’ scripts ever surface.

Catalysts #2 and #3 were the big ones; they’re the ones that completely reshaped the game plan for the series, but I still wouldn’t call what happened a “rewrite” since that would imply that the entire series’ episodes had their scripts written at the time of the change, which as the OP shows is not how the process works. Here’s a visual chart that simplifies the facts:

Reminder that “pre-production” includes planning the stories out and writing the scripts, with “production” including storyboarding, animation and musical scoring / voice-acting. Also reminder that each season is only when pre-production or production begins; episode by episode - the process isn’t completed until the near its airdate (thus in the movies’ case, production lasts a whole year). Ex: BW001 starts production in Spring 2010, ends in Fall.

Three noteworthy things I can gather from this:

1. All three catalysts for the Best Wishes series changing course occurred in 2011, the first two practically back-to-back. It’s bizarre to think that back then while I was enjoying watching the show unfold on television, behind the scenes it was getting fucked up. With that said, I reiterate that, while disappointed, I was more than happy to live with those first two catalysts; it’s the third one that I find indefensible and that truly damaged the show in its final inning. 

2. BW Movie 3 is a truly sad case, as the basics of all three movies (primarily which Mythic and/or Legendary Pokémon they would focus on) were almost certainly decided on from the beginning, and the final one starring Genesect and tying into the Team Plasma plotline of the show’s third year was always the idea. And yet thanks to that goddamn third catalyst, it ended up being made and released while the show’s third year moved away from Team Plasma, and from Unova in general. That’s why it feels so weird...well, that and the “Newtwo” nonsense.

3. As you can see, the XY anime officially entered pre-production in Fall 2012, just after Operation Tempest aired on TV, along with all the “end of Team Rocket!?” marketing and a viewer contest asking if they’d like to see an old Pokémon of Team Rocket’s return (and Wobbuffet won, as likely was expected by the staff), not to mention the whole Team Rocket radio show and corresponding Twitter account. This is because including Team Rocket in XY at all was undecided upon, so viewer reactions and input needed to be properly gauged. And because the response was overwhelmingly in favor of Team Rocket staying, they made the cut, for better or for worse (IMO absolutely for the better in the long run given Sun & Moon!)

BW Ignorance

A claim repeated often by fans of the Pokemon anime is that Best Wishes was “changed” and “ruined” because of “Team Rocket VS Team Plasma!” being pulled from broadcasting, that this ruined the writers’ plans to an extent that they “literally had to rewrite the entire series”. 

This is bullshit.

Keep reading

[outer-bnks]

Two Burning Hearts Are Dared to Break (JJ x OC) Ch. 14

Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13

JJ catches Elle and Topper in a compromising position, eliciting a fight in which some truths are exposed.

Warning: brief mention of alcohol, smoking. hella angst

Word count: 1.5k

“JJ! Wait!”, she followed him out to the side entrance of the garden that was thankfully empty, watching as he made his way over to a catering truck that stood in the carpark attached to the club.

“For what Elle?! What I just saw doesn’t need explaining!”, he huffed, as he continued walking away from her.

“What are you even doing here?”, she questioned, unaware that he was going to be attending the party. Noticing his navy shirt and slacks, she realised that he was working one of his multiple jobs in order to earn enough to pay off his restitution. He opened the back doors of the truck, beginning to unload them.

“What does it look like? I just thought I’d swing by for shits and giggles”, he sarcastically answered, his arms out wide, looking around at the crates around his feet. 

“Well you could’ve told me that you were coming!”, she exclaimed.

JJ scoffed, “What difference would it have made, you looked like you were having a pretty good time in the laundry room!”. The fuzzy feeling that she was experiencing with Topper had definitely dissipated, leaving the all too familiar sinking sensation in her stomach.

“It would have made a lot of difference JJ!”. For starters, she might not have agreed to be Topper’s date in front of the boy she actually had feelings for.

Rolling his eyes, he turned away from her again, continuing to work, “I don’t even care, it's just that I didn’t think you’d move on so fast”, he shrugged, trying to make his disinterest believable by adopting an apathetic tone of voice.

Elle’s eyebrows furrowed, confused by his choice of words, “What? Move on?”. As far as she was concerned, they had nothing to move on from, he had made that very clear as of recently.

“John B’s only been gone for 2 weeks, you know I just wouldn’t have thought that you’re the type to just-”.

Elle cut him off, utterly bewildered by what he was implying, “Wait wait wait. John B?”. 

“Yes John B, Elle! It’s so obvious that you’re into him”.

It was her turn to scoff, “Are you out of your mind? I do not have a thing for John B! I never have!”. He thought she was into John B? Maybe she’d thought she had a crush on him when she first moved to the OBX, but that quickly changed as soon as met JJ. She was even sure that John B was aware of her feelings for JJ, making sneaky comments that only she could hear, or winking at her whenever the pair were left alone together for more than 5 minutes. But she’d never actually had a conversation with him about that, he was the kind of friend who knew what you were feeling before you even knew it yourself. 

“Could’ve fooled me”, he mumbled, locking up the back of the truck as he had now emptied the crates into numerous stacks. 

Looking around the garden, puzzled by how he’d come to this conclusion, she sighed, “God JJ you really do talk out of your ass sometimes!”. Had he forgotten about how obsessed John B was with Sarah? Or the fact that Elle was actually excited when Sarah joined the Pogues?

This seemed to get a rise out of him, turning on his feet and walking over to her, “Oh please! All the times I would come over to the Chateau and you were already there, in his bed fast asleep, or answering his door basically naked?”. He knew that the way he spoke definitely portrayed his jealousy, and was uncalled for, but he hoped that masking it with confusion or anger wouldn’t give away his true feelings. 

Honestly, it killed him the first time he entered the Chateau and found out Elle had decided to sleep in John B’s bed instead of the empty spare room. It was the morning after they’d been hanging out as a group, smoking, watching movies and binging on the snacks Pope had brought over. Often, on nights like that everyone would stay over, usually having already fallen asleep during the last movie. However, JJ had decided to sleep in his own bed that night, knowing that his Dad was on an overnight fishing trip with his workmates. He hadn’t even thought about whether Elle had stayed over or headed home, until he walked in the next morning, calling out for John B and banging on his bedroom door, not expecting her to answer in nothing but one of John B’s oversized t-shirts. He quickly put two and two together, knowing that she had a drawer in the spare room with some clothes in it for whenever she decided to stay over, and concluded that the scene in front of him, reeked of sex. And of an unspoken betrayal that JJ promised himself never to mention. 

That wasn’t the last time he had caught her in that situation, it recurring exactly 5 more times, over the space of the past year. To ensure that he would never feel that betrayal again, JJ had pushed down his feelings for Elle, rebuilt some of the walls that he’d let come down around her, and used sarcasm to hide how he actually felt about the idea of his best friend hooking up with the girl that he thought he was falling in love with.

Shaking her head slightly out of disbelief, she rebutted, her voice rising a few decibels, “Excuse me? I have never slept with John B. So what we shared a bed, does that automatically mean we were hooking up? We couldn’t have just been friends who fell asleep in the same bed after talking for a few hours? JJ I’ve shared a bed with you, Pope and Kie tonnes of times! Was I hooking up with all of you as well?”.

Looking down at the ground briefly, he lowered his voice, becoming aware of how loud they were being. “It’s different with us and you know it”.

Following his lead, she lowered her voice, her anger showing through in her tone instead, “Do I J? I’m surprised you even noticed with all the tourons coming and going from your room”.

His eyes darted up to her face, “What's that supposed to mean?”.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she continued, “You get to have your fun, aren't I allowed to have mine?”. That’s all JJ ever referred to his one night stands or brief flings as, fun. 

Pointing back at the door that they’d emerged from, he referred to Topper, “This is what you call fun Elle? Fine, have all the ‘fun’ in the world, but please spare me, I don’t wanna see it”.

She raised her eyebrows out of surprise, two could play at this game. “Oh and you thought I enjoyed watching you mack on anyone with a pulse at our keggers?”. She couldn’t count the times she had watched him sweet talk a touron at a kegger into going for a walk down to the water with him, often not returning for over an hour. Not that Elle was keeping track (although she was definitely keeping track). In that hour, she’d usually devoured way too many shots, or danced, or began chatting up a guy herself, to ease the dull heartache that seemed to consume her.

Defeated by this argument, and his blood still boiling, he resorted to his defences, “You know what, do what you want, just don't come crying to me when he turns out to be exactly who we think he is”.

“From what I can remember, you wanted nothing to do with me, so what do you care who I’m macking on?”.

“The only reason I care is because of John B and Sarah. We’re trying to find ways to clear John B’s name and get justice for Sarah, whilst you're hooking up with her goddamn ex.

When this whole thing between you two blows up like it inevitably will, just know that you have no one to blame but yourself”, he spat, turning and walking back over to crates, beginning to take them around to the kitchen entrance of the Yacht Club.

“Thanks JJ! I’ll be sure to keep that in mind”, she called out after him, watching him make his way inside. She felt as though steam was coming out of her ears and she swore that her face was beet red right now, matching the faded stain on her dress. She was expecting some sort of drama to occur tonight, but not once had she thought that it would’ve been with JJ instead of Topper.

Hearing the door to the garden close behind her, she took a deep breath before turning around to face him, “Hey, are you alright?”, he asked softly. He had definitely heard the fight, probably opting to stay inside so as to not incite any more tension.

“Yeah I’m fine”, she nodded, grabbing his hand in hers and giving it a gentle squeeze, “let’s head back inside, you might need to show me how to act like a proper Kook, I think I’m finished with being a Pogue for the night”, she winked.

Topper recognised her joking tone, hinging from the hips in a faux bow, “Why of course my lady, follow me”. If she was going to be treated like a Kook, what’s the harm in acting like one?

Taglist:

@mybillyhardgrove @cyrrusmreadings @downbytheouterbanks @belledutchess @imagines-and-preferences1216 @teamnick @lauraxwndrlnd @thehomeiknow @obxlife @shawnssongs @rudyypankow @gigi-june @x-lulu​ @frodofreakingbaggins

[backtothestart02]

Just Best Friends - 9/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: “It’s been 84 years...” lolz. I hope you enjoy this! I don’t know when the next chap will come, but as soon as I can write it, I will!

...

Chapter 9 -

A week passed. During that week, Iris made herself completely unreachable – not just to Barry but to Eddie as well. She worked through lunch, so Barry couldn’t take her out, and she worked late hours, so that by the time she returned to hers and Eddie’s apartment, she was so exhausted, she could only heat up some leftovers and collapse onto their bed when she was finished with them.

That also meant no sex, no cuddling, and hardly any talking that wasn’t an incredibly brief apology before passing out or running out the door. And for Barry, it was just one excuse after another, though they always sounded very similar.

Sorry, I have so much work to do. Or… Maybe another time? I just got a new story, and I have a hot lead on it.

He always understood in words, but she could see the disappointment on his face every time. As well as her failure to respond to the fresh bouquet of flowers he set on her desk daily.

They weren’t just excuses though. They were legitimate…most of the time. Were they unnecessary? Probably. She didn’t have to go out of her way to beg her boss for more stories, or to work so far ahead of schedule that she felt she was on the verge of a burn out or collapse.

But she didn’t know how to act now that Eddie was back. She knew she needed to break up with him. She knew that. But she didn’t want to break his heart, and she wasn’t 100% sure Barry would just agree to date her after the hell she’d put him through emotionally. So avoiding both of them seemed to be the only way out.

She’d also come to the conclusion that while irritating, her dad going out of his way to forbid Barry to tell her he was the Flash had come from a place of love, and that she couldn’t stay mad at him any more than she could with Barry. The only problem was she found having that conversation with him was almost impossible because either Eddie or Barry or both seemed to be in his vicinity at all times.

Little did she know though that there was one other person who was taking a keen interest in the situation developing over the past week, and it was the one person she’d been paranoid about for a while before Eddie came back, and who she’d entirely forgotten about as the weight of the three men in her life came barreling down on her.

And that person had apparently had enough of what she was doing and had decided to seek her out for a confrontation of sorts shortly after Barry left during his lunch break for the fifth time that week.

With a slow yet determined saunter, Linda approached Iris’ desk just as soon as Mason disappeared for his daily lunch walk.

“Iris.”

The familiar voice made her freeze. She recovered quickly, but she had a feeling Linda had caught her red-handed and completely unprepared for where this particular conversation would lead. After all, the last time they’d “talked”, Linda had completely brushed her off, and the time before that Linda had told her to her face that she knew Iris had feelings for Barry, even when she’d still been in denial of that fact herself.

“Linda.” She shuffled her papers around on her desk to somehow fill the awkwardness of the moment. “What, uh…what can I do for you?”

Linda folded her arms and sat on the corner of Iris’ desk.

“Was that Barry that just left?”

“Hmm?” She decided to play dumb. “Oh, yeah, it was. He uh, wanted to go to lunch. I told him I had work to do, which I did – do. So, if you don’t mind?”

Linda’s jaw actually dropped.

“Dismissing me so quickly? If I recall correctly, the last time we talked, you were only too eager to get my attention.”

Iris bit her tongue to keep from responding with something she’d regret.

“Let me guess. You’re giving me a taste of my own medicine?” Linda raised her eyebrows.

Iris cleared her throat.

“Not at all. I just…I have work to do. A lot of it.”

“You’ve had a lot of work to do for the past five days, haven’t you?”

Iris’ eyes squinted.

“Have you been…spying on me?”

“Please.” Iris waited. “I’ve been talking to Barry. He’s needed someone to vent to, you know, since before Eddie came back you were practically climbing on top of him every day at lunch and after work and sometimes before work, according to him.”

“That’s not how it was,” Iris said under her breath.

“No? You better clear that up with your supposed best friend then, because that’s how he saw it. He’s crushed that you’re avoiding him again.” She leaned forward. “Which you are doing, right? Neither of us is buying that you suddenly have so much work to do.”

“I do!” Iris snapped. “I…I asked for it.”

Linda’s eyes widened and her mouth formed an ‘o’.

“And why would you do that?”

She started shuffling her papers again.

“That’s none of your business.”

“You made it my business when you made out with my boyfriend after sticking your finger in his mouth and sitting on his lap on our date.”

Iris sighed testily.

“I thought you two broke up.”

“We did.”

“Do you wish you hadn’t? I know it wasn’t your idea.”

“I’m not stupid, Iris. I’m not going to blindly fight for a relationship with someone who clearly wants to be with someone else.”

Iris bit her lip, avoiding eye contact.

“He does?” she asked quietly.

“He’s in love with you!” She lowered her voice when she got a few looks. “He’d take you in a heartbeat,” she paused. “If that’s what you want.”

Iris swallowed.

“But you don’t know what you want, do you?”

“Yes, I…I do.”

“Then what do you want? Please, tell me at least.”

“Why?” She met her eyes again and glared. “So you can run off and tell Barry? Or Eddie?”

Linda rolled her eyes.

“I have no reason to tell your boyfriend anything. Barry, however, I do still care about. And we’re friends now. He deserves to know the truth, even if it isn’t from you. He’s going crazy with all your…mixed signals.”

Iris nibbled on her lip again, guilt weighing her down.

“Iris, hey, there’s something I wanted to…” Mason approached, then came to an abrupt halt, sensing the tension between the two women immediately. “Am I interrupting something?” He looked between the two.

“Not at all.” Linda smiled serenely before looking down at Iris one last time. “You know where to find me, Iris.”

Iris gulped, not looking at her but nodded just before Linda retreated – finally – to her desk across the room.

“What was that about?”

Iris closed her eyes and shook her head before swiveling in her chair toward him.

“Nothing. What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

His eyes were full of suspicion, but it was clear his need to discuss something with her was greater.

“I want to show you something.” He took the seat Linda had vacated, then pulled out a folder, revealing to her a familiar face she’d nearly forgotten. “Simon Stagg. Remember him?”

…

Well, there was no longer any way of avoiding it. She had to seek out Barry. Mason’s suspicions about Harrison Wells stirred her insides too deeply, and honestly, made her worried about her best friend, since she knew how much he adored who had become to be his mentor. There was Caitlin and Cisco to consider too, who had known Dr. Wells even longer, but right now all she cared about was Barry.

So, she marched over to CCPD shortly after her conversation with Mason, using the excuse of pursuing a story – which, more or less, she was – to explain her absence at her work site and sought out Barry as soon as she stepped out of the elevator.

Unfortunately, her dad’s eyes locked with hers first. She swallowed, remembering how things were between them. She considered then abandoning a much-needed talk with Barry to finally hash things out with her dad. That course of action was dashed however, when within seconds he had looked away from her and gestured instead in her direction to whoever was standing across from him.

She should’ve known then who it would be, but it didn’t occur to her until he was walking toward her, a grin on his face, no doubt thinking she was there to see him.

“Iris, hey.” He kissed her before she could even think to turn her cheek to him. “Did you have a late lunch today? I have some time now. We cou-”

“Oh, actually, I’m here to see, Barry. Is he upstairs?”

“Huh?”

“In his lab?”

Eddie blinked.

“Um, yeah, as far as I know. There are no active crime scenes where he’d be at otherwise.”

“Great. Thanks. I’ll see you tonight.”

She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and headed towards the staircase before he could so much as pull her in for an explanation or something more.

Feeling confused and honestly a little hurt, Eddie returned to his desk, Joe sitting now at his, ignoring Eddie’s state as best as he could.

“Should I be worried?” he finally asked.

Joe pretended not to have heard him.

“Joe.”

“Hmm?” he asked, not looking up from the files he was pretending to look over in front of him.

“Should I be worried?”

“About what?”

“About Iris,” he said, as if it should be obvious.

Despite how he felt about the man dating his daughter, Joe looked up to address him. He was also his partner, after all.

“Why are you worried about her?”

Eddie let out a cough of relief, eager to unload his troubles onto somebody – anybody – who would listen.

“She’s made herself busy ever since I got back.”

“She has a job. So do you.”

“More so than usual though,” he pushed on. “She leaves earlier than she used to, and she comes home really late. When she does, she eats some leftovers and crawls into bed without so much as a ‘hey, how was your day’ or ‘I love you, too, Eddie’.” He frowned. “It worries me.”

Now Joe frowned.

“She’s been avoiding Barry too.”

Eddie’s frown deepened.

“When had Barry been trying to meet up with her?”

“On her lunch breaks,” he blurted without thinking, then met his eyes, trying to play it off. “She always says she’s too busy working on a story.”

Eddie leaned back in his seat.

“I haven’t tried to meet up with her for lunch at all this week. I guess I’m so used to her coming here, and if she didn’t, that she had a good reason. I guess she did.”

“Well, there you go.”

Joe started to stand, eager to escape the awkwardness of the conversation.

“But I mean, we haven’t had sex all week.”

Joe finished straightening, then shot him a glare. Eddie’s face fell.

“You didn’t want to hear that.”

“Not particularly, no,” Joe said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

He turned and headed for the bathroom. Any place was better than this.

…

About a step and a half before the entryway to Barry’s lap, Iris stalled, nibbling on her bottom lip. Barry had been as pleasant during her intended lunch break as he’d been all week, but she still wondered how accepting he’d be of her, especially when he found out this was a working meeting. She definitely needed to apologize first. How and when was the question, though. It was still beyond her how he hadn’t lashed out at her yet. She’d been treating him so unfairly, and yet time and time again, he kept crawling back to her, as if he was a glutton for punishment.

Well, no more of that. She couldn’t guarantee when she would break up with Eddie, but maybe Linda was right and she could at least explain her behavior this week and tell him she planned to break up with Eddie. Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe…eventually.

“Is someone there?” Barry called out, and Iris realized she’d started tapping her shoe against the floor in time with the rapid rhythm of her mind.

She stopped abruptly, then cleared her throat and peeked her head into the doorway.

“Hey.”

She gave an awkward hand wave.

“Iris?”

His brows furrowed, but he started to smile. Lord, help her, it made her heart do a flip.

“What are you doing out there?” He got up out of his seat and headed towards her. “And why didn’t you just come in?”

“S-sorry,” she stuttered, shocked by it as much as he was, then forced herself to walk through the door.

He came to a stop as soon as she was inside and waited for her explanation.

“I guess I didn’t know if you’d want to see me.”

He gawked.

“Iris, I’ve been trying to see you all week.”

“No, I know. Of course. Right. But uh…I thought my rejecting you today might’ve been your breaking point, and that you wouldn’t want to see me now. Without an apology. Which I am totally willing to make, by the way.” Her chuckle was strained, and she couldn’t meet his eyes.

“What’s there to apologize for?” he asked. “You had work to do. That isn’t your fault. I’m sure you’ve been working hard to catch up.”

“Actually…” She took another step toward him. “I haven’t.”

His brows furrowed, and he sat back down.

“I don’t follow.”

She sighed and sat on the corner of his desk, the only spot where there wasn’t files or a conglomeration of office supplies.

“I asked for extra work.” She swallowed. “On Monday.”

He tilted his head, confused.

“I was trying to be busy. On purpose.” She licked her lips. “So I’d be too busy if you came to see me.”

He froze, his heart thudding away inside his chest. He didn’t know how to take that bit of information, and honestly, he was crushed.

“I don’t understand…you didn’t want to see me?”

The hurt in his voice was palpable. Iris hated that she was doing this to him again. He shouldn’t even want to be her friend after this, no matter how apologetic she was.

“Not just you,” she said, hoping that would soften the blow. “Eddie too. And my dad.”

He was mystified by that. He understood Joe, what with the Flash business and all that, but Eddie?

“What have you got against Eddie?”

“Nothing!” she burst, then got up and started to pace. “I just…” She licked her lips, unable to stop walking and unable to form words either, it seemed. She couldn’t stop though. Not to leave, not to make eye contact. Her hard was pounding, and her breath was coming in short bursts. She felt everything closing in around her and wondered if she was having a panic attack.

Suddenly, she stopped and forced herself to look at him.

“Do you want me to go?”

“No,” he said instantly, standing too. “I want an explanation.”

She swallowed.

“I thought you and I were good last week.”

“We were,” she said. “We are.”

“Yet you purposely didn’t want me near you this week?”

Her knees locked, and she tensed up.

“And Eddie…what in the world did he do except home to you? I would’ve thought you’d be happy about that.”

Tears welled in her eyes. Her fingers were sweaty and tingled. She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

“Iris.”

Answer.

“I don’t love him anymore!”

She covered her mouth at the same moment his eyes bulged, and he nearly stumbled backward.

“What?” he finally managed.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair as she started to pace again.

“I realized it last week. Or rather, I’ve been slowly realizing it for the past several weeks. I’ve just been…in denial.”

Barry’s pulse started racing. He approached her moving form with one determined step after another.

“What have you been in denial about, Iris?”

She stopped.

“What I just said!” She licked her lips again. “I don’t love him. I’m not in love with him anymore. But I don’t…I don’t know how to tell him. I don’t want to break his heart. Especially after I went out of my way to make him feel bad about thinking there was anything between us, when really-”

“Wait, wait, wait, us? As in, you and I, us?”

She looked up at him reluctantly and nodded.

“Yeah.”

“He doesn’t know I told you how I felt, does he? At Christmas?”

“No!” Her eyes widened. “No, I didn’t tell him that. He’d probably have punched you by now if I had.”

Barry paled, then squeaked, “Really?”

“Uh-huh,” she confirmed.

“W-Why?” He wrapped his arm around the back of his head.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He gave her a blank look. “You were trying to get his girlfriend to break up with him. To be with you.”

Barry thought about it for a few seconds, then realized that yeah, he kind of had been. He shook his head after he got past that thought.

“I still don’t understand though. If you didn’t tell him about that…” He locked eyes with her. “Did you tell him you…find me attractive?”

“Oh, God, no.” She pressed her face into her hands. “That would’ve been even worse.”

“Worse than a love confession? How?”

“Because it’s coming from me! And I…”

“What?”

She power-walked to right in front of him and prepared herself for the blow of all blows.

“I don’t just find you attractive, Barry. I have…I have feelings for you.”

I’m in love with you – But she couldn’t admit to that yet. Not while she was still dating Eddie.

He swallowed, fighting with the smile that wanted to take over his face.

“What kind of feelings?”

“Barry.” Her voice softened. “You know what kind.”

“Tell me,” he said. “Just so I know for sure.”

He was holding his breath, and she couldn’t blame him. Honestly, she was on the brink of holding hers too.

“You make my heart race, Barry.”

“Iris.”

He started to lean in, and it took all of her willpower to step back out of reach.

“No, we can’t. I can’t. It’s bad enough I cheated once. This can’t go any farther until it’s over.” She met his eyes. “Until Eddie and I are over.”

Barry swallowed.

“And when will that be?”

Her shoulders slumped, and her bottom lip quivered.

“I don’t know.”

His shoulders caved in as well. He forced himself not to get mad, but he couldn’t help feeling disappointed. So, the love of his life finally felt the same way, but she wouldn’t let herself act on it? And she wouldn’t do the one thing that would allow them to be together.

“Is that the only thing you came to tell me?” he asked, unable to keep some chill out of his words.

Iris supposed she couldn’t blame him.

“No…” she admitted, deciding not to mention how she hadn’t meant to tell him as much as she had.

“What else?”

She pursed her lips, hating that she had to turn this conversation into a business one before she could give him the answer that he wanted.

“What else, Iris?” he asked, sounding exhausted when she didn’t answer for too long.

“It’s about, Dr. Wells,” she finally said.

That caught him off guard.

“Dr. Wells? What does he have to do with anything?”

“I hope nothing, but just in case…can we go somewhere else? To talk?”

He wanted to ask her what was wrong with his lab, but he supposed the fresh air would do them both good. Give them a clear head and put everything she’d already said to rest for the time being. After all, she sounded awfully serious about whatever else she wanted to talk about.

“Sure,” he said. “Just let me grab my jacket.”

“Barry,” she called after him as he walked by her.

He stopped when he reached his garment.

“I’m sorry about…everything.”

“Don’t worry about it, Iris,” he said, as he slid his arms through the sleeves. “It’s fine.”

…

Hours later, and on a whim, Eddie found himself at a jewelry store – diamonds, to be more specific. In the back of his mind, he knew his intentions probably weren’t smart. Especially not right now, not with the way things were between him and Iris, especially this week. But there was another part of him that thought this might be just the thing to jolt their relationship back into what it had once been and the potential of what it could be, the future he’d seen from almost the minute he started dating her.

He pointed out a ring nestled in velvet that caught his eye in the display case below him. An employee walked up, inspired by his curiosity and tried to catch his attention.

“Sir?”

“Can I see that one, please?”

The man smiled.

“Of course.”

He reached for the key and unlocked the case. Just as he was pulling the velvet block out with the specified ring upon it, Eddie’s phone started to vibrate.

“Oh, excuse me.”

He turned partially away and glanced at the screen on his phone. He answered immediately, a smile on his face.

“Hey, Iris, what’s up?”

“I’m home,” she said, and he could hear the frown in her voice.

“So early?”

“Yeah, I felt bad for coming home so late every night this week…I thought we could have dinner together.”

“That sounds great.”

“Yeah?” She sounded relieved.

“Definitely. I’m uh…just running a last-minute errand. I’ll be home soon.”

“Okay. See you then.”

“See you.”

He turned back to the jeweler as he slid the phone back in his pocket, and his eyes widened with enthusiasm as the ring was presented to him.

“Oh, yeah. This is the one.”

[sailtoafarawayland]

The Daughter You Have (Not That Girl)

Summary: “Take me home,” she whispered against him, and when she pushed onto her toes and hungrily met his lips with her own, pressing every bit of the things she wasn't ready to say yet into him, he knew that she wasn't just talking about a place.

Rated: T 

(This is an edit of my very first story published over on FF way back in 2015, but new to AO3. I've corrected some grammar and fixed a few errors, but have kept it true to what my intentions were at the time. It follows "There's No Place Like Home", but continues as if neither the urn nor Marian returned to Storybrooke)

- AO3 - 

Chapter 1/1

It was a little thing, nothing more than a gentle touch on his wrist, that opened Emma's eyes fully to something she had a feeling her subconscious had been protecting her from up until that point. David and Mary Margaret were disappointed with her. The signs had been there from the beginning – they were so obvious now that she was looking back – but it had been the family dinner at Granny's that had made their feelings perfectly clear.

Things had changed for Emma after she and Hook traveled through Zelena's time portal – a lot had changed, and when they'd finally gotten back, she knew what it was to return home. This was the town where her family was, where her heart was. The entire adventure had also opened her to other possibilities, things she had been eager and uninhibited in exploring since their return.

So when her mother called to let her know they were all meeting at Granny's for dinner, it hadn't occurred to her to do anything other than show up with the person she'd been spending her evening with. After all, they'd intended to eat at some point, so even though the family dinner would shorten other activities they'd had planned, Emma knew they'd make up for the distraction later.

The scene when she and Hook entered the diner was something that tugged at her heart. Every year when she was a child, she'd wished for the same thing on her birthday – to not be alone, to have a family. To have one now and really know that they weren't going to give her up, it was something she'd never thought she could have. So it was understandable, as caught up in the emotion of it all as she was, that she didn't notice the slight fall to Mary Margaret's face when they stepped inside, or the almost imperceptible tightening of David's mouth.

Placing a light kiss on Henry's forehead as he smiled up at her, she took the empty chair alongside him, the familiar heat of Killian beside her as he pulled out the chair at her right side, the comforting weight of his hook resting easily on her leg beneath the table.

She'd smiled at him, his own bright grin contagious beneath his flushed cheeks.  

The two tables pushed together were crowded, Regina, Robin, and Roland being a natural extension of the weird, extended family they'd all fallen into, but everything felt perfect to Emma in that moment.

She was happy.

That's why it was so jarring when it happened.

They'd gone through the tedious chore of ordering food, Roland unable to decide between chicken fingers and pizza, and the conversation was light and easy. Laughing at a quiet comment Henry had made, she'd turned to share it will Killian, knowing he would enjoy the quick-witted remark. Henry had been enjoying spending quite a bit of time with the both of them lately, and clearly the pirate's verbosity had worn off on him. She'd leaned into him, the action intimate and familiar, her arm crossing his body to gently squeeze his hand as she whispered in his ear.

It was a small gesture of affection, an easy expression of her happiness, and if she hadn't happened to look across the table at the exact moment she did, she wouldn't have seen it, but she had, and she did.

Mary Margaret's quickly stifled sigh, the slight flare of David's nostrils.

In that moment, Emma didn't need to ask them if they disapproved of her relationship with Killian, to test their words and weigh them as truth or lie – she read it on their faces as easily as if they had sent her a text.

“I don't feel great,” Emma cut in, interrupting the flow of conversation as she stood abruptly, the legs of her chair stuttering against the floor. “Sorry, kid, but I've got to go. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Henry shrugged, already turning his attention to the dessert menu he'd been eyeing up. “Feel better, Mom.”

She squeezed his shoulder once, a tight smile on her face, and turned toward the door, needing to get out of the diner that was suddenly too small to hold the frustration and anger coursing beneath her skin.

Killian rose with a bit more grace than she'd been able to muster, his words charming and polite despite the concern she could read beneath them.

Emma didn't go far, simply taking the few steps she needed to get away from the glare of the diner's lights before waiting for Killian to join her, immediate relief folding over her as she was enveloped by the scent of leather and salt – the mark of the sea far too ingrained in everything he wore to ever fade. The heat from her breath clung to his jacket as she pressed herself into his embrace, needing the closeness.

“Talk to me, Swan. Are you unwell?”

She didn't want to talk.

She didn't want to do anything other than run away from the fact that her parents were far from happy about her happiness. She just wanted to wrap herself in his body, finding peace in the friction between them that always brought her to completion so perfectly. She wanted to feel the slide of his fingers, rough and calloused, over her skin, the hard chill of his hook at her back.

She was happy, and they didn't want that for her.

If she didn't soothe the wound that realization left on her heart, she wasn't sure what she would storm back in there and say in front of everyone.

“Take me home,” she whispered against him, and when she pushed onto her toes and hungrily met his lips with her own, pressing every bit of the things she wasn't ready to say yet into him, he knew that she wasn't just talking about a place.

* ~ * ~ *

As Emma lie in his arms that night, listening to the slow creaks and moaning pipes that ran behind the walls of Granny's, her thoughts traveled back through the days and weeks since their return from the Enchanted Forest. She tried to remember how her parent's had been from that first moment until now.

There had been relief etched on their faces as Emma recounted their adventure, and gratefulness when they thanked Killian for not letting her go alone and keeping her safe. They had been friendly even, for once acting as if he belonged in Storybrooke, as if he had a place there and was more than an unwanted outsider looking through the window – but apparently their good will had an expiration, and that was as soon as they realized that they weren't the only reason she'd stayed instead of running back to New York.

All that time as her relationship with Killian progressed, she hadn't noticed their disappointment in the fact that it was growing and deepening rather than fading, a one time thing – because that was what she had seen on their faces in the diner, and it had shattered her.

She burrowed closer to Killian as he held her, his face serene and relaxed in sleep. She was thankful for that, knowing that some nights his old demons haunted him more deeply than others. It warmed her heart to know that those nights were becoming farther and fewer between. She didn't want to leave him when the sun came up, would miss the strength of his arms around her, the confidence that came so easily when he was at her side, but she knew she had to talk to her parents.

She knew what she had seen, but she had to hear it from them.

* ~ * ~ *

David's face moved quickly between his easy, morning smile to surprise as the door opened, then more slowly to the grim look of resolve. For a second, Emma couldn't figure out why she'd surprised him, and then she realized it was because she'd knocked. The realization left a small ache in her chest, the significance not lost on either of them. Though she'd been spending most nights at Granny's, up until last night, this had still felt like home.

“Who is it, David?”

She heard Mary Margaret's voice chime from the other side of the loft, the soft tapping of her shoes drawing closer.

“It's Emma,” he muttered, opening the door fully and waving her inside, his movements stilted.

Mary Margaret was smiling when she finally popped into view, but Emma could see the anxiety flickering in her eyes as she stepped through the door and closed it behind her, facing the both of them with more than a hint of discomfort in her stance.

“Henry didn't stop in, did he?”

He'd been staying most nights with Regina and Robin, enjoying spending time with Roland, but sometimes he would still swing by the loft in the mornings to meet her before they went to Granny's together for hot cocoa.

“He did, but we mentioned you weren't here and he said he'd wait for you at Granny's,” her mother said. “Did you want to head over – ”

“No,” Emma rushed, cutting her off and interrupting the motion Mary Margaret was making toward the door, her hand falling back to her side. “I need to talk with the both of you, about last night.”

“Emma, if this is about Hook – ”

“It's not...well, not directly. It's about me.”

Emma watched them uncomfortably, suddenly unsure of how to begin now that she was actually standing in front of them, David with his questioning eyes, and Mary Margaret with her hands twisted together in front of her waist. She was supposed to be able to do this. She'd broken a curse, fought a dragon, stood up to Cora, and fought to bring down Zelena. She was the Savior, she was supposed to be able to do everything, including confront her parents.

A longing to have her pirate standing beside her hit, his hand resting gently on her shoulder for support, but even though she knew she needed to do this alone, the brief flash of him in her mind was enough to spur her on.

He was worth fighting for.

“I saw the way you looked at us last night,” she began, the hurt obvious in her voice, no matter how steady she tried to make it. “When I touched his hand, I looked across at you, and you guys couldn't stand to see it.”

“Emma, you have to understand, we appreciate everything Hook did to help you get back home to us. We see that he's changed, please don't think we're blind to that,” Mary Margaret sighed, her eyebrows knit with concern.

“But you still don't think he's worthy of your respect, your trust...that he's worthy of me?”

“We do respect him, Emma, we really do,” David interjected, scratching the top of his head as he met Mary Margaret's eye, “but you have to understand, we never wanted someone like him for you.”

“Someone like him?” Her voice crept up in volume, ringing with disbelief.

“You deserve better.”

“Better than someone who has come to my rescue time and time again? Better than someone who gave up his actual home for a chance – no, less than a chance even – that he might be able to save me, to save all of you? Someone better than that?”

“You're forgetting all of the other things he's done, Emma – his past. We wanted something different for you, someone like your father, Not a – ”

“Not a pirate,” David snapped, unable to keep the vitriol from his tone.

“How dare you!” There was a venomous edge to her voice now, low and quiet. “How dare you think you have any right to an opinion on this. Are you kidding me? You dropped into a magic tree – and I get it, I understand that you had to, and that it broke your hearts, but now you need to understand something...”

She paused, taking a breath as she tried to loosen the tight fists she'd balled her hands into “All of those hopes and dreams you guys had for me, the things you envisioned shaping me into the woman you wanted me to be, they didn't go through the wardrobe. It was just me, all by myself. Whatever plans you've made for my future, they're for a person who doesn't exist. They're for the daughter you wanted, not the one you've got.”

“But the daughter you've got,” she continued, “she's pretty damn happy as she is. I didn't grow up in some fairy tale. I grew up in the real world. I was abandoned, betrayed, disappointed and left behind my entire life. I've got more bruises, and scars, and flaws than most people, but because of Killian, I've learned to accept them and move on, because all of them together put me right where I am today. You might not like the rough, gritty parts of him, his past, the hook, but I do. I love every part of him, and I will not sit here and let you treat this like I'm settling, because he is everything I need, and everything I want.”

She found herself nearly breathless after her rant, fists shaking at her sides as she stared at her parents wide-eyed in front of her. She had hoped the weight on her chest would lighten once she put everything she felt out into the open, but instead she was faced with a lingering tightness that wouldn't budge, suddenly aware that they may have considered all of those things and still disapproved.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret sighed, locking eyes with David before reaching forward and taking her daughter's clenched fists in her hands. “You may have grown up here, but you were born in the Enchanted Forest, a princess and the product of true love. If you're destined to have a True Love of your own, then surely it's not someone – ”

Emma didn't give her a chance to finish her sentence, tearing her hands free and throwing the door open, the heavy wood bouncing off the wall as she stormed out without a backward glance. The resounding thump of the door falling back into place and closing behind her somehow trickled through the roar of anger thumping in her ears and she paused, pressing her forehead and hands against the cool wall down the hallway.

“You alright there, love?”

The rage she'd been feeling slipped away from her at the sound of his voice, her legs suddenly shaking and less steady than they should have been for someone who was stone cold sober. Thankfully, he was at her side the minute she turned from the wall that had been lending her a little support, his arms catching her as they sunk to the floor together, his leather jacket splayed across the rug as he knelt, arms circling around her as she tucked her head into his chest and closed her eyes.

Her heart ached in a way she hadn't expected to feel again, in the same way it had when the cop told her to turn around and she'd realized someone she'd counted on had let her down.

It ached until he whispered against her hair, soothing noises and assurances that everything would be well, the timbre of his voice bringing her peace.

“What are you doing here?” Emma whispered, wondering how he'd known to look for her at her parent's loft, and suddenly very glad they hadn't decided to follow her into the hallway. She had no idea how she'd react seeing them again so soon after what Mary Margaret had just been about to say. She needed time, and they probably did as well.

“I will admit I was adrift when I woke without you this morning, Swan,” he confided, placing another soft kiss to her hair, “but I thought perhaps you'd been craving some of that chocolate concoction you like, so I went to Granny's, wondering if that's where you'd run off to.”

“It's called hot chocolate. Did you see Henry there?”

“Aye, the lad was showing me something in a book about the stars that Belle had given him. He thought perhaps you'd gone to see if he was at the loft.”

Emma sat up quickly, leaning out of Killian's lap so she could search the stairwell below, her chest tightening painfully at the thought of Henry overhearing what had gone on with her parents.

“He's not here, Swan. I had a feeling there was something that needed addressing between you and your parents after last night.”

“How did you know?”

“I'm a pirate, love. We've a keen sense for danger – a word that would fairly describe your temperament a moment ago.”

“Where is he?”

“Ah, I sent him over to our room to retrieve the sextant I'd told him about the other day. I thought it would be useful for him to see how it works for the paper he's writing.”

“That's good,” she murmured, settling back into his lap. “I wouldn't him have wanted him to hear me that upset with his grandparents.”

“Aye, angry is what you were a moment ago, but how do you feel now, Swan?”

“Blood spectacular,” she laughed, snuffing her nose that she hadn't realized was now stuffy, her eyes burning slightly at the tears she wouldn't shed.

She felt the absence of Killian's arm around her as he reached up and scratched behind his ear, a nervous habit she thought was pretty cute.

“Well, in that case, what do you say to a change of scenery, a leisurely stroll, perhaps?”

“Your legs are numb, aren't they?”

“Aye.”

* ~ * ~ *

Days had passed since Emma confronted her parents, and still she hadn't asked him the question he'd been dreading. He had expected it right away, and she'd surprised him by not seeming the concerned in the least that may have overheard her conversation. His Swan, still managing to surprise him even after how much they'd learned of one another. Perhaps now that they'd grown closer than he had ever hoped was possible, she had no words left to hide from him.

They spent those days enjoying the company of one another and the continued absence of any threats to the town. Walks with Henry to the dock were frequent. The lad had developed a true curiosity about everything to do with the sea, and though he no longer had the Jolly with which to entertain the boy, he never regretted it – though Emma often gripped his hand more tightly whenever they passed by the spot where she had once anchored so long ago.

She'd asked him only once if he regretted it, and he'd been able to look her in the eye and speak honestly.

Never, not for a second, Emma.

Hours spent twisted among his sheets were also frequent, his fingers never tiring of their play across her body, but his Swan was quite perceptive, and he knew she felt the subtle change in his demeanor that had plagued him ever since that morning at her parent's loft.

When it had lingered for more than a week – his breath hitching in his throat as he watched her fall asleep, thinking she was too far gone to notice, she finally asked him.

“Killian, will you please tell me?”

A part of him wanted to sweep her into his arms, fingers threading through her hair as he grinned, disarming her with some witty banter about how the only thing bothering him was her state of dress, mainly that the shirt she'd donned was too much, but the smile wouldn't come to his lips, and he had no desire in his heart to lie to her.

“Your mother, Emma...what she said. Surely it's the truth.”

She stiffened against him and pulled away, the immediate distance she's placed between them striking his chest with both fear and pain, though it was the reflection of both in her eyes that injured him most. His words had hurt her, but neither could he lie. She would know, and it would pain her just the same.

“What do you mean?”

“She told you no untruths, love. You were born a princess in the Enchanted Forest, the daughter of heroes and a Savior in your own right – someone destined to have a true happy ending.”

“What I was supposed to be doesn't mean anything, you and I both know that, Killian.”

“But what if she's right?” he nearly whispered, dread thick on his tongue as his sea-blue eyes bored into her own. “What if it means everything? What if there is true love waiting for you, a man destined for you – a man who never killed because he could, nor lived solely for vengeance until it blackened his heart?”

“I believe that, Killian – ”

Her words were a frigid wave of his deepest fears washing over him, the doubts he was voicing suddenly far more substantial than when they'd haunted his dreams.

“ – a part of it, that is,” she continued, sliding closer in his bed and running her fingers through his inky, dark locks. “I believe I have a true love. The only difference, you idiot, is that I know I've already found him, so don't do this to me. Don't doubt me now when you never have before. After all the chasing, just because I finally stopped running doesn't mean it's your turn.”

The tips of her fingers stroked through his hair, returning softly along his jaw and cupping his face. He reached out for her then, twirling a strand of her golden hair around his finger, his heart leaping as he took in every curve and peak of her face as she smiled. He wanted to have her faith, to believe as she did that he could be her everything – because was certainly everything to him.

Slipping easily onto his lap, the sheets pooling around their waists, she rested her forehead against his, moving to wind her fingers in his own, her other hand firmly grasping his stump, loving every part of him. His heart ached with how much he loved her in return.

“What do you say, Killian. Can you take that leap of faith with me, that no matter what, from here on out it will always be us?”

And because she asked and he trusted her implicitly, believed her in the very core of his being, he could. His lips crashed against hers, rocking them both back onto the bed as they shared each breath, passion and love and a feeling of rightness brightening each move they made. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, needing to vanish any breath of space between them. Possessiveness and need slowly rolled into the slow rise of tenderness and longing, their bodies moving and melding seamlessly as they poured their commitment into each shuddering breath. When they finally broke apart, their heated bodies resting atop the sheets, he knew in his heart how true her words had been, because he could never leave this miraculous woman who'd brightened his life, who'd chosen to be his. He loved her too greatly, too deeply, and every day till his very last he would choose her.

“It will always be you,” he whispered against her neck, clinging to her as if she was the only thing keeping him afloat in an endless sea, and perhaps she was. “Always, Emma.”

Tagging: @justanother-unluckysoul @kmom0f4 @the-darkdragonfly @teamhook @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight @tiganasummertree @pirateprincessofpizza @lfh1226-linda @alexa-fangirl-forever @alifeofdreams @superchocovian @donteattheappleshook @hollyethecurious @caught-in-the-filter @snowbellewells 

[seaweedbrain404]

Wolfstar Au! : Parties and Morning Regrets

read it on ao3

pt2

Parties weren’t exactly Remus’ scene. It’s not that he hated the loud noise, smelly sweaty drunk people who constantly bumped into him or the inevitable hangover he would be most certainly having the next day. Except, he did hate all of those things, so why was he there?

The answer was simple: Lily Evans. Aka his best friend and flatmate. She had wanted to go, Remus couldn’t remember why. Maybe it was for a birthday? or a promotion? He couldn’t recall. Although that might’ve been the effects of the copious amounts of alcohol he had managed to consume in the past few hours. Remus wasn’t a light weight by any means so it really was copious amounts.

Drunk and a little annoyed because Lily had ditched him at some point and now he couldn’t find her, Remus made his way to the corner of the room where he could hopefully be left alone. He’d also have to keep an eye out for her, in case she needed help or in case she wanted to leave. He doubted any of those things, vaguely remembering that Lily wanted to go to the party to get laid. Which was fair.

Remus was propped up against the wall, drink in hand when it all went downhill. He only just began to entertaining the idea of either finding Lily and telling her he was going him or getting laid himself. He preferred the latter but didn’t have much of a say in it when someone came up next to him.

“Remus Lupin?”

Remus’ brain short circuited when he heard the voice. This was proof the universe hated him. As if the accident that happened shortly after he and Lily had moved to New York had been any indication of the universe having it out for him.

“What?” He managed to sound vaguely disinterested as his gaz met the other person’s.

Sirius Black looked the same as he did when they were 17. Same stupid leather jacket and everything. It made Remus want to groan because it was so stupid, he thought he’d left all of this back in England. Clearly he was about to be proven wrong.

Sirius shrunk back at the tone. He wasn’t used to Remus being so cold and bitter. Remus didn’t care though, Sirius had hurt him and he had some nerve coming up to him again.

“Just thought I’d say hi”

“Well, hi”

“Mmm...” Sirius paused for a moment, “how have you been?”

“Grand”

“Oh.... did you get into that school you wanted?” Sirius tried again and Remus almost felt bad for him.

If Remus wasn’t intoxicated, he would’ve told Sirius to go away. Instead he answered the question. “No, got my second choice though”

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be” Remus didn’t want the pity Sirius was so clearly trying to offer. He had gotten over himself, it was years ago that he got rejected from his first school of choice and his second one was still really good. Then a thought occurred to him, “why are you in New York?”

“Oh!” Sirius seemed surprised by the question, Remus couldn’t blame him. He hadn’t been exactly pleasant up until this point. “Business opportunity for my dad’s firm, he wanted me to check it out and James already lived close enough to here”

Of course, still doing your family’s bidding when we both know you hate it, Remus had to stop himself from saying. Instead, he settled on a nod and took a sip of the drink in his hand.

“What about you?” He asked timidly.

Remus wasn’t used to Sirius being timid. Sirius had always been loud, demanding attention and boisterous. Maybe it was the party or maybe it was seeing Remus after so long that knocked the wind out of him just like it did to Remus. Hence why he was acting like a bit of a dick.

“Lily and I both wanted out”

That was all there was to it. Lily and Remus had been best friends and grew up together in a small town just off the coast of England. It horribly small minded and suffocating. It only got worse when Remus came out. Lily wanted to go to New York to get away from her sister and start a small bakery. For Remus, she was the ideal ticket out of there. He had been hesitant at first, up until he tried to speak to his father for more than ten minutes at a time. Then he was certain he had to leave. His mum wouldn’t have wanted him to stay if he was unhappy and if Lyall couldn’t get his shit together without him, well that wasn’t his problem anymore.

“I don’t blame you” came Sirius’ answer. “Compared to that shithole, New York is a breath of fresh air”

Remus chuckled at that, mood lightening. Was it the alcohol or was it him actually missing Sirius? He’d blame it on the alcohol.

“How is Lily?”

“She’s good, snogging some bloke right now I think” Remus shrugged.

“Good for her” Sirius nodded and Remus swore he could see the other glance down at his lips.

“What are you thinking about?” Remus knew he was asking a very dangerous question but his drunken mind pushed for it.

Clearly, Sirius was drunk enough to look at Remus and smile and as he said, “kissing you”

“Then do it”

Remus said this without thinking of the consequences. A very un-Remus thing to do.

Sirius obeyed though, stepping closer and closing the distance between them. Remus forgot what it was like to kiss Sirius. He could taste the alcohol, and the same cigarettes as when they were teenagers. The new taste was coffee, a welcome addition to what Remus already knew and remembered.

He suddenly wondered if anything else was the same. Throwing caution to the wind, Remus gently bit down on Sirius’ lip and in turn, Sirius parted his lips. This allowed Remus to slip his tongue in, his brain short circuiting again.

He pulled away breathless and Sirius grabbed his hand. “Let’s get out of here”

Remus let himself be dragged away from the corner and outside. He didn’t bother asking where until Sirius started hailing a cab. That’s when the alarms bells sounded.

“No! let’s- no not the cab... I’ll- I’ll get sick” This was of course a lie. Remus knew this and if Sirius remembered how good Remus’ drinking health was, then he knew it was a lie too. He didn’t say anything though. Maybe it was the panic in his fear-stricken eyes that made Sirius back down.

Remus felt stupid, not wanting to take the cab but it made perfect sense in his head. One late night coming home from work, he had taken a cab and got in a terrible accident. An accident that left violent scars all over his right side. An accident that made him quit his job and not want to get into a car ever again.

Despite all this, Sirius, bloody Sirius who was always so understanding even while drunk, squeezed Remus’ hand and started walking.

Remus decided he didn’t feel bad for not taking the cab. It wasn’t a long walk to where Sirius was currently staying. It was a nice, fancy and very expensive hotel. He instantly felt out of place.

Sirius didn’t seem to notice though. He also didn’t notice the receptionist giving him a funny look. A look which Remus knew too well and made him feel more than a little insecure. If it wasn’t for the alcohol coursing through his system, he would’ve gone home.

Fortunately, Remus didn’t get the chance to dwell of any of this simply because the second they were in the lift, Sirius was pressing him against the wall. All the kissing made Remus feel a bit dizzy. It wasn’t that he hadn’t been in relationships or had one night stands after Sirius. It was more the fact that it was Sirius.

Somehow (Remus can’t recall the details) they ended up in Sirius’ hotel room. Remus would later regret the events that took place that night for a while.

The next morning, Remus woke up naked and hungry. Not a great combination. He felt a hand draped over his waist, pulling him closer.

“Morning” Came Sirius’ sleepy voice.

Shit

Remus pushed Sirius away, establishing a small distance between them. He was about to go for his phone when it started ringing, this caused Sirius to groan and cover his ears.

Remus pick up, it was Lily. “Hi? what’s up?”

“Remus John Lupin”

“That’s my name?”

“Tonight was my turn”

Right. This meant that she didn’t have the keys to their apartment and that Remus did.

“Sorry”

“Just come home, quickly? You’ll never guess who i slept with last night”

“I’m intrigued”

“Then hurry up! I’m going to be catch pneumonia”

“Alright how does i’m-sorry-for-leaving-you-out-in-the-cold-coffee sound?”

“I suppose I could forgive you” Remus could practically hear the smile in her voice.

“Give me a few minutes, I’m on my way”

“Be safe, love you”

“Love you too”

When Remus hung up and looked over at Sirius, his brain short circuited for the third time since they’d met last night. Sirius Black was beautiful in the morning, he was breathtaking every time of day but he was especially beautiful in the mornings. With his shoulder length black hair, sharp cheekbones, pale skin and grey eyes, he always looked melancholy. Even when he was smiling. Remus supposed there was a sort of tragic look about Sirius that drew a lot of people in. It didn’t help that Remus’ favourite colour used to be grey.

“Who was it?” Sirius’ voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Lily. I should- I really have to go” When Remus said this, Sirius’ face fell.

“Can I drive you home?”

Remus climbed out of bed and stopped, he was in the middle of pulling his jeans back on. “No, it’s not too far, I’ll walk”

Sirius started getting out of bed too. “At least let me walk you then” He walked over to the suitcase and pulled out his own clothes, getting dressed as well.

“Fine but I have to stop for coffee” Remus replied, not being able to come up with a good enough excuse to ditch him. He finished buttoning up his shirt and pulled the sweater he wore last night over his head. It smelled like bad beer and cheap vodka. He was in desperate need of a shower the second he got home.

They walked in silence, from the room to the lift and outside in complete silence until Sirius spoke up again. “How are you?” he asked.

Remus looked at him, a frown quickly taking over his features. He remembered the sincere tone and genuine look in Sirius’ eyes from the time his mum passed away, sometime in fifth year. “You don’t get to ask that”

“Oh... I’m sorry”

“I know you are”

“You’re different” Sirius said, sounding a little uncertain.

“People are allowed to change Sirius” Remus’ tone was cold. He was in no mood for this, he just wanted to get the coffee and get home as quickly as possible.

Sirius soldiered on, as if Remus hadn’t said a thing. “You’re taller.... your hair is longer and curlier, you have plasters all over your fingers and scars, the scars are new”

Remus’ shoulders tensed at that. Who was Sirius to be saying all these things? And more importantly, why was he saying all this. It’s not like Remus didn’t know that he changed since they were 17. It had been years.

“Am I allowed to ask about the scars?”

“I got into an accident”

“How bad was it?”

“No, you’re not allowed to ask that”

“Right” It was clear Sirius was grasping at straws at this point, anything to keep the conversation going. “The plasters?”

“I work in a bakery”

“As if that explains it” Sirius huffed, a lot more Sirius-like than whatever he was like before. That was the Sirius he remembered. “What about me?

“What about you?”

“Have I changed?”

Remus thought for a moment. He wanted to say no, everything about Sirius was the same; he looked the same and his clothes were also the same. Another thing that didn’t change was him clearly being under his parents’ thumb. Yet, there was something about Sirius that was very un-Sirius and Remus couldn’t place what.

“No” He replied, ducking into a coffee shop to avoid the conversation from progressing further.

After buying three coffees, the two men were off again. They walked in silence for about five seconds before Sirius spoke up again.

“Why are you being like this?”

“I don’t know what you mean” Lie. Remus knew exactly what he meant but he refused to acknowledge it. Besides, the walk was starting to do a number on his hip and he had to slow down.

Sirius frowned at him. “Being all.....” he gestured vaguely with his hands, he had never been good with words, despite going to a private boarding school (he and Lily were scholarship students). Remus thought it was ironic, you’d think someone that rich would be at least a little more eloquent.

“You’re being distant”

“No offense but I’m not usually all cuddly and sweet with one night stands, I’m sorry”

Unfortunately it seemed that Sirius had taken offense to being called just a one night stand because he took a sip of his coffee and stuff a hand in his jacket.

“Asshole” Sirius mumbled.

“Sure, I’m the asshole”

Hurt flashed across Sirius’ face. “That’s not fair”

“I didnt say it was”

Sirius scowled even further and Remus just smiled. “I’m trying to be nice, I don’t get why you’re still being so mean”

Remus looked down, suddenly feeling really bad. “Sorry”

“Can we just talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about” Remus sighed. “You haven’t changed, your parents still dictate your life and by the looks of it, you’ve stopped rebelling”

Now it’s Sirius’ turn to look down. Remus had his a sore spot, that much was clear.

Neither said anything for the rest of the walk, until Remus started limping enough for Sirius to notice.

“Are you okay?” Concern filled his pretty grey eyes.

“I told you- the accident... it’s not too far now, I’ll be okay”

Sirius looked unconvinced but didn’t say anything else. He was probably too scared that Remus would snap at him again.

The silence resumed til they saw Lily, who ran up and pulled Remus into a death grip hug when she saw him, causing him to nearly drop the two coffees he was holding.

“What took so long?” She let go of him, studying his face, “don’t tell me you walked all the way here, you dolt”

“That would be lying though” Remus quipped with a smile.

Lily shook her head. “Idiot” she muttered, taking the coffee cups from Remus as he fished out the keys to let them inside.

Lily’s gaze travelled between Sirius and Remus, silently giving Remus the ‘oh god you slept with him didn’t you’ look. “I’ll go on ahead”

Once Lily disappeared upstairs, Sirius opened his mouth to say something but Remus stopped him with a hand in the air.

“Do you want to come upstairs?” He asked, not sure if he was going to regret this later or not.

Sirius nodded, “Yeah, yeah... if that’s okay with you”

Remus held the door open. He could give this a chance, maybe it wouldn’t end as bad as it did when they were 17. He had changed and maybe, somewhere deeper so had Sirius. For once, Remus let himself hope.

“You wanna know why I stopped rebelling?”

Remus hummed in response.

“I didn’t have anything left to fight for, now I might” with small smile he ducked into the apartment building.

Remus followed in after a moment. Thinking about how this could be finally something good. Maybe the universe doesn’t hate him as much as he thought it did. Maybe the universe was trying to shove him in the right direction again.

[pagingevilspawn]

Loving You Is A Losing Game - chapter ten

wc: 3k

pairing: Alex Karev/Jo Wilson, Alex Karev/Izzie Stevens (mentioned), Jo Wilson/Paul Stadler (mentioned)

chapter summary: alex and jo have an argument.

rating: teen audiences and up.

chapter category: angst. hurt/comfort.

warnings: implied sex, cheating on spouse/adultery, guilt, crying, yelling, implied/referenced domestic abuse, language.

A/N: this is terrible. majority of it was written six months ago, but i don't have the effort to re-write 2000 words. i'm going to be wrapping this up in a few chapters. my personal life is very hectic right now, so i don't know when that will be, but this series is going to be coming to an end in about four or so chapters. hope you enjoy!

____

~*~

"giving us up didn't take a lot, i saw the end 'fore it began"

~*~

six months. six months since that conference in boston.

five months. five months since they saw each other again.

in the six months they'd known each other, they'd spent three weekends together. the current one being the fourth. alex and jo lay in bed together as they’d done so many times before, his fingers running up and down his arm while she drew circles on his chest. this had become normal; a habit. being with each other was so completely and utterly normal.

how wrong was that? the fact that they felt more normal with each other than they ever had with anyone else in their life. how wrong was it that they were cheating, but yet it managed to feel normal. being with each other somehow managed to feel so right.

except now things weren't the same as it had been four months ago. four months ago, they craved the touch of each other, the ability to make one another feel something.

now they didn't just crave the touch.

it was torture to be away from her. he longed for her; her skin, her scent, her lips. he longed for her touch, her words, her slender fingers, her mind. he wanted it, every second of every day he wanted it. but no matter how much he wanted it, she wasn’t his to have.

she missed him. she missed him while lying on the sofa, while sitting in class. his hands, his secure hold, his witty brain, his skillful lips, the movements of his fingers as they twirled with her hair. she missed him. it was such a messed up situation that they had put themselves in, but no matter how much space he took up in her mind, he wasn’t her’s to have.

the saturday afternoon sun trickled in through the sheer white curtains, the orange glow gleaming against their skin. it was so sound, so serene, as if nothing could go wrong if they stayed like this. in all honesty, they wished they could.

the sound of a text tone going off momentarily pops their bubble, jo letting out a groan of protest as she recognizes the beep as her's. she begrudgingly untangles herself from alex's hold, immediately missing the warmth it provided. she fishes her phone out of the bottom of her bag, small smile on her face as she can feel his eyes on her backside. the smile leaves her face once she sees his name on the screen.

Paul: Going to be a day late. I'll be back on Monday.

Brooke: okay. hope everything is good up there

whatever bubble they had preserved was now destroyed; the guilt of everything they were doing finally catching up to her in one swift motion, like a tidal wave unexpectedly crashing on shore. alex notices the change of atmosphere in the room as jo stands at the foot of the bed, a look he can't recognize splayed across her delicate features. he sends her a questioning glance, which she only responds by setting her eyes downcast, focusing on the floor as if it were the only thing in the room.

the silence in the air is heavy, the usual comfort that it usually held was gone. it hadn't been like this for them in months, not since waking up next to each other for the first time and not knowing who the person they spent the night with was.

jo sighs, shaking her head as she begins to pace the room, stopping in front of the window and looking back at him. "we can't keep doing this." she whispers, her voice breaking halfway through.

alex throws his head back onto the pillow, closing his eyes and running a hand down his face as he lets out a breath slowly. "i know." he speaks softly.

jo feels anger rise up inside of her, not sure if it was directed at herself or the man on the bed. "really?!" she shouts, "do you know alex? do you know!" she throws her hands around , nearly knocking the glass off the small table in the process.

the man sits up from his position on the bed, thankful that he still had his boxers on. "you think i don't know jo?" he asks, dumbfounded at her words, brow furrowing in confusion.

"i'm cheating on my husband!" she yells, trying to stop her eyes from watering, to no avail. she knows he knew how wrong this was. how wrong all of it was. why hadn't they stopped? why had they even started to begin with?

"and i'm cheating on my wife!" he argues back, studying her as she looks down at her feet, avoiding eye contact as she turns the curtain fabric beneath her fingers, biting her bottom lip in a worthless attempt to prevent it from wobbling.

she lets a few beats pass, a lone tear sliding down her cheek. "i know." she whispers dejectedly, watching as the people below carried on with their days. she stared as couples held each other's hands while walking across the street, mothers pushed small children in bulky strollers down crowded sidewalks. dads carried their sons on their shoulders, providing them a sense of security along with feeling like they were on top of the world. elderly couples gave each other adoring looks, ones that hadn't faded no matter how many years they had spent together. all of them were oblivious to the turmoil occurring a few stories above them in room four twenty six. everyone on the concrete streets was happy. they were okay.

why couldn't they be like that? why couldn't they be normal? why couldn't they have simply avoided their desires that night?

why, why, why.

alex appears behind her, pushing back the other curtain to look at the view she was seeing.  they were all so carefree. they didn't know what it was like to have this boulder of guilt hanging over them every second of every day, one subtle movement threatening to tip it over the edge and crush everything beneath it.

he sighs. "i know exactly what it's like jo." she takes her hand in his, her thumb beginning to rub back and forth over his knuckles, something she had learned calmed her down. his touch always seemed to relax her. it was something she could melt into, like the safety of falling backwards, knowing that she'd be caught before she hit the ground.

she looks at him, tearing her eyes away from the calming scene underneath them. "why can't we just stop?" she asks him, her eyes staring at him like he held all the answers she wished to receive.

"i don't know." he answers honestly, not having the heart to look at her, focusing his attention on the business man shuffling through the crowd, talking on his cell phone while simultaneously trying to keep his briefcase from hitting the others around him.

but they both did know. they couldn't stop because of their feelings. it had stopped being just sex a long time ago. stupid, god damn feelings.

they knew it was there. the flutters in their stomach when the other person laughed, the constant need to have their hands on each other, not to mention, how much it pained them to be away from one another. that wasn't how it was supposed to be. you weren't supposed to have these feelings for someone you were sleeping with. it was supposed to be just sex. simple, goddamn amazing sex and nothing more.

they were falling, falling into dangerous territory. they were falling where there should be a safe place for them to land, but rather instead, waiting for them was a pit of roses with jagged thorns that would cut their skin and tear them apart, ripping them and bleeding until scars covered their bodies to the point they could no longer tell who they were. they were playing with fire, it was only a matter of time before they got burned.

"we need to stop this." she whispers again, making him finally meet her gaze before he turns away again.

alex flutters his eyes shut, leaning his forehead against the cool glass window. "we do." he sighs, angling his head so he could look at her. "but do we really want to?" his eyes bore into hers so intensely she couldn't look away, no matter how hard she tried. they weren't sure who the question was directed to more, him or her.

she knew she needed to stop. she needed to stop betraying her vows. she needed to stop being unfaithful to her husband; she needed to. but when she was with alex, she was free. she could talk about whatever she wanted, she didn't need to try to impress him. she was able to be herself. she was able to feel good about herself around him.

her bottom lip wobbles as she shakes her head from side to side, shutting her eyes tightly, a desperate attempt to not let the tears escape. "no." she lets out a sob, slapping a hand over her mouth to stop her cries from becoming too loud. tears streamed down her face, a mix of anger, guilt, and sorrow made up the salty liquid. but underneath it was relief, relief that she had finally admitted to herself and to alex that she wanted this. "goddamn it, i don't wanna stop."  she lets the words tumble out of her mouth as she gnaws on her bottom lip. she looks up at him, pleading that he felt that same way, hoping that she wasn't making something up in her head.

alex pulls her in by the side, not noticing how she ever so slightly winces, placing a soft kiss on the top of her head, an act so tender he hardly ever did it for anyone but her. "i don't wanna stop either jo," he whispers softly into her locks of brown keeping his chin rested on her head as he moves behind her, holding her from the back, securing his arms around her waist and clasping her fidgety hands in his. he rubs soothing patterns over her knuckles, causing her to lean back into him, her figure molding into his perfectly. she breathed out a sigh of relief, relaxing at his gentle, safe touch. she missed a lot of things about alex when they were away from each other, but his touch was always the thing she longed for the most, and not just his touch under the covers. she missed what he was doing right now; how he would draw patterns on her hips, or wrap an arm around him as she leaned into his side as they lay in bed, laughing at whatever played on the TV. she missed how he would rub soothing circles over the tight spots on her neck, just harshly enough to soothe the dull ache that sat there, but not hard enough to hurt. she missed the simple acts of tenderness that he would do without even realizing it.

what he always missed about jo was her eyes. they were what drew him in the first time he saw her, the thing that made him unable to break his stare, no matter how hard he tried. he couldn't figure out what color they were, even after a countless number of hours staring directly into them. were they golden or hazel? green or brown? he didn't know, because in the dark they looked hazel with flecks of gold, but in the light they looked like pools of honey that sparkled as if they were under the stars. her eyes always gave her thoughts away. fear, worry, happiness; her eyes told him it all. he practically felt dizzy every time she would look up at him through hooded eyelids, messy hair framing her face in a way that just seemed to make her even more beautiful. he could never say no to her eyes.

"we'll be okay," he reassures her.

she lets out a long breath, sinking even more into him, comforted by the familiar smell that she couldn't get enough of.  "we'll be okay."

____

water cascaded down her body, washing off the suds and circling down the drain, makeup stained water collecting at the bottom and disappearing down the pipes. she felt disgusted by herself, a myriad of careful covered, faded bruises littering her abdomen and sides. makeup was the only way alex hadn’t been able to discover her secret, since he never held a tight hold on her, his touches always soft and gentle.

she’d had to cancel their meetings three times, coming up with different excuses on every occasion he asked. i have the stomach bug. paul’s dad cancelled their get together, he’s staying home this week. too big of a test coming up to not spend every second studying. he never batted an eyelash, because why would he? they were trying—trying so hard to keep what they were doing under wraps, in order to continue. so if that meant cancelling, he wasn’t going to complain, as long as he knew that he was going to get to see her again.

she didn’t want to know what would happen if he knew the real reason she was calling off his visits, nor did she ever want to ever find out. he was a protective guy, and learning about what his dad had done to him and his siblings when he was younger was sure to bring up buried memories that he had worked so hard to overcome.

with a sigh she scrubs the shampoo out of her hair, closing her eyes and resting her head against the cool tile of the shower’s walls .  she traces the bruises with her fingers, relieved when they don’t make her cry out in pain. it had been a few days after all, giving her time to heal.

it was getting better. she knew now what made him mad, and how to avoid the contact of his fists. she knew not to overcook the chicken, she knew not to ever start eating before him, and she knew that he liked to have the house spotless by the time he got home. he worked on his feet so long every day that all he really wanted once he got home was to see his wife and arrive to a clean house and a good dinner. it was getting better.

(it wasn’t really, because it seemed as if every time she learned not to do something that set him off, another thing seemed to pop in that angered him. a never ending cycle is what is was, but she still believed that someday it was all going to be okay)

she rinses the last of the conditioner out of her hair, turning off the water and listening to the soft hums of the TV play through from the other room.

she takes her time, a ritual alex hasn’t questioned by now. she uses the blow dryer as an excuse, when she’s really using foundation to carefully cover the discolorations on her skin. alex’s laugh causes her to lift her head up, worried that he would come into the room, but she relaxes when she doesn’t hear footsteps padding towards the door.

letting herself smile, she revels in it; the moments of peace brought by these hotel rooms. at home she had to worry about the time she left for school, the appearance of the house, and what sort of mood her husband would be in when he got home. here, her biggest worries were whether or not alex forgot to order food for them.

when she's fully covered (hair done to not raise any suspicions) she enters the room once more, watching from the doorway as alex laughs at another thing on the screen.

she casts a glance to the table that sat to the right of their bed, she feels her heart drop, another wave of guilt washing over her.

their opposing rings sat there, off of their fingers and discarded safely onto the side table; a way to distance themselves from the true reality of what they were doing. her ring was silver. his was gold.

they only had another hour or so before they would have to leave, back to their homes and the people they truly belonged to. she lays next to him, leaning her head on his chest when he pulls her in.

“remember,” he starts, his voice muffled thanks to his lips being in her hair. “whenever you want to stop, we’ll stop.”

she nods. “and whenever you want to stop, we’ll stop.”

he places another kiss on the crown of her head, turning his attention back to the sitcom playing on the TV. they had discussed a while back, that once what they were doing got to be too much, all they needed to do was say so and it would be over with, no questions asked.

he had it bad for her. he lo— needed her. but if she ever chose to end this, go back to being the faithful wife she was while a ring still sat on her finger, he wouldn’t hold her back, he would never wish to cause her pain.

she had it bad for him. she lo—needed him. but if he ever chose to end this, go back to being the faithful husband he was while a ring still sat on his finger, she wouldn’t hold him back, she would never wish to cause him pain.

they had each other, but at the same time they didn’t; they couldn’t. because once the weekend was over they would go back to the lives they actually lived, no longer in a fantasy bubble they had created to pull themselves away from the outside world; the real world.

in the hotel rooms, they could live in a world where they were the only two that existed, nothing in the way of being with each other the way they wanted to.

their holds on each other tighten, and only one thing is going through the both of their minds, a silent mantra that helps get them through.

they'll be okay.

(but will they?)

[xerxia31]

the Big Bang - an Everlark ficlet

Inspired by a story I read on CNN, that I couldn’t get out of my head. A warning - there are shades of dub-con here that may be disturbing to some readers. Rated M.

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

Peeta Mellark was fit to be tied.

“I don’t know what you want me to say here, boy,” Haymitch drawled. “You knew where these characters were heading when you signed on.”

“Come on, Haymitch,” Peeta growled. He was standing in Haymitch Abernathy’s office, holding the week’s script while Haymitch, head writer and executive producer of the hit series The Arena, in which Peeta starred, stared at him from under a mop of greasy, overlong hair. Until now, Peeta had loved working on the show, loved the ensemble cast, loved the interesting storylines and well-written scripts.

But not today.

“They’ve been growing together slowly for three damned seasons and now, this week, bam!” Peeta clapped his hands for emphasis, “out of nowhere you have three fucking sex scenes in the script.” For three seasons the show had been teasing a relationship between the character Peeta played, macho FBI agent Barley St James, and his shy, brainy colleague, Allium Winterland. It was a fantastic story, well paced, the dialogue between them always fun. Nearly three years they’d been teasing the audience with it.

And now this week’s script turned everything on it’s head. “You’re just screwing with us.” There was no way the timing was coincidental. Because the actress who played Allium, the actress he’d be stripping down to his skivvies and dry-humping with on national television? She was none other than his now-ex-girlfriend.

Haymitch glanced away. Peeta thought it was in shame until Haymitch spoke.

“You might as well come in, Sweetheart,” Haymitch said, and Peeta spun to look behind him. “We were talking about you.”

Katniss Everdeen was standing just outside Haymitch’s open door. It was the first time Peeta had laid eyes on her in the flesh in two weeks. Two fucking weeks! He hadn’t seen her since the night she walked out of their house.

He knew where she’d gone though, the whole fucking world did. All of the gossip rags, and even the more reputable news sites, were reporting how her on again off again affair with one Gale Hawthorne, star of multiple movie franchises and People magazine’s sexiest man alive 2018, was definitely on again. 

“Story of my life,” Katniss muttered as she walked the rest of the way through the door, schooling her expression into a dispassionate scowl as she did. Peeta had no idea why she went into acting, he could read her every emotion through the impassive mask. He always could. Today was no exception, her mask might be in place, but her eyes were flashing with fury, and something that looked suspiciously like hurt.

She didn’t acknowledge Peeta at all, striding into the room on silent feet and stopping a solid six feet away. Her arms were crossed protectively over her chest, but her copy of the script was clenched in one fist. No doubt she’d been planning on storming in here to blast Haymitch. But Peeta beat her to it.

“Save your breath, Sweetheart,” Haymitch said. “Like I told the boy, you knew this was coming.”

“It’s fine,” she said, shooting a cool look in Peeta’s direction. “I’m a professional.” Then she turned, and strutted back out the door, back straight, long, black braid swinging. He could only watch, jaw clenched.

“Brrr,” Haymitch said. “You two have got a lot of warming up to do before showtime.” He was right, of course, and Peeta knew it. The audience would be expecting a pair of lovebirds. Not two people who could barely look each other in the eye.

“Whatever,” Peeta grunted. She wanted to play it that way? He could be cold too.

o-o-o

The table read went smooth as silk. Katniss sat on one side of the room, chatting lightly with their costar Delly Cartwright between scenes, Peeta sat on the other, joking with Cressida Faulkner, who was directing that week’s episode. Most of the cast had no clue Peeta and Katniss had broken up, because most of them never knew they’d been an item at all. Haymitch had figured it out somehow, clearly, but none of the other cast noticed anything was amiss. 

The following day’s rehearsal, not so much. Rehearsals were always in costume and filmed, so that the production team could splice in any good bits that came out of them. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence in TV, especially in a weekly series where time was tight. Peeta was used to it.

His first few scenes were fine, his lines came easily, he hit every mark. Then came the first scene he and Katniss shared that week, the one that led up to the first of the three fucking sex scenes. 

She walked onto the set, and Peeta’s heart did a slow tumble in his chest. She was utterly beautiful, her hair loose and flowing, and wearing a dress patterned with autumn leaves. Soft orange, his favourite colour.

The colour of heartbreak.

They both stumbled through their lines, avoiding each other's eyes, interacting stiffing and unnaturally. Cressida halted the scene over and over again. It was a huge drag on the rest of the cast, slowing down everything.

Peeta’s only solace was that Katniss looked as miserable as he felt.

Peeta left as soon as rehearsal ended and headed for the gym. The call sheet had them both in an evening meeting at the studio, and he was going to need to work off some steam before he faced her again.

He should have asked, though, what the meeting was about. Because when he got back to the studio he found Katniss, dressed in leggings and a tiny little tank top, her face bare and so pretty, sitting cross-legged on a gym mat and chatting with a willowy brunette who gave off crunchy granola vibes. “Did I miss the memo about mandatory yoga?” he drawled. 

Katniss scowled, but the brunette smiled beatifically. “Hello Mr. Mellark,” she said softly, her voice like windchimes, musical and irritating. “I’m Annie Cresta, your intimacy coordinator.”

Peeta was too confused to make a joke. “My what now?”

Annie laughed. “Intimacy coordinator,” she repeated. “It’s my job to choreograph simulated sex scenes for actors.”

“I think we know how sex works,” Peeta grumbled, and Katniss flushed, obvious without the stage makeup caked on her skin, then looked down at her lap. But Annie was undeterred.

“Of course,” she said gently. “But it’s about more than just choreography. It’s about helping you both to be comfortable, about navigating respect and consent and keeping the set safe.”

Peeta had heard about this, once before maybe, in the wake of the #metoo movement. But he’d never worked with one before. Katniss must have requested it. Figured she couldn’t even trust him to be a professional on the set. “With all due respect, Ms. Cresta,” Peeta said. “I don’t think we need this. We’ve both filmed scenes like this before.” Not with each other, but that was a minor point.

Katniss, to his surprise, looked inclined to agree. Annie just smiled.

“Not negotiable, I’m afraid,” she said. “All of Panem Entertainment’s productions must have an intimacy coordinator on set.” Peeta frowned, they were in the third season of filming, he’d never seen Annie before. As if reading his mind, she nodded. “I worked with Thresh Watts and Rue Lamonte last year.” That scene had been filmed on a closed set, Peeta had seen the finished product, but not any of the lead-up, and it hadn’t occurred to him at the time to ask about it.

Peeta sighed, and resigned himself to having a stranger teach him how to have fake sex with his real ex-girlfriend.

“Have a seat,” Annie said, indicating the mat beside Katniss. Peeta gritted his teeth, but he sat, his knee brushing hers.

She didn’t react.

“Now,” Annie said. “Communication is key.” Peeta snorted, and Katniss scowled at him. Communication. With the woman who had spoken a single word to him in the past 15 days. Sure. "The most important thing is that the people involved feel safe.”

“Why would we feel unsafe?” Peeta interrupted. There was a Cubs game on TV tonight, he’d rather be watching that.

Annie was unperturbed. “You're revealing a lot in a scene, you're going to places where you're vulnerable, and that requires an awful lot of trust," she said, looking pointedly between Peeta and Katniss. He wondered with some annoyance just how much Katniss had revealed to Annie about their situation before he’d walked in. “I have the script, and an outline of how your director wants it to look. But you two will need to talk with each other and with me and say, 'What are you comfortable with? What are you not comfortable with?'”

“I don’t want kissing,” Katniss blurted, then flushed again. “I mean,” she amended, “I’m not sure I can concentrate on both that and lines and choreography.” Peeta knew that was bullshit, in three seasons he could count on one hand the number of times Katniss had forgotten a line or missed a mark. 

She just didn’t want to kiss him. And it stung. 

Annie nodded. “We can work around that,” she said. “There will need to be some close up shots of you kissing, but they can be filmed separately from the simulated sex.”

Great, Peeta thought. Their characters had kissed a lot over the past three seasons, but that had been easy. They were both professionals, and kissing Katniss for the camera had been no big deal. Fun, even, in a comfortable, familiar way. Never sexual, there was always too much lipstick and stage makeup to worry about for there ever to be more than a peck. But steady, and comforting.

He doubted it’d be like that now. Or ever again.

“Let’s start with directorial expectations,” Annie began. “I’ve been given a timeline for the scenes and an outline of the specific angles that are expected. The most challenging part, from an intimacy perspective, is likely to be the third, which will be shot side angle with you, Peeta, on top of Katniss and no sheets to shield anything. We’ll have to block arms and leg placements carefully, and it’s likely you’ll both feel very vulnerable.”

Peeta didn’t see how that would be difficult, yet when Annie positioned him kneeling between Katniss’s thighs, a ridiculous little brocade cushion between their bodies, it was incredibly awkward. Katniss couldn’t hide in this position, with their faces only inches apart, and he couldn’t ignore, looking into her silver eyes, just how much he’d lost.

Two hours of rolling around on the floor, blocking arm and hand and leg movements sucked any sexy out of the scene. It felt robotic and contrived and awkward as hell. Katniss, for her part, looked fucking miserable. “Well,” Annie said finally. “I’m sensing some discomfort, so I think we should close for the evening.”

Peeta rolled onto his back on the mat and stared at the ceiling. Why was this so fucking hard? He was an actor, for god’s sake. He’d filmed sex scenes before, and none of them felt this shitty.

“I think we could do with a couple more rehearsals,” Annie said. “I’ll ask Cressida to schedule some.” Just fucking great, Peeta thought.

Annie floated away like an ethereal being. Katniss hung back, maybe to talk with him, maybe just to avoid Annie. But he wasn’t in the mood. He’d been subjected to her stony silences for two days, his heart hurt and his pride was dented and he just needed to get out and lick his wounds.

“Peeta,” Katniss said softly. Peeta held up his hand.

“Not now,” was all he said.

She scowled. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

Peeta almost leapt to his feet, his exhaustion morphing into rage. “Look, you haven’t said a damned word to me in weeks, you haven’t even come home for your things, and now you want to talk?” Peeta spat, cringing internally at his use of the word home to describe the house where they’d been living together until two weeks ago.

Katniss looked puzzled, under all of that anger. “Jo said you threw everything away.” Johanna Mason was a mutual… well... not quite friend. Peeta had often accompanied her to awards shows, in the early days of her career when she was concerned that if it got out that she preferred women, it would stop her from getting leading lady roles. She didn’t need to worry about that anymore, she was a bonafide A-lister these days, and her relationship with an adorably bubbly talk show host was in every magazine. But Jo generally had her own unknowable agenda and sometimes she liked to stir up shit just for fun. 

“You think I’d do that?” he asked, voice deceptively soft. He might have thought about it, fantasized about it really, when he found out who she was staying with. But he had more dignity than that, and she damned well should know it.

In fact, everything was exactly as she’d left it when she stomped out of their home, out of his life, 15 days ago. Her toothbrush was beside the bathroom sink, her favourite sweater on her favourite chair. A shabby silver-framed picture of her parents nestled between their awards. All of the homey pieces of her life, all of her simple treasures, abandoned. 

Katniss shrugged, like she didn’t care, like his worth, his honour, the life they’d built together, was inconsequential, and it just pissed Peeta off more. He hated her ice princess routine, hated how fucking above it all she was. She’d always been good at freezing him out, at making him chase her, but no more. He didn’t have to put up with her stone cold shit.

“Get you crap or I will toss it,” he seethed, walking away. She didn’t call after him, but then she never did.

o-o-o

Haymitch dropped two of the three sex scenes from the script. Peeta should have been relieved, he was relieved. But he also felt sick about it. Like he was destroying his career.

The tension on set was obvious and palpable now, and he knew it looked like he was the cause. Katniss, always quiet, remained quiet. But Peeta couldn’t fake it, once the cameras stopped. Cold didn’t come naturally to him, and too often he veered into mean and snappish. 

He had to figure out a way to get past this, to get past his anger, his hurt, and work with Katniss again. But he had no idea how.

Peeta leaned back in his favourite club chair, in the cozy den at the back of his house, and allowed himself to relive that day, the day it had all come crashing down. Until then, he’d thought he had it all, had the world in the palm of his hand. A great job, a comfortable home and the most radiant woman in the world in his bed every night. 

Katniss Everdeen had been a child star on a hugely popular sitcom. He knew her only by name when she showed up to screen test with him. He’d been expecting a cute little moppet. Instead, she was a silver-eyed stunner. And right off the bat, he was a goner.

They clicked, in almost every way. Working together was a joy, chatting together between takes a delight. He loved her intelligence and wry sense of humour. They moved from friends to more at breakneck speed, but it never felt too fast.

She was insistent that they keep a lid on their relationship, even when they eventually moved in together. He understood it, her previous relationship, also with a costar, had been documented to death, she’d been hounded and harassed by the paparazzi constantly, even now they followed her everywhere. He didn’t love keeping them a secret, but he loved Katniss, so he acquiesced. 

And that day, the day it all fell apart? It was supposed to be a good day, a great day. The first day of their two-week mid-season filming break. They had grand plans to do nothing but each other. Peeta had run a few errands, then stopped by his agent’s office to sign a couple of endorsement contracts.

That’s when the shit started.

“I figured you’d want to hear it from me first,” Finnick Odair, the best agent in the business, said with a grimace. He handed Peeta a tablet. Loaded up was the National Enquirer, his mother’s smirking face beside a promotional shot of Peeta and Katniss, and the headline, ‘It’s Real’. His fucking mother had struck again. It wasn’t the first time she’d sold Peeta out to the tabloids.

“Shit,” Peeta murmured. Not because the headline wasn’t true, it was. But Katniss guarded her privacy with clenched fists, and for two years, they’d barely let anyone in on their secret. Finn knew, but he was very discreet and like he’d said when Peeta had first hired him, he couldn’t protect Peeta unless he knew all of his secrets.

“She’s going to be pissed, huh?” Finn said sympathetically.

He didn’t know the half of it.

Peeta was in a foul temper and all he wanted was his quiet house and a couple of fingers of scotch before he had to deal with Katniss, who was sure to be furious. But no, he wouldn’t even get that. Because Rye was standing at his front door when he arrived home. Peeta groaned, and parked in front of the house, instead of pulling into the garage, where the door he generally entered by was. They’d chosen this place because the gated community was supposed to offer them more privacy and security. He was going to have to talk with the guard at the gate again. Just because Rye looked like his brother didn’t mean Peeta wanted him here. 

“Peet,” Rye said genially as Peeta unlocked the seldom-used front door. 

“What do you want, Rye?” Peeta really had no time for his brother’s bullshit, not that day of all days, and he hadn’t bothered hiding his annoyance.

“I can’t just pop by to see my little brother?” Rye never came by unless he wanted something. Often it was money. Rye seldom worked, preferring to live off his association with Peeta There were a lot of people in LA who would wine and dine the families of celebrities, looking for an in. Rye had brought him a few abominable scripts over the years from people who’d promised him a big finders fee if he could get Peeta to sign on.

“Cut to the chase, Rye,” Peeta said impatiently. There was a small liquor cabinet in the living room closest to the front door. Not that they ever lived in this room. It was only for show, the place where outsiders were held, away from the parts of the house where they actually did their living.

“Fine,” Rye laughed. “Tell me it isn’t true, little brother,” he said. There was no point pretending Peeta didn’t know what he was talking about. Rye was a terrible gossip hound. Peeta shook his head. “Thank god,” Rye said. “You can do so much better than that. She’s not very big, and definitely not hot.” 

Peeta sighed. Rye’s taste in women only included girls who fawned all over him. Katniss would never make that list. 

“Where did Mom come up with that idea anyway?” Rye asked, eyeing the single glass Peeta poured with interest. Peeta was not going to offer him a drink. He wasn’t going to do anything that suggested Rye was welcome to stay. “It’s pretty fucking crazy, even for her.”

“I don’t know,” Peeta grumbled. He knew exactly where. She must have listened in on one of Peeta’s calls with his father. His dad was his best friend, Peeta just couldn’t keep secrets from him. But the old man wasn’t always careful when he talked to Peeta.

“Katniss Everdeen. As fucking if. You have much better taste than that,” Rye laughed. “Remember that chick you were with a couple of years ago? The one who was in Playboy?”

“Cashmere Solomon,” Peeta muttered half under his breath. He’s gone out with her twice, and she’d been a nightmare, only interested in what he could do for her celebrity.

“She was hot,” Rye nodded. “I hooked up with her, after.” That was more than Peeta needed to know.

“Look,” Peeta started, an attempt to get rid of Rye, to get back to his plans for a few quiet minutes before Katniss got home and he’d have to have another, very different conversation on this topic.

“Mom’s a mental case,” Rye interrupted. “Like you’d ever stoop low enough to fuck that Everdeen chick. Stuck up little bitch like that? You’ve got more pride.”

“Are we done?” Peeta was bone weary, and not at all in the mood to listen to one of his brother’s diatribes. “I’ve got a lot of stuff to do tonight.”

“Right, right,” Rye said. Peeta didn’t give a damn whether his brother believed him or not. He started to guide Rye back to the entryway. “I don’t know how Hawthorne puts up with her, “ Rye said. “Rumour has it she’s completely frigid.”

Peeta laughed, he couldn’t help it. Katniss was the furthest thing in the world from frigid, she was a live wire in bed, far and away the best sex of his life. And she had broken up with Gale Hawthorne some four years earlier, but the media still wrote about them as if they were just taking a break.

“Listen,” Rye said, though Peeta was already shepherding him towards the door. “I know this girl, Glimmer her name is. Tits for miles! She’s working on a pilot.” Working on a pilot was LA code for unemployed. “She’s so hot,” Rye continued, oblivious to Peeta’s irritation, “spend a little time with her, I’ll get my pap friend to follow you. That’ll make the Enquirer story go away. Kill any hint of association with that little piece of work.”

“Bye, Rye, Peeta said, pushing his brother through the door.

“Call me,” Rye said, and Peeta slammed the door in his face, flipping the bolt. Idiot. He exhaled slowly, then turned.

Katniss was standing behind him. Shit. How much of Rye’s crap had she heard?

“How could you let him talk about me that way,” she asked, her voice low and dangerous.

Peeta cringed. Evidently most of it. “What was I supposed to say? You don’t want him to know we’re together.”

“We have to be together for you to defend me?” Katniss asked, incredulous. “Women are only worth defending if you’re fucking them?”

Peeta rolled his eyes. “Don’t give me that bullshit,” he said. “You know I’m not like that.”

“Do I?” Katniss was pacing, little mincing steps that would fit on a pie plate. “Sure as hell didn’t sound like it.”

“What was I supposed to say?” Peeta was yelling. He flung his arms wide, expensive scotch sloshed over the edge of his glass, splashed his watch. Just great.

“How about ‘Katniss isn’t a stuck up little bitch’ for starters?”

“Jesus, Katniss, why do you even care? You know he’s an asshole.”

“He said awful things about me, in my own home, and you just stood there and nodded, like you agreed,” Katniss snapped. “That was a total dick move.”

“Well excuse-fucking-me,” Peeta said, “but it’s not even your house.” She lived there, but the lease was in his name. Her official address was an empty condo in Van Nuys, so that people wouldn’t figure out they were shacked up together. He hated the cloak and dagger bullshit, but she’d insisted.

Katniss froze, face twisted in disgust. “You’re right,” she said quietly. “It’s not.”

Before Peeta even had a chance to respond, the door was slamming behind her.

Peeta knew, even before she’d gotten to her car, that he was wrong. But he was angry, angry with his mother, angry with his brother, and pissed as hell that Katniss insisted on hiding, like he was some dirty secret instead of the man she’d been dating for two years.

She didn’t come home that evening. Peeta wasn’t completely surprised. It wasn’t the first time she’d frozen him out. He’d give her the night, then apologize in the morning.

But when morning came, his phone had blown up with texts. TMZ was running a spread of pictures, grainy and obviously through a long lens. Katniss, standing on a balcony, and not alone. With her was Gale-fucking-Hawthorne, her ex. She was locked in his embrace wearing only a robe, while he was in boxers. The gossip sites were having a field day, former lovers reunited.

Peeta, still in bed, dialed his phone. She answered on the second ring, voice hoarse. “Are you with Gale?” Peeta asked with no preamble.

There was the slightest of pauses. “Yes,” Katniss said.

“You couldn’t fucking wait to go rushing back to his bed?” Peeta yelled. “Or maybe you never really left?”

The line died in his hand. It was the last time they’d spoken, until now.

o-o-o

Katniss made no further attempt to talk to Peeta, outside of what they said on the soundstage. She’d doubled down on the ice princess routine, speaking to him in cold, overly formal tones when the cameras weren’t rolling.

 Working with Annie Cresta hadn’t gotten any better either, but at least they’d managed to memorise a routine—hand here, thigh there, twist this way, arch like that. Annie insisted it would look a lot more natural than it felt. Peeta wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t care. He just wanted the thing done.

The scene was set for late afternoon, after the rest of principal photography was done for the episode and the lion’s share of cast and crew had left. “Saving the best for last,” Cressida chirped, but no one really believed that.

Katniss had a rider in her contract specifying no nudity, Peeta knew that. He hadn’t bothered with one himself, he didn’t care who saw him, but Katniss had always been uncomfortable baring everything. In other scenes, the production sometimes used a body double for Katniss. But this scene, the scene, would be her and him, on a bed, doing choreographed dry humping. It had to be her, there wasn’t any other choice.

Haymitch wasn’t on set, something Peeta suspected was Katniss’s doing, but he appreciated it. The crew was at a bare minimum, to make it easier for the actors, but it was still a lot of people. Cressida was directing, busily setting up the scene. Two female grips he’d never met before were behind the stationary cameras, two of his favourite camera guys—Castor and Pollox—had the handhelds. Two more grips had the boom mics, a gaffer adjusted the lights, and a set designer, Octavia, was fussing over the bedding, rumpling it in an artistic way that Peeta knew from rehearsal would last about twelve seconds before they destroyed it. Annie, strangely, was nowhere to be seen. He’d thought that, as their intimacy coordinator, she’d be there to coach when they actually filmed. Apparently not.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Cressida called out, affecting a carefree tone. Peeta knew it was an act, an attempt to get all of them to relax. The antagonism and animosity between the two leads wasn’t exactly a secret, not anymore, and the mood on the small soundstage was tense. No one was looking forward to this.

Katniss had seen him naked a thousand times, had touched and stroked and tasted every inch of his body. Still, it was strange, even on a closed set, to be standing in front of her wearing nothing but a sock tied to his dick. She was clutching the edges of her pink silk robe so tightly her knuckles were white, and looking everywhere but at him.

Cinna approached and helped Katniss out of her robe, careful not to disrupt the cascade of windblown curls Peeta knew had likely taken an hour and several cans of product to achieve. Katniss’s hair was naturally pin straight, yet they were always curling it in the show, and she hated it. So focussed was Peeta on her hair that he didn’t notice what she was wearing until Cinna stepped away, leaving Katniss standing beside the bed in a pair of pasties and an adhesive pad that covered her pubic hair and not much else. Peeta couldn’t help but stare. It was far less than he was expecting, Annie had told him Katniss would be wearing a pair of flesh coloured panties and a little tube top over her boobs. “The sides of her underwear showed in the test shots,” Castor muttered in his ear. “Haymitch insisted on that instead.”

For half a minute, Peeta felt really bad for Katniss, knowing her discomfort, knowing what it was costing her to stand under the lights and in front of so many people wearing little more than three bandaids. But then she sighed, and barked, “can we just get this over with?” and any sympathy Peeta felt for her evaporated like spring snow.

The scene opened with them both on the bed. They’d practiced the routine, both on floor mats and on a set bed. But in rehearsal, they’d been clothed, pillows between them to minimise contact.

No longer.

Now, they were essentially naked, skin pressed to skin, staring wide-eyed at each other. She was so soft under him, fit him so perfectly. Her breath—sharp, nervous little pants—caressed his jaw, his throat. Her hands, small but so much stronger than they looked, clutched at this back.

His dick twitched and hardened, he couldn’t fucking help it. They’d fucked a thousand times over the previous two years, he’d always been insanely attracted to her. His dick didn’t know that this time it wasn’t real. He clenched his teeth and kept going. There was no way, positioned as they were, to prevent her from feeling it. 

Katniss smirked at him, just a fleeting little hint of amusement, but coupled with his embarrassment at getting turned on when the ice fucking queen clearly felt nothing it was too much. Rage flooded his veins like venom. He sneered down at Katniss, uncaring if the handycam caught his expression. Then he deliberately rocked against her, rubbing his hard cock against her core, only a little strip of fabric and a glorified sock between them. 

Her breath caught, a choked little sound. 

“Like that, princess?” he spat, lowering his mouth to her ear. “You like knowing that you can still get me hot?”

She moaned softly. It just made him angrier. Was she acting, or actually responding? Was she thinking about Gale while he was grinding against her? Had she always been thinking about him?

The few lines he was supposed to say flew out of his head. “Does your boyfriend get you hot like this?” he groaned instead, anger and lust combining. “Do you moan for him like you did for me?” Her hands, which had been moving through the choreography much more fluidly than in rehearsal suddenly froze. “Does he fill you up as good as I did?”

“Peeta,” Katniss whispered, a hint of warning in her tone. But he was too mad. Mad and heartsick and wildly turned on, it was a potent brew. He couldn’t stop. He ground harder against her, his chest rasping against her breasts, bare but for a pair of stickers. He nipped at her earlobe with sharp teeth, and her gasp was loud over his harsh breaths.

“Do you melt for him, ice princess?” She said nothing, but he didn’t care. He angled his hips and thrust hard, the way he knew she liked. He rocked over and over again, forgetting about the others in the room, lost in Katniss, however fake it might be.

“Do you want to give them a show,” he growled against her throat. “Take off the guard? One last fuck, for old times sake?”

“Stop,” she said, so faintly it was barely a breath. “Please.” Peeta pulled back. Beneath him, Katniss’s eyes were screwed tightly shut, tears leaking from the corners. The anger rushed away, leaving him horrified and utterly ashamed. 

He rolled away and climbed off the bed. “Need a break,” he grunted. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Katniss had curled onto her side, facing away, naked and vulnerable. The need to comfort her battled with the sick feeling in his gut over how cruel he’d been. How completely unlike himself.

Cressida called out to him, but he didn’t want to hear whatever she was going to say. Couldn’t stay another minute on that set.

He pushed past Castor who was staring open-mouthed, the camera on his shoulder still blinking as it ran, and stomped to his dressing room. There, he sank into a chair, the leather sticking to his bare ass. He pulled the modesty bag off his now-deflated cock and dropped his head into his hands.

How had it gotten to this?

How had he gotten to the point where he was tormenting the woman he loved more than life with fake sex on their job site? Bullying her to tears in front of their crew. 

He was disgusted with himself. That wasn’t who he was.

He needed to go to Katniss and apologise, for more than just the scene. 

Fifteen minutes later, he’d calmed down and thrown on sweats. Katniss’s dressing room door was closed, but he knew she wasn’t in there. He walked past the small set and the little office Annie had used, but he knew she wouldn’t be there either.

Down the hall, past craft services stood the door to the electrical room. It was never locked. Peeta pushed inside. Past all of the clutter and detritus of broken light stands and boxes of cables was another door, narrow and unmarked. A steep set of metal stairs lay beyond it, and at the top a door he had to duck to walk through.

Then he was standing on the roof, a soft Burbank breeze ruffling his hair.

It wasn’t anything special, this part of the roof, gravel-topped and housing the building’s HVAC system. But it was their spot, a place no one else ever went. A place they could find some measure of solitude in the midst of a busy studio. No one ever disturbed them up here.

Katniss was sitting on the low ledge that bisected the roof, wrapped in a robe, her pink silk clad back to him. He knew she must have heard his approach, the gravel beneath him crunched with every step. But she didn’t move, didn’t react as he straddled the cement to lower himself beside her.

She didn’t turn towards him, but she didn’t need to. Her profile said everything: smudged makeup, red nose, puffy eyes. The breeze caught loose tendrils of her hair, blowing them around her face but she was still and silent save for her uneven breaths. An island in a tempest. Her eyes remained fixed on the horizon, past the endless parking lots and low studio buildings to where the sun was sinking low, bathing the sky in soft orange. Her silence wasn’t icy tonight. Pain radiated from every line, every curve.

“I’m sorry,” Peeta started. Katniss nodded, her posture otherwise unchanged. “I was a complete dick in there, and you didn’t deserve any of that. It was inexcusable.” He took a deep breath, steeling himself. “I don’t want to go on like this. Making out for the cameras, then ignoring each other when they’re off. I was hoping that if I stopped being so, you know, wounded, we could take a shot at being friends?” It would certainly make their jobs a lot easier.

“I’ve never slept with Gale,” she said softly, and Peeta startled. That wasn’t even possible. She’d run right back to him, was living with him again.

As if reading his mind, Katniss continued. “He’s been a good friend to me, a brother in some ways. But we’ve never had a physical relationship.”

“Bullshit,” Peeta sputtered, conciliatory tone gone. “You were with him for years.”

Katniss glanced at him then, a half smirk twisting her lips. “You were with Johanna for years too,” she said.

“You know that wasn’t real. And Gale isn’t gay.”

Katniss shrugged, and turned back to the horizon. 

Peeta continued to watch her. He knew all of her expressions, her every tell. She wasn’t lying.

“Why,” he started, then stopped. That wasn’t the question he really needed an answer to. “You let me think you were together.”

“Maybe I wanted to hurt you,” she whispered. “Like you hurt me.”

Mission accomplished, he thought. He’d been in fucking agony since he saw the TMZ pictures, and the ones that followed; Katniss and Gale riding in his convertible, Katniss and Gale leaving a trendy LA cafe, Katniss and Gale sipping wine on the balcony of his oceanfront estate. It had been a form of masochism, adding her name to his news alerts and reading the day's gossip about her blossoming relationship with Gale Hawthorne.

Could it really have all been fake?

Katniss and Gale had been on the same sitcom as children, had played cousins. So when, years later, they moved in together, of course everyone assumed they were together. They’d certainly never done anything to contradict it.

“You never mentioned that before,” Peeta said quietly. Not that Gale’s name had come up often in their time together, but they’d talked about past relationships, and she’d never said that Gale had been nothing more than a friend. She’d really never said anything about her years with Gale, and that had always made Peeta insecure, wondering if she’d still harboured feelings for him. If she kept their relationship a secret not from the world, but from Gale Hawthorne. Katniss shrugged.

“I didn’t think it would matter. You’re in the business, you know how often dating is just for show.”

He did. But he’d been upfront with Katniss about Jo, he’d never let her think there was anything there. That she hadn’t given him the same respect, hadn’t trusted him, was gutting.

“He kissed me, once,” Katniss said, and Peeta’s stomach clenched in inappropriate jealousy. “I was seventeen. It was the summer after we’d both finished filming Seam Street, but before he got his big break on that superhero movie. Back when we thought we might still be normal.” She was smiling sadly, lost in the moment. “We both gagged,” she continued, and Peeta’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. Katniss laughed softly, but it wasn’t at Peeta. It was at whatever she was remembering. “All of those childhood friends to lovers tropes, it definitely wasn’t like that for me and Gale. Kissing him was…” Katniss trailed off, shuddering. “I love Gale, he’s mine, I’m his. But not like that.

“But it didn’t matter. Once the media decided we were together, they invented stories. Every time we went anywhere together, they took pictures and manipulated them to fit whatever story they’d decided to write about us that week.” Katniss sighed, and rubbed her eyes. “We couldn’t have a life, outside of each other. Anytime either of us was seen with another person, the tabloids went crazy. I got my own place, tried to put some distance there. But it didn’t stop.

“And after he started dating Claudia, it all got worse,” she said. “The media, and fans who decided that he and I belonged together, they couldn’t let it go. They hounded her incessantly, called her a homewrecker and things far worse. Trolled her on social media, harassed her family, and anything either of us tried to get them to back off only made things worse. When she finally broke things off with him, he blamed me, at least a bit.” She paused, and sniffled. “It’s why we’ve barely talked over the past few years. First because it bothered Claudia, and then because Gale was so pissed off. It came close to destroying our friendship.”

Peeta sat in stunned silence as realisation washed over him. “That’s why you wanted to keep us a secret,” he said. “You were protecting me.” 

“Private,” she said. “Not secret. And that’s what you and I do, protect each other. Or did,” she added softly. 

But he hadn’t protected her. Not on the set, and not from his brother’s vitriol.

“I’m sorry,” Peeta said. “I shouldn’t have let Rye talk shit about you. And I shouldn’t have been all defensive when you rightly called me on it.”

She nodded again, but didn’t turn towards him. And he didn’t know how to bridge the gulf. He’d been wrong, on so many levels. But she hadn’t trusted him, and still didn’t. She could have eased so many of his insecurities just by being honest. But she hadn’t.

He wanted to fix things. He wanted to be with her again, this time with more openness and honesty. To build a better relationship, one they both deserved. He wasn’t sure if it was possible with so much hurt between them. But he wanted to try. He just needed to get Katniss on the same page, and he knew from experience that wasn’t likely to be easy. 

“We should go back,” Peeta said what felt like an hour later. The sun was almost gone, and though the air still held the perpetual California heat, Katniss was shivering in the breeze. “I’m done being a wounded prick, I promise.”

Katniss turned to him, finally. She still looked so sad, with her red eyes and ruined makeup. His heart clenched. “Cressida called shooting for the day,” she said. “Didn’t think either of us was in a good place to continue.” Haymitch would doubtless be pissed, any disruption in the schedule was tens of thousands of dollars wasted. Peeta sighed, but he knew it was the right call. 

“Probably for the best,” Peeta said. “We’re a mess.”

Katniss laughed, just slightly, and Peeta grinned at her. When he extended his hand to help her up, she took it, and it felt so good to feel her fingers entwined with his again, not for show but in actual friendship.

They walked back to the dressing rooms together. “Do you maybe want to get dinner together?” Peeta asked, and he knew he sounded small and uncertain. But to his surprise, Katniss nodded.

“I’d like that,” she said.

They walked out to the lot thirty minutes later, and Peeta led her to his car. She was wearing jeans and a little tank top, her hair pulled back in a no-fuss braid and a pair of sunglasses shielding eyes that still bore traces of the evening’s emotions. She was in every way Katniss, the woman he loved. But he could feel her holding back, feel the stiffness and uncertainty in the way she looked at him, spoke to him. Not intentional, simply reflexive, like she was trying to keep her heart safe. From him. The wall between them loomed large. It was going to take a Herculean effort to break it down.

There was a restaurant, Sae’s, not too far from the house they’d shared. It catered to people like them. The front was nothing so much as a shabby little diner, but in the back were private, windowless rooms where they could have a meal without prying eyes.

Peeta ordered pasta and Katniss got her favourite goat cheese and apple panini. But the way she pushed the food around on her plate spoke to how distressed she still was. Katniss typically ate with gusto, like she was afraid she’d never see food again. 

He left her be, keeping conversation light, trying to ease her back into being comfortable with him. Joking with her, the way he always had. She smiled, but it felt hollow. If anything, she seemed to get more sad as the meal wore on. Peeta’s spirits flagged.

He paid the bill, and they headed out the back door. There, he stopped, and pulled Katniss to stand in front of him. 

“Talk to me,” Peeta said, voice gruff with guilt.

“About what?” She wasn’t being flippant, if anything, she sounded defeated.

“Katniss,” he sighed. She looked up at him, eyes unfathomable, dark pools in the lamplight. He could tell she was trying to psych herself up to talk. So he leaned against the restaurant wall and waited.

“I’m sorry, okay,” she said finally, and it wasn’t what he was expecting. “I’m sorry that keeping us a secret hurt you. It was never my intention to hurt you.”

Peeta opened his mouth, to say he understood better now, but she pushed on.

“And it didn’t mean I loved you any less.”

“Loved?” Her use of past tense gutted him. “Not anymore?”

In the deep shadows of the single street light, he could see her face crumple. She wrapped her arms around her body, as if shielding herself from another blow. “Does it matter?” Her words were choked, he could hear she was fighting tears again. “I know what you think of me.”

“Katniss,” he said, the word regret-soaked. 

“Frigid little ice princess,” she parroted, but there was no anger. Only pain. 

“I didn’t mean it,” Peeta said. “I know that’s not you.” She played at being cold sometimes. But underneath, she was a flame, burning bright.

“Everyone thinks that about me. They always have.”

“I don’t,” Peeta said, and he let the pleading come through in his voice, let her hear his own pain. “I know you’re not cold. You’re the girl on fire.” Katniss’s lips twitched at the old nickname, one she’d gotten as a teenager in an action movie. But her heartbroken expression didn’t change. “I was angry, and wounded, and I lashed out. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” she said, then she was wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. Peeta pulled her in close and buried his face in her hair. It was the first time he’d felt whole in more than two weeks, like the broken piece of his soul had returned. 

Her little body shook against him, he knew she was crying. “Shhh,” he said, stroking her back. “Shhh. It’s going to be okay.” It was. He’d make sure of it.

“Just missed you so much,” she muttered. His heart soared.

“I love you,” he whispered. “Please come home.” 

She didn’t say anything. But he felt her nod against his chest. And it was enough.

He took her back to his place, to their place. They were both exhausted, emotions raw, and had an early morning call, to redo the evening’s ruined scene. But she climbed into bed beside him, and he held her all night.

They were quiet the next morning, tentative and uncertain around each other, but they were together, and Peeta was committed to making things better, for both of them. He’d be patient. He’d communicate better. He’d lost the love of his life once, he wouldn’t let it happen again. 

They climbed back into his car, since hers was at the studio, but as soon as the garage door opened Peeta saw Rye there, waving his phone. Beside him, Katniss tensed, and shrank down into her seat. He could almost smell her pain. Just fucking great. The moron had to show up now, when they had barely started patching things together. 

“I’ve been calling you all morning,” Rye said as soon as Peeta stepped out of the car. It was just past eight, Rye didn’t typically get up before noon. Peeta suspected he hadn’t yet been to bed.

“Go home, Rye,” Peeta said. “This isn’t the time.”

“They’re saying this is you and that Everdeen chick,” Rye insisted, shaking his phone in Peeta’s face. Sure enough, on the screen was a dark and blurry shot of him, holding Katniss in his arms. Her face wasn’t visible, but her long black braid and sweet little ass were perfectly recognisable. Fuck. He thought they’d be safe at Sae’s. But he’d been wrong. Again. “I already told the Hollywood Reporter it was fake, that you wouldn’t slum with the likes of that—”

“Shut up!” Peeta roared, and for once, Rye stopped talking. “Katniss is the woman I love, and I won’t listen to you disparage her anymore,” Peeta said. “Now get the fuck out of here and stop fucking talking to the media about me.” Peeta was seething. He was going to make sure that security guard was fired. Maybe his boss too. And his boss’s boss.

Rye backed away, hands held up in supplication. “Sure, yeah,” he said quickly. “I’ll just get out of your hair. We’ll talk more later, yeah?”

Peeta didn’t dignify that with an answer. He spun on his heel, to head back to the car. But Katniss was there already, standing just behind him. She must have heard everything they’d said, and worse, Rye would have seen her there. He flinched, but she just smiled at him, then walked straight into his arms.

“Thank you,” she said. 

Fuck. She didn’t need to thank him for defending her, it’s what any decent person would do. “I should have said that last time,” he admitted, tightening his hold on her.

“You said it this time,” she said. Then she stretched up onto her toes, and kissed him.

Relief and disbelief and so much love flooded Peeta. He cupped her ass in his hands and hoisted her into his arms, his lips never leaving hers.

He knew Rye was watching. Knew that some of their neighbours could see them too. “We should go back to the garage,” he whispered between kisses that were growing too hot for the street. “People are watching.”

“Let them,” she gasped. “I don't want to hide how I feel about you. Not anymore.”

He laughed against her lips, and kissed her more.

o-o-o

She was sitting in her favourite chair, a mug of camomile tea forgotten beside her, when Peeta got home. He glanced at the television glowing on the wall and groaned. “Access Hollywood? Really?” Katniss, his Katniss, was watching the creme de la creme of shitty tabloid TV. 

Their relationship had been dissected endlessly by the gossip shows in the four months since they’d been outed, first by his attention-seeking mother, then by a slightly risqué public display of affection in front of their house that had been captured on cellphone video by multiple sources. Peeta understood so much better now why Katniss had tried so hard to avoid unwanted exposure. He was sick to death of the coverage.

But they were handling it together. 

“Shhh,” she said, grinning. “They’re discussing whether we really did the deed while shooting Allium and Barley’s big scene.” Peeta glanced back at the television. The banner read 15 Times 'Love' Scenes On Screen Were Real.

“Oh my god,” Peeta groaned, and sank into the chair beside Katniss’s, covering his face with his hands.

The day after their disastrous first attempt at filming, they’d gone back to the set and found Haymitch waiting for them. The crusty old bastard had actually apologised for putting them in such a shitty position, and told them he’d take the scene out, make it a fade to black.

“No,” Katniss had said, silver eyes brighter than they’d been all week. “The script needs the scene. Our fans need it. And we’re ready this time.”

The second attempt had been so much better. It was still awkward, the choreography still felt strange. One of her pasties came unstuck and ended up caught in his chest hair. Twice they had to cut filming when Katniss started giggling. 

Peeta had been loath to watch it, once it’d been edited. Afraid to reopen the barely healing wounds. But the end result, just as Annie promised, looked real. The cameras caught their very real joy at being reunited, their very real love for one another. And those things made the very fake sex look like something more.

They’d filmed several more sex scenes over the course of finishing the season, each easier than the last. Communication, it turned out, did make the scenes less awkward. And it helped with their real relationship too.

But the first scene, the one that Peeta still cringed thinking about, that episode had aired just days ago.

The television sound cut off abruptly and Katniss burst into laughter. Peeta peeked out from between his fingers. Frozen on the big screen was a shot of Peeta’s ass in all of its hi-def glory, and Mario Lopez was pointing to a spot just between his thighs where apparently a hint of nutsack had been caught by the camera. 

Well that brought unwanted exposure to a whole new level. 

Peeta groaned. “I’m putting a nudity rider in my next contract,” he mumbled.

[tobesobri]

Hmmm request. Harry and y/n are watching a movie and there’s a long steamy sex scene. She’s sitting on his lap and he lets his hands wander. But doesn’t like say anything just watches the sex scene and starts touching her

oof okay this made me feel a way™️ so,,, 😬🥵 thanks for allowing me to indulge in some jand content

It was an indie movie, buried deep within Netflix because they’d already exhausted everything else. And it wasn’t a very good movie either. The acting was questionable. The plot seemed non-existent. Things happened that were never explained.

But, it led to some decent laughs, so they kept watching it.

The sexual nature of the movie helped too; that plenty of secret touching and innuendos had occurred which also led to the pressing together of thighs and odd shifting of weight on the couch they shared.

It wasn’t the first time they’d watched something like that together, but it was the first time they were stuck at home with each other for the past several months and had done nothing but indulged in each other at every waking second.

They sat sideways on the couch, Harry’s back pressed against the cushioned armrest and Y/N situated between his legs, laying across his chest. And it was most certainly not a stick he had poking into her backside. It made her smile more though, the longer he sat in complete silence and got hard knowing she knew everything about it. So, when the inevitable sex scene began to run its course on screen, the restlessness and the tension between them hit a head.

She felt him suck in a breath of air at the first steamy kiss on screen and within a matter of seconds afterwards, he slipped his arm around her waist, his right hand wandering onto her thigh with a mind of its own. Her eyes fled to his touch immediately, watching while his fingers slowly traveled across her bare skin. Both of them thankful for her habit of wearing oversized shirts around the house with no pants on underneath.

She was the one holding her breath when his hand finally met its destination. Seeing him there sent a buzzing through her entire system. He didn’t wear his rings, any rings around the house. His hands were completely bare. His knuckles prominent; his long fingers a reminder of what they knew how to do. What they had done in the past plenty of times before and now didn’t seem to be any different.

And if she were to turn around and see the expression on his face, his flared nostrils and furrowed brows, he wouldn’t have had to whisper what he did in her ear upon feeling her soaked panties under his callused fingertips.

Without looking away from the screen, he brought his lips closer to her ear. “See you are as wet as I thought you’d be.”

Her entire body inflamed with goosebumps as he began rubbing his fingers in circles over her panties. It was slow, teasing, and absentminded as they both continued to watch the movie. As she spread her legs out and his other arm curled around her waist to hold her in place, and they pretended nothing was even happening. That they were just sitting there, watching a drawn out sex scene in some random Netflix movie together. The characters on screen smack dab in the middle of foreplay themselves. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Although when he slipped his hand underneath the thin cotton fabric, and she gasped when he seamlessly continued what he was doing, he caused a bit of turbulence and she struggled to keep her eyes focused. He, on the other hand, didn’t remove his attention from the screen for one second. Even if her reactions to him sent a permanent smirk onto his lips.

It was fine for a while. She had her body mostly under control. She watched the TV and got more and more aroused the longer his fingers took care of what the movie was causing inside of her. It was casual. Him touching her while they watched the two people fall into a montage of rough sex. Casual.

That was… until Harry went a bit faster.

Then she began struggling to keep her cool, everyone of his muscles strained to keep her down as her body fought against it, and his voice returned at her ear, quietly and with the restraint she was clearly lacking.

“You alright there, love?”

She wanted to smack him. Of course she wasn’t fucking alright. His fingers were having a field day with her and there was still raunchy sex taking place on the TV.

Her exasperated laugh turned into moaning when he sunk his fingers into her and then spread her wetness over her clit, making what he was doing feel a million times better. He had three fingers on her, his middle one doing the most damage. He switched around though, sometimes using two and sometimes just his index finger, depending on which speed at which he wanted to unravel her. Not that he really ever did, however. Not completely.

Again, though, while she writhed against him, he just watched the movie. Slowing down when she was close, giving her a break while his smirk filled out his lips a bit more, before he went back to it. He was taunting her and she hated him, but also it felt so fucking good she didn’t want him to stop anyway.

Her hand clasped onto his left arm that was still very much firm against her waist and she dug her fingernails in, her backside lifting ever so slightly away from him when he brought her to the very edge again, only to be disappointed when he didn’t give her that release.

Then his touch was slow, almost barely even there as the sex scene came to a close, almost like he wanted her to watch it. Watch the characters on screen get what he refused to give to her. Watch as they came for each other and she had yet to come once the entire time since he’d snuck his devious, beautiful hand underneath her panties.

He felt every one of her breaths, too, as she panted. He felt her body vibrate against him when she whined for more. And then finally, he felt as she shifted until she was able to twist her head around and look up at him.

He glanced at her without moving anything but his eyes and the corners of his mouth. And, of course, his hand between her legs as it held her orgasm hostage like a carrot on a stick.

He lifted a curious brow at her pouted lips. “Need something?” He teased again.

She fluttered back to her previous position with a huff, coming down onto his chest hard that knocked the wind out of him. “You’re an asshole.”

“You missed most of the sex scene,” He said, deflecting. “Maybe we should rewind it.” He removed his left arm from her for the first time in the past five minutes and used his freed hand to swipe her hair over her shoulder and kiss her neck there, humming softly against her skin.

She followed his lips, lifting up until she was twisted again and able to kiss him. It took him by surprise, as his fingers froze on her and his eyebrows hit the ceiling. He expected her name-calling at his lack of mercy, but not this.

She pulled apart after a moment, however, and he realized why she was doing it and the evil look on his face returned.

“Harry, if you don’t let me come, I won’t let you for the rest of the time we’re stuck in this house together.

“Sounds like a challenge.”

She rolled her eyes, flopped back against him and grabbed hold of his right hand, attempting to pull it away so she could get up, but he refused quickly once he realized what she was doing.

And just as quickly, he fell back into his motions, giving into her. She whined again as she melted into his body once more, just like before. When she bucked her hips into his hand, he slid his left one back into place and held her down. She lifted one of her arms above her head, wrapping her hand around his neck where she pulled on his hair and whispered about how much she hated him.

“I love you too.” He mumbled with his lips against the top of her head, both of them watching his hand while she pulled the hem of her shirt out of the way for good. It was a better sight than any sex scene on TV anyways. His fingers slick as they rubbed against her glistening core. She was so pretty and warm and so fucking wet. He thought about fucking her until the sun went down. Thought about making her come in every which way he knew how to until she couldn’t handle it anymore.

And the way her body moved against his, her ass pressed onto his cock while she squirmed, it didn’t take much more than that to have him coming right alongside her, stifling his moans the best he could. He was a tad bit ashamed, but then again, she did weird things to him and the mess he’d made on himself and the one his fingers made on her just got him excited all over again thinking about hopping into the shower together.

When she came, her legs had pressed together and the hand that wasn’t tearing his hair out was around his wrist once it got to the point of overstimulation for her. But even when she fell against him in a sigh, he still remained in place.

And then he cleared his throat, “I, uh…” he stammered, breathlessly, “think we need to take a shower.”

She giggled, “Thought I felt something back there.”

Grumbling, he pulled his hand from her finally, wiping his fingers off onto her thigh before gently coercing her off of him to inspect the damage. And his boxer-briefs had done very little to keep everything in. Her shirt was stained. His underwear was stained. It really was a mess and his cheeks grew hot.

She laughed again. “That’s what you get for being a dick.”

[stilemawillow]

Romantic? More Like NO [Levi | Reader]

Prequel: Fairy Tale NOT Like

"Levi, I really am irritated right now." Hearing her voice from the female showers made him just as irritated because she might’ve been pretty but she had no tact and it was too early for him to get another headache.

"As if I don't fucking know that already. I'm irritated, too." He was leaning on the wall next to the door and leaning slightly to the side would expose her whole body to his eyes but it was a thing he - one, shouldn’t do and two, wasn’t interested in doing. He’d be lucky if Mikasa Ackerman didn’t show up for her early shower because if he were to be seen waiting on a grown-ass unknown woman by the door, he’d quickly go from Humanity’s Strongest Soldier to Humanity’s Biggest Pervert.

"You're not the one having to play a ninja around an army's headquarters." She snapped from the inside.

"Yes, but I'm the one who has to play the stupid ninja’s bodyguard around the headquarters of the army I'm supposed to be second-in-command in." He hissed in return, listening to the slowly decreasing sound of water hitting the floor.

"Just tell me one thing." The warmth was first, then he turned his head and the tip of his nose almost bumped into hers. Pupils dilating in surprise, his orbs followed the droplets rolling over her skin but his corssed arms stood ridig as if glued to his chest. "What am I going to wear now?" Her sweet voice was laced with fake innocence but her lips wore a small smirk. He snorted but kept quiet. "You're not going to give me any of your clothes, are you now?"

The situation was so messed up right now.

After he’d brought her the coffee, Levi had hastened to point out her stink and immediately after force her into the showers, dismissing her concerns on what she’d wear afterwards by telling her he had a plan. He, in actual fact, had not even an inkling of a plan. Every option he could think of was either humiliating, incriminating or straight-up perverted.

If he gave her his clothes and they were seen together, there would be assumptions. Her dress was already with the piles of laundry that would be washed today, stealing somebody else’s clothes was plain ridiculous, asking another female cadet for an outfit would lead to even more assumptions and making her sneak around the HQ in nothing but a towel was a scene out of a book Hanji would write. He considered finding clothes for her on his own but leaving her alone was too risky. And since the showers would start filling up soon, he had no choice but to take her with him.

"You're going to wear something. Follow me and be quiet." He ordered, heading down the hallway and looking around every time a sound erupted from a room. It could’ve been a snore, the shuffle of clothes or a blanket - it didn’t matter because Levi was paranoid. Then his heel made an unstable plank creak in the silent space and he mentally shat himself.

He was supposed to be a soldier, a former thug, flexibe and agile, and strong, but no--- he couldn’t even walk without making the floor creak like it would break. He held back a groan and resumed walking only to feel something pulling him back by the wrist. (Y/N)’s determined expression faced him the moment he turned back. He awaited her words with a thinning patience. They were making progress and she just had to stop him for God knows what.

"You do know that even if people see us together they wouldn't speak, right?" Her question - naive, stupid and anything but reasonable, made him want to facepalm against the wall.

"And how does that help us?” He frowned. They were so close to the staircase. Why did she have to stop and ask stupid questions?

"All I'm saying is you can make anybody who sees us keep their mouth shut.” She reasoned, making his brow twitch in annoyance. His voice, however, managed to stay quiet.

"It's not that easy."

"Because they’d talk about it behind your back?"

"This isn't even a---" His voice grew in volume as his patience ran out but his incoming outburst was quickly cut off by a muffled voice coming from behind the door they were standing next to.

"Armin, did you hear that?"

"Fucking shit." Levi cursed under his breath, exchanging a panicked look with (Y/N). That was Jean Kirstein’s voice. His brain went into overdrive  - they couldn’t run up the stairs, couldn’t wait to be caught here either.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to the other side of the narrow hallway into the first room he saw, which was seemingly the last one in row. He hastily opened the door, gripping (Y/N) and feeling his heart on its way to burst. He wouldn’t allow to be caught with a half-naked woman by his own squad.

He heard her call his name as the door was shut - she was pressed against the wall, feeling her towel slip. She held her breath and the fabric fell to the floor, except she couldn’t pick it up since one of her hands was captive and the other was the only thing holding her upright and quiet. The raven-haired man was staring at the door but he would look at her sooner or later.

"I think I heard someone." Armin's voice sounded as he exited the room and looked around, three pairs of footsteps following close behind. (Y/N) couldn’t tell Levi not to turn - a whisper could ruin everything. So she’d keep quiet because the raven seeing her naked in the dark was better than them being found.

"Berthold, do you see anyone?" A masculine voice was heard, one that Levi recognised as Reiner Braun's.

"It's too early for this Reiner." Berthold stated quietly, probably trying not to wake the other cadets.

"I bet I heard someone, guys." Jean's voice sounded next and Levi knew he was fucking doomed. Four damn cadets were going to find him in a closet with a half-naked woman - great.

"Maybe the girls were just heading to the shower."

Levi turned around and his eyes widened. He could hear (Y/N) gulp, then he drew a sharp breath and bit back every vocal reaction which came to mind.

"Maybe we can get to see Mikasa today."

Realising that he’d been stopping her from covering herself, the male let go of her wrist and watched her shakily cover her breasts as her free hand began blindly searching for her towel.

"As if. Come on, Jean. If she doesn't kill you, Eren will try."

The cadets’ conversation was white noise to his ears, his eyes couldn’t leave (Y/N)’s body and his ears could only hear his blood rushing around his body at the sight.

"And maybe after that Corporal Levi will end you completely."

He caught the sound of his name but paid no attention to it, fixed on the woman who finally found the towel and attempted to hide herself. Only then did it occur to him his gaze brought her discomfort. He faced the other way quickly, momentarily stunned by his own rudeness.

"Why would the Corporal even care?"

He heard an almost audible sigh come from her lips once she was covered so he turned, watching her hands grip the upper part of the towel as her gaze avoided his eyes at all cost. Her previous confidence was nowhere to be found.

"He is in charge of Eren after all. If Eren ends up getting hurt during the fight, both the Corporal and Mikasa will beat you up. He's obliged to do it, while Mikasa..."

"Is Mikasa."

"Anyways, let's stop talking about this. Do you know the time?"

"We have time before breakfast."

"But the Corporal will punish us if we end up sleeping in."

"I’m with Berthold, let's go for the showers."

"No, we better sleep a little more."

He made a step in her direction, to which she tried to retract and her foot hit something which then dropped to the side with a loud clangour. Fucking bucket. (Y/N) looked at Levi like a deer in headlights and he, despite his stoic persona, related the same panic she did. He cursed under his breath.

"Did you all hear that?" Jean's startled voice reached their ears as they stood motionless as possible in the closet, fearful of doing as much as breathing.

"Is there an intruder?"

"Jean, come on. Who would sneak into the headquarters? They must be crazy or stupid. The Commander would make Corporal kill them or something." Reiner said and (Y/N) eyed Levi.

"Not knowing the Corporal and being stupid are vastly different - one is called being uninformed." Jean argued, much to Reiner’s dismay.

"And the other is called being crazy. Now let's just go to the showers."

(Y/N) was about to stifle a giggle when Levi’s reflexes acted - knowing when something wouldn’t go as planned. His hand covered her mouth and she held in a yelp as her balance was knocked off and her back hit the wall with a thud.

"Okay, I definitely heard that one! Is someone pranking us?" Jean's voice grew in pitch and volume, meaning he was approaching the closet.

"Jean, what’s all the fuss about?" Another voice (Y/N) didn’t recognise joined the conversation, to which she glanced at Levi in confusion, mouth still covered by his cold hand.

"The suicidal bastard was freed from his cell." Jean's mocking remark almost made (Y/N) snort.

"Hanji came to unlock me for showers and breakfast." The other voice responded just when (Y/N) picked up the unmistakable speech of her hyperactive friend. She felt herself tensing alongside Levi.

"Hello, kiddos! What's up?" Hanji greeted, to which Jean had an immediate reply.

"I heard a sound---"

"Jean is being delusional." Reiner cut off, setting the other boy off.

"No, I definitely heard something! Someone is sneaking around!"

"Who do you think is sneaking around the headquarters?" Hanji questioned curiously, clearly doubting the cadet’s accusations.

"I don't know! Probably a cadet who went to town. They do it often." Jean tried to reason with Hanji and the others, but they weren't ready to accept his seemingly delusional point of view yet.

"I know people do that, Jean. I do it to meet up with (Y/N) and the plank in front of Erwin’s office always creaks." The mad scientist complained and Levi made a mental note about Hanji sneaking out. And about the creaky plank. Armin and Eren went on to ask who (Y/N) was, which just prompted Hanji to rant. “An old friend of mine. She's extremely sweet! And such an eye-candy! Levi couldn't get his eyes off her yesterday!"

Levi couldn't get his eyes off her now either, but he wasn't going to let that information become public knowledge. He was sure she’d sensed it too - the sexual tension drowned by the panic and anticipation they felt.

"Corporal couldn't what?" Eren sputtered, almost choking in shock.

"What was Corporal Levi doing with (Y/N) yesterday?" Armin's voice rang, announcing to (Y/N) and Levi the erasure of Hanji’s brain-to-mouth filter.

"Oh, we went to that ball Eren was whining about! It was fun, Levi took (Y/N) as his escort, he had a suit, flowers and everything!" Levi would’ve facepalmed if possible, whereas (Y/N)’s discomfort grew to the point she contemplated giving his handsome face a slap and walking out of the closet. It would ruin only his reputation either way - but that was the problem.

The whole Survey Corps would suffer if their most valuable member was caught breaking the rules. His authority normally prevented people from badmouthing him but even that wouldn’t save him if rumours of him having a lover got out. It was something (Y/N) couldn’t allow - besides being interesting to her, he was also willing to land her a job.

"And what happened then?" The question derailed her train of thought and she was back in the dark closet, painfully pressed against the wall. She tried to change that by moving just a little and that was when the old forgotten bucket came back into play.

"Oh, well, Levi---"

(Y/N) gasped as her mouth was released and her foot slipped on the bucket - then Levi’s fast reflexes saved them a very painful fall by pushing their bodies back against the wall, except it cost them their low profile.

"Okay, that's it! Now everyone heard that one, right?!" Jean's voice echoed as the others shuffled about.

"You weren't lying after all." Hanji’s statement was heard over the shameful admittances of the other cadets confirming they’d finally heard it themselves.

"Is there someone... in that closet?" The words that exited Berthold's mouth made (Y/N)'s eyes fill with fear. Levi’s composure was also slowly starting to leave him.

"You know the only way to understand."

"Rock, paper, scissors - loser opens the door?"

Besides his composure, his self-respect evaporated at his own squad’s stupidity. He felt more humiliated listening to their problem-solving tactics than imagining himself getting caught with a half-naked woman in a closet. A few seconds of silence later, a small sigh left somebody’s lips, to which the duo in the closet exchanged worried glances.

"Armin, go for it." A voice was heard and said blond sighed again before asking:

"Why do I even have to---"

"Just do it." Jean insisted and the others hummed in agreement.

"You won't die."

"On three." Hanji announced.

Armin’s steps approaching the closet were heard. (Y/N) felt her heart was about to burst and Levi could already picture decades of reputation crumbling to the ground. Years of being a cold-hearted ass with a deadpan, years of fear and respect and not an ounce of regret.

"One..."

The woman met his gaze, feeling his fingers twitch in the slighest over her waist. She mouthed a small apology and he shook his head. He wanted to blame her for everything but he couldn’t stoop that low.

"Two..."

Her fingers were digging into his rigid shoulders when he closed his eyes. He didn’t want to look.

"... three!"

There was the opening of a door. Nobody was saying anything---

Thud.

Crash!

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

"Shit! That scared me." Jean's voice was just as muffled. Levi slowly opened his eyes to witness the confusion on (Y/N)’s face in the dark.

"It was just a racoon." At Armin’s statement, both their heads whipped back to look at the closed door with wide eyes.

"Mystery solved. At least Jean hasn't gone delusional yet." Hanji mocked cordially, making said boy give an exclamation of indignation. Everybody else was chuckling and (Y/N) and Levi hadn’t begun getting over their shock.

"Now let's go to the showers."

"Okay, okay."

"I'm going to visit Erwin. See you at breakfast, kiddos!" Hanji was off, her footsteps fading up the stairs.

"How did that racoon even get in there?" The boys discussed, voices dropping.

"I don't have an idea..."

Once their footsteps had faded down the hallway, Levi let go of (Y/N), deciding it was safe for them to go out. He dusted himself off and slowly opened the door.

"That was a close call." (Y/N)'s words made him sigh as they slipped back into the empty hallway. He noticed her voice had a sweet ring to it when she was nervous.

"Tell me about it." He snorted and observed the open door of the other closet, right next to their hiding spot.

"I'm sorry about that." Her apology was mumbled in mild shame as he clicked his tongue.

"I raised my voice. Whatever, let's just go." She followed him up the stairs, noting their luck and making him hum along in agreement - it was something he’d never know had made her knees feel like jelly. To her next question of what they would do now, he had an answer at the ready. "I'm bringing you to my office. We dress you up and send you off to town." There was a pause on her end, then a ‘why’ Levi considered rather stupid. "Because you can't stay here."

"Did you forget why you brought me here yesterday?" Her inquiry made him frown but it was just so it wouldn’t betray his ‘oh shit’ face. "Maybe because I had no home at the time?" She pressed further, making him curse as he turned to face her. “You did forget.” Her blunt statement made him snort, rolling his eyes and deciding to play it cool.

"And what of that?" He asked, annoyed and with his arms crossed.

"Well, it intervenes with your plan. And you promised me a job. I can find myself a place to stay but it won’t happen fast, so I’m sorry for being insolent but I’m going to hold you to your word.” Hands on her hips, she was glaring and he avoided looking anywhere but her eyes. She was right and he knew it.

"Let's just go to my office. Discussing this in the middle of the hallway is no good." He commented with a click of his tongue, watching her lips purse as her eyes narrowed. However, she still complied. They passed Erwin’s office, tactfully avoiding the creaky plank and soundlessly slipping in his office. A sigh left his lips as he locked the door.

"Now. You’ll need a plan." (Y/N)'s serious voice helped him shake off the relief he felt. He rolled his eyes, annoyance brimming. He wanted to avoid thinking of a new plan, and the complications that would surely come with it.

"You still need clothes, so we'll find you some. And after that...” He trailed off, making her eyebrow quirk as she waited for his brain to think of the best course of action. “I suppose I’ve got only one choice.” He concluded with a sigh, leaning back against his desk and contemplating. Rumours could spread but it was the only way to keep his word whilst creating the least misunderstandings. “I have to introduce you to everybody.”

"Ready?"

"Never been, never going to be. Let's just do this." Her statement evoked a snort from him as he suppressed the chuckle at the back of his throat. She seemed more nervous than him and it was amusing to say the least. Still, he held out on giving her advice on how to fix it because something told him she wouldn’t manage either way.

The raven-haired male entered the mess hall and she walked at his side; suddenly there were gazes on them, on the baggy clothes she wore that kind of looked to be his size, and whispers slithering round the room. He ignored everything and approached his squad’s table, sitting down and watching before him his usual cup of tea whilst his squad stared at him in bewilderment.

"Uh, Corporal Levi... who is she?" Eren’s hesitant question made Levi glare at the brunet - he was a tad bit anxious but he needn’t admonish his subordinates verbally because of it.

"I'm a friend of Levi's. (Y/N), nice to meet you all." The woman flashed them a smile and voiced a casual introduction before Levi could even begin to speak. He wouldn’t, however, get angry at her, she seemed to be doing well.

"Corporal, I made your tea, it's a bit cold, but---"

"It's fine, Eren." Levi cut him off, taking a sip from mentioned beverage and sighing. So far so good. He briefly glanced at the superiors’ table where he usually sat, finding his Commander’s insistent gaze on him. He wanted to avoid everybody who knew (Y/N) but an encounter was inevitable so he was only stalling even though he was well aware Hanji had already seen them walk in and had probably informed Erwin and Mike of their presence. 

"So, Corporal, how did the ball go yesterday?" Mikasa asked boredly while Eren pouted on her left, disappointed still that he hadn’t been invited. Levi and (Y/N) exchanged an alarmed look but neither gave out their concern. The Corporal looked back at his squad: Jean and Eren were impatient to hear his answer, Mikasa was quiet as per usual, Armin was silently observing, Connie and Sasha were gorging on their food and Ymir and Christa were whispering of other topics.

"Not that it's your business but it was shitty. Eren, you can stop whining about not getting invited, it wasn’t worth it either way." The raven took a sip from his cup, watching the four reactions his words caused. Eren’s face dropped as he dismissed his frustration on the matter, Mikasa visibly became suspicious and Armin’s gaze grew uneasy due to the fact he might’ve already pieced everything together and, finally, (Y/N) snorted with laughter and coughed to cover it up. “What seems to be so funny?” Levi faced her with a scowl.

“That was a complete lie, sir. You almost got drunk, you watched an eating contest and you were hit on multiple times by gorgeous noble ladies. I'm afraid you liked your night out. " (Y/N) explained with a smirk, making Jean and Eren gape as Mikasa and Armin's eyebrows raised to the tops of their foreheads. He glared at (Y/N), noting how she’d omitted to mention herself during the story she told - it was something that ticked him off. And he had no idea why.

"Not like you're one to talk - you did get drunk, you fainted, you danced terribly and about half the males in the hall were undressing you with their eyes." He retorted and she looked at him, visibly surprised, while his subordinates curiously observed their exchange.

"Was that a subtle compliment or just a horrible attempt at an insult?" She asked with a terribly attractive smirk, which wasn't good for his moody insides as of lately. His stomach did loops at random ever since he met her, his heart would sometimes skip a beat and his skin would get irritatingly itchy when she touched him. He couldn’t go on to think normally, an image of her smile always had to interrupt him and it was fucking annoying - this whole thing.

"Neither - it's summing up your night there." He clicked his tongue and watched her smile - exactly the thing he didn’t need after the kind of inner monologue he had.

"Whatever it is, I don't mind it. Although I must thank you for making my night so nice." She added at the end, making his eyes narrow. (Y/N) bit her bottom lip to stop herself from grinning, but it was inevitable and the fact she tried to hide it put Levi at a loss for words. Staring at her face and her eyes there was hardly anything for him to think besides:

Fuck, I think I want to kiss this woman right now. His eyes widened at the notion and his rational mind slapped him so hard he suppressed the urge to turn his head to the side in reality. Instead, he only shook it and cursed himself multiple times while sipping on his tea.

"I've done nothing deserving of your gratitude." Levi mumbled in a cold voice once having calmed down while (Y/N) only smiled at him, this time without saying anything.

He wondered whether he’d actually taken a liking to a woman he met just the night before. He knew nothing of her yet he couldn’t simply ignore her like he usually would - he wanted to learn a bit more. He didn’t think himself a naive fool as to let her influence him to this extent - but then again she couldn’t be a witch either. Had it been any other woman, things would’ve been different - and then it clicked. Things were like this because it was her, because she affected him and because she interfered with how he usually thought and acted. He didn’t know why but one thing was clear and it was something he’d never admit to himself, Hanji, (Y/N), Erwin or anybody else. He’d die before saying it out loud.

"Corporal is everything alright?" Jean Kirstein's voice snapped him out of his thoughts and softened his expression. Levi looked up with a sigh.

"I have something to do." Groaning inwardly, he pushed himself off the bench and stood up, meeting (Y/N)’s worried gaze and hastening to ease her concern. "You stay here and chat with them or whatever. I'll be back." He headed towards Hanji, Erwin and Mike. Before doing anything else, he had to distance himself from (Y/N) and cease all contact with her after his part of the deal was done. For that to happen, he had to talk to his Commander. He’d promised her a job and, under the man who’d loved her or not, he’d get it for her.

"You're in." He stated coldly with crossed arms.

"I am?" She was literally beaming.

"I already said it, idiot. Are you fucking deaf?" He snapped but her grin was still and so was her posture.

"This is great! Now I get to spend time with my friends, I have a job and a home. Thank you so much.” (Y/N) piped excitedly and he only snorted.

"Anyway, until we find a free room for you you’ll be sharing with somebody.” He stated absentmindedly, feeling just a bit ticked off on this particular topic. Not that he had a reason to feel irritation because he’d known her for a day and she didn’t mean anything to him. That was how things should’ve been.

"Hanji?" (Y/N) guessed as she took a seat in the chair in front of his desk and he looked at the papers before him, pretending to read and trying his hardest not to pay attention to her. He reasoned why she wouldn’t be staying with Hanji and she went on to ask if it would be him she’d share a room with. He almost let out a snort and answered her question with a cold ‘no’. “Then who?” She pressed curiously, making him grit his teeth. He didn’t understand what he was so angry with. Maybe himself.

"Erwin."

"You're kidding me." She blurted out, to which he glared at her. She didn't seem overjoyed by the fact she was about to spend an unknown period of time with the handsome, tall and successful man that had feelings for her, instead she looked confused.

"Do I look like I enjoy joking around?" His questioned was a hiss and his eyes were cold and unforgiving. Her brows twitched.

"But Erwin’s the Commander, it’ll be troublesome for me to stay with him." (Y/N) reasoned, (e/c) hues gleaming as she spoke.

"He volunteered to take you in. Guess his feelings aren’t entirely gone." Levi commented after giving a spiteful click of the tongue, making (Y/N)'s eyes narrow at his visage.

"And how do you feel about that?" She inquired curiously, almost as if seeking confirmation on a topic she knew the answer to. The question ticked him off.

"What does that have to do with me?" He was playing unemotional and oblivious - he knew it had a little if not a lot to do with him but he refused to admit it. She shrugged, stating she’d just asked, and, without thinking at all, he got ahead of himself. "It doesn't make me feel anything. Did you expect me to argue with my Commander over you? Assert myself as the person who shelters you? If anything, I feel relieved to finally get you off my case. Whatever fantasies you might be harbouring, the reality is that I escorted you to a ball because I needed somebody and now you may go next door to let Erwin instruct you on your job."

Levi's scowl may have been terribly scary, but on the inside, he was on the verge of hitting himself because of how unreasonably rude he was being to a woman he thought he felt something for. (Y/N)'s reaction wasn't one of shock, nor one of heartbreak - it was one of deep indifference. And indifference was a mask he used all too often to let himself be fooled by it. She was offended and hurt as she stood up and headed to the door, then, with her hand on the doorknob, she turned her eyes to him.

"Just for the record - I expected nothing from you and I harbour no fantasies, you're right when you say Erwin still has feelings for me, but you're wrong when you say you’re impartial. Even if you don't like me, I have to say I took quite the liking to you." He could almost hear how her voice broke at the last word. "I’m just sorry I won’t have the chance to say it to your face as a woman instead of a stupid peasant."

The door closed after her, leaving behind the voice which had betrayed her upon the word ‘peasant’. If he’d known more about her, he would’ve realised how it hurt her to say it because that’s what she’d been her whole life - a faceless nameless stupid peasant. But he didn’t know. He leaned back in his chair after realising he’d tensed with the intention to stand and go after her. Shoulders slumping, he groaned and closed his eyes at the thought of having made her cry. He was getting a headache.

"A lovers quarrel a day after your first meeting. Fucking way to go." He praised himself mockingly and wished to endure the worst headache in existence if it would give him the chance to fix this situation. It was an unrealistic wish but he wanted it nonetheless. He tried beating it into his head that he’d known her for a day but he wanted to see her smile again and it was a pity he probably never would.

He started this conversation so angry and ended it so regretful that it was a pitiful thing to watch.

"Is this your way of saying 'sorry'?" She asked with disbelief as he looked at her with pleading eyes.

"You could say so." He nodded weakly and she snorted.

"It's not romantic at all." She placed her hands on her hips and his brows furrowed as he glared at her.

"Is it supposed to be?" He inquired and she smirked slightly. He hadn’t realised how much he missed that - it had been a goddamn month since it had been directed to him last.

"Of course, after all the indirect insults you threw at me."

"If it makes you feel better if I was still a thug, I'd want to fuck you senselessly." His deadpan statement was an attempt at brightening the mood and it brought him so much more when she began laughing - a month since he’d heard that one too.

"Enough of a compensation. But I don’t get why before is different from now since you’re the same person." Her objection made his eyes narrow - of course they weren’t much different in nature but he couldn’t let himself rush into something he hadn’t had ever. He didn’t need love and support - he’d been fine without them until now. Sex was another thing he could get but preferred not to because she, unlike him, probably connected it to something more emotional. 

"I have boundaries now and I’m more self-conscious." She snorted with laughter once more, though he would be surprised to hear why.

"Of what - the perfect body, the flawless face, the smooth voice or the heart of gold under all the piled-up bad experience?" Her mocking question made it hard for him to distinguish whether she’d meant to tease or compliment him. Maybe both - it sounded like her.

"Of the fact I’m far from flawless yet I'm supposed to be a role model to young cadets. Of the fact I fight and promote that others die as they fight. Of the fact I’m worshipped by kids who don’t really know me, kids I’ll probably outlive." His voice was low and deep, tired, morose. Silence followed. Then (Y/N) nudged his shoulder and he watched her empathetic smile. She couldn’t say anything to make him feel better. "Does this mean you accept my apology?"

"Of course. Who can resist when it’s obvious you’re trying so hard?" (Y/N) chuckled when the raven glared at her but quickly calmed down, only to glance shyly at the ground right after. "I'm sorry, too. I rushed to snap back at you."

"You've nothing to apologise for, I deserved it.” He countered, making her blush slightly before she patted his shoulder with a smile.

"Since we're going to be seeing each other often, let's talk when something like this happens again, alright?" Levi rolled his eyes before nodding - way nonchalant than the furious ‘yes’ pushing at his lips. The small ‘fine’ he uttered earned him one of her grins. His stomach took a turn. He focused on his heartbeat - either it hadn’t skipped or he’d been lucky enough not to have heard it. "But next time be a bit more romantic." She joked whilst getting up, to which he only glared.

"Romantic? More like no thanks. I’m not romantic and will not attempt to become romantic." He stated coldly as they walked out the mess hall and headed towards their respective rooms.

"I can teach you." She suggested with a small shrug and he snorted at her.

"As if you're any better."

"You don't have a way of knowing. I may just be a hidden romantic." (Y/N) flashed him yet another terribly attractive smirk and it would've been a lie to say it didn’t make his heart beat faster but he was adamant not to admit it.

"Or I may just be the princess of the walls." He teased, his voice rid of all emotion. The woman next to him was still able to sense his sarcasm. He rolled his eyes and she slapped his shoulder playfully, laughing and feigning offence - it ended in vain. Maybe he could learn to accept the fact he regarded her in such a way after a few months. Just a few. And maybe if he got the chance he’d tell her too. Or not. He was fine with just watching her smile and , by god, if somebody took that from him he would kill to get it back.

Such determination was so him in spite of the topic, he never understood how all of this became so natural to the point it happened every day.

[franniebanana]

CQL Rewatch - Ep 28

Note: I will be critical of Jiang Cheng in these posts. If you can’t handle that, please feel free to scroll on.

Sorry this write-up is so late. I had a migraine that lasted for a few days, and I didn't want to do anything.

So, we're finally here. The big showdown between Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian--they're finally talking, and Jiang Cheng is letting it all out. He starts off strong, leading with this: "you've pushed me to my limits." So, first of all, it's Wei Wuxian's fault that the other clans are pestering Jiang Cheng, as if this is an intentional act on Wei Wuxian's part to cause Jiang Cheng trouble. Obviously absurd--Wei Wuxian doesn't want to cause the Jiang Clan any more harm than they've already been through. That is the very reason why he took the surviving Wens away to a secluded area that no one else would try and enter.

Next Jiang Cheng pleads with Wei Wuxian to come back to Lotus Pier and turn in all the Wens. Yes, turning them in means they'll all be executed, but at least Wei Wuxian can come back into the fold and, most importantly, Jiang Cheng won't have to deal with him being a black sheep anymore. And what they don't really understand at this point is that if it's not the Wens, it's someone else. Someone always has to take the blame for whatever evil is occurring in the world. If Wei Wuxian were to turn the Wens in, they would undoubtedly be executed, but I don't think for one second that they wouldn't hold Wei Wuxian accountable as well, even if he were the one to turn them in himself. For one thing, they are still convinced he took piece of Yin Iron that Xue Yang had, and they don't trust him when he says (repeatedly) that he did not get it from there. Bottom line, there's always going to be a scapegoat, and we know that--we see it happen again and again in this story.

Last thing about this little scene so far: Defenders of the Wen Clan are going against the mainstream. No one will speak up for them. No one will speak up for Wei Wuxian, in particular. Jiang Cheng is pretty much giving Wei Wuxian an ultimatum: if you don't turn them in, it's over--you're out of the Jiang Clan. No one will take him in at this point, not even the Yunmeng Jiangs. Yes, Jiang Cheng is torn up about this. He wants Wei Wuxian on his side--at his side. He doesn't like the idea that Wei Wuxian's loyalty has switched from himself to these Wen remnants who are as good as dead. But here's the thing: there are still people who will speak up for him. Lan Wangji will. To a certain extent, Jiang Yanli will as well, but no one will really put much stock in what she says. When she and Jiang Cheng visit so that she can show her wedding attire to Wei Wuxian, they keep hidden--they don't want anyone to see them there. Lan Wangji, on the other hand, makes no effort to hide himself. He even calls attention to himself at the tea house when he gets pissed off at all the people gossiping about Wei Wuxian. He's really the only one who is truly on Wei Wuxian's side right now.

Heartbreakingly, Wei Wuxian tells Jiang Cheng to leave. He's the one who supplies the idea that he defected, and proposes that they stage a fight to make it believable. And I can't sit here and fault Jiang Cheng for giving this ultimatum. He's a clan leader--his priority is whatever will better his clan, and right now, Wei Wuxian is a detriment. He tries to convince Wei Wuxian, over and over, to abandon the Wens, but Wei Wuxian can't--he won't. He can't abandon them when they've done so much for him, and he can't abandon them when they've been so wronged. The people he is protecting have done nothing wrong, other than have the wrong surname. Jiang Cheng never really tries to understand that or fight for that. He knows that these people are not dangerous, yet he just goes along with the other clans.

In the end, Jiang Cheng kind of makes it about himself and his inferiority complex with Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian wants to be a hero, wants to be the best, he knows the Jiang discipline better than even Jiang Cheng. It's sad that it always comes back to this, despite how many times Wei Wuxian argues with it. Jiang Cheng just cannot get over not being better than Wei Wuxian, and what I find most frustrating is that that issue isn't Wei Wuxian's. It's not Wei Wuxian's problem at all. It is wholly Jiang Cheng's problem, but he behaves as if Wei Wuxian owes him something--as if he ought to do something about it. But there's nothing for him to do. Jiang Cheng just needs to get over his issues and himself.

Can you imagine how shitty Wei Wuxian must feel right now? The person he was raised like a brother to just told him he wouldn't be able to defend him anymore and essentially forced him to defect. He's leading and trying to protect a group of individuals whom the rest of the dominating clans want dead and, by extension, they probably want him dead as well. But despite this, he's doing his best to make everyone else feel better. He puts on a smile, a chipper attitude, and tries to comfort them all. He gives extra fruit to A-Yuan, then he goes to try and cheer Wen Qing up. This is the kind of person he is. And it takes a lot to break him. Think of what he's gone through! Gah!! He's so amazing, I love him!!!! Lan Wangji is my absolute fave, but it did take me a while to warm up to him. I was immediately enchanted with Wei Wuxian, and the more you know about him, the more you love him, I feel.

That fucking comb! Seriously! When will it end! I don't want to see that thing ever again!!! I'm a little irrational about the comb, but it's just really annoying to me, okay? I mean, I feel bad for the guy. He keeps trying and hoping to get a girlfriend, but it's just not happening. Wen Qing probably should have made it clear a long time ago that she had no intention of being his wife, though, and then maybe we could have ditched this subplot a long time ago as well. But the other thing is, if Jiang Cheng cares about Wen Qing so much, why is he so willing to let her be executed? It just...doesn't really make much sense that he can't even admit what his feelings are to even Wei Wuxian.

I love how Wen Qing hasn't said a word in this scene yet. Wei Wuxian is just talking and talking and talking, sort of having a dialogue with her, anticipating what she's thinking. I don't remember being this amused the first time I watched it, but it's quite funny now. Charming, as well. When I get annoyed at what the showrunners tried to do, having Wen Qing and Wei Wuxian be in a romantic relationship, I'm going to think of this scene, and the other moments where I really appreciate their platonic relationship.

Adorable! So adorable, I almost can't stand it! This part is so cute, and I swear, Jin Zixuan has never looked better. There's something about him being disheveled and maybe not having as much makeup on his face, plus the addition of the dirt and mud, that makes him really attractive and cute haha.

"I know this is not Lotus Pier, but I'm willing to build another Lotus Pier for you." Ugly sobbing ensues.

I just love them!!! <3 <3 <3

Just Lan Wangji quietly seething with rage over here. Seriously, these gossips! The funny thing is, they're all terrified of what Wei Wuxian will do, yet they sit in here and gossip about him, as if they'd ever be brave enough to stand up to him.

Favorite wangxian scene alert! I love this scene. So much. So so much. Everything from Lan Wangji's panicked expression to the way Wei Wuxian stifles his laughter, to the look on Lan Wangji's face when he hears his name being called (and recognizes whose voice it is) to Wei Wuxian's genuine smile when he and Lan Wangji make eye contact. It's genuine happiness that Wei Wuxian feels--not the forced cheerfulness that he puts on around Wen Qing. He's so glad that someone has come to see him that isn't Jiang Cheng or someone else who wants him dead. It's a friend--finally a friend.

Oh, my gosh--look at him! He's delighted! He's so happy!! When is the last time we've seen our boy actually happy? It feels like it's been forever! And my little wangxian heart soars, knowing that it's Lan Wangji that makes him feel this way. But really, it couldn't be anyone else, could it?

Indulge me. Just look at them.

Look. Look! Love! It's love!

I have so many feelings about this part, but I can't even talk about it. I just love these scenes of Lan Wangji's visit to Yiling so much. Beginning to end, it's one of my favorite parts of the series. There's such a range of emotions from joy to sadness to bitterness to love--it has everything. And seeing the beginning of their little family warms my heart: A-Yuan warming up to Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian being indignant about it. It's such an emotional time for the both of them, seeing each other for the first time in months, especially after all that has happened between them. If Lan Wangji hadn't come here, maybe they never would have seen each other again. Wei Wuxian certainly can't go to the Cloud Recesses to see him. Ugh, I have a lot of feelings, but that's to be continued, because of a strange episode break (as per usual).

Another kind of shorter post! This episode was just a lot of Jiang Cheng being dramatic about evicting Wei Wuxian, which is entertaining and all, but there’s not a whole lot to say. And then Wen Qing kind of has the exact same conversation with Wei Wuxian, which, again, not a lot to say there either. This episode was just me waiting impatiently for the wangxian part at the end to be quite honest.

Other episodes: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | Or just check out the #CQL Rewatch hashtag