#he got final say in whether they brought Wash with them of course they value his opinion

[slyvester101]

You would think that Wash is the mom of blue team, right?

Wrong, it’s Tucker.

Tucker had to parent Caboose since he arrived at blood gulch, making sure he ate something other than candy, making sure he took his medicine that was often hidden in food, making a sleep schedule so Caboose went to bed on time etc etc.

And then he had Junior and you bet your ass Tucker is gonna be the best dad he can be to that kid. That is his son. His pride and joy. The reason why he keeps going even when things get tough.

Which means that by the time Wash has joined the team, Tucker is a practiced parent. He can cook, he can make schedules and (mostly) keep to them, he can have emotional talks and knows how to comfort, he remembers so much shit off the top of his head (birthdays, favorite things, etc), he always has snacks, and everyone in the blood gulch crew look to him to make the final call.

He’s their trusted responsible adult. He is the mom.

Wash is the stepdad trying his very best to earn the kids’ approval. He’s awkward around them at first as he learns how to insert himself into their pre-established dynamics.

He’s unbelievably patient and kind to them, mostly because he feels the need to make it up to them and to repay them for saving his life, but he still has to earn their respect. Even after he does get their trust and friendship, he gets sass and snark for any order he gives, but at least they listen to him (and he can snark back without it turning into an argument).

(Does this make Church the dad of blue team? Maybe. Does this mean Tucker and Wash are married? In the eyes of everyone else, yes)

[pastelwitchling]

Malex Happily Ever After chapter 114 sequel

Part One.

“Yeah,” Alex said into his phone, rubbing his eyes with his other hand. It was noon, but he hadn’t slept all night, consumed instead with his work at the base, his work in dismantling Project Shepherd, his breakup with Forrest, and his desire to talk to Michael about it all.

He had no idea why. It wasn’t like Michael was usually the epitome of comfort, but . . . Alex always thought, stupidly, that once Michael and Maria had ended things, and he and Forrest ended things, and they were both single again, that they would find their way back to each other. But Michael was keeping distance between them and smirking at Alex’s words every now and then, and it just felt a lot like being back where they started.

He plopped down on his couch and hung his head back to stare at the ceiling as Liz kept talking in his ear. She was saying a lot about the lab and bloodwork and finally finding Mr. Jones. Alex was tired, but he kept up fine. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the duffel bag lying halfway under the couch. The duffel bag he’d packed so many months ago when leaving and never coming back had felt like running away. He’d thrown in a few more things over the past year, and constantly found himself looking to it, just barely having forgotten that it was there.

He stopped listening to Liz, thinking about taking that duffel bag now, throwing it in his car, and just driving. It didn’t feel like running away anymore. He’d tried as hard as he could to be with Michael, and now he found himself along again, feeling worse than ever. Because now he knew Michael had loved somebody else. He knew Michael had tried, but not for him.

Alex pinched the bridge of his nose as Liz went on, ending with the question, “So you think you can come by and check it out?”

Alex shook his head. “Er – sorry, come where?”

“Michael’s bunker,” she said. “That’s where we’re testing the serum. No one’s studied the Project Shepherd reports like you have, I’m thinking if anyone can look at the side-effects of the serum and tell us whether or not they match what was done to the prisoners, then –”

“Right,” Alex shut his eyes, not wanting to hear any more about Project Shepherd and the horrible things they’d done. All the things that Michael was still punishing him for by keeping a distance. “I’m on my way.”

Alex did not move for several long minutes, staring instead at the duffel bag. He probably should’ve taken it and left, but hope was annoying that way, and even though a part of him still clung to the idea that he and Michael would end up together, the bigger part growled that if it was going to take this long, and force Alex to endure seeing Michael with anybody else for even a second, then maybe eventually ending up together just wasn’t worth it.

When he finally got to Michael’s bunker, he couldn’t help but remember when Michael had locked that door behind Alex the last time they’d argued in there. Michael never chased after him, and he was just so sick of waiting for him to do it.

He groaned inwardly and rubbed his eyes. Seriously, he thought. What was wrong with him today? He should just be glad the airstream was back in the junkyard. It had gotten really difficult avoiding the Wild Pony for a while.

He made it down the ladder easily enough, and tossed his backpack on the table next to where Michael was working. Michael looked up at him through his glasses and tilted his chin up in silent greeting. Alex was too tired to pretend like that was remotely satisfying, and without responding turned to Liz.

“Hey,” Liz said happily.

“Hi,” Alex crossed his arms. “What’d you want me to take a look at?”

“Well,” Liz handed him some reports, “we wrote down all of the results of the serum.”

“On whom, may I ask?” Alex raised his brow as he took them. “Who was your test subject this time? Max again?”

Instead of answering, Liz’s eyes traveled over to Michael who, until Alex turned to look at him, had been staring at Alex with a pinch in his brows. Alex’s shoulders sagged.

“Tell me you didn’t.”

He shrugged, his smirk humorless. His mask was up again. “We had to get results quick and I was already here.”

“I told you I didn’t want you being experimented on,” Alex argued.

“Mom did it,” he said. “Guess I wanted to see what the big deal was.”

Alex tensed, and Michael’s smirk fell away.

“Yeah, okay.” He took the last of the files and turned to leave.

“Alex, w-wait –”

“Do whatever you want, Guerin,” Alex said. “I’m done trying to talk you down.”

“Alex, come on!” But it was too late. Alex had made it up the ladder and patted his clothes down, heading over to his car. His jaw was clenched and his eyes burned and a suffocating weight sat on his chest, but he walked ahead.

Of course. Of course, Michael would ignore his concerns, of course he’d want to show Alex just how little value his words carried. You’re not her, so I don’t care what you ask me to do. You don’t matter as much as she did, so I don’t care if you worry. You’re not worth trying for, why would you be worth listening to?

“Stop, Private!” Michael caught his arm and turned him around. He still had his glasses on, but he was panting. Eager to ease his guilt, Alex knew, nothing more. When he saw Alex’s face, his own fell. “Are you – are you crying?”

“No,” Alex turned away, wiping his face furiously. Michael stood there, eyes wide, like he never expected to see Alex cry. Oh screw it. “Yes!” Another tear fell, and he didn’t bother wiping it away. “Okay? Yes, I’m crying.”

“B-Because I took a needle?”

“Oh, Guerin, no, it’s not just because of that!” He paced to the end of the airstream and back, then again. He looked up at Michael’s house, and couldn’t help but remember the way it sat so close to the Wild Pony. Because Michael just had to be close to Maria. Alex couldn’t remember Michael ever so much as following him two feet, but he followed Maria?

He came back to stand in front of Michael, his breaths short and painful. “I’ve had a bag ready since I found your damn airstream at the Wild Pony parking lot. I was going to go, and I wasn’t going to come back. I’ve had it ready since you started dating Maria, since Forrest and I broke up, and I still can’t bring myself to just take it and go. I was terrified something would happen to you if you put that damn crap in your veins, and I didn’t want you to end up like the prisoners in Caulfield. You ignored the one thing I asked you to do with a smile on your face like you think it’s funny that I’m scared, and I still can’t just pick up that stupid bag. It’s unfair, Guerin!”

His lower lip trembled, and he looked away, covering his eyes with his hand. “You can move on and love someone else so freaking easily, and I can’t, and it’s so unfair.”

They stood there for a long time, nothing but the wind whistling in their ears and Alex’s quiet cries. Liz seemed to have the good sense to stay in the bunker. Then Michael suddenly came up behind Alex, and wrapped his arms around him tightly.

“Baby,” Michael breathed against the shell of his ear. “I – I didn’t know, Alex,” he whispered, his voice full of pain. “I thought you didn’t care, I thought you wanted me to stay away. I – I was just holding onto easy, no one ever came close to you. I swear, I thought you didn’t want me anymore . . .”

Alex tried to process all of that. Michael sounded sincere, though maybe that was only because Maria had been the one to end things. That’s right, a bitter voice sounded. She ended things. Not him. After he told her he loved her. Then she ended it.

It occurred to Alex then that maybe Michael was holding onto him for a completely different reason.

A disbelieving, miserable chuckle left his lips, and Michael faltered. Alex brought Michael’s hands down. “Just stop it, Guerin,” he said hoarsely, his throat raw. “I already gave you my word that I’d help, I’m not going to stop just because I’m frustrated.” He shook his head, already walking back to his car. He had to get out of here. “You don’t have to pretend to care about me anymore. You’ll still get what you want.”

Before Alex could take in Michael’s shattered expression or read into it, he got in his car, turned it on, and drove away, needing to put as much distance between the man he loved and himself.

 Alex woke slowly to the sun just rising. He was surprised he’d made it up so late, but after working through the files last night, he’d passed out just at sunset. He supposed misery, anguish, and a couple of nights of no sleep in a row really put a person out.

He spotted the files on his desk and laid sideways on his bed for a while. He didn’t think he could get back into the nightmares of his family’s past before a good cup of coffee. He stuffed half his face into his pillow and thought of his conversation yesterday with Michael, how unwilling he’d been to eat or drink or do much of anything besides get to work and be useful afterwards. The memory robbed him of even his comfort in bed.

He forced himself up, and when he was washing up in the bathroom, he thought he heard a rustling somewhere outside, but when he turned the faucet off and listened, he didn’t hear anything. Deciding his exhaustion might be making him imagine things that weren’t there, Alex finished up, grabbed his crutches, and made himself a steaming cup of coffee.

He sat down on his couch and rested back, staring at the ceiling. Once again, his eyes fell to the duffel bag halfway hidden. He imagined, yet again, grabbing it now, getting in his car, and driving away without ever coming back. The thought did not make any part of him any happier than he felt now.

There was nothing but the tree branches rustling in the wind, the birds chirping to one another at the morning sun, wheels on gravel in his backyard –

Alex faltered in his thoughts and picked his head up, his brows pinched. He listened closely, and this time, there was no mistaking it; there was someone in his backyard.

“What the hell?” he murmured and set his coffee cup down before grabbing his crutches. He stepped into his backyard, not knowing what he would find (after all, Roswell was a small town, and people were usually good about not bothering military around here), and stopped.

There, behind his circular tables and chairs, was Michael’s airstream. Michael stepped out, wiping his hands on a towel, and smiled at Alex.

He came to stand a foot away from him, his hands twitching at his sides as if eager to reach out and touch. “Can I kiss you good morning?”

Instead of answering, Alex asked, “Guerin, what is this?”

Michael’s smile widened, and he took that as the permission he needed before he closed the distance between them, taking Alex’s face in his hands and kissing his lips both deeply and softly at the same time. He pulled away with a deep sigh, pressing their foreheads together, his eyes closed, as if he could finally breathe.

“I love you,” he whispered, letting his hands fall down Alex’s neck, his shoulders, his arms, and staying on his waist, gripping tightly. “I missed you so much.”

Alex’s eyes started to flutter, but before he could fall into whatever wonderland being around Michael pulled him into, he swallowed and took a step back.

“Why’s your trailer here?” he asked. “What’s going on?”

Michael looked like he hated the distance between them just as much as Alex did, the mask of humor and indifference he usually wore completely gone.

“After Forrest,” he said, “I thought . . . I thought you were better off without me. I thought you wouldn’t want me when you’d already had someone . . . better.” He came closer to Alex, pleading with him to understand. “Alex, I thought you wanted me to stay away. And I was so terrified that I would get too close, and you would hate me, and tell me to leave and not come back. So I stayed a safe distance, and I hated every second of it.”

Alex shook his head. “Why?” he said, his voice breaking despite himself. “Why’d you try so hard for her?”

“It wasn’t for her,” Michael urged. “It was for me. I needed . . . easy. I needed not that bad. I had no idea what I was doing, I acted like Max, I . . .” he shook his head. “Private, I don’t even know who that person was. The only time I felt like myself, like I could actually be myself and still be loved was when I was with you.”

Michael huffed a shaky chuckle, and roughly wiped his face with one hand. “Besides,” he said, “I left that parking lot the next day.” He looked over his shoulder at his airstream as it sat beside Alex’s things, and smiled with such sincerity that Alex hadn’t seen on his face in too long. He looked back at Alex with bright eyes. “But I think this looks good here. Don’t you?”

Alex looked from the airstream to Michael, and he huffed a chuckle. A tear rolled down his cheek, and he sniffed and wiped it away. “I just needed you to show up at my front door.”

Michael laughed, pulling Alex in against him and hugging him tightly. As he buried his face in the crook of Alex’s neck, Alex took his chance to press his face to Michael’s shoulder and inhale his scent.

“I want to do more than show up,” Michael said against his skin. “I want to stay, Alex. I want to stay, please let me stay.”

Alex hugged Michael so closely that nothing could’ve fit between their bodies. He felt Michael’s heart race, Michael’s lips against his neck, Michael whimpering under his breath as he desperately pulled them closer and closer together.

Alex whispered, “Stay, Guerin. I want you to stay.”

***

If you enjoyed reading, even just a little bit, please comment and share/reblog, it always makes the world of a difference ❤

[hes-writer]

Trial (4)

Summary: harry and y/n face the truth

Warnings: angst, a tiny bit of fluff

Word Count: 4249 words

A/N: thank you so much for supporting this series !! @devilinbetweenthesheet-s. I will do the taglist later in the day :)

EDIT: idk why the ‘read more’ is not working. I apologize for the scrolling!!

Part 4 of the Tarnish series!

___

Harry was crying.

Admitting his feelings when he was younger was quite a task for him. Now that he was nearly in his thirties, the journey of being vulnerable with himself and with his feelings became easier with each emotion that he permitted himself to submerge in. Harry validated those emotions--he was allowed to experience them because it makes him human. It added texture to the ever-growing mosaic that painted who he was as an individual. Adding to the people that surrounded him, influenced by their kind-nature and the goodness of their heart to become who he was now.

And now, it seemed like his emotions increased tenfold. The clench of his abdomen and the harsh jolt of his chest forced his slouched shoulder to stay deflated. His breathing hitched as sobs threatened to take over, throat sore with the effort to keep it all in because Harry was smart enough to know that these emotions coursing through him right now were ones he wasn’t validated to feel. Paired with the latest information that that little girl being held by another man was his own daughter--and that the woman who was glowing with her caring, motherly-instincts was supposed to be his family; it broke him completely. 

Quaking thoughts circled his brain and punctured his muscles as if they were attacking him not only mentally, but physically as well in exchange for his past mistakes that he couldn’t quite place if he deeply regretted or not. Was it a mistake to cheat on Y/N? To leave her alone in the exposure of the public eye while she was carrying his child in her tummy? 

Harry should have known the day she fell sick and vomited in their kitchen sink. He was, sadly, too busy throwing a subdued celebration of finally having time alone with Camille. He should have noticed the way her face brightened with radiance. Or the way her cravings for strawberries and pickles either grossed her out or completely compelled her to consume more than she usually would. 

But Harry guessed that that was around the time his efforts went out the window because he didn’t have to pretend to care as much anymore. Camille appeared to be his one and only. With their relationship coming so close to being revealed and Y/N having one foot out the door, Harry let fate play out the rest. Don’t get him wrong, Harry still loved Camille; that was why his slashed heart still throbbed at the sight of her watching over her little cousin, yet knowing that the topic of children was still not a card on the table. 

The distress that he was feeling right now was core-shredding, heartbreaking grief that left a hole in his heart. The worst part was that Harry didn’t exactly know how to fix it or whether he even could. As he walked to his car with hands jammed into his pockets, he was grateful that the hood of his sweater hid his face and the tears sliding down the slope of his cheeks.

His senses were in overdrive, figuring out how to fix the mess he created. Wanting to run up to Y/N and ask her why she didn’t tell him, needing to feel his little girl in his arms. Pinching his skin to transfer the pain he felt in his heart because of the thought that he missed his baby’s first words, her first steps. Was it ‘dada’ that babbled out of her mouth? Did she reach out for Connor when she stumbled over nothing when she walked on stubby legs? Did Y/N mention his name to her?

“Harry!” 

He kept on walking despite the hushed call of his name, assuming that it was a fan that caught sight of him and wanted a picture. Harry adores them, but now is hardly the time to fake a smile or act like his life didn’t just flash right before his eyes--quite literally. 

The vehicle beeped as Harry pressed the ‘unlock’ button on his key fob, just about ready to pull the door open and shield himself from prying eyes. He flinched when a hand fell on his shoulder, “Harry,” 

He looked up to find Gemma panting, resting her hand on the roof of the car, “Are you. . .alright?” Her drifting eyes inspected his face, tinted a slight pink and moist with the salty liquid dripping from his tear ducts.

Huffing in annoyance, Harry clutched the handle to let himself in. Gemma followed his actions, shutting the door and locking it. The tinted windows of the car provided a semi-private enclosure that was filled with Harry’s sniffling and Gemma’s heavy breathing, trying to catch her breath. 

“H-her name is Halo,” Gemma began, gulping when Harry paused his ministrations, straining his ears to listen despite the dull thud occupying his vessels. “She’s almost two years old,”

“You said you didn’t know,” Harry’s gruff tone echoed. Gemma anxiously rubbed the ends of her palms against her jeans. “Why didn’t you tell me? You knew all this time and y’didn’t tell me,”

“I-I was--she didn’t want me--” 

“Why would she tell you and not me? I’m the one that dated her,” He raised his voice with every syllable he spoke. The frustration he felt from seeing the woman he once loved living the reality they shared together, except he wasn’t anywhere in the picture and that reality was only a fantasy in his life now. “It doesn’t make sense,” He rested his forearms on the wheel, facing the car’s symbol.

“The baby is yours, Harry,”

His head quipped with speed, grazing his forehead on the rounded leather but that pain didn’t amount to the new wave washing over him. “W-what?”

“It’s really not my place to tell,” Gemma said nervously, making eye contact with Harry’s searing yet teary gaze. “She wanted to tell you but you were so happy with Camille. She was posting these things on her Instagram about your trips and Y/N called me crying because you looked so free and happy without her. Y/N didn’t want to ruin what you guys had by dropping this on you,”

"That's-that's my baby?" Harry stuttered over his words while tugging his head out of his memories. Gemma nodded in confirmation. “Then why in the world was she--Halo?--calling him ‘dada’? 

“Look, Harry, you’re not stupid. You know why Halo called Connor her dad,” Gemma spoke slowly, “This is a conversation that you need to have with Y/N if she lets you,”

At the mention of the man’s name, Harry couldn’t help but be filled with anger. He barely knew this man yet he received everything that Harry wanted in life. ‘But she’s my kid. I’m her dad. I’m the one who’s supposed to give her kisses and make her laugh,” He mumbled quietly as if his inner thoughts were far too strong to be kept in his mind

He was staring mindlessly at the numbers on his dashboard, hands gripping the leather steering wheel to try and ground himself. "But if that's my baby, how can she call someone who's not her father, dad?" He whipped his head towards Gemma, searching for validation that would make him feel better but the siblings were aware that he lost that title three years ago. 

“I think you know you lost that place in their lives,” She reached a comforting hand to pat his arm, feeling just how tense he was under the fabric.

Harry shrugged her off, pinching his brows and pursing his lips as sadness began to swirl down the drain only to be replaced with resentment, irritation and bitterness. The taste on his tongue was hot with anger and his ears felt warm as he wheezed air instead of opting to yell his dissatisfaction near his sister. 

“This isn't fair. She's m’baby too. Connor is not her father,” He spat with venom, “I am,” A pointed finger poked his chest. "She knew she was pregnant when she left me. She’s so fuckin’ selfish. How could she do this to me? 

Gemma was quick to remind him of his actions, "You cheated on her, Harry.” Gemma cowered back at Harry’s beady eyes glaring at her with an unreadable emotion, stone-cold. “Maybe you should go home. Calm down a little bit,”

“No!” Harry cut Gemma off, “Need t’a hear her say it myself,” 

Harry didn’t know what his plan was when he harshly slammed the car door behind him, practically storming on the patches of grass like a mad man. It wasn’t hard to spot the picture-perfect family sitting on a park bench which brought a scowl to his shielded face. He wanted to give Y/N a piece of his mind and it wasn’t necessarily the nicest thoughts that crossed his brain. 

Halo was sitting on Connor’s lap while he was feeding her a peeled cupcake. Red velvet with cream cheese frosting—-Harry felt like he was punched in the gut. The baked good was Y/N’s specialty and it had a lot of sentimental value to both of them. It was what she baked for their first year together. He could vividly see her frosting-dotted nose, aiming to splotch the cream on his cheek while she laughed. Harry wrapped his arms around her, hugging Y/N from behind and proceeding to kiss her sweet cheek, leaving the perfect opportunity to stain his skin with the frosting. 

But he didn’t care if he was smashed headfirst into the cake (as long as it wasn’t ice cream cake)—Harry just wanted to see her smile and hear her laugh heartily. 

Y/N was snuggled on Connor’s shoulder, fixing Halo’s hair as she made grabby hands at the confection. He cannot lie--Connor was a handsome man. Harry rarely felt intimidated or insecure, but seeing that this man managed to snatch everything Harry could ever want seemingly in a blink of an eye; Harry felt very jealous. 

He pouted, eyes rimmed red and lips quivering wishing that Cory or Connor--whatever that little shit’s name was would disappear so that Harry could take his place instead. Actually, it was his spot in the first place. Only if he didn’t mess up, he thought. He missed Y/N so much! Seeing Y/N in her element of niceness and bright-gleaming smiles sent a truck full of sand down his throat as he gulped his emotion below the surface. The closer he got to them, his vision tunnelled towards Halo; brown, flouncy curls and a cute dimple embedded in her cheek as she giggled, accidentally knocking the cupcake on the ground.  

If that wasn’t symbolism staring at Harry straight in the face; a sign that their so-called relationship really had no chance of reprieve. Harry chose to ignore it.

Connor clutched Halo tightly against him, crouching down with a napkin to clean up the scattered cake on the ground. Y/N was the first to notice him, her forehead creasing as her eyes bulged at the sight of Harry walking towards them. She subtly poked at Connor’s arm, hurting Harry even more because it meant that Y/N felt uncomfortable with his presence. 

He was close enough to read her pink lips, “We should go,” matched with Y/N’s frantic actions of packing the juice boxes and the Tupperware of cupcakes into the tote bag beside her. Connor searched the park until his gaze landed on Harry, protectively shielding Halo from him. 

Is he serious? Harry thought. That’s my own daughter.

Speaking of Halo, the two-year-old happily continued munching on her new cupcake, frowning slightly when Connor stood up, “Why we leaving, Daddy? Did I do somethin’ bad?”

Y/N sighed, they promised that Halo could play at the park all day and now it was cut short because of a certain someone. 

“No, you didn’t, bub. Let Daddy explain at home, okay baby?” Connor hitched Halo higher on his hip, hoping that she wouldn’t ask any more questions until the trio left.

“Who’s that?” Halo asked, pointing at Harry only metres away from them. Her stubby finger outstretched at the stranger in front of her, eyes bright and sparkling with curiosity. There was no sign of recognition painting her green orbs. 

Harry gulped, wanting so badly to scream “I’m your dad!” but he knew that Y/N will add that to the list of his mistakes he had made. 

“No one, angel,” Connor planted a kiss on her head, looking over at Y/N who had finished packing everything up. He tilted his chin in an attempt to scare Harry off.

But the thing was, Harry was already scared. He could feel his stomach in his throat but vomiting wasn’t the right word to describe it. His heart drooped deeper than the levels of the Earth. He was scared because his family was right in front of him but he couldn’t touch them or hug them in his arms. He was only allowed to look from the outside because there was a small possibility of being forgiven.

“Y/N. . .” Harry began hesitantly. The surge of confidence he had decreased with each passing second. He kept a close eye.

Y/N shrugged the strap on her shoulder, “Leave us alone, Harry.”

He felt his anger disappearing, a new emotion cascading his tear ducts and the blood in his veins. Harry looked back in retrospect; she really did mean it when Y/N said that she never wanted him around again. “I just want to talk. Please, let’s talk,”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you, Harry,”  Connor interrupted, grabbing the bag from Y/N and wrapping an arm over her shoulder, guiding them away from Harry. “She’s happy without you, mate. can’t you see?”

Harry kept his gaze trained on Y/N’s face, actively avoiding eye contact but drifted when Halo’s frown caught his stare. The little girl’s chin was hooked over Connor’s shoulder, squirming in his arms in an attempt to stop him from walking. Halo was smart enough to know that Harry’s expression screamed sadness and her mummy said that “you need to find a way to make them happy” if someone was sad.

“Wait!” Her shrill yell caused both Connor and Y/N to turn around. A piece of Harry’s heart shattered on the floor when Halo pulled Connor down by the nape of his neck, small hand leading his ear next to her lips. Then, she did the same to Y/N, pointing at Harry which caused him to straighten his stance, wanting to impress his daughter even though there was no point.

The couple shared a look before ultimately having Connor walk closer to Harry. Halo gripped her cupcake towards him, “‘ere y’go hawwy,’ She still couldn’t pronounce her ‘r’s’ yet. 

Harry began to sob. 

It was his daughter and those were the first words she had uttered to him. She didn’t know him yet Halo treated him with kindness and it ripped at his chest because Y/N must’ve taught her that. His palms became wet as tears streamed from his eyes, dampening the sleeves of his hoodie. He didn't care about looking foolish in front of them, not when his daughter saw him as a stranger and called Connor her ‘dada’. 

Halo recoiled at the sudden reaction, her lips curving downwards, “Dada, mama, he’s cwyin’,” She tucked her face at the junction of Connor’s shoulder and neck, scared that she made him cry. Halo didn’t mean to make him cry. She felt so guilty that she started spilling tears of her own too, her face contorting into a scrunched expression as her mouth wailed open sobs, matching Harry’s. 

Harry’s first instinct was to take a step forward and comfort Halo but he was rendered frozen when Connor shot him a glare, shifting Halo’s body out of reach and he could only see her face over the man’s shoulder. Y/N dimmed her eyes, brows pinching when she couldn’t help but let a smidge of sympathy wash over her. She muttered a few words to Connor, pushing him by the small of his back towards the parking lot. 

When they were out of earshot, Y/N faced Harry, “What were you thinking? Are you trying to mess everything up again?” He tried to cut in, “Isn’t it bad enough that we’re talking about this in public? Why must you ruin everything, Harry?” She whisper-shouted, trying her best not to garner them any attention. 

“N-no, Gemma told me and I jus’ wanted to see her--and you. Wanted to hear the truth come out of your mouth,” His large hands jammed into his pockets to prevent him from fiddling with them. 

“Look, you have no right coming here,”

“I know that b-but I--,”

She held a palm up, “I’m not sadistic like you Harry. If you thought that I wouldn’t let you around her then you’re wrong. As much as I hate to admit it, I do miss you and I wish that you were there for us when we needed you,”

“I had no idea--,”

“Will you let me speak?” Her tone carried irritation. “But we’re alright now and we don’t need you anymore.”

Harry never thought that those statements would ever come out of Y/N’s mouth. “Don’t you think I deserve to get to know her?” 

She sighed, “Deserve? Definitely not.” He nodded in agreement. “But I’d live in regret if Halo never got to know her real father. . .”

Harry’s expression lit up, hopeful eyes shooting glances at her, “D-does that mea--? Are you--?”

“You can see her. You can get to know her but only because you’re Halo’s father,” Y/N took a brave step forward, ignoring the way her heart throbbed as if she was being stabbed by a thousand knives. Painful memories drifted in and out of her train of thought until she shook her head to muster them out. It was in the past but she could never forget the feeling of hopelessness taking over her whole body. 

With a hand on his shoulder, she continued, “Anyone can be a father and you’re just that. Don’t think that you’re entitled to anything more. You will never be her dad. Connor is. Understood?”

Harry took a deep breath and swallowed a heavy gulp, “I. . .understand. Thank you, Y/N. For letting me back in when I don’t deserve it,” He glanced at the two tiny figures piling in the car. He could just imagine himself plucking little Halo into her booster seat, booping her nose as she asked for the hundredth time why she had to sit at the back and not at the front with them. 

“I’m not finished,” She deadpanned, “You are going to be there for her. Not for me, not for us because our relationship is over. You can hurt me as you did before and I can accept it but don’t you dare try to hurt her,” 

And it was true. Having endured his painful game once before, Y/N was stronger now. She could take heartbreak as agonizing as that but she wouldn’t dare stand seeing Halo’s teary eyes staring back at her, asking why Harry had left them. She was far too young to experience the feeling when a piece of herself is ripped apart. 

“I won’t hurt her. I promise,”

“I heard those words come out from your mouth years ago and look where we are now. Once you hurt her, it’s over.”

“Y/N, t-that’s hardly fair. I am her dad, aren’t I?” Harry cleared his throat at Y/N’s raised brow.

“No, you’re not. We just went through this, Harry.”

“Don’t call me that,” He muttered quietly because she only ever called him ‘baby’ or ‘h’.

“Will you stop? I laid out my cards. If you want to even have a speck of presence in her life, then you have to abide by what I said,” She crossed her arms in defence, “You will never be Halo’s dad, Harry. Connor is her dad. I don’t know how many more times I have to repeat this before it gets through you thick head,”

He opened his mouth to talk, “No wiggle room whatsoever?”

“No. Do I have to write a letter for you to understand that?”

In a moment of hurt and despair, Harry spat out, “Might as well, yeah? Waited over two years to tell me anyway,”

“Are you kidding me?”

His throat ran dry, realizing that he just ticked another box to favour against being a part of his daughter’s life, “I-I’m sorry. I didn't mean to,”

“Whatever. Are you willing to make the sacrifice?”

“This isn’t the place to talk about this,” Harry suggested, wanting to have some sort of foot on the ground so he doesn’t feel like he’s topping over with guilt and sadness. “Maybe you can come over to my house,”

Y/N shook her head, glancing briefly at her phone when it buzzed, “No. I will not step foot in that house again. If you really want to discuss it, you can come over at our place,”

“Your place?” Did they all live together? Well, that was another slap to the face. Not only was Connor playing dad to Halo, but he was also part of the household. Harry’s face must have contorted into a grimace because Y/N sighed softly. 

“Yes, our place. Meaning all three of us,” She gestured behind her. “I have to go. You can probably get my number from Gemma; you can text me then.”

“Yes, yes! Of course, I want to talk to you. . . about this, I mean,” Harry lowered his enthusiasm. The small voice in his head reverberating that this was not about him and Y/N; this was about Halo. 

“And make sure you don’t bring anyone else,” Y/N said sarcastically, subtly pointing in the direction of the paparazzi hiding behind some bushes. Harry was usually good at spotting them but today was just a puddle of hurt and confusion. “I don’t want her having to read nasty things like I did,”

What Y/N said may have been a side comment, but Harry couldn’t help but take it to heart. Was this a good idea? Sure, he wanted to be a present dad in Halo’s life. However, is it worth it to stir unwanted drama? If only he didn’t cheat on Y/N, all of this could have been avoided. 

With his mind in a haze, Harry barely noticed Y/N’s figure moving away from him. He jogged to catch up with her, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. Harry felt numb to the way she shrugged her touch off of her immediately, “Were you ever going to tell me about our daughter?’

Y/N stared at him quizzically, tilting her head a little bit sideways, “I thought I did? Wait!” A look of recognition plastered across her features, “I did try to tell you but you blocked me before the message sent through,”

Harry gulped with realization. He blearily remembered  bitterly blocking her number just as she texted “I need to tell you something,”

___

Y/N: Since you’re not picking up my calls

I need to tell you something

Y/N took a deep breath as her thumbs tapped on the letters slowly as if to withhold the news from him. She was not at all ready to reveal that she was pregnant and that he was the father but Y/N knew that it was the right thing to do. Despite the fact that he was currently out of the country on vacation somewhere on an island with sandy beaches with Camille. Y/N was aware that this spike of courage was rare and so, she had to do it now.

Y/N: I’m pregnant

And you’re the father

She locked the device as soon as she pressed the arrow to send the message, clutching the phone close to her chest and shutting her eyes so tightly that it hurt. Minutes passed with no response and Y/N was shouldered by curiosity to check if he had sent anything back or simply left her on ‘seen’. 

It was neither. The screaming red exclamation mark surrounded by a circle indicated that she had been blocked. 

___

The times when she left missed calls on his phone were for a reason much bigger than the two of them. Y/N didn’t call to beg for him back or to ask Harry to want her again. He was ashamed to admit that he had rolled his eyes upwards every time he clicked on a voicemail she had left, stating, “Hey H, it’s me. Call me back when you hear this. I need to talk to you,” which he deleted without a second thought. She didn’t text him endlessly to politely ask for her things packed and settled for her pick-up because Y/N could not bear to spend another second in a room with him.

It wasn’t that at all. 

Y/N was physically moving farther and farther away from him, settling herself into the car before driving off to hers and Connor’s shared house. Halo sat in the backseat, singing along to the radio.

Harry was surrounded amidst the joyful squeals of children and reprimanding voices of their parents.

He stood alone with no one but loneliness by his side and the brisk flash of cameras in his peripherals.

_____

Let me know what you thought!

———

Permanent Taglist: @splendidsunsetx @swagmoneymaya @textingharry @arypesanchez @theresthingsthatwellneverknow @mellamolayla @luviewoo

[robininthelabyrinth]

Delight in Misery (ao3) - part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

- Chapter 8: Interlude -

Author note: This chapter is an interlude that contains JC/LWJ adult content. It can be skipped without impacting the remainder of the story.

-

“This is an idea so stupid that I can’t believe Wei Wuxian wasn’t that one to think of it,” Jiang Cheng said.

Lan Wangji didn’t disagree. If either of them had any sense whatsoever, they’d call off this whole idea before it was too late and they did something that permanently damaged the delicate balance of the life they’d built together forever – and they had, somehow, built a life together, cobbled together out of convenience and tragedy and the fact that no one else in this rotten world would understand what it was to miss someone like Wei Wuxian.

It was utter recklessness to throw it away for – what? Indulging some curiosity? Killing some time out of boredom, now that the Lotus Pier had finally quieted down enough for Jiang Cheng to no longer need to work from sunrise until sunset? Now that Lan Wangji didn’t have to hide himself away at all hours, afraid that someone would see him coming and going?

“You don’t even like me like that,” Jiang Cheng complained mutinously, and glared when Lan Wangji nodded in confirmation. “Wow. Thanks a lot.”

“We don’t have to proceed,” Lan Wangji pointed out.

“No, we’re doing this,” Jiang Cheng said at once, because he was contrary down to the last inch of him. “Take off your clothing already. No matter what the Lan sect may think, there are circumstances that call for not wearing four layers of clothing, and sex is definitely one of them.”

Because that was what they were apparently doing.

This was all Mo Xuanyu’s fault for leaving his books lying around – Jiang Cheng had finally succumbed to pressure and ordered his steward to get some for him – and in particular a spring book with pictures that went beyond the merely suggestive into the explicit. Jiang Cheng had picked it up while neatening up the room and gawked for enough time to make a cup of tea; when Lan Wangji had politely asked if he’d perhaps been abruptly struck blind by the contents and, if so, if there was any medicine he would like Lan Wangji to fetch for him, Jiang Cheng had instead turned to him and said, very frankly, “This cannot be a thing people actually do.”

Lan Wangji had, with great patience and an expression of intense suffering, held out his hands for the book.

The years following his awkward initial interaction with Wei Wuxian – the discovery of his own inclinations, the confirmation that they were irrevocably set in that way, his eventual acceptance of that fact – had led him to explore the more idiosyncratic portions of the Lan library. He was no longer the boy that had spluttered and cursed when tricked into looking at some (fairly run of the mill, in retrospect) pornography.

“Mm,” he’d said after a brief examination. “Real.”

“Impossible. Why would anyone -?”

Lan Wangji hadn’t bothered to dignify that with a response.

“It can’t possibly feel good,” Jiang Cheng had protested.

Lan Wangji had graced him with a pitying look. He hadn’t experienced the act in question with another person, of course, but his older brother had been perhaps unduly interested in ensuring that Lan Wangji had access to anything he might need to assuage his curiosity regarding his unorthodox affections, and, well, the Lan sect did always value a thorough approach to learning.

In other words, he’d read a lot.

It might have been left at that, a casual conversation between friends, except that Lan Wangji must have been suddenly possessed by the spirit of Wei Wuxian because he felt compelled to add, “Not that you would ever have a chance to find out.”

And that, of course, was that; once Jiang Cheng’s competitive instincts were awakened, there was absolutely nothing for it but a test to determine who was right.

Little details as to whether or not Jiang Cheng was even attracted to men enough for the question even to matter were dismissed as irrelevant.

And that was how they’d ended up here. About to go to bed. Together.

Though – perhaps that wasn’t exactly how it had started.

Perhaps it had started earlier, when Jiang Cheng had started helping Lan Wangji with those very particular physical reactions he’d had during the period he’d been too weak to do it himself, or perhaps when he’d continued to help him with it long after the trauma of it was no longer so near as to make it impossible for him to use his hands on himself.

Perhaps Lan Wangji should have been the one to stop that – the one to say no, no more, it’s unnecessary, thank you. But in those years of seclusion he had seen so few people, and seen Jiang Cheng most of all; he hadn’t quite been able to give up the desire for the touch of a human hand against his skin. To give up the intimacy of the act, for all that Jiang Cheng routinely brought him to completion as casually as if he were merely rebandaging his wounds, was simply impossible. Nothing could detract from the satisfaction he obtained, even if Jiang Cheng often spent the time talking about something else entirely, complaining about his day or a particularly irritating set of paperwork.

(There was a period in which Lan Wangji had briefly started to develop unsavory connections to the subject of dam rebuilding – luckily the dam project had ended before it had become a real problem.)

At minimum Lan Wangji should have put a stop to it once he was no longer secluded: when he had Lan Xichen’s embraces, gentle nudges from visiting Lan disciples, all the regular physical contact he had grown up with, and now all the casual affection that passed between Jiang sect disciples, of which he was considered an honorary member…it was more than enough to satisfy any skin hunger that might have been compelling him to continue with that inappropriate behavior that neither of them saw as important enough to name.

It had become a habit by then, though, a part of the routine, and the Lan sect thrived on routine.

“You have to remove yours as well,” he reminded Jiang Cheng, folding his clothing up neatly. If they had been lovers, perhaps Jiang Cheng would have been staring at him at this moment – perhaps he would have been tracing Lan Wangji’s body with his eyes, hunger and anticipation on his features – but they weren’t lovers. They were just friends, and that was why Jiang Cheng was fighting to get his shoe off (it had grown too small after too many washings and was starting to fall apart but he inexplicably refused to get new ones) instead of examining a body he’d seen naked a thousand times already during Lan Wangji’s slow recovery. “Do you –”

“If you offer to assist me, I will punch you,” Jiang Cheng threatened, and finally got the shoe off. “And if I hear one word about me needing to replace it –”

“You do.”

“It’s fine. It does the job! What else do you want from a shoe, damnit?” The other shoe was removed. “Leave me alone. I don’t need your help.”

The rest of his clothing came afterwards, tossed casually onto a chair, and Lan Wangji watched out of lack of anything better to do. In the years that had passed he had also seen Jiang Cheng’s body many times, an inevitable result of living across from each other in a place as hot as Yunmeng. Jiang Cheng was undeniably beautiful, all long lines and slender, his flesh marred by the discipline whip as Lan Wangji’s own had been, although in much lower quantity.

No, Lan Wangji concluded. This would not be the problem he had almost been concerned that it would be. For all that Lan Wangji’s heart belonged to Wei Wuxian and always would, his body had no objection to the idea of trying out something new.

“I assume at least some help is not unwelcome,” Lan Wangji said dryly, standing and walking over to put his hand on Jiang Cheng’s cock. At Jiang Cheng’s mild exclamation, Lan Wangji arched his eyebrows. “You can’t even do this? I may have overestimated your bravery.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jiang Cheng said, although he was clearly flustered; he reached out to assist Lan Wangji in the same manner. His palm was callused and warm, as always; Lan Wangji’s cock stirred at once at the familiar stimulus. “It’s been a while since it was someone else, that’s all.”

“You’ve had experience?”

“There’s no need to sound so skeptical about it. I was a teenager once too, you know; Wei Wuxian and I – hey, watch it!”

Lan Wangji relaxed his grip apologetically. “You did for Wei Ying as you do for me?” he asked, and didn’t even care when Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes at his obvious and immediate fascination. It was a good thing that neither of them had any illusions about Wei Wuxian’s role in their friendship, the ghost of him that hung over it all; if they pretended otherwise, they might have hurt each other. “How did he..?”

“You’re not seriously asking me that question,” Jiang Cheng said, but of course Lan Wangji was.

Jiang Cheng glared at him, but Lan Wangji was patient, and as with all things relating to Jiang Cheng, his patience was rewarded.

“You’re a little more direct,” Jiang Cheng finally said, rolling his eyes once again to demonstrate how ridiculous he thought Lan Wangji was being. “You like long strokes, like this, very purposeful – his preference was a bit more playful. A bit of teasing around the head, like this, and then a bit with the thumb…listen, if you’re going to turn that shade of red this quickly, we’re going to have to call this whole idea off.”

“I can do more than once.”

“I’ll give you the whole rundown another time, you pervert,” Jiang Cheng promised, and Lan Wangji’s cock twitched at the thought of it. “Can we please focus on proving you horribly wrong already?”

“I’m not wrong.”

“So you say.”

Lan Wangji rolled his eyes and resumed moving his hand on Jiang Cheng’s cock. It felt nice in his hand, filling out as he stroked it. “Why?” he asked after a moment.

“Why what? Why did Wei Wuxian and I get each other off?”

“En.”

“We were young and stupid, obviously,” Jiang Cheng said. “He was my shixiong. We shared everything, figured everything out together…it wasn’t that weird, okay? It was just lending a friendly hand. Literally.”

Lan Wangji could imagine it. The scene sprang up fully formed in his eyes: Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian as he remembered them from the Cloud Recesses, cheeks still a little fat with youth and glistening from perspiration from the humid Yunmeng air, sitting together side-by-side on a bed with their hands in each other’s laps. Perhaps even the bed he slept in now, or Jiang Cheng’s. And perhaps even back then Jiang Cheng liked to talk of other things while he was performing the chore – his lessons, perhaps.

Perhaps they’d even done it for each other while they’d been at the Cloud Recesses…

“Did you do anything more?” he asked, licking suddenly dry lips.

Jiang Cheng blinked at him. “Like what?”

Perhaps it was petty to use their conversation as an excuse to step forward into Jiang Cheng’s personal space, to use his free hand to rub up and down his chest and tweak his nipples, to use teeth and tongue liberally on his neck, on his shoulder, his collarbone, until Jiang Cheng’s knees had grown so weak from surprise and pleasure that Lan Wangji had to loop his arm around his waist to help support him –

But if there was one thing Jiang Cheng had taught him in all these years, it was that there were times when being petty was the best possible option.

“Can I use my mouth on you?” he asked, and took the incoherent spluttering and vague hand-waving he received as a yes. “Sit down on the bed and lean back.”

Jiang Cheng obeyed without a single complaint, which Lan Wangji accepted as the compliment it was.

“I think I can definitively say no, just so you know,” he observed as Lan Wangji lowered himself down to his knees. “I did not do anything like this with Wei Wuxian.”

“Did you ever want to?” Lan Wangji asked, mildly curious, and then he leaned down and put his mouth on Jiang Cheng’s cock.

“Am I supposed to be having a conversation with you about this?” Jiang Cheng demanded, thrashing underneath his ministrations. Lan Wangji had to hold his hips down with his hands, using a little force. “Now?”

Lan Wangji purposefully stopped moving.

“You are a piece of shit, you know that?” Fingers made their way into Lan Wangji’s hair, careful to avoid his forehead ribbon as they lightly tugged – hmm, that was rather nice, actually. Lan Wangji mentally noted down the preference. “Fine. Ugh. No, I didn’t. It wasn’t like that. It really did just start out innocent, you know. Us being boys and all, measuring the difference in size and all –”

Jiang Cheng paused and rolled his eyes down at Lan Wangji, who had perhaps overly demonstrated his interested in hearing more.

“– yes, you obsessed stalker, I’m getting there. He was longer, I was wider; we called it a tie. Later on, we got drunk and started talking about how we were both worried that we were doing it wrong, except, you know, that would have been way too embarrassing…you know how we were. It turned into a dumb sort of competition about who could do it better, which one of us was the one doing it wrong, who was doing it right – we got into a lot of stupid contests like that.”

A brief pause.

“Don’t say that I’m stating the obvious.”

Lan Wangji’s mouth was full, which was probably the only reason he wasn’t. He really had lost all sense of self-control when it came to deliberately irritating Jiang Cheng, and he wasn’t sure when that had happened. His uncle would be disappointed in him again.

Good.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Jiang Cheng muttered. He’d gotten into the groove of things, his hips rocking slightly as Lan Wangji sucked him, careful not to go too far or too fast for fear of making Lan Wangji gag again – though to be fair, that had been mostly Lan Wangji’s fault for being overly ambitious in trying to take him in too deep that time. The real thing really wasn’t anything like the jade pillar he’d practiced on. “This is ridiculous. You’d better never expect me to do this for you. No way.”

Lan Wangji didn’t bother responding.

“I mean, I guess if my hands were broken. It’s not like I couldn’t do it. I’ve put worse things in my mouth, over the years.”

No response was necessary. Jiang Cheng’s complex about needing to be the best at everything – or at least skilled enough to be respected – was truly a fearsome thing.

Though speaking of which...

Lan Wangji reached with one hand to pull over the small packet of thickened, scented oil that he’d obtained long ago, dipping his fingers into it and working one finger, then another, into Jiang Cheng.

“How do you even think of these things?” Jiang Cheng complained, because he wouldn’t be Jiang Cheng if he didn’t complain. “You must have done nothing but read spring books day and night – hey, wait! What are you doing? I’m going to be the one on top! Not you!”

Lan Wangji hummed and removed his mouth – Jiang Cheng whined in complaint – and then lifted one of Jiang Cheng’s legs, pressing his cock against him. He didn’t get a fist in the face, even when he rocked back and forth teasingly, his cock sliding right up to Jiang Cheng’s slicked-up entrance and then away.

“…just go ahead and do it already!”

Lan Wangji’s analytical mind temporarily blanked out when he pushed inside. It was hot and tight around him, squeezing him – it felt good. Very good.

“Fuck,” Jiang Cheng said. His voice was a little unstable, almost breathy. “Fuck.”

“If you insist,” Lan Wangji said, and began moving his hips before Jiang Cheng could correct him. Jiang Cheng grunted as if the sound had been punched out of him. Fucked out of him. “How is it?”

“Why are you asking me, don’t you already – Lan Wangji. You said the picture in the book was realistic.”

Lan Wangji hummed in agreement.

“I assumed that meant you’d done it before.”

That seemed like a Jiang Cheng problem.

“Lan Wangji! Are you saying you don’t know what you’re doing?!”

“I’ve read a lot of spring books,” Lan Wangji said dryly, and started to really put his back into it, long thrusts that felt fantastic to him and from the looks of it not all that bad to Jiang Cheng, either. After a few thrusts, he apparently hit the place described in the books, if he were judging by Jiang Cheng’s sudden moans and a notable increasing in generalized cursing, as opposed to cursing his name in specific.

Lan Wangji finished first, which increased the amount of cursing by a significant degree.

“I can’t believe you –!”

“Would you like to finish in my mouth?”

“It is,” Jiang Cheng hissed at him, “the very least you could do!”

Jiang Cheng was much less polite this time as he fucked his way into Lan Wangji’s mouth, his hands firmly gripping Lan Wangji’s hair and pulling him into place, forcing his way deeper with brutal snaps of his hips.

Despite having recently been wrung dry, Lan Wangji’s cock did its best to give an interested twitch, and Lan Wangji noted that down as well. Perhaps next time he should encourage Jiang Cheng to be the one on top, to see if he would enjoy the sensation more if it was someone else doing the fucking rather than a toy carved out of jade. After all, Jiang Cheng had certainly responded well enough to it.

Lan Wangji was moderately sure there would be another time. Jiang Cheng was not a man motivated by sex – remarkably so, in fact. If anything, he seemed to view physical pleasure, even at his own hand, as a perfectly decent activity, but nothing worth kicking up a fuss over, little different from a massage or a round of acupuncture; neither something especially desirable nor repulsive. As Jiang Cheng himself had admitted, he hadn’t experienced the touch of another since his youthful experimentation with Wei Wuxian, even though Lan Wangji was well aware that he’d received plenty of offers from all types of types of people over the years, and yet the lack hadn’t seemed to bother him.

If not for Lan Wangji, he probably would have continued on with his life without thinking about it any further, either, except perhaps in the theoretical box in his mind that he’d earmarked for having a wife, which he seemed to want only because everyone was expected to want a wife.

That competitive streak again.

But he did have Lan Wangji, who was not naturally inclined towards abstinence, and now that they’d opened the door to having a friendship that included certain additional benefits, he had no intention of shutting that door absent any indication from Jiang Cheng that it no longer suited him.

After all, Jiang Cheng might yet have a wife one day, assuming a patient enough marvel could be found – but Lan Wangji was a Lan, born and bred true, and he would only have one love in his life; he had fallen long ago, chosen long ago. Wei Wuxian was gone, and he would never regret it, nor love another. It had been living with Jiang Cheng, being friends with him, that had taught him to remember joy; what was this, then, but more of the same?

Of course, that was assuming that Jiang Cheng would agree in the future to sate Lan Wangji’s rather prodigious appetites with more than just his hand. He might not. After all, it really wasn’t his area of interest –

“Fuck,” Jiang Cheng abruptly said.

Lan Wangji, who was fetching a wet cloth, turned to look at him.

Jiang Cheng was propped up on his elbows, scowling bitterly. “You know what,” he said. “We didn’t even manage to do the right position! The one in the spring book was more – more twisty – you know – with the leg up in the air like that –”

“…mm,” Lan Wangji said. “We’ll do better next time.”

“You’re smirking,” Jiang Cheng said suspiciously. “Why are you smirking? What are you up to?!”

“Nothing,” Lan Wangji said peaceably, putting down the cloth and picking up the oil. “You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right! I’m – I’m not usually right. Or at least, you don’t normally admit it when I’m right. What am I right about?”

“Did it wrong,” Lan Wangji said, and settled down again. “Need to try again.”

“Try – wait, now? Already?! You can’t be serious!”

Lan Wangji started rearranging limbs. “You’re already prepared,” he pointed out. “‘Avoid needless waste.’”

“Don’t you quote your Lan sect rules at me, Lan Wangji! You’re inhuman! You’re – ah!”

He’d slid right in that time, Lan Wangji observed, all at once in a single smooth slide that made Jiang Cheng moan and his cock start to fill up again; the ease of it must be due to how relaxed Jiang Cheng’s body was after he’d come, and the slickness of both the oil left behind and the new amount he’d added. Definitely a different experience from the previous time, but equally enjoyable.

Well, as he’d said before – the Lan sect always did value a thorough approach to learning.

[logically-asexual]

I want to give you your grin

i made this for @loceitweek2021 Day 2: Crook/Aftermath

summary:

After Thomas chose to go to the wedding, Janus has a lot of work for his plans to work out, and that includes getting Logic on his side. Logan currently is constantly being left out. He is trying too hard (and failing) to make himself fit in with the others, so he will try anything to feel useful.

Janus decides to take advantage of this (and Logan's denied feelings for him) to get away with his scheme, but what neither of them expect is actually falling for each other in the process.

warnings: emotional manipulation, Logan is very insecure. let me know if i should add more.

Read on AO3

Chapter 3 (last)

| First | | Previous |

words: 2424

Janus was very satisfied with the progress he had made with Logan, and how the pieces of his plan were falling together. He had everything under control, and now that Thomas was driving back home from the wedding, he was ready for the final act. Something in him felt guilty about pushing Logic away and impersonating him again, but it was indispensable to his plan. Besides, it wasn’t him who was going to shut Logic down, he was just going to wait for an opportunity when the others did.

Janus couldn’t tell whether Logan’s recent support of him was causing the others to embrace Deceit or to reject Logan even more, but, frankly, he didn’t care. It wasn’t his problem, he just had one goal in mind and it was taking advantage of Thomas’ mood today to finally make him listen to reason. If that came with the little side-effect of Logan coming to him later for comfort, well that was just another advantage. It was always amusing to see the stuck-up teacher all emotionally troubled.

“What the f***, everybody?”

That was Thomas. It was showtime.

During the discussion, everything went as he expected. Logan was even showing up with the written support-facts quite often (if Janus had been the one to hint something to spark that idea, for Logan to show up instead of staying out of it, no one had to know). Having spent his time a little closer to Logan in the past weeks also helped Janus improve his impression of him.

He had been ready, and it was all perfect until he pulled Logan with his crook, because he definitely wasn’t prepared for what would happen afterwards.

✩ ✩ ✩

Logan didn’t fully process what happened when Patton pressed the “SKIP” button next to him, not until he felt his back collide with someone, and the pressure on his neck was relieved. It took a minute for him to be able to catch his breath, and to be able to focus on anything other than the pain of the bruise that was surely forming. Once he did, he almost stumbled backwards again, but a steady hand on his shoulder and the chest of the other Side behind him helped him recover his balance.

Still coughing lightly, Logan turned around to see Deceit, who seemed slightly concerned for a moment, before relaxing to a smug expression. The space he was in was pitch black, but with just enough light to illuminate him and Deceit, who was now proudly standing with a tall curve-shaped staff in his hand.

“Logan, darling, how are you doing?”

Logan rolled his eyes at the patronizing tone, and decided to simply turn around and walk away, looking for an exit. However, he was immediately stopped by Deceit’s crook (now on his shoulder), and once again pulled backwards to him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Deceit’s low voice whispered in his ear.

“Back to work. In case you couldn’t tell, I was in the middle of something.” He pulled himself out of the other’s hold and faced him again, with arms crossed.

“Oh, right, because Patton and Roman are clearly thrilled to take your additions into account, as demonstrated by what just happened before you were brought here.”

“That doesn’t matter, I have to keep trying.”

“You don’t “have” to do anything. Why don’t you-”

“I don’t want to hear your suggestions. I just have to find-” Logan wouldn’t fall for Deceit’s games that easily.

“Find what?”

“Nothing, none of your business. Just let me go and get my work done.”

“You’re going to keep silently displaying information that no one wants to read?”

“No, I-”

“Or are you going to start talking without invitation for them to cut you off again?”

“No, there’s-”

“Or are you going to stay quiet until Patton calls you in and then go against your own values to say something that the others want to hear?” There was that displeased glare again that Logan just couldn’t bear.

“Look, there has to be an answer. I must find the way. I am Logic, I know there is a solution and if I don’t find it through conscientious strategizing at least I will through elimination of everything else that didn’t work!”

Logan moved to escape once again, but Deceit rapidly grabbed him by his arms and slammed him to a nearby wall, previously invisible in the darkness of the room. His hands moved to hold Logan’s shoulders, and another pair pinned his wrists to either side of his body. Logan struggled desperately against him, but to no avail.

“Logan, look at me.”

Logan looked up, but the tears that were building up for his distress made the image unclear.

“You’ll find your place, and how your role fits, but you have to just wait and let it happen.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I am not-”

“You are! I know it’s not true, and I know I’ve been in denial all this time, okay? I know it’s hopeless to think I can make myself useful again, and that I really am out of options. I have tried everything; to protest and to comply, to support them and to hold back, to have opinions and to state only facts from Thomas’ memories, to agree with them and... to agree with you, even.” He looked downwards at the gloved hands keeping him stuck, and continued quietly. “It all goes wrong, eventually. The problem is me.”

A fifth hand came to his chin, lifting his face to meet Janus’ gaze.

“Listen,” Janus was choosing his words carefully, “Thomas is changing, because he has to. Of course that will affect all of us, and it will be messy.”

Logan knew that. “But that means I have to-”

“Ah ah ah. As he finds himself again, you will find your own role. But you have to give him time, give him the chance to find the right place for you... hopefully on my team,” he added with a wink. After a pause, he went on, with a deadly serious tone Logan had never heard from him. “This is a change you can’t control, but it’ll pass. I’ll make sure of that.”

He moved the hand previously on his chin to the side, his thumb brushing against Logan’s cheek. Logan leaned into the soft sensation, feeling exposed but understood, in a way he hadn’t felt in years. At that moment he realized how close the two of them were, and how from this distance he could make out hints of yellow swirling in both of Deceit’s irises. Deceit’s eyes seemed to be studying his own just as meticulously while he slowly moved closer.

Janus was running out of time, and he had already missed a part of the conversation with Patton. He really couldn’t miss this opportunity and ruin everything he had planned. But there was something about the way Logan’s teary eyes were staring up at him, wide open and shaken, but so full of trust, that captivated him. So he leaned forward and kissed him without thinking twice.

The kiss wasn’t strong or passionate, Deceit only pressed their mouths together and lingered there. To Logan, it was perfect. Even with the softness of it, he felt almost overwhelmed, but closed his eyes and relaxed into it, and let the warm sensation wash over him for a moment. It quieted his mind in the only satisfying way he could imagine.

Deceit slowly pulled away, and studied his eyes for an instant. Before Logan could even take a breath in, he was gone. He just... disappeared. Logan tried to follow after him, before realizing that both his wrists were tied to the wall behind him.

He attempted to make the bounds disappear but nothing happened, so he tried to physically pull them off, which turned out fruitless, as well. He groaned in frustration. This was part of Deceit’s powers, after all. He could keep any Side hidden or silenced for however long he wanted. Logan just had to wait until whatever Deceit had planned was done or until he was distracted enough to let the effect wear out.

Logan thought that, unlike Roman, he would be immune to it, but the traitorous snake got away with using and taking advantage of his feelings, too.

... What feelings, anyway? What did Logan even feel for Deceit to make him act like this?

He groaned again. Of all the things that could have happened to him, he was left alone with his thoughts for an undetermined amount of time, to confront attraction and other sickening emotions he was apparently feeling but wasn’t previously aware of? Why couldn’t Deceit have left him with the Duke? The torture would have been less painful.

He leaned against the wall, ready to begin figuring things out, and noticed Deceit took his tie with him, too. He was clever, Logan couldn’t lie about that.

✩ ✩ ✩

Despite the unprecedented distraction, Janus carried on with his scheme, disguising as Logan successfully. He had been somewhat worried, because Logan is a lot more than just referencing studies and taking things literally, but lately it was all he showed to the others, so it wasn’t surprising that that was all he needed for the impression.

If everything went well, Patton would finally admit that he was wrong, and allow Thomas to relax, then Deceit could leave them all alone for a while and he wouldn’t have to face Logan.

Except it did not go well.

First, Logan showed up when he was about to reach a breakthrough with Thomas. Janus assumed it would ruin everything, since Logan would call him out for his tricks and derail the conversation, and it was embarrassing to see him either way. To his surprise, however, not only did Logan dodge the topic of what had happened between them, but he also interjected with an argument in Deceit’s favor. Well, kind of. Janus didn’t care about how “altruistic” Thomas could be, but the idea gave strength to Deceit’s proposal of self care, while being balanced enough for Thomas to approve of.

So that was awkward, but ultimately satisfactory.

After that, everything seemed to be going smoothly, up until Roman’s little dramatic episode. And yeah, Janus probably deserved it, but it was still annoying. Whatever, Thomas listened to him in the end and it’s not like he expected Roman, of all Sides, to respect him or his name. Patton or anyone else could deal with the petty Prince later. Once Thomas acknowledged that Janus was right and that he would take time for himself with less guilt and more often, his job was done, and the emotional turmoil left behind was an issue for the emotional Sides to resolve. He had more important matters to attend to.

That was, until Logan showed up unannounced in his room later that night.

Logan didn’t really know what he was doing when he went to Deceit after everyone had calmed down, but he was overthinking and that just wouldn’t be healthy. He had to take action to let out all those thoughts impending his focus.

“So... Janus?”

Janus didn’t look up from the snake he was feeding. “Wrong number, and we’re currently out of service, try again never. Thank you.”

“This is a presencial conversation, I’m not talking on the phon-”

“What did you come here for?”

Logan looked down, fidgeting with his tie. “I... I guess I never thanked you.”

That made Janus glance up. “Thank me?”

“I didn’t want to recognize it, but I have been forcing myself to fit into something that I am not. You are right,-“ Janus would never get tired of hearing that- “we’re all changing, and although I do like it when I can predict how things will happen, for this situation I will have to be patient, and wait until Thomas can make sense of himself, and then make sense of me.” Logan stepped closer to the other Side. “Realizing this lifted a figurative weight off my shoulders that I didn’t know I was carrying. So thank you.”

“So, you’re no longer going to be an exasperating people-pleaser?”

“No,” he chuckled, “you already showed me how distressing taking that to an extreme can be.” Yes, that was definitely what Janus was trying to do, to teach Logan a lesson and totally not to manipulate him to get away with his plans, of course not.

They both stood quietly for a minute, searching for something else to say.

“I guess if you can do it, I have to thank you, too.” Janus, finally said. “For helping me earlier.”

“Ah. I wasn’t trying to help you, really. But I do agree with you, and after having some time to think,” Logan paused for a moment to look accusingly at Janus, who smiled awkwardly, “I remembered reading about effective altruism, and I genuinely thought it was the best choice.”

Maybe Janus underestimated Logan, but he did know he was more valuable than what the others credited him for. “I think so, too.”

Janus still hoped that Logan would be on his side more often, now that they knew it worked well for them, but he couldn’t deny that the concept of Logan confidently debating him was exciting. So far, seeing Logan follow his lead was the best feeling in the world, but perhaps it could be pushed to second place by Logic finally speaking his own mind.

Logan lowered his gaze to the snake in the tank next to them. It was bright yellow, and impressively big. He made a mental note to inquire about it another day, before looking back up when he felt Janus rest a hand on his shoulder.

“We are a good team.”

Logan could tell he was being sincere this time, and smiled up at him, his eyes again open and affectionate. He could let bitterness and anger take over him for how Deceit abandoned him tied up earlier, but if he was already going to be disturbed by strong emotions, it might as well be enjoyable ones. Besides, he had just come to terms with a crush, something he would have never pictured himself doing, so he couldn’t let it go to waste.

Logan reached out to hold Janus’ free hand, and leaned in to kiss him quickly.

Things were far from getting back in order, and there was a lot left to figure out, but at that moment, both of them knew that right here, next to each other, they fit in perfectly.

[franniebanana]

CQL Rewatch - Ep 26

Note: I will be critical of Jiang Cheng in these posts. If you can’t handle that, please feel free to scroll on.

The absolute what-the-fuck-are-you-doing-here look on Lan Wangji's face right now. I'm cackling. He's really not subtle at all. The genuine shock from this apparently grave impropriety is just written all over his face. In that situation, I'm definitely Lan Xichen. I'll quietly go to the host later and tell them that they really shouldn't have invited that guy. I mean, he's so nice about it, though, and I really do feel bad for Jin Guangyao, who just invited him because they're friends. Aside from all the shit they pull, he and Su She really do care about each other. You know, Jin Guangyao sees himself in Su She, and probably the opposite is true as well, depending on what Su She actually knows about him. It's no wonder Jin Guangyao selects him from the crowd as he does and kind of takes him under his wing. He knows the feeling of being unwanted very well.

He couldn't look more annoyed that Jin Guangyao is bringing up how the Jiang Clan has captured more prey than any clan in the history of these hunts. Part of it is that Jiang Cheng knows that he never would have brought in that many if Wei Wuxian hadn't used Chenqing to bewitch the beasts into the nets. I think the other thing that annoys him is that the whole situation was an embarrassment and now Jin Guangyao is drawing attention to it again, as well as to the fact that Wei Wuxian isn't even there. He's wandering the streets in the city below when he should be at Carp Tower. As I've said before, Jiang Cheng expects and desires Wei Wuxian to be obedient as well as subservient to him. It pisses him off that Wei Wuxian is such a delinquent and has no care for the propriety of the cultivation world.

And the way Jiang Cheng is all smiles to the Jins, toasting with them, being the perfect little clan leader. Like, he has to, right? Anything else would be weird and unorthodox, not to mention rude. But as soon as he sits down again, he's back to that nasty look on his face, brooding about where in the hell Wei Wuxian is and why he had to go and embarrass Jiang Cheng in front of all the other leaders.

Oh, speak of the devil! Here he is! Yeah, remember how Wei Wuxian found Wen Qing at the end of the last episode? Well, now he's really angry. At this point, it's over. Propriety and orthodoxy have been thrown out the window. The Jin Clan is out of line, and he doesn't care what he says and to whom he says it anymore.

I keep saying this, but this is one of my favorite parts. The absolute disdain that Lan Wangji has for this man that he won't even stoop to respond to him. He's seen what he's like on numerous occasions, I'm sure, but not least important when the man was criticizing Wei Wuxian right in front of him to the point that Jiang Yanli stood up to defend him. Lan Wangji is not giving this man the time of day, let alone breaking one of the disciplines just to please him. Lan Wangji doesn't give a damn whether this man deems him friendly or not. And I love all the reactions. Lan Xichen is just like, "He's never gonna do it." Nie Mingjue looks a little worried, like, "Oh, shit, what's he gonna do??"

And my favorite part, where Lan Wangji looks so so thirsty, and there's a tall drink of water right in front of him. Not to talk top/bottom dynamics (but I'm gonna briefly), but this is when I knew CQL Lan Wangji was a bottom. Those eyes just say "fuck me," and I really won't hear any arguments on this.

But another thing I want to say is that this is one of those moments where Wei Wuxian does something rather heroic. Not all of his actions have to be big and grand to be important. Lan Wangji definitely felt rescued here. I think I remember hearing Xiao Zhan complain that he didn't get to do enough fight scenes and he didn't get to run around and rescue people--he felt useless on the battlefield, while Lan Wangji got to do all the saving. But these moments feel more special to me, when he was there for Lan Wangji. Just like I don't really remember the moments where Lan Wangji knocked a sword out of the way, but I do remember how he looked when Wei Wuxian collapsed in his arms in the Nightless City, and I remember how he insisted on Wei Wuxian letting him help him, and I remember how he sang to Wei Wuxian in the cave. Sometimes it's not the big, grand gestures, but the small, quiet, unassuming ones.

I mean, at this point, is there anyone who doesn't want Wei Wuxian to murder this guy? It is kind of amusing to me that Wei Wuxian just moved on from one Jin to another. He's sort of forgotten about Jin Zixuan, who's definitely the less annoying of the two, and now he has turned his attention to Jin Zixun, who is just a gigantic asshole. The guy is just here to antagonize Wei Wuxian, seemingly, by the way he is taunting him here about how long the banquet is going to last.

While he's pretty rude to Jin ZIxun (who cares), Wei Wuxian clearly and calmly explains to Jin Guangshan what the situation is. Not only that, but he's very polite to him. The situation is simple: Wen Ning was kind to him and he wants to return the favor. I feel a bit like CQL didn't do enough to develop the relationship between Wen Ning and Wei Wuxian, even with the added scene with the dog, but even if you just look at what Wen Ning and Wen Qing did for Jiang Cheng--based upon that alone, I think Wei Wuxian would want to save them. Jiang Cheng would be dead right now if it weren't for them. It's interesting how that's reason for Wei Wuxian to save the Wens, but Jiang Cheng wants no part of that. He seems to value looking good in front of the other clan leaders over repaying a life debt. Even without knowing about the Golden Core thing, they still saved his life. Wen Ning brought him out of Lotus Pier on his back. Both Wen Ning and Wen Qing suffered at the hands of the rest of the Wen Clan because of what they did--hello, it's treason. They committed treason for two people they barely knew. And Jiang Cheng doesn't even have the balls to stand up for them now?

Oh, boy, now he's gone and done it. Suggesting the Jin Clan just moved in as the reigning Clan, the one who is better than all the rest, the clan in charge of the others. In other words, the Jin Clan is no better than the Wen Clan--these are the sort of actions that lead to the kind of hubris that they had. And considering the Jin Clan helped the least during the Sunshot Campaign, it's pretty interesting. But, of course, they have a lot of money, they have a lot of men, they were basically untouched during the war. It only stands to reason that they would sort of slide into the place that the Wen Clan carved out. Of course, Jiang Cheng is mortified that Wei Wuxian would suggest such a thing. I mean, in his situation, rightly so. Wei Wuxian is part of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, so his actions and words reflect poorly on all of them. But the sticking point for me is that Jiang Cheng doesn't attempt to understand where Wei Wuxian is coming from. He doesn't try to look at how Wei Wuxian is trying to save the people who saved them--he doesn't see that as a valid reason. Considering CQL is trying to sell that Jiang Cheng has (or had) feelings for Wen Qing, he doesn't seem to care about her very much. Why isn't he disturbed about this news--why is he only angry that Wei Wuxian is being improper? I get what Jiang Cheng is doing here, but what I'm trying to say is that I don't think he's struggling at all with it. I think, for him, it was wham, bam, thank you ma'am, in a sense. He was saved, he got healed, and now he doesn't really have to think about Wen Qing or Wen Ning anymore. They were, in a way, stepping stones on his rise to the top. They were willing volunteers to help him be a better person. He doesn't owe them anything in return. Because, I think, if MXTX or the CQL writers had really wanted us to believe that Jiang Cheng wasn't selfish and narrow-minded, I think he would have gone with Wei Wuxian to try and find Wen Ning.

Me counting down when my toddler is goofing off before bed time.

I think at this point, both Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji know that he can't come back from this. After what he just said, then threatening to kill Jin Zixun, then essentially saying he could kill anyone and no one would be able to stop him--there is just no coming back. There's no apology he could give, no words he could say that would convince him to let him back into the fold. It's a moment of desperation, both for Lan Wangji and for Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian is going to save Wen Ning and Wen Qing, even if it means sacrificing what is left of his life. Again, he's willing to give up everything for someone else. Lan Wangji doesn't yet understand, and Jiang Cheng certainly doesn't understand him, even though he is the one who should understand him the most.

Lan Wangji has no choice but to go after Wei Wuxian. Even his brother knows and immediately gives his blessing to do it. Why is it that two people from a different clan are willing to go into the lion's den, but someone who is essentially Wei Wuxian's brother won't do anything? We see Lan Xichen having more concern for Wei Wuxian than Jiang Cheng. To be fair, he's also thinking about his own brother here, knowing that Lan Wangji wants to go, knowing that he wants to help Wei Wuxian. And given that, we have another good contrast to Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian. The Prides of Yunmeng, indeed--both are indeed proud, so proud that they sometimes forget to even care about each other.

This part gets me every time. It's so heartbreaking listening to her scream out for her brother--even in a valley full of the dead, she calls out for him as if he can answer. Truly heartbreaking. And then the silence that washes over her when she finally sees him.

I kind of wonder why Wei Wuxian doesn't immediately help her search the bodies. Part of me wonders if it's because he does not really accept that Wen Ning is dead. He expects that Wen Ning will answer the call, or that he will pop up somewhere, having been hiding. It's as if he starts searching only when he begins to realize that Wen Ning may actually be dead.

I think what we get between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian is a bit of a peek into what may have happened if Lan Wangji had been there when Wei Wuxian decided to give up his Golden Core. More likely than not, Lan Wangji would have tried to stop Wei Wuxian from doing it. I can't really imagine him just standing back and saying, "Go ahead. It's your body." Lan Wangji is always thinking one step ahead, always thinking about the consequences--what would it mean down the line?

Lan Wangji, bottom line, doesn't really understand Wei Wuxian yet. He knows him well, yes, possibly better than anyone else, even given that Wen Qing and Wen Ning know about the Golden Core transfer. He doesn't understand how Wei Wuxian feels indebted to the Wens--but it's not even that, I don't think. I think it's a mix of that and just protecting the weak, doing what's right--I think that's why he has to stand up for the Wens here. He sees the injustice going on, and he has to stop it. And recalling the oath that they made that evening, Lan Wangji knows he has to step aside. He knows that Wei Wuxian has to do this--needs to--wants to--even at the expense of giving up his cultivation status, his life, even going against everyone else in the orthodox world. And Lan Wangji lets him go. It's probably the hardest decision he's ever made in his entire life. But he was faced with a choice too: go with or stay behind. Hold onto Wei Wuxian or give him up. Be with him, or never see him again. Indeed, the implication here is that you aren't supposed to talk to Wei Wuxian after this. He's been ostracized of his own doing, he is a rogue, a villain, dangerous, not to be trusted. No one in the civilized cultivation world would have anything to do with him.

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 | Or just check out the #CQL Rewatch hashtag

[hot-wiings]

The One Where Dabi Gets Involved With Overhaul’s Girl. Part Fifteen.

Edited: 1-29-2021

You walked with Kai down to the infirmary. It was a pristine and clean place. It was attached to the Shie Hassaikai but felt like a separate building on its own. Once you opened the door, it took you down a long hall. Several doors led to a hospital-like room. The ones on the left were room with beds for the injured, the ones on the right held chairs you sat in for checkups, and held several different types of equipment used for checking your vitals and various things like running bloodwork.

Kai opened one of the doors on the left and let you go in before him. He followed after you and closed the door behind him, if you both were infected it was good to keep it confined. 

"Take a seat. I'll check my blood, then I'll check yours."

You stepped up on your tiptoes and wiggled yourself up on the patient's chair. It was tall and your feet dangled before you turned your body so your back was slightly reclined and your legs were up on the end of it. Kai sat on a rolling chair that you would typically see in a doctor's office and rolled over to the drawers that held various blood drawing equipment.

Kai rolled his sleeves up before he washed his hands thoroughly and pulled a clean pair of medical gloves on himself. He took a long piece of elastic material and tied it around his upper arm, making a tourniquet. He opened up an alcohol wipe and wiped down the area where his upper and lower arm connect. He pressed his finger down on the skin, looking for a good spot to poke a vein before he swiftly punctured his skin.

He did it so fast and swift, without a moment of hesitation. Kai was in his element when he was doing medical procedures. You had to wonder for a moment if he had been placed in a better environment, somewhere better than the yakuza, would he have gone on to be a doctor, rather than dabbling in drugs and experimenting on Eri. With a quirk like his, he could have easily cut and removed tumors. He had so much potential, but it was all wasted on the life of a criminal. 

You watched as the tube inside the syringe attached to the needle filled up with Kai's dark red blood until he untied the tourniquet and pulled the needle out, along with a now filled tube of his fresh blood. He pulled the tube out of the syringe and put a lid on it before rolling over to the biowaste can and throwing the used needle and syringe inside. He rolled over to the counter and pushed the vial into a machine attached to the computer. It sucked the vial in the machine and unscrewed the lid before taking the blood in and testing it. 

"This machine takes the blood and tests it for anything and everything out of the ordinary. It takes a few minutes for it to read the blood, then it displays it on the computer." 

Kai crossed his arms as he stared at the computer, patiently waiting for the results to flood on the screen. You sat there, quietly as possible with your hands folded on your lap before Kai turned to you. He looked like he was hesitant to open his mouth, but he opened it anyway. 

"Do you want to know where I was the last two weeks?" 

"If it has to do with Eri, I don't want to hear it."

Your tone came out fast and hard, you bit your lip as soon as your mouth closed. You needed to control your tongue. You were supposed to convince him you loved him, not make him angry. Love him, don't agitate him. You weren't sure what he was thinking, what he was feeling. He had an undecipherable expression on his face, still, you tried to deescalate it. 

"I love you, but she's my sister."

"I wasn't away on business. I wanted time away from you, time to think to myself. Time to think about us."

The computer behind Kai chimed, he swiveled around in his chair and rolled over to the computer which now held his blood result transcripts. Your chest bubbled at the sight of him going through his test. It bubbled both with nervousness and a tickled feeling. Seeing him like that, in such a setting brought back those feelings from earlier. He could've ended up so different, had he not been dragged into a life of criminality. 

Your grandfather saved Kai, he took him in when no one else would. He fed him and housed him, he had to join the yakuza as a result. You partially couldn't help but resent your grandfather for that. He could've pushed Kai to be something better. He could've pushed Kai to use his quirk for something better, he would've excelled as a doctor. Maybe you would've finished your psychology degree, and maybe you would've met like that in a different setting. You would've had a better, more normal relationship. 

Yet there was no use thinking about this. It wasn't Kai. It wasn't who he chose to be, nor would he ever be that. He was Overhaul, the leader of the yakuza. You shouldn't dwell on it, not when you'd already chosen to betray him by sneaking around with Dabi.

Kai's words also left you with a bubbling nervous feeling. What did he need to think about? What was there to think about pertaining to your relationship? You watched him with careful eyes, analyzing his every move as you tried to say something. Was he sick of your disobedience? You'd given him a hassle as of late before he took off. Between sneaking off to see Eri then taking the blame for Dabi's action, and overall just giving him lip, you were sure he'd finally gotten fed up. You took in a shaky breath and silently prayed he wasn't going to do anything sudden and drastic to you or Eri. You weren't sure whether he would hurt her to get to you, she was his precious merchandise, but she was still your sister.

"Why'd you need to think about us?"

"It's not important."

You wanted to huff and cross your arms, but that would just be showing Kai what a defiant attitude you held when it came to him. You tried to calm your breathing as you watched Kai read his transcripts. His body was tensed up, worried he was infectious with some disease, and anxious to see his results. Perhaps the reason he hadn't divulged you in a conversation was that his mind was preoccupied with his test results. He got so overworked with things in this manner, of course, he didn't want to indulge you with a conversation. 

You shouldn't work yourself up over something you don't know the truth about. For all you knew, it was something stupid and minor. For all you knew, this was another attempt at making you submit yourself over to him. Another manipulative tactic that he had hidden up his sleeve. 

"I'm clean. There's nothing in my blood."

"Good."

"Even though I'm clean I still want you to get tested."

Kai pulled out more syringes, tubes, and needles from the same drawer. He neatly set them on a tray, then he pulled out a tourniquet and a clean pair of gloves. He rolled the tray over to the patient chair you were sat in then he pulled the clean gloves down on his hands swiftly, a sharp sound resounding in the room as it snapped against his wrist.

"Put your arm out for me."

You put your arm out immediately to show your obedience to him, but your other hand was grasping a tight hold onto as much excess material from your pant leg as you could. You watched cautiously as Kai rolled up your arm sleeve and then proceed to rip open an alcohol wipe. He grabbed onto your arm and lightly pulled it open further, giving him better access to your arms midsection. He wiped your arm, rubbing the wipe in a meticulous motion, careful not to go over a spot he already wiped. He was gentle and careful, he did it in such a manner he hadn't treated you with in such a long time. 

Kai took the wipe and discarded it in a small metal bowl on the table, then he proceeded to grab the needles and syringes. He pulled them all out of their packaging before attaching the correct pieces together, then he gripped your arm and carefully, yet firmly pressed his finger down in various spots, looking for the right vein. Once he located it he pressed the tip of the needle to it. 

You felt your heart stop beating as the needles cold metal made light contact with your skin, but it was barely a graze. It wasn't even in yet, you felt stupid really. Kai had inflicted such pain, yet you were afraid of a tiny one-inch needle.

"This is going to pinch you, alright?"

You gave Kai a little nod. It was almost like he noticed your fear and uncomfortablility. He never cared before, and he wouldn't have hesitated just to push it in without giving you a forewarning. You were truly grateful. You closed your eyes as the needle went in and a sharp pinching feeling went through your skin like Kai had said. You kept your eyes closed as you waited for the tubes to fill up. You didn't open your eyes again until you felt Kai pressing a bandaid against your skin tenderly. 

"All done."

Kai took the blood vials and walked them over to the machine. He took his out and replaced them with yours, then he walked his blood over to the biowaste can as the machine sucked your blood vials in and began to run the blood test. You looked down at the bandaid as you waited for your blood results. It was pink. You didn't know they made pink band-aids, let alone that the Shie Hassaikai would buy them. 

"I bought them for Eri. Figured if she's going to be littered in bandages, she might as well have kid ones." 

Noticing your prolonged stare at the bandage, Kai answered the question you didn't ask. You didn't want to smile for him, at least not genuinely, but the words elicited a small but undeniable smile from your face. You worried about what kind of treatment she received. You knew he was experimenting on her, but you worried— more so not being able to see her—that her quality of life wasn't good. Knowing that Kai was taking care of her, even going as far as getting her girly kid bandages, made you feel more at ease. 

"Thank you. She likes pink." 

He walked over to you and leaned against the chair as he stared at the computer screen. You supposed he was really anxious to see your results, whether he actually cared and valued your life, or was concerned with you infecting everyone else was unknown. You liked to believe he actually valued your life, or else keeping you captive here was for naught. Experimenting on Eri would be for naught. After all, he claimed he was doing this for you. 

"I've been thinking about that night a lot. I want you to genuinely love me, coaxing you into it at such an extremity wasn't how I should've gone about it."

The computer chimed, signifying your blood results were done. Kai sat back down in the wheelchair and rolled over to look at your test results. You were glad for the distraction from your conversation. He was referring to that night he took his need for you to love him one step further. The night he coaxed you into being his 'good girl'. He seemed like he was regretting it and he was being gentle with you, but you weren't ready to forgive him, and you weren't sure you would ever forgive him. 

You stared at the back of Kai's head as he silently read your test results. Maybe if he hadn't been experimenting on your sister, you might consider forgiving him. Maybe if he hadn't already previously hurt you, you would consider forgiving him. But you just couldn't. He hurt you too much, you couldn't possibly consider forgiving him. You would just have to fake it. Fake forgiveness, fake your love until Dabi could get you out. 

"Odd."

"What? Is there something wrong with my blood?"

You had thought that your blood would've been perfectly normal and healthy. It wasn't like you had been going anywhere outside, of course someone in the Shie Hassaikai could've given you something. If Kai thought there was something odd with your results, then you should be worried. 

"Your blood volume is thicker than average for females your age and size. Your platelets are low, and your white blood cells are high. I'm going to have the machine run a deeper search on your blood." 

"Is it bad if my white blood cells are high and platelets are low?"

Kai turned around to look at you. He let out a light chuckle as he ran a hand through his hair, he was trying to remain calm, but you could hear the stress behind the chuckle. 

"Yes, in some cases it's dangerous. There shouldn't be so many white blood cells considering you haven't been injured as of recent and platelets are responsible for your blood clotting. In other words, take away your platelets then get cut and you'll bleed out."

The computer chimed again and Kai swiveled back around to check the deeper results. You anxiously waited for him to read the results, he was starting to get you worked up and you began to think the worst. Finally, he stood up and walked over to you with a tight smile on his face. 

"You're completely fine and healthy. I checked your hematocrit and HCG levels, you're just pregnant" 

"Pregnant."

You say the words in disbelief. You couldn't be pregnant. You couldn't be. You were too young, and you slept with Kai once. But then there was Dabi. Your stomach quaked at the realization that you had been not so careful with either of your partners. You had been so picky with your eating, overly hungry at times, peckish at others. Horny one minute, sad the next. This wasn't ideal. You were trying to escape this place, not up your security. 

"Yes. Your platelets go down during pregnancy, and your blood volume rises to create better blood flow to your uterus for your child."

Kai took his gloves off and placed his hand on your stomach gently. He looked genuinely happy. Of course, he was. He claimed to love you, and he just said he wanted you to genuinely love him. What else would tie you to him even more besides a child. What else would make you his more than bearing his children? 

"I'm with child."

You say the words again but in different phrasing. You were still in a slight shock. A baby was growing inside you. In the coming months, your stomach would begin to protrude, making space for an infant. You would be achy, you would hormonal and hungry all the time. 

"You're with child. You've got a baby growing in there. Our baby."

[chrisemrysfics]

After my post on Wangxian and unconditional love, among other things, I realized I forgot all about a source of unconditional love for Wei Wuxian: the Wen siblings and remnants.

Here is the thing: first, Wei Wuxian had a few years with his parents, he barely has memories, yet he remember the sense of happiness, joy, and the love of his parents, both for each other, and for him.

Then, he lose them, and faces the streets. And then he’s picked by Jiang Fengmian, and brought “home”... and right away there’s an issue with Jiang Cheng and puppies. Yu Ziyuan also shows displeasure.

Jiang Yanli shows care for him, while Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian make peace, however, from here on, Wei Wuxian is under constant disapproval by Yu Ziyuan.

And I believe Wei Wuxian is not blind to Jiang Cheng being hurt by what his mother says, and the apparent not-care his father shows. But he says it and I believe he’s right: Jiang Fengmian is lenient toward Wei Wuxian because Wei Wuxian is not his son. What appears as indulgence, is simply that he doesn’t care all that much past what Wei Wuxian is bringing to the clan.

He doesn’t seek his safety: he could have chosen to make Wei Wuxian stay to Lotus Pier rather than let him go to Nightless City, but he didn’t. He even said “he can choose”, which make him wash his hands of responsibility and make Wei Wuxian own up to his own fate. And his last words to me nailed the confirmation: he doesn’t give any word of care, he only echo what Yu Ziyuan said: protect my children.

Wei Wuxian grew up knowing he’ll be scorned by Yu Ziyuan regardless of whether or not he’s truly at fault, and knowing Jiang Fengmian doesn’t really care, as long as he’s around, he let him do what we want, knowing Wei Wuxian is loyal to the Jiang and to his children. Jiang Cheng express it awkwardly, but his attempts at “taming” Wei Wuxian “hero complex” is that he recognizes no one else is trying to stop him from harming himself (including his father). However, because Jiang Cheng let himself be influenced, he doesn’t show unconditional love, Wei Wuxian knows he cares, but Wei Wuxian also recognize Jiang Cheng doesn’t understand him.

This leave only Jiang Yanli that he can be himself with. We understand he feels safe with her, to show his true self, that he know he’ll be love without condition, because it is to her, and only her, he asked such a thing as “why does someone like someone else”. And that’s why his hesitancy to tell her anything about the three months disappearance is so heart-breaking, and she can be seen being worried still: for the first time, he doesn’t tell her.

And this shows how he views himself. For the first time, he thinks there is finally something that might be the one think Jiang Yanli won’t accept. That he’s become something that finally is where she draws the line. No one else before her truly showed any unconditional love, and he’s terrified what will happen if he let her see who he has become.

And it explain why he push away Lan Wangji: he knows Lan Wangji values are righteous, to Wei Wuxian, if Lan Wangji disapprove of him, it means he’s something that cannot approved of. Which then reinforce the idea that he cannot show Jiang Yanli what he’s become.

In the end, he’s traumatized, and scared to be rejected by the two people he cared for the most. He knew he felt pulled to Lan Wangji, he cared for him, he knew in his heart he valued him, just like he values Jiang Yanli. If he allowed himself to be vulnerable, and he got rejected, it would break him. So he didn’t take the risk.

All of that to arrive to the Wen siblings.

And the important thing I realized is that it never was a question of owing each other anything.

Wei Wuxian met Wen Ning, and showed kindness to him, which is pretty clear Wen Ning rarely, if ever, received, outside of his sister and the branch of their family. Its enough for Wen Ning to want to come when he hears about Lotus Pier, and willing to help them.

When Wen Qing enters the scene, she knows the risks, but there is a vital factor that made her decide to let them stay hidden and recover: her brother. Yes, she is a healer, however, it was risky to allow this, except, this was someone who inspired loyalty in her brother, someone who treated her brother well. Someone with a brother that was hurt.

Then, Wei Wuxian asks her to do the surgery, and she refuses. She knows what this will mean, and the thing is, I do end up thinking he’s not blind to how he’s been treated. He had to develop his own moral compass because either he’s scorned no matter if he’s at fault or not, or he’s “indulged”, or he’s not understood. He cares, and he sees himself as owing everything to the Jiang, but I feel like he knows how it can sound like. Wen Qing refuses because she isn’t certain he truly realize what he is asking, or she questions how willing he is, past any conditioning. But he insists, and she sees something that let her know that he does know what he is asking for.

Ultimately, Wei Wuxian is still misunderstood when people think his choice is because he’s been conditioned: yes, of course, we can understand someone shouldn’t have to sacrifice himself, that they shouldn’t have to “pay back” in such a manner... except no one asked. No one forced him to do this. He looked at his brother, and decided he didn’t want to see him like this. Wen Qing refusing meant he had the occasion to rethink his choice. He still chose.

That’s why they also speak of not owing anything to each other: Wen Qing chose to help them, and Wei Wuxian chose to go through the transplant. They understand the risks they took for each other, they had each other life in the other hands (if WWX and JC are seen, its death for WQ, if WQ fails, its death for WWX).

And that’s why they don’t seek each other, they owe nothing to each other, understand where they stand in the war, and trust each other has continued to follow the path of their heart. Wen Qing didn’t betray her values as a healer, nor did Wei Wuxian betray his own values.

However, Wen Qing ended up desperate, and there was only one person she knew had values she could trust: Wei Wuxian. She knows what she is asking out of him, but just like she didn’t leave Wei Wuxian and his brother to their own fate, Wei Wuxian would not leave her and her brother to their own fate. Just like he chose for the transplant, she knew Wei Wuxian would choose what is true to his heart.

And so they end up in Burial Mounds, Wei Wuxian once more doing a sacrifice, yet it is done out of his own choice, the refusal to betray his own values (be it that it was the care for his brother back then, or the protection of innocent now). And here is the thing: Wen Qing knows about Wei Wuxian’s core.

And the Wen Remnants are well placed to fear him, distrust him, be unkind to him, but they don’t. More than that, they welcome him as family. He becomes family to them, and they become family to him. No one judges him, they all see him, and none of them disapprove of him, and they care for him.

To me, Wei Wuxian only ever had two things that were truly his: his demonic cultivation, and the Wen Remnants as family.

He says it himself: he owes spiritual cultivation to the Jiang. But demonic cultivation? He chose to not die, to resist, to survive, to return, to continue following his own values, and developed his own tools for it. He saw the scorn of others, but knew his heart, and stayed true to it. Everything “bad” about him was his trauma, not his cultivation (proven as to how he is, after his death and return).

And the Wen Remnants, they became his family. The Jiang siblings are his family of adoption, but the Wens were the family he, himself, adopted. They were to him what the Jiang Clan was to JC: the people he would protect, the one he placed first.

If JC and/or JYL had no one else to turn to, WWX would have protected them too. But JC had a whole sect, and JYL was part of it. More than that, the best protection was to distance himself, the Wens already had a tainted reputation, like his own, but not his siblings (and same for LWJ). He couldn’t take that risk.

And the strength of his heart and values show when everything goes extremely bad: he accidentally kills JZX, he doesn’t manage to protect/save the Wen Siblings, and still he doesn’t outright slaughter everyone, he attacks after being provoked. He also stop when JYL show up, but because someone else tried to kill him, he sees her protect him and die to protect him... just like the Wen Siblings.

And he just effectively lost the last, and first, sibling who has loved him unconditionally. The Wen Siblings knew all about his lost core, while JYL knew about him in many ways. Loosing all three of them, effectively meant he lost the three people who knew him best and loved him without condition.

Is it so surprising that his psyche broke there? He went mad with grief, the trauma catching up to him. Then he finds himself conscious again, away from Nightless City, not knowing there is still one person who loves him.

And what does he decide to do? Break the seal. Now, I realized a thing: he didn’t die from breaking the first half. The accounts are confusing on purpose, but he himself is seen thinking about how he broke half of it, but didn’t have time to break the second before the Siege happened.

This means he knows how to do it without dying... or he was already half dead.

Then he looses the Wen Remnants, he’s Sieged by the whole cultivation world, including his own brother. There’s no Lan Wangji in sight, leaving him uncertain whether he doesn’t deserve to die in Lan Wangji eyes, or if he’s not even worthy of Lan Wangji being present. Or if its a last kindness, to not be part of the people who attack him.

But Wei Wuxian has lost everything, everyone, his own brother is here with hate and grief in his eyes, Wei Wuxian knows there is greed behind the Siege, and so he finishes what he started: he destroys the seal.

And to this day, I am still convinced there was no backlash, but rather, a last command, either conscious, or one he didn’t realize he made but born of how he was feeling.

However, because he never returned as a vengeful ghost, this make me consider that, for all his death was violent, he died with a peaceful heart.

He knew his own heart and values, and he followed them to his last breath. He knew the greed and blindness of the cultivation world, but what would he do? Kill them all? Be what they claimed he was? No. And then, to him, he caused the deaths of people he never wanted to: JZX and JYL. To someone who gave his core because he considered he owed it to the Jiang, what will he give, if he consider he owed to repay the deaths he caused?

He chose, died with peace in his heart because he followed it to his last breath.

And I wonder if the corpses “eating him” weren’t eating the resentment within him. That’s a whole other headcanon to develop.

But yes, all of this to say: the Wen Remnants were WWX family, the Wen Siblings became his siblings, and WWX remained true to his heart up until the end.

That’s why he didn’t return as a vengeful ghost, and why he was calm and level-headed when he returned. It also strongly imply his temper and so-called “lack of control” were due to his trauma. Yet, this just goes to show how strong willed he is, to both survive the Burial Mounds, and never loose himself, and show that he is truly the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, because he never lost himself through it, and still mastered it.

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

Let Us Feel, Not Understand

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark (Starker) Rating: Mature (M) Word Count: 4.5k Notes: This came from the prompt ‘“ this room’s so hot ” - forced marriage a/o starker.’ Oh, nonnie - you must have been reading my mind. I had a good time with this one, hope you enjoy it!  Warnings: NSFW things - knotting, bonding marks. Summary:

Peter never imagined Ben and May would sell his mating contract to the highest bidder - yet, there he was 18 and on the verge of marrying a man he’s never met.

Or: Tony strikes a deal to appease the board of SI and Peter reaps the benefits.

do the thing - send in all the prompts.

When it first happened, Peter didn’t think too much about presenting as an omega. He paid attention enough in sex-ed to understand the dynamics of his physiology – heats every 3 months until mated and then every 6 months after that. Of course, experiencing his first heat wasn’t anything to write home about, but he got through it.

Getting to the age he was old enough to get on suppressants reduced the insatiability and lessened the want for an alpha knot – which meant he got to go about his life with much clearer of a head. Without the debilitating haze, Peter found himself able to focus and actually get back to the academic excellence that he upheld for most of his life. It felt good to graduate high school and see a light at the end of the tunnel.

Funny how quickly that light got snatched away from him.

The day after he turned 18, Peter found May sitting on the couch, a worried look on her face. Most of the time, he tried not to worry too much about May’s shift in moods, but he could smell the worry in the air – his aunt went on suppressants 10 years ago and didn’t often smell like anything, especially apprehension. He stopped dead in his tracks then, the scent too much for his biology to ignore.

“What’s up, May? You’re scenting up the place with something sour and it’s getting to be a little nauseating,” Peter muttered, his eyes widening when the smell got worse instead of better. Trying to disguise the move to his nose, Peter wafted his hand to try and clear up the air right in front of him. “Now you’re really worrying me.”

A crinkle brought his eyes to May’s hands that were clenching around a piece of paper – the edges of it folded from her grip. He kept staring at it as the silence filled the room, the swirling combination of awkwardness and the reek of unease making his head spin a little bit. “May – what the fuck is happening?” Peter practically shouted after another few minutes of total quiet. She’d been staring at him, her eyes unblinking.

Like his words were magic, May picked up her arm and shoved the paper at him, a grimace on her face when it was in his hands. It took him a second to open it, his eyes still trained on his aunt in front of him – her behavior was weirder than it’d ever been; and that was saying something. Sucking in a breath, Peter unwrinkled the paper – his stomach dropping the second he saw the words on the top of the paper. He never in his life thought he’d be holding his future in his hands.

“A mating contract, May?” Peter questioned, the younger man not even bothering to see who his family promised him to all of those years ago. The date on the bottom said 2010 – which meant May had more than 9 years to tell him how easily the rest of his life was decided for him. Since presenting as an omega, Peter felt the first wash of shame overcome him.

May got up from the couch like she was going to try and pull him into a hug – Peter subconsciously took a step back and watched as a look of resignation washed over her face. In that moment, Peter didn’t want anything to do with her – how could he when he knew how easily they gave up his ability to choose? “You have to understand, Pete – “

Cutting in immediately, Peter felt his temperature flaring up before he could stop himself. “I have to understand? That seems like a pretty screwed up thing to say – I just found out that you gave my ability to do what I want away, May. I think understanding is an emotion for a later date.” Peter’s voice was loud by the time he stopped speaking, his nostrils flaring a bit. He could smell himself; the unfamiliar scent of his anger not a nice one.

The words seemed to cut her down even more, May looked taken aback – his aunt startled by his outbreak. In all of his time living with her, he kept himself even keeled. There were enough worries in their lives, he didn’t need to compound them with typical teenage bull shit. Yet, he almost regretted not giving her a hard time – not making waves when he could. Briefly, he wondered what his life would have been like, if he knew that 18 would be where the freedom stopped.

“I never thought you would present as an omega. It seemed like a good gamble at the time. We were struggling – trying to make all of the ends meet just to keep the rent in the mail and food on the table. The alpha we made the deal with just needed paperwork to get people off of his back – I never…” May trailed off then – her face was red from unshed tears and embarrassment.

A part of him appreciated the fact that she was suffering a little bit – it was a small part, but in existence, nonetheless.

Peter shook his head and started to turn away, all of the things he thought he knew about his aunt rushing from his mind, each one replaced with this instant – the memory of her helpless face trying to negotiate a way out of feeling guilty for taking his choices away.

Later, when he felt a little better about the situation and didn’t want to yell in her face, Peter felt guilty for even allowing such a thought to cross his mind – but in that instant, it felt right, appropriate; way more than she deserved.

----

Peter didn’t get to meet his new mate until the day before the wedding – May stuffed him into a suit and made sure he looked good before walking into the admittedly big house. He figured the place would be stuffy on the inside, but it was tastefully decorated and radiated a sort of class that Peter didn’t know existed. The idea of being rich and subtle about it never crossed his mind before – for the first time since finding out about this mating thing, something positive settled in his gut. Maybe the guy his family promised him to wouldn’t be so bad.

They were ushered into a formal dining room that was set with a quant table. There were only a few place settings at the table, that fact immediately pulling some of the pressure from Peter’s chest – the last thing he wanted was to be forced around a bunch of people he didn’t know and probably wouldn’t be getting acquainted with any time soon. Jarvis, as he introduced himself, pulled out May’s chair and then did the same for him, the man meeting his glance with a firm smile. “So happy to have you, Master Parker.”

Returning the look, Peter sat down, a sigh leaving his lips. “Thanks, Jarvis,” he replied as he settled into the chair to find a comfortable position in it. For some reason, Peter immediately felt a little hot under the collar the second they walked through the door – it felt a little like the skin scorching fire that came with a heat; but he hadn’t had one of those in a couple of years.

May tried to catch his eye across the table – her eyebrows were pinched with the same pained look she took to sporting since the day Peter turned his back on her and didn’t simply take the words she wanted to give him at face value. Even now, sitting in his future mate’s dining room, Peter still didn’t feel good enough about forgiving her – despite the fact that things were happening regardless of whether he wanted them to or not, he felt justified in his decision to keep his shoulder a little icy towards her.

Before she could track him with her eyes some more, the door at the opposite side of the room opened. Peter turned his head to catch the first glimpse of his future alpha and almost choked on his own inhale of breath. Though older, the man, Tony Stark, was striking. His hair was streaked with gray and had a heavy dose of it at his temples. Dark facial hair covered his chin and upper lip, the goatee obviously meticulously styled on a constant basis. Thick lips were pulled into a slight smile.

His eyes caught Peter’s and before he knew it, he was standing up – some sort of instinct kicked in and pulled him right out of the chair. Bowing his head slightly, Peter waited to be acknowledged, the warmth he felt earlier starting to surge more consistently across the surface of his skin. At least a part of him was appreciating the object of his forced union.

The fingers under his chin were slightly surprising, Peter’s eyes were on his shoes and then suddenly looking into the most unique pair of eyes – they were dark brown but speckled with lighter hues and bits of hazel flecks. He was met with a curious look and a sudden rush of pheromones. They were rich and syrupy, reminding him of waffles and butter, the slightest hint of bitterness pulling his mind towards the cup of coffee he pressed for himself that very morning. Well, that was different.

“Hi, Peter – I’m Tony Stark,” the alpha started, his hand dropping now that they were making eye contact. “Thanks for joining me today. I thought it might be easier – to not be meeting for the first time a couple of hours before we tie the knot,” Tony used air quotes for the last couple of words, the gesture pulling a reluctant laugh from them both.

Trying to shake the haze from his head, Peter nodded, his brain finally catching back up. “The thought is appreciated. Your house is amazing, Tony – the architecture is so unique,” Peter complimented, his words genuine.

Tony grinned at him, the alpha finding his seat before Peter realized he even moved from his personal space. He took the seat to Peter’s left, the head of the table made obvious by the place settings provided. “I’m happy you like it. I designed it myself.” The smile on his face grew a little wider, the fact that his omega inadvertently gave him a compliment obviously making him preen.

Peter took in a big gulp of air to clear his thoughts and immediately regretted it. The alpha’s scent seemed to be permeating in the air – it was swarming him from the outside in, his skin completely covered in it. Something like that hadn’t ever happened to him before – normally, he didn’t even notice alpha scents; his blockers did a pretty good job. Yet, he felt himself trying to grasp onto a bit of consciousness and not get swept under the deliciousness that wanted to pull him under.

“Are you an architect?” Peter asked in an attempt to stay in the moment. The answer was pretty obvious, they were sitting in the evidence. Rationality, however, did not seem to register – Peter needed to grasp onto something.

Taking the question in stride, Tony went about telling him about the architecture firm he owned and operated and some of the spaces he personally had a hand in. Most of the noticeably new buildings in New York were his pet projects – and if his heady scent wasn’t already pulling him under, Peter didn’t need much more information to be sold on at least getting to know the guy a little better.

The big surprise came when Tony asked what he wanted to do in the future – in all of the scenarios he thought through in his head, none of them included him being able to have a choice in the matter. His restraint was already gone, so he let the truth come tumbling from his mouth. “I want to be a Mechanical Engineer. My high school robotics team went to Nationals every year and the tech booths were amazing. Having my hands on technology in some way is the dream.”

He felt himself color at the words that rushed from his lips – Peter hadn’t told anyone about that, not even May. She looked at him with a mix of curiosity and pride; in all the time he spent conducting academic pursuits, May supported him the most. Midtown Science and Tech happened because she wanted the best for him and his educational potential. Throwing her a smile, Peter promised himself to make things okay between them again. Despite this situation, she did her best to take care of him.

Throughout the rest of the meal, Tony spent most of the time asking Peter questions and responding intelligently, like he actually paid attention every time words came out of his mouth. It was a different experience than what he heard about from friends that went through the same process. Tony seemed to genuinely be interested in Peter and the things he wanted from life. He even mentioned college, which hadn’t been a thought in his mind since finding out about the arrangement.

It didn’t take much convincing to get May in the car so Peter could have a few minutes alone with Tony. They shared a look and he gave her an approving nod – his earlier nervousness seemed unfounded; Tony Stark presented himself as the perfect gentleman.

A soft touch to his hand brought him out of his thoughts – Peter blinked a couple of times to find Tony staring at him. “I never thought this would actually happen. I signed those papers to get the board of my company off my back. They didn’t want an unbonded alpha running things – the contract at least got them to shut up. I’m – “ Tony grabbed Peter’s hand then, his fingers so warm where they wrapped around his own. “I’m going to take care of you as best as I can. Your ambitions interest me, Peter. I can work with that.”

Lips pressed against the back of the hand Tony was holding, the hazy scent of all things delicious swarmed the air again, this time a little more purposeful. He hadn’t been scented before personally but understood what it was ��� what it meant. “You’re not what I expected,” Peter replied through the thick haze of the warmth that’d been settling under the surface of his skin all night.

----

The next morning found Peter aching and much warmer than he felt the day before. It didn’t take a genius to recognize the signs of an impending heat – he remembered the alien that took over his body and wondered what it would be like, going through the misery mated to an alpha he wasn’t completely opposed to. Shaking those thoughts from his head, Peter forced himself to focus.

It took way too long to get into the suit Tony sent him off with the night before. It fit him perfectly, which meant May meddled in his affairs once again. Peter couldn’t bring himself to be mad about it, though – the maroon look good against the pale template of his skin. Slipping his feet into the shoes, Peter smiled in triumph; just two more hours and he’d be able to get his fucking clothes off and attempt to find some relief from the rapidly increasing scorch within him.

He met Tony at the front of the same house they shared dinner at the night before. Jarvis, who opened the door without Peter having to even knock, directed him to the back of the house. Tony gave them a tour the night before, but it was dark – the vastness of the open windows facing heavy greenery was a sight to see; one he thought he might not hate getting used to in the coming days.

Tony turned around before Peter could announce his presence; his nostrils flared and like that, his soon-to-be-mate knew of his heat that with every second, got stronger and stronger. “You smell – I mean, look incredible, Pete,” Tony muttered, the previous smile on his face turning into something much more primal.

A swift kick of pheromones scented the air and made the pit of Peter’s stomach quiver. It was getting increasingly hard to not drop to his knees and beg for Tony’s knot. He could feel a bit of slick starting to collect at his rim, the moisture there a little uncomfortable in the well-fitting suit. Peter watched Tony take in a deep breath, the delectable brown in his eyes quickly getting overtaken by the rapid dilation of his pupil.

“Uh – Happy and May are going to stand in as the witnesses. I thought Jarvis could do the ceremony,” Tony said, the man talking just to distract them both from the tantalizing tangle of their scents in the air. To Peter and the part of his biology that appreciated the warmth of Tony’s alpha presence, the smell surrounding him felt a little like coming home.

The reality of the situation hit him when he was standing in front of Jarvis on the small balcony that the kitchen opened up to – the view was absolutely stunning, and Peter couldn’t wait to explore it at a later date. In that specific moment, he was nervously clenching his hand in Tony’s, the fact that he was moments away from both being married and going into full blown heat not lost on him. Everyone knew it, too – he could see both May and Happy trying their hardest not to breathe deeply or stare at the pre-mating ritual happening between him and Tony.

By the time the ring was on his finger and the marriage license was signed by all the necessary people, Peter was already starting to claw at the collar surrounding his neck. May gave him a quick kiss on his cheek and mumbled congratulations before making a hasty exist. Happy followed not long after, a certain relief flooding Peter now that there was only one Alpha scent in the room.

Peter kicked off the shoes he didn’t bother wearing any socks with and turned towards Tony. “I’m not going to be coherent for much longer. I really like orange Gatorade and mint chocolate chip ice cream when I’m not out of my mind with need. If you don’t mind,” he started to undo the buttons on his jacket while he spoke, everything about the clothes on him now driving him absolutely insane. “This room’s so hot.”

There were a few mumbled words that Peter didn’t hear, he mindlessly ripped at the jacket on his arms and pulled the maroon shirt over his head. He wandered down the hall towards what he assumed were bedrooms – the other side of the house was filled with open space and not much more.

A sigh of relief left his lips when warm hands pressed themselves against the long flank of his side. “Keep going straight. The bedroom is at the end of the hall,” Tony said, his voice sounding twice as loud as usual.

“Tony, I need – “ Peter started, his brain stopping halfway through the transition from sensory to motor stimulus. His skin started to prickle and like that, all of the control he’d been trying to cling to was quickly out the window.

It had never been like this before – so all consuming.

The air around him changed once again when they got into the bedroom. If he were in his right mind, he might have realized that his heat triggered Tony’s rut and because of that, his body was responding accordingly. In that moment, all Peter knew was the hot tickle under his skin and the rapidly acquiring slick in the now ruined boxer briefs.

Tony didn’t say anything for a while, his fingers worked meticulously to get them both undressed. The movement of his hands was efficient where Peter would’ve been sloppy and uncoordinated – every slip of Tony’s fingers across his newly exposed skin made the thoughts in his head more fleeting, his alpha’s touch was the only thing that registered.

“Alpha, please,” Peter mumbled, a long moan leaving his lips when the cool sheets hit his over-warm back. It didn’t take long for them to reach his body temperature, though – it was warm everywhere and only one thing would give him minimal relief; the knot he could see just the tiniest hint of.

Each word seemed to push Tony a little closer to finally losing control. His cock visibly throbbed, the size of it doubling and then tripling right in front of Peter’s eyes. His mouth watered with the need to have it between his lips, the muscles of his entrance fluttered at the thought of finally being stretched to a capacity that didn’t seem possible.

Hands that were slowly starting to become recognizable framed his face, the contact forcing him to look up, the lust blown eyes of his alpha staring down at him in a way that made more slick start to well at his entrance. A second later, their lips were pressed together in a hot kiss, Peter tilting his head and shamelessly moaning when the caress deepened, and his mouth was flooded with Tony’s taste.

It didn’t even register that it was their first kiss – it felt so right in that moment that Peter could’ve easily been convinced they’d been doing it his entire life. When Tony pulled back, Peter tried to cling to him, his legs like vices around the alpha’s hips. Tony let his lips caress the shell of Peter’s ear – “Don’t worry. I’m going to take care of you. I smelt the start of your heat yesterday. You immediately reacted to me and I knew – you’re meant to be mine.” Sharp teeth bit just below his ear as the words washed over him.

“I’m going to knot you, my sweet omega – and then I’m going to dig my teeth into your neck and pull every ounce of pheromone from you before mating you. I want your sweet smell all over me, all over this room.” Tony enunciated his words by rolling his hips down into Peter’s – the slick hardness of his cock pulling a shout from the younger man.

Coherency wasn’t a thing, anymore, he felt himself moving restlessly, his hard cock so uncomfortable against his stomach – his ass felt so empty and the pit of his stomach that craved the solid bump and grind of a cock head against it absolutely ached. “Fuck, please I need that. Need you. Alpha.” The words were scattered, broken up by breathy moans and involuntary moans up into the warm solidness that was Tony’s weight against him.

All of the sudden, his front was pressed down against the mattress, the sheets wet from the slick that got worse as the seconds passed. He heard Tony suck in a deep breath as he spread his legs and presented himself. “Take me – knot me,” Peter babbled incoherently, his hips thrusting back in hopes of friction, in desperation of being filled to the brim.

A tongue was not what he expected – at the same time, however, he wasn’t disappointed. Peter started to grind himself back against Tony’s skilled mouth, the man’s hands holding his ass cheeks apart, the scruff of his beard rubbing against his sensitive cheeks with every pass of his mouth. Peter knew he didn’t need much prep, the natural lubricant that was absurdly leaking from his loose hole would guide the way. Tony didn’t seem to be in any hurry, though – the languorous licks and swipes of his tongue spoke of enjoyment, not necessity.

Fingers joined Tony’s tongue after a while – Peter was so strung out, he couldn’t tell how much time passed; or if any had gone by at all. Tony’s fingers were wide, the thickness of him nice against the rim of his achy hole. He clenched down on them in a needy attempt to pull them in further, to have the tips of them press against his prostate with every stroke in the scandalous way he craved.

Finally, Peter felt Tony pull his fingers out and eagerly replace them with his cock head. Peter pushed back and let the tip breach him – the stretch already tugging a groan from him. “Fuckkk!” Peter shouted as Tony really started to fill him. He didn’t stop until the flats of his hips were butted up against Peter’s ass cheeks. The full feeling made him smile – the monster within him soothed for the time being.

“You’re so tight. My knot is going to stretch you wide. So wide, Pete,” Tony remarked, his tone deep, each word sounding breathy and choked out.  

Groaning, Peter flatted his hips against the bed and let the rhythmic pull and snap of Tony’s hips take him out of the blaze of his heat to a place that was a different kind of consuming. His first orgasm hit the instant the tip of Tony’s cock brushed against his prostate – and then again a couple strokes against it later. Each clench of his ass around Tony’s cock made the knot at the base of his cock swell a little bit more.

With each stroke, Peter could feel it bump against his rim – his entire body aching for it. “Ah – I’m going to knot you, Pete. Fuck – I’m so close.”

The words sounded like they were right next to his ear, each panted out breath seemingly caressing the side of his neck. Turning a little, Peter was slightly surprised to see Tony’s face so close to his own. The rush of his scent sent another wave of arousal through him – the eye contact between them ruined by a particularly hard drill against his sweet spot. “Knot me. Knot me, Alpha. Tony.”

He tilted his head to the side and drop his hips a little more. The spread of his thighs gave Tony a bit more room to work with, the man’s knot getting further inside of him with each stroke now. It didn’t take but another handful of them before Tony was grunting into his ear and ripping a hole in his neck, his scent gland exploding on contact.

A scream left his mouth before Peter lost consciousness – his entire body finally succumbing to the weighted drag of Tony and the tantalizing affect he had on him.

Peter broke through the haze what felt like days later – though the still drying cum on his chest and Tony’s cock still buried inside of him spoke of mere moments, not hours. Tony had adjusted them so that they were on their sides, the older man’s arm wrapped tightly around his waist.

There wouldn’t be much time between this moment and the next mindless haze, so Peter reveled in it – his new mate held him so closely and the throb on his neck felt particularly good. As if thinking the same thing, Tony nuzzled his nose into the mark, his tongue flashing out every now and again to attempt to soothe the ache.

Softly, Peter heard him whispered a reverent “my omega” against his neck – the sweet words sending chills down his spine.

[omg-imagine]

⊱ Forget Me Not (4/15) ⊰

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Reader

Summary: After you wake up from a coma and realize that your memories from the last five years have been erased, Keanu works to bring back what you have lost.

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: Angst, migraines

A/N: Sorry if there are any mistakes. I’m currently running on three hours of sleep today lol. Hope you enjoy!

Part 3

Home was supposed to be a place where one felt the most at peace. It was supposed to be filled with warmth and love, laughter and joy. Home was a place where you could be yourselves without judgment and where memories could be made to look back upon in the future, perhaps with a tear or a smile.

Keanu could look at any room inside the house, and recall almost everything that has happened in there. The talks and the fights. The kisses and the sex. The pranks and the tender moments. Like a movie, a memory would play in his head, reminding him of what home meant, what home truly was.

And to Keanu, home was you.

But ever since the night of your accident, home didn’t feel like home anymore. It was different, both in a physical and emotional sense. The house became a reflection of Keanu’s crumbling state of mind during those three agonizingly long weeks. It had become disarrayed the moment you had walked out of the front door, lacking the sense of comfort it usually had. Barren and cold, the house was also filled with the most unbearable silence, nearly deafening.

Keanu hated being there when all it did was remind him of you at happier times. He felt suffocated by the four walls surrounding him. Walls, which, aside from him, currently held secrets of the past. It knew every hurtful word and action that you had now forgotten. Keanu wasn’t sure whether or not he should be relieved that the walls couldn’t talk. Because if they did, he wouldn’t be ready for you to come home.

It would only tell you the truth. A painful truth that Keanu still had not shared.

For the last two days, Keanu did his best to tidy up around the house, getting it ready and clean in time for your return. He was running a bit late due to folding the laundry, but he wanted to make sure that the place was immaculate.

The floors had been vacuumed meticulously, leaving the hardwood gleaming under the recessed lights. The dishes were all washed and stored away. Every surface was dusted, every pillow was fluffed. Keanu had even ordered a fresh bouquet of your favorite flowers as a surprise and had them displayed in a vase on the coffee table.

Looking around one last time, Keanu realized how more alive the house seemed to be, and he couldn’t help but smile a little at the sight of it.

Before leaving to pick you up from the hospital, Keanu quickly checked himself in front of the mirror, also wanting to look presentable for your homecoming. He had trimmed both his beard and his hair yesterday, the dark circles under his eyes were also beginning to brighten up. He was looking more like his usual self now than in the past weeks. It was as if seeing you awake and wanting to stay in Los Angeles with him brought life back to Keanu again.

As Keanu drove to the hospital, scenes from that late stormy evening invaded him. He could never forget the hurt in your eyes, the quivering of your lip as you stared at him in utter shock and disappointment. At times, he could still hear the sound of the front door slamming shut when you left the house, leaving him behind. Then, there was the immense fear and lack of certainty flooding his mind as he rushed to the emergency room after receiving the call.

He had never been so scared and so angry before, and if there was one memory Keanu wanted to forget, it would surely be of this.

Since you woke up, you had never really asked about the events of that night. You only knew bits and pieces from your parents, but not the entire story. There would come a time that you would be so inclined to learn the details of it, and Keanu dreaded for that day to come. He had almost lost you, and if you found out exactly what had happened, he might lose you forever.

And that was the reason why Keanu couldn’t tell you the truth just yet. He was afraid to lose you, despite believing that he didn’t deserve a second chance. Truth be told, he didn’t come back to the hospital after you woke up because he was at war with his own conscience. A part of him wanted to tell you everything and deal with the consequences. But there’s the other part of him that couldn’t handle the thought of letting you go. He wanted to make things right again, undo the damage that he had caused even though the guilt still crept up on him.

One day he would tell you, Keanu promised, but just not today nor the next. For now, he’s focused on bringing back all of the best memories, the ones he knew you both cherished the most.

Parking his car near the entrance, Keanu cursed under his breath when he saw five men lingering by the door with cameras in their hands, acting nonchalantly. He didn’t care that the paparazzi would take pictures of him dashing inside. However, he was more worried about you when it came time to walk out of the hospital. You hadn’t been exposed to this ugly side of fame, and something like this would feel overwhelming.

Putting on his shades, as soon as Keanu got out of his vehicle, he heard the familiar camera shutters around him. He hung his head low as he headed towards the front of the building at a brisk pace, ignoring the overlapping questions that were being shouted at him.

How’s Y/N doing, Keanu?

Keanu, are you still doing that thriller movie later this summer?

Can you update us on Y/N’s condition?

How do you feel about this situation, Keanu? This must be hard on you.

Why was Y/N out driving during that storm?

We thought you and Y/N broke up months ago. Did you two reconcile?

It was only until when Keanu reached the elevator and stepped inside did he finally experience some quietness. Pushing his shades up onto his head, he then pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling a deep sigh simultaneously.

It was moments such as this when he would regret being a public figure. He was extremely grateful for being able to do something that he loved, but there were times when he would ask himself if it was all worth it. Keanu valued his and your privacy, and at a delicate situation like this, that’s what you would need.

The elevator doors opened, and swiftly he walked down the hall to where your room was. He stood by the door for a second, peering into the small window and seeing you laughing with your parents inside. It warmed Keanu’s heart noticing how happy you were because it had been a while since he last saw you that way.

You glanced his way by the door, catching his eyes before gesturing for him to come in.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Keanu began, stepping into the room and shutting the door close behind him. “Are you all set to go?”

“I’m super ready. I haven’t felt the sun on my face in literally weeks,” you announced, hopping off the bed with a grin. “Dad actually suggested if we could have a late lunch together before their flight. Is that okay with you, Keanu?”

“Of course. What are you guys in the mood for?”

“Oh, we could go to that amazing Italian place. I think it’s nearby,” Nancy suggested before turning to her husband. “Pete, what was that restaurant called again?”

“La Cucina,” your father answered. “The food there is the best! You and Keanu treat us there whenever we’re in town. I say, let’s keep up with tradition, shall we?”

“Sounds good,” you replied, reaching down for the set of luggage on the floor.

Keanu held his hand out, signaling for you to stop. “Don’t worry about that. You shouldn’t be lifting heavy things so soon. Here, let me help.”

“Son, it’s fine,” Peter swatted Keanu’s hand away and picked up the bags. “Nance, and I will handle them. They’re our bags after all. We decided to bring them now so that we could get dropped off the airport right after eating.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, can I just borrow your car keys so I could load them in the trunk?” Peter asked before inching closer to the actor, speaking in a voice low enough for only Keanu to hear. “I saw the men outside waiting. I’ll bring the car out in the front so that Y/N doesn’t have to go through them.”

Nodding, Keanu took out the keys from his pocket and handed them over to your father. “I drove the SUV today. It’s parked by the edge in the third row.”

“Great!” Peter said before turning to you. “Okay, sweetheart. Your mother and I will bring the car to the entrance. We’ll pick you two up from there so that you don’t have to be on your feet.”

“Dad, I can walk,” you told him with a slight giggle.

“I know you can, but I need you to take it easy for me, Y/N. You promised that, remember?”

Sighing, you pouted at him until eventually, a smile appeared once again. “Okay. I’ll see you and mom downstairs.”

Before your parents left the room with their bags, Peter shot Keanu a look, indicating to him that he needed to warn you about what might happen outside. Now alone in the room, Keanu approached you, a soft smile on his lips, mirroring your own. The sun streaming through the window illuminated your face, the light hitting your eyes in such a way that made them sparkle. You were simply stunning just standing there, your mere beauty causing all thoughts to elude him.

“You’re staring,” you pointed out, and Keanu felt the warmth of his blush as it crawled up his neck. “Is something wrong?”

“Uh, n-no,” he stuttered. “I, um… I’m just excited that you’re finally coming home.”

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as your gaze dropped, a common habit of yours whenever you felt nervous. “Me too. I still have several neurologist appointments in the upcoming weeks, but at least I’m out of here.”

“How are the migraines today?”

Smiling softly, you glanced back up at Keanu. “Haven’t had one since yesterday, actually.”

“That’s good,” Keanu whispered, sitting down on the mattress next to him and watched you do the same. “Your dad’s right. You should be taking it easy for the next couple of days to be safe.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m planning on doing. Just take one day at a time.”

Keanu stayed silent for a brief minute before his mouth opened to speak. “Y/N, I have to warn you that there are going to be cameras outside. They’ve been hounding by the entrance after word got out that you were in an accident.”

The smile on your face fell, your brows furrowing. Without hesitation, Keanu reached out to hold your hand, immediately intertwining his fingers with yours. He ran his thumb along the back of your hand in a soothing motion. He knew that it was something you enjoyed him doing whenever you were starting to feel stressed out. It never failed to bring you comfort, and based on your calm expression, it worked yet again.

“Sorry, I’m still not used to it… dating a celebrity, I mean. Who would have thought I’d fallen for Keanu Reeves?”

“It’s a crazy idea to wrap one’s mind around,” he joked, hoping that it would lighten the mood. “It’s nothing to worry about. We’ll only be out there for a quick few seconds.”

“Okay,” you could only say. “You must be tired of the paparazzi.”

“They’re just trying to make a living,” Keanu reasoned. “Still, it’s quite annoying, but you learned to ignore them over time.”

The two of you shared a small laugh together before getting back up on your feet, ready to leave the hospital for good. As Keanu walked down the corridor beside you, he couldn’t help but feel relieved. He would have never imagined being in this position almost four weeks ago. He was fortunate that the worst thing that could possibly happen didn’t occur, but instead he was left to face a serious challenge. So far, none of your memories have returned. Though he was hopeful that a miracle would happen somewhere along the way, he was reminded of the chance that this might turn out to be permanent.

“Everything’s going to be alright, Keanu,” you assured him as you took the elevator down to the ground floor. “The doctor said that it can take a while, and we have to be patient with this.”

“I know,” he said softly. “We’ll take it one day at a time.”

You smiled when you heard Keanu echo your words from before. Once the elevator stopped, Keanu led you to the exit where he could see both his car parked out front and the group of men waiting nearby. He paused in his tracks and turned to you. “Are you ready?”

“I guess,” you whispered tentatively.

Keanu grabbed the pair of sunglasses on his head and placed them over your eyes. “Better?”

You readjusted them a bit on your face before nodding. “Let’s get out there.”

True to his word, you and Keanu were outside for less than five seconds. The cameras clicked and flashed, taking pictures of the two of you quickly walking out of the hospital until you climbed inside the front passenger side. Meanwhile, Keanu took the driver’s seat while Peter joined Nancy at the back. The windows were darkly tinted, shielding you from the prying eyes of the people outside before the car finally pulled away from the curb.

“Are you okay?” Keanu questioned you as he drove further down the street, the sight of the hospital disappearing from the rearview mirror.

“Yes,” you responded, taking off the shades he had given you. “I’m okay.”

Sighing, Keanu knew you all too well. Even though you had said that you were okay, your eyes told an entirely different story.

This was going to be much more complicated than he had initially thought.

---

“How’s the food?” Keanu asked you once you finished chewing.

“Oh my god, this is delicious,” you praised excitedly, twirling another forkful of pasta on your plate. “Best Italian restaurant, hands down.”

Nancy chuckled from across the table. “I told you it beats Mario’s from back home. Eating here is one of my highlights every time we visit California. Only coming in second after seeing you and Keanu, of course.”

“I remember the last time we came here, I had seven of their breadsticks!” Peter added jovially. “I couldn’t even eat half of my chicken marsala because I was too stuffed by then.”

Laughing, Keanu then turned to his side where you were sitting. “You know, Y/N, the first time I had brought you here, you used those exact words; ‘best Italian restaurant.’”

“Well, I have to thank you for introducing me to this place,” you replied, lifting your hand up to gently squeeze his arm. The touch was electrifying, and judging by the look on your face, you had felt it too.

For a moment, you and Keanu locked eyes, and he swore that it felt like the two of you were the only ones in the room. A smile tugged on his lips, and he could sense his cheeks flushing as you stared at him with bright eyes. Seeing a splotch of red sauce on the corner of your mouth, he gingerly wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. His hand lingered by the side of your face, nearly cupping it when Peter’s voice sounded, breaking the entrancement.

“I’m going to the restroom, be right back,” he spoke before excusing himself from the table. “Go order some dessert!”

Keanu heard you giggle as the heat rose to your face. Hearing it made his heart flutter, and suddenly, he felt like a giddy schoolboy around you. What he was feeling at the very second was similar to when you and he went on your first date. It was a sweet reminder of that special night nearly five years ago, and he could only wish that one day, you would remember it too.

“Shit,” you cursed, your eyes clamping shut, and you used the palm of your hand to cover your face. Your body tensed as your breathing grew heavy, an alarming sight to see.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Keanu inquired before glancing at a worried Nancy.

“My head…” you muttered, the pain too intense for you to elaborate.

“Where’s her pain meds?” Nancy wondered, checking her purse to see if she had them.

Keanu grabbed the car keys from his pocket and slid it across the table. “It’s in her bag. She left it under her seat.”

Quickly, Nancy left the restaurant to retrieve your pills as Keanu did all that he could to bring you some comfort. Shrugging off the jacket he wore, he placed it over your head so that the lights inside the restaurant wouldn’t hurt your eyes. He then called a waiter over, asking for a glass of ice.

“What’s happening?” Peter reappeared shortly after, kneeling down next to you, voice laced in concern.

“Migraine. Nancy’s getting her meds from the car.”

Peter nodded, standing up on his feet as the waiter came back with the ice. Keanu urged you to rest the cold glass against your head in hopes of easing the pain. Luckily, the tables around him were empty, and he wasn’t drawing too much attention to you.

“Shh, Y/N,” Keanu murmured softly, draping an around behind your shoulder with one hand resting on your upper arm. “It’s okay. Keep breathing for me, alright. That’s it, baby. Just relax, you’re going to be fine. You’re strong, you can fight this.”

Minutes later, Nancy returned with your medicine in her hand. Fortunately, the migraine was subsiding, and you swallowed two pills, which soon brought you much-needed relief. Eventually, you were able to sit up straight again. Once you convinced your parents that you were feeling better, they left the restaurant to drive the car up to the front as Keanu paid for everyone’s meals.

“Thanks, Keanu,” you said in a soft tone, your eyes showing that same sparkle from earlier. “I appreciate what you did back there.”

“It’s no problem,” he responded, not realizing that he was still holding you close in his arms. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to take up your space—”

“Don’t worry, no harm was done,” you assured him, reaching up to place your hand above the one on your arm, and you had yet to move away from him. “I’m just looking forward to coming home. I feel pretty exhausted all of a sudden.”

Keanu used his free hand to brush a loose lock of your hair from your face, his lips merely inches away from your delicate ones. He fought back the strong urge to lean down and capture them in a sweet kiss, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable. Again, he was technically still a stranger to you.

“Well, once we drop off your parents at the airport, I’ll take you back home. To our home.”

“I can’t wait.” You smiled softly at him before tilting your head up, pressing a brief kiss on his cheek, which made him feel warm all over.

Has it really been that long?

---

“Have a safe flight, guys,” you hugged both of your parents tightly as Keanu took their luggage out of the trunk, wheeling them to where you three stood in the airport terminal.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Nancy kissed your forehead, wiping the tears that were escaping your eyes. “Aww darling, don’t cry. What’s wrong?”

Shrugging, you then let out a little laugh. “Nothing, it’s just I’ve never been this far away from you and dad before.”

Peter sighed, putting his hands on your cheeks to cradle your face. “You’ll be okay. Remember, we’re one phone call away. If there’s anything that you need, call us. I don’t care if it’s at three in the morning or even if it’s for something you think might be ridiculous. We’re here for you even if we’re thousands of miles away.”

Wrapping your father up in a close embrace, Peter glanced at Keanu, who was standing behind you. He quickly kissed the side of your temple before pulling away. Keanu then watched as Peter leaned in to whisper into your ear, and he couldn’t make out what he was saying. Not long after, Nancy invited him to come over and join them in one last group hug.

“You take good care of our daughter,” Peter stated, lightly tapping on Keanu’s shoulder. “Update us if anything happens.”

Keanu nodded. “I will. You have my word.”

After your parents headed inside, you and Keanu got back into the car and drove out of the terminal. For a while, he noticed you staring out of the open window. You were wearing his sunglasses again, smiling at the way your hair flew into your face as the fresh breeze blew around you. From time to time, he would steal a glance as you bask in the warm sunlight hitting your skin. You seemed so peaceful and so happy as if nothing had happened and things were normal.

“Eyes on the road, Reeves,” you quipped when you caught him staring.

“I can’t help it,” he chuckled, his focus returning to what was in front of him. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

“I truly am,” came your reply, and moments later, you closed the window back up before turning your head to the side. “Hey, I know you’re wondering what my dad was whispering to me back at the airport.”

“You caught that, huh?”

You gave him a nod as you pushed Keanu’s shades on the top of your head. “He was just reminding me that you’re a good man, and you would take care of me. How you acted when we were at the restaurant was clear proof of it. That's why my parents aren’t worried about leaving me here behind.”

Keanu smiled softly at your words. “I’m really glad that you decided to stay with me.”

“Me too,” you returned. “You’re nothing like my last boyfriend, Eric, and I’m starting to see why I fell for you so soon.”

Eric. The sound of his name still made Keanu  feel sick to this day. He would never understand how someone could treat you the way Eric did. But then again, how was Keanu any better for what he had done?

Minutes later, silence filled the car, and when Keanu glanced your way, he saw your eyes drifting close. It had been a long day that’s for sure, and you needed rest. Soon, you had fallen asleep in your seat, leaving Keanu with his wandering thoughts. For now, he cast them aside, choosing to deal with them some other time when he was ready.

With a deep breath, Keanu continued driving down the freeway as the sun began to set over the hills of Los Angeles. Finally, you were on your way home.

Part 5

Tags: @penwieldingdreamer​ @fanficsrusz​ @toomanystoriessolittletime​ @awessomness​ @meetmeinthematinee​ @ringa-starr​ @iworshipkeanureeves​

[shafiron-the-squirrel]

Broken Embrace - Short Story

He was out of breath, but still ran, falling every now and then. He ran like never before. His clothes were covered with mud, but the man did not care. His ankle throbbed, and his elbow had turned a bit red - but this did not stop him. The world turned into a blurred mess, as time did not matter anymore. He ignored the pain in his ankle, and kept going.

He stopped, gasping for life. He steadied his breathing, and turned back to look up at the shop behind him. An old board (the colours were faded), on which were the words - 'Sharma's Gift Shop' loomed right in front of him. The man walked in through the glass doors, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He walked in, and a wave of mixed scents washed over him. He glanced over at the shelves and went over to them, his eyes finally resting on a glass orb, in which a pine cone tree stood, embedded in fake snow (it looked more like salt crystals to him). He picked it up, and got lost in his thoughts, when a man's familiar voice startled him. The man was in his late sixties, his hair a mixture of black, grey and white.                                                                                        "I'm sorry, I didn't hear. What did you say?"                                                           "I asked you, what you were doing looking at that orb for such a long time. If you want it, then come and pay for it, Satyaki."

Satyaki made direct eye contact with the man. His gaze was stern, yet kind, as if he was examining a student who had done bad on his viva but was thinking whether he should break the news to the child or not. He had lines around his eyes, and his spectacles were precisely placed between his head and his ears.                                                                                                                        "Uncle! Even after so many years, you did not forget me - tell me you're never going to change, will you?" He broke into a huge grin, and pulled the old man into an embrace.                                                                                              "How could I ever forget you, you dolt! You still have to pay hundred rupees more!". The old man tried to look angry, but seeing Satyaki terrified made him burst in laughter. Satyaki joined in. When they finally stopped, their stomachs aching from laughter, Satyaki voiced a concern lingering at the back of his mind.                                                                                                                        "Uncle, remember you used to have those 'special' thirty rupee pens? Do you still have them?". Sharma (the old man) looked with disbelief at Satyaki, and then exclaimed,                                                                                            "Of course I do! Those pens made almost a quarter of my profit, and the value of these pens has not changed much over the years." He strolled to the counter, and got a pen that had a white cap and blue body. Satyaki took it, turning it around in his hands.

                                                            •°•°• There was an assignment going on. Satyaki's pen flew across the paper ; he had prepared well for the test. On his right sat a new boy, who had come that month. He had written a few answers, but had paused for thought. Satyaki finished his test and handed over his paper. Others started handing in theirs' too - but the boy next to him made no effort to do so. He looked blankly at the paper, until Satyaki asked him, "Well, are you going to write down that answer or not?". His voice ringing with concern. 

The boy looked over and replied, "Actually, I did not prepare for this test. I repeatedly asked the classmates, but they all said that there was no test and then smirked. So, I don't know these answers, and am stuck on this question."Satyaki's eyes filled with pity (no, he was not crying), and then anger as he glanced at his classmates. All merrily laughing, talking, joking - while this boy sat, not even trying to cheat even though it was impossible that he would be caught. "I'll help you," decided Satyaki. "What? No - "I am going to hell you no matter what. You need help, you deserve it. The answer is defraction." The boy's eyes widened in shock, and then he wrote down the answer, and quickly handed in the paper as the teacher was leaving. The boy returned to his seat, and said, "Thanks!" He grinned, obviously pleased with this unexpected act of kindness.                                                                                                                               "No problem. By the way, do you want to eat your lunch with me?"                     "Oh! Sure." From that day onwards, Satyaki and Parijat (Satyaki later found out his name) became the best of friends. Glorious days were spent, and the two became inseparable.

Satyaki blinked back tears as he felt the 'crispy' notes in his hands. He stood up from his bed, and strolled to a desk. There was a lamp, and near it was a photo frame. Satyaki took hold of the frame, and then quickly put it back, for his hands were shaking. The photo (inserted in the frame) showed him with another boy, a bit taller than him, his black hair neatly swept off to one side. His black eyes looked as wise as his smile. He seemed satisfied with the world, as if he had everything that he could ask for. Satyaki ran out of his room.

He did not care anymore; he had mud streaks 'adorning' his shoes and pants as he hardly clutched the notes. He ran into a shop, gasping. He snatched a glass orb from the shelf, and ran to the counter. Sharma was sitting there as usual, his black hair neatly oiled. "How much?" Satyaki asked. "What - oh never mind. 20 rupees."Sharma decided, wisely, not to ask anymore, as he saw the kid red - eyed, and he looked as if he would break down any moment. Satyaki's face fell, and Sharma wondered whether he had done something wrong to make him sad. "I won't be able to buy that pen - his favourite pen," he sobbed. But before Sharma could say anything to console him, he put the cash on the counter and ran away. He ran with his gift, his hands occasionally going to his face to wipe off tears. He stopped in front of a black SUV, where a boy was checking the luggage packed in the back of the car. 

"Parijat," was the only word managed by Satyaki in that state. Parijat looked up, saw his friend and hugged him tightly. He smiled lightly, and said - " It's okay, Satyaki. You've been the best friend that I could have ever wished for. I promise - that I will come back here,". "Don't forget me," Satyaki whispered as he handed the glass orb. "And sorry, I could not get your favourite pen." Parijat put his hands on Satyaki's shoulders and said, "You did not have to. More than the pen, you are precious to me,".Satyaki smirked, and replied, "Bet you wouldn't have said that had I not brought you this orb," "Shut up. And stay in touch," Parijat elbowed Satyaki in the ribs and quickly turned. "Bye. Will meet again – promise." Satyaki took his friend's hand and did their secret handshake, as Parijat turned back for one last time. He sat in the car, smiled a bit and then his his face. As the car drove off, leaving Satyaki behind, he could not shake the feeling off that his friend felt as broken as him. As Parijat sat in the car travelling to his new home, faraway, his face hidden by his hands, he could not help thinking that about how he had perhaps lost a friend whom he would never find again.

                                                            •°•°•

"Satyaki? Satyaki! Are you all right? And do you want the pen or not?" Sharma screamed into his ear, and he jumped from fear.                                             "Yes, yes. I do. Do you have change?". As Satyaki waited for Sharma to find change, he listened to him muttering "silly boy", and "had gone out for a few minutes, this boy was still standing looking at the pen as if it could make him a millionaire".                                                                                              

“Thanks," he smiled, hearing his appraisal.                                                     "Hey listen - You have not and will not change as well, ever."                            "Ha ha uncle. Nice meeting you." He stepped out of the shop, and started like he was, earlier. He stopped in front of a black SUV. A man wearing shades leaned against his car as he waited for someone eagerly. Satyaki rushed over and handed the orb and pen to the guy. The man swiftly pulled off his shades, and his eyes widened in shock - but he quickly recovered and pulled Satyaki into a tight embrace. They broke apart, and he exclaimed, "Your hair is still messy as ever, Sattu." " And your hair is still as neatly combed as ever, Pari." They both smiled, then grinned widely.

 "You promised - and you came," said Satyaki. "I came here only because you had intended that you will give me the pen," Parijat replied. "Come, let's chat." The two men walked together, hand in hand, in the afternoon sunshine – never to be separated again.

[cake-writes]

Heartbreak Girl

Pairings: Dark!Steve x Reader // Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Abuse, 18+

Word Count: 1.8k

Requested by Anon: Can I get a fic inspired by Heartbreak Girl or Treat You Better set after the accords mess, where Steve turns into a jerk and Bucky secretly has feelings for reader?

Sure can do! I used Heartbreak Girl as inspiration (obviously). 

Steve had changed, and you hated him for it.

After the Accords, he’d become what felt like – to you – an entirely different person. Where once he was gentle and kind, now he was bitter and rough.

He started to do things in bed that you didn’t like: pulled your hair, slapped your ass or, occasionally, your face; whispered things to you that made you feel ashamed to let loose and enjoy yourself like you’d done so many times before with him.

Despite the fact that this was the 21st century and women these days were less sexually inhibited – in fact, a woman could express her sexuality more now than ever – there was something within him that never truly let the 1940’s go.

Steve valued chastity. He valued purity. He valued everything that you’d never ever been, and when the two of you first got together, he knew that. He’d been fine with that. He told you that he loved you the way you were, but now, that purity was what he wanted most. It wasn’t something you could give him.

Of course, it wasn’t like you were unfamiliar with rough sex. You used to enjoy it with him once, when he first got into it. You’d done it before with other men, too. It was a good way to let out some frustrations – and Steve, well, he had a lot of them, to the point that it was the only thing he wanted these days. He never treated you gently anymore, never whispered the sweet nothings into your ear that you’d grown so familiar with, that you preened for, longed for. Instead, he said your name like a curse, manhandled you, and gave you orders.  

You complied, because you loved him.

When you went on missions together, they were awkward and uncomfortable and it only got worse the longer the two of you refused to admit that your relationship was falling apart. There was a pronounced change in the way you acted around him, and vice versa, so much that even the others started to notice. Whether it was Sam or Nat or Bucky, someone always made a joke about the tension. It wasn’t really a joke, though, and deep down you knew that. It was a thinly-veiled way of expressing their concern.  

At first, you’d been able to brush it off. You’d just grin and wink and say, “He’s just a little cranky today.”

Except he wasn’t. Everyone else knew it too.

You couldn’t brush it off for long, especially not after Bucky pulled you aside in private once to ask if you were alright. There were marks on your wrists that you hadn’t been able to fully hide. The black leather of your gloves covered the majority of them, but not all and your concealer was meant for dark circles, not bruises. It washed away.

Steve’s fingers were too tight around your wrists. He left bruises far too often, and Bucky had seen them. He always saw them.

“I’m fine, Buck,” you hissed at him, like he’d caught you doing something shameful. “It was an accident. You know how he is. Let it go.”

Your reasoning was that Steve didn’t know his own strength. Bucky knew that was a god damned lie, but he did as you asked. He let it go.

You hated the way he looked at you with pity. You didn’t want it or need it. You could handle this. You’d dealt with worse before, with all of the brutal training and abuse and torture you’d been through once upon a time in the Red Room. This certainly paled in comparison.

Except in some ways, it didn’t. What you’d been put through before was impersonal. What Steve did to you was the opposite: entirely personal. It hurt. It stung. In some ways, it broke you.

The hallways in this dingy motel were exposed to the elements, dark and cold. It was three in the morning. Of course they were. You’d never really noticed it before, never had a reason to. Normally when you walked these halls, you were with the others. You were with the team.

Tonight, you were alone. Steve had used you, just like he always did, and then he’d gone to bed. You couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping next to him tonight. He’d been worse than ever.

You didn’t know what you expected when you knocked on the door to Bucky’s motel room. Maybe you wanted someone to listen. Maybe you wanted someone to care. Steve certainly didn’t, at least not anymore. Just like he’d broken you, something in him had broken, too. You couldn’t blame him for it. He’d been through far more than he could handle.

You left a couple of staggered raps on the door before it finally opened. Bucky was still half-asleep, wearing a plain black tank top and a pair of sweatpants that hung low on his hips. He rubbed his eyes blearily as he took you in, but the moment he saw that it was you, it woke him right up.

The too-large t-shirt on your small body was in tatters. It was one of Steve’s, he vaguely noted as he stared at you. It was the only thing you were wearing. Your soft thighs and legs and feet were bare. When the breeze picked up, he didn’t let his eyes wander anymore, almost afraid that you had nothing on underneath.

You didn’t. He didn’t look away quickly enough.

“Bucky—”

It was a harsh, choked sob, the way you said his name and it damn near killed him to hear it.

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s alright,” he soothed in what was the most tender, loving tone you’d heard from anyone in weeks. His warm hand on your shoulder was a small comfort as he gently brought you inside out of the cold.

Your skin was like ice to the touch, probably because of the weather and it made him wonder how long you’d been wandering around outside. You noticeably flinched when he touched you, and when he looked closer, he saw why. Your arms were littered with bruises. The back of your neck, too, and your thighs.

Fingerprints.

His temper flared instantly. What the hell was wrong with Steve to treat you like this, treat you so poorly—

“Don’t,” you rasped, placing a gentle hand onto his cheek. “It’s okay, Buck. Let it go.”

Let it go. You always told him to let it go.

God, you were so fucking small and fragile and it drove him insane because he knew Steve had just as much power in him as he did from the serum – and Steve had directed that at you, the sweet, small, fragile thing that you were. You were breakable in a way that made his heart ache. He would never, ever treat you this way.

But you didn’t want him to protect you. You didn’t want him to defend you. He wasn’t really sure what you wanted, really. It was three in the morning and you’d shown up on his doorstep like it was normal to show up on someone’s doorstep wearing nothing but a ripped t-shirt with nothing underneath.

His expression must have shown it all because you looked up at him through your lashes with those big doe eyes, like you knew they’d disarm him the second he saw them. Your fingers brushed against the stubble on his jaw and your thumb traced his lower lip, which sent a chill through him that it absolutely shouldn’t have.

“Hold me,” you said so quietly, he almost didn’t hear it and for a split second, he thought he must have misheard you. It must have been too long a pause because you added in the most pitiful, desperate tone he’d ever heard from you, “Please?”

Jesus Christ, he’d hold you for however long you wanted him to.

Bucky wrapped his arms around you like you were absolutely everything to him, and, if he was honest with himself, you were. He’d been in love with you for far too long and as much as he’d tried to get over it, get over you, he couldn’t – despite the fact that you and Steve were so happily in love.

Except you weren’t. Not really. Not anymore.

Your body was soft and pliable and so, so perfect against him. Before he even realized what he was doing, he was pressing kisses to your forehead, to the crown of your head, breathing in the scent of your sweet shampoo. His flesh hand was tracing sweet, delicate patterns on your back with entirely too much familiarity.

You didn’t say a thing. Instead, you leaned into his touch, buried your face in his chest and cried.

All he wanted was to ease your pain, and for a bit, he did. He held you for what felt like hours, and he didn’t say a word. When you finally pulled away, your eyes were still glistening with tears.

Something inside of him broke at the sight.

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” he begged – actually begged. Bucky Barnes did not beg, but when it came to you, he absolutely fucking did. “I’ll help you. Let me help you. Please.”

All you did was smile at him through your tears. “Don’t worry about me, Buck. I’ll be alright.”

He knew you would. You’d be alright, but that didn’t mean you’d be happy.

Unspoken words lingered on his tongue – I love you, Christ, love you so fucking much – but he didn’t say them. He wouldn’t burden you with that. Not when you were already suffering through so much.

When you pressed a kiss to his cheek, all he wanted to do was keep you there with him – but he let you go, just like you always asked him to do. He let you return to the supposed sanctity of the motel room you shared with Steve, with his best friend who’d been so corrupted by this fucking mess of a situation that he’d been taking it out on you for weeks.

Bucky slowly walked you to the door, holding your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. It was a gesture of love, of intimacy. The way you looked at him right before you unlaced your fingers from his was enough. Your eyes sparkled with what might have been love for him, once; but you loved Steve more than him, even though Steve put you so much turmoil and left bruises on not just your body but your heart.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, barely audible. What you said to him next was lost on the breeze. It was either a sweet, “Thank you,” or a heady, “I love you,” but he’d never know for sure because you didn’t repeat yourself and you never again visited him in the middle of the night.

Instead, the two of you shared glances every now and then that told him all him he needed to know. Some part of you loved him, too.

You’d never act on it, and neither would he. 

You were Steve’s girl, and you always would be.

[exhaustedfander]

When is Enough Enough? [Chapter Eight]

Finally, Roman and Remus have a talk. 

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / Epilog 

a03 link to story

Remus’s eyes fluttered open, eyes straining against the sunlight pouring in through the blinds. He groaned, the pain of his injury something that could no longer be completely numbed with painkillers. He would be fine, but goddamn it did it hurt.

“Mmm…Logan?” Remus groaned, hazily remembering that his boyfriend had been in his hospital room when he’d fallen asleep. His eyes grazed over to the chair where Logan had fallen asleep, only to find it empty. Maybe he’d left in the night?

“I’m right here, Remus,” Remus heard a voice say beside him, turning to see Logan now standing at his bedside, still dressed in the clothes he’d been wearing yesterday. Logan knelt at his side, pushing Remus’s frazzled hair out of his eyes. “Good morning, love.”

Wow, Remus liked that a lot. Had he ever called him that before? Maybe yesterday…but everything felt so fuzzy…oh wait!

“You told Roman!” Remus shouted suddenly, effectively startling his boyfriend. How he could be so alert just after waking up, Logan would never know.

“Yes…yes I did. We talked about this yesterday, do you not recall?” Remus shrugged.

“I was pretty damn drugged up, Dragonfly. I remember some stuff it’s just all…fuzzy. I remember how numb I felt, and now everything hurts.” There was a pout in Remus’s voice, for once not out of drama. It really did hurt. Logan frowned.

“Do you need anything? I can get a doctor if you’re in pain –.”

“I’ll be fine, Dragonfly. Just sore. I guess being hit by a car will do that to you.”

“They arrested the man who hit you,” Logan said, trying to calm the rising anger in his tone, “I can’t believe someone could be as cruel as he was. To just leave you there.” Remus frowned.

“My fault though, remember? I…I was drunk, and I hadn’t been paying attention…” Logan shook his head.

“Regardless of whether or not you were inebriated, that would not be grounds to hit you and just,” Logan swallowed the lump beginning to form in his throat, “leave you bleeding out. Remus, I –.” Logan felt some form of relief only when Remus took his hand, squeezing it tightly.

Logan had been plagued by dreams all throughout the night, terrible dreams where Remus hadn’t been so lucky. Where Remus had died bleeding out on the concrete, alone and desperate. Logan had woken with a start, his eyes landing on Remus sleeping in his hospital bed. Foolishly, much like a child after being startled from a nightmare, he’d wanted to crawl into Remus’s bed with him and hold him close, feeling him breathing and warm and alive.

“Logan? Logan, are you okay?” Logan shook his head, realizing how lost in his paranoia he’d become.

“Apologies, I-I suppose I didn’t get a very proficient amount of sleep last night. It appears I zoned out.”

“I told you, you could’ve gone home last night. I would’ve been fine on my own.” Logan’s first instinct was to respond, “But I wouldn’t have been fine on my own,” though he decided not to admit such things. He didn’t want to add to Remus’s discomfort.

“And as I said last night, I wanted to stay with you. I do believe I might’ve been overly concerned if I wasn’t in your presence.” A shit-eating-grin spread across Remus’s face, which honestly wasn't a very uncommon expression for him

“Aw, you were so worried about me.” Remus said it in a teasing manner, as though the notion that Logan was beyond himself with worry was ridiculous. Except then he noticed the look in Logan’s eyes, that terrified, aghast look. “Dragonfly?”

“I was worried, Remus,” Logan rasped, his voice wavering with more emotion than Remus can ever recall hearing. Had he been this emotional last night? Remus was barely lucid at the time, but the memories are beginning to reform, unevenly and slow. “I don’t believe I’ve ever been so scared in all my life.”

“Logan, oh, baby don’t cry.” It appeared that Logan hadn’t realized he was crying because he gasped softly as he touched a hand to his cheek and pulled back. Remus did his best, given the circumstances, to wrap his boyfriend in a lose embrace.

“Careful,” Logan managed to mutter through his tears, “I – I don’t want to cause you any pain.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay. A little banged up, but I’ve handled worse.” This was a blatant lie; Remus had certainly never been hit by a car before.

“I – I thought that I was going to lose you, Remus. I believed that our last conversation would be the inane fight that I put us through. I – I thought that my own ignorance was going to be the cause of your death.” The last bit came out a chocked whisper.

“Logan, Dragonfly, no. It’s not your fault, please, don’t make this out to be your fault. I mean, I’ve been thinking about walking in front of a car for years,” – Remus noticed Logan’s eyes widen in horror – “Not that any of this was intentional! You know me, Mr. impulsive, and all that. I’m just trying to tell you…it’s alright. It’s kinda, uh, nice. Knowing that you were so worried about me.”

“Of course I was,” Logan said, letting go of Remus for a moment before gripping his hand again, not wanting to cause him any more pain in an embrace for too long, “When I got the call I was so…scared. I don’t scare easily, you know.”

“Oh, I know that. I’ve seen you watch a horror movie and you never jump at the good bits! And my god, you’re so hard to spook, even when I’m trying my very hardest!” Logan laughed drily at that.

“Right. I…I had no idea that I was your emergency contact, so it came as quite a shock.” Shit. Right. Remus had never told him!

“Ah, fuck. I kinda forgot I did that, to be honest. We’d only been dating a few months and I know I should have asked your permission first, but I already really liked you a whole lot and had a lot of trust in you that I didn’t even think about it.”

“It’s alright, love,” Logan said, beginning to regain some sense of composure as he whipped at the tears under his glasses, and holy shit Logan hadn’t ever cried this much in front of him and it was kinda crazy to see, “I don’t mind. However, I do believe it might’ve upset your brother to some degree.”

His brother? What did this have to do with Roman? Oh. Right.

Suddenly, memories of Roman visiting him clanked around in his brain. Logan had told Roman that he was in the hospital, he remembered his boyfriend saying that, and Roman had spoken to him. He remembered Roman saying…that he was glad that Remus was okay. That had been surprising. Why would Roman be worried about him?

But oh yeah, Remus remembered what Roman had said. “I don’t hate you, Remus…I never have.” He hadn’t really had the ability to take it all in before but now he was finally getting a chance to think it over and wow.

And he’d said it too. He told Roman he didn’t hate him either. He’d been so certain for so long that Roman despised so much as being in his presence, but now he’d told him that wasn’t true at all.

“Knock knock!” Remus’s thoughts were interrupted by Roman, rather annoyingly mind you, actually saying the words knock knock as he opened the door to Remus’s hospital room and waggled a bag in front of him. “I brought bagels.” Well this was decidedly very weird.

“Ah, good morning, Roman,” Logan said, acting as though he hadn’t just been crying quite a bit and he stood up to greet Roman.

“Morning, Microsoft Nerd. And good morning to you, brother of mine,” Roman said nonchalantly, as if all of this was all totally normal, “I got you the onion flavor because you’re a freak. It’s still your favorite, right?” Remus could hardly believe it; why would Roman bother to remember something so insignificant about him?

“Uh, yeah. That’s right, and even if I am a freak, it’s the best flavor. Besides, of course, shoving all the flavors in your mouth at once!” Remus declared, smiling wide. Even in his still disheveled and weakened state, the Cheshire-cat grin made up for a lot of his usual bravado.

The three of them ate breakfast talking about nothing of real consequence. Still, it was all so new to them. Roman and Remus spending time together. Logan and Remus being open as a couple with him. And Roman was making jokes and teasing him.  Not in the nasty, hurt-filled manner that they tormented each other with for years, but instead in a casual, nonthreatening sibling way.

A doctor came in to check on Remus, noting that he would most likely only need to stay for another couple of days to rest up and heal before going home. Home, he thought to himself bitterly.

His apartment was a third story walk-up, and in his condition, that wasn’t going to be very doable. But then, out of the blue, Logan had turned to him and said: “You’re more than welcome to stay at my apartment while you recover. It being on the ground level should make things easier for you.” Remus swallowed a wad of spit, watching as the doctor left the room and seeing the fairly teasing smirk on Roman’s face.

“I – I mean, yeah. Sure.”

“Or longer,” Logan blurted, his eyes lading on the floor, “You could stay longer, if you would like. Uh, that is to say, I would like it if you wanted to stay longer.” Remus raised an eyebrow, noticing the blush spreading across Logan's face.

“Are you asking me to move in with you, Dragonfly?”

“Good lord, you two are cute!” Roman’s gushing was promptly ignored as Remus’s voice commanded Logan’s attention, their eyes meeting hesitantly.

“I – perhaps. Yes. I…value your company and having you around more often would be ideal. I like it when you read your stories aloud to me, and I enjoy watching serial killer documentaries at absurdly late times in the evening and –.”

“Yes.” Logan blinked.

“Yes as in…?” Remus grinned.

“Yes as in yes, you dork. I want to move in with you, Logan.” Relief washed over Logan, a bright smile spreading across his face that Roman didn’t manage to miss. My god, his friend was smiling so unabashedly, so joyfully. Remus and Logan were so incredibly happy, and it warmed him down to the bone.

What did not manage to melt his heart, however, was when Remus went in for a kiss and there was a bit too much tongue for his liking.

“Okay, if you two are going to make out, I will leave!” The pair separated, Remus grinning still as Logan blushed furiously.

“My apologies…”

“Oh, I’m not apologizing for anything,” Remus said smugly, “You’re just jealous because I have this nerd all to myself.” Roman guffawed.

“Jealous? As if.”

“Ah right, I forgot emos were more your type.” Roman searched for a rebuttal but found none.

“You got me there.”

Once Logan had drained the coffee cup Roman had provided with him, he got up from the chair he’d stationed at Remus’s bedside.

“I’m going to go get some more coffee,” Logan said, his sleep-deprivation prevalent in his tone, but Remus supposed sleeping curled up in a chair would do that to you, “Does anyone need anything?” “We’re good, Dragonfly. Don’t fall in love with any hot doctors on the way to the coffee machine because you’re mine,” Remus joked, earning a fond eye-roll.

“I’ll try not to,” Logan said before disappearing from the room and leaving the two brothers alone.

“So…” Remus said after a moment of fairly tense silence, drumming his fingers on the railing of the bed, “Just to clarify here, you don’t hate me, right?” The expression on Roman’s face was absolutely incredulous. He sighed, scooting his chair a bit closer to Remus and placing a gentle hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“Of course I don’t hate you, Remus,” he said, as though it had been obvious the whole time. As though they hadn’t spent so much of their lives bitter with one another and avoiding each other’s company, “In fact, I love you. You’re my brother and – and I’m sorry that things have been so messed up between us for so long. But I’d like to fix things, if you wanted to. We haven’t really felt like brothers for a long, long time. But...I want to.”

Roman loved him. He didn’t just tolerate him or feel something a little less than distain. His brother loved him.

“God, when did you turn in to such a big softie?” Remus asked, as if he wasn’t nearly sniffling himself at the thought of Roman loving him despite his weirdness, despite his odd sense of humor, despite all that they’d endured as siblings. “Aw, who am I kidding? You’ve always been a softie. I love you too, Broman.”

And so the twins talked, for the first time in a long time, like brothers. They teased, and they poked fun. They talked of their respective partners, joked about “busting Remus out of this depressing joint” (Logan would have both their heads on a platter if they tried anything like that).

Things weren’t miraculously fixed between them. There would still be issues that needed addressing, but those problems no longer felt unsurmountable. They made plans to meet up with Roman’s friends, Remus was actually being extended an invitation to be a part of the group. He would finally get to show off his insanely cute nerd and prove to the world that he was his.

Perhaps taking twenty minutes getting bitter, lukewarm coffee wasn’t exactly necessary. But Logan was mindful of how Roman had given him and Remus space the day prior and was merelt returning the favor.

Besides, returning hearing the brothers laughing together would certainly be worth it.

=+=

[efrmellifer]

Remigro

There was a distinct sigh of “home” from all of them, from Y’shtola’s airy but reserved intonation to the Leveilleur twins’ slightly theatrical responses.

Even Etien sighed, though she knew she wasn’t exactly home yet.

Still, she was dutiful as ever, helping Krile, Tataru and everyone with getting everything back in order.

When they all seemed settled, Alisaie leaping over the balcony’s edge to join the fray against a stampede, Alphinaud heading after her, Etien knew it was okay.

When they got back, it would be time for her to go.

Practically as soon as the twins had set foot back on the balcony, she bolted for the Aetheryte.

They all called after her, a chorus that amounted to “Where are you going?”

She stopped, turned to them. “Ishgard. Where else?”

Alisaie laughed, leaning on the rock she had leapt over not long ago. “Of course, you must be burning,” she mumbled, then raised her voice. “Give him a kiss for us!”

“Let us come with you!” Alphinaud called. “I want to see our friends in Ishgard as well,” he explained when Alisaie caught him by the hood.

“They’ll want to be alone,” Alisaie mused. “For a long time, I’d reckon.”

Alphinaud blinked.

“All that learning and you still have no idea what I’m talking about,” she sighed.

Etien was already standing at the Aetheryte by the time recognition dawned on Alphinaud’s features. “Wait, are they going to—it’s the middle of the afternoon!” he sputtered.

Alisaie just laughed. “Someone has to set an example of shirking repressive values.”

_

There it was, that familiar feeling of comfort when her heels clicked onto the stones. Now she could let out her sigh of home.

She wondered how much time had passed, but dismissed the thought. No more thinking of the past, of the bend and stretch of time. No longer did she have one foot each on two worlds, so there was nothing to worry about.

Taking a deep breath, she started on her habitual path up to Saint Valeroyant’s forum, waving to Gaucelmard as she passed him.

She entered the Congregation as quietly as she could, which meant coaching herself into slowing down before she reached the doors, stopping just outside to take another deep breath before she stepped through the doorway.

There was something in the vein of relief that washed over Lucia’s expression when she saw Etien come in, and Etien responded with a smile and a wave. She debated straying from her course to ask what had gone on, that had her presence greeted like the end of a blizzard. She’d waited this long, what were a few moments more?

But she had been waiting. Lucia would be available for questions some other time.

And now there was time.

She continued toward the door, stopping before the guard. She looked up at him and opened her mouth to speak, ready to be sent on her way, but daring to ask anyway.

“Is the Lord Commander busy?”

“He would have to turn you away himself, and I doubt that he will.” He returned her smile. “Come on, I can let you through.”

She took slow steps down the hall, still relishing the fact that she wasn’t working against the clock anymore.

The guard opened the door, and she peered inside before he spoke.

Aymeric didn’t even look up at the sound of the door, in fact, he didn’t look up until he heard the knight’s voice.

“Lord Commander, a Mistress--”

“Aymeric!” she called, sprinting the length of the office. She was already crawling over his desk by the time he processed enough to get up, so he stayed put, letting her drop herself into his lap.

She arranged herself so she could drape her arms on his shoulders, and kissed his cheek, then the corner of his mouth.

He waved the knight away before Etien made her way to kissing him full on the mouth.

The door shut with a soft thud.

With privacy now assured, Aymeric invested himself fully in properly greeting Etien, lifting her chin until she was at the proper angle for him to claim her lips.

He could feel the cool wetness of tears sliding down her cheeks and hitting his skin, and in truth, he was almost ready to cry himself.

The weight of her in his arms had lifted a weight from his chest, a weight he hadn’t known he was carrying around day by day, from dawn until the final moments before sleep fell over him.

But there was no need to dwell on it now. It was gone, and she was here, arms tight around him, meeting his every kiss with one of her own, matching him for giddiness and hunger alike.

“Etien,” he finally said, quiet as a prayer, barely separating his mouth from hers.

“Yes, Aymeric?”

“Is this for good?”

“It’s for the best,” she replied with a giggle.

Oh, the clever Warrior.

“Yes, we’re all back,” she added softly.

He wanted to utter something of his gratitude, to the divine or otherwise, but instead, he just kissed her.  That more than did the job of expressing how happy he was to have her close again.

Aymeric pulled away again, but still not far, breathless as he stated “This isn’t the ideal location, but… I would have you, if you’ll allow me.”

“Oh, would you?” Etien asked, only just loud enough to be heard. Her eyelashes beat against the weight of his hair, falling in his eyes and hers as they stayed close, foreheads pressed.

“Do you know how I ached?” he whispered against her lips. “By myself in this office, in our bedroom, no sound of your breath, no warmth of your skin? The days felt like moons.”

He scooped her up so he could stand, and lowered her to the wood of his desk, kissing her yet more as she let her knees fall apart, her tail curl around him, and her hands sink into his hair.

_

When they were decent again, and had settled back into the usual routine for when Etien was at the Congregation—settled on Aymeric’s lap, book in one hand and teacup in the other—she piped up with a question.

“Can I ask you something complex? It’s been weighing on my mind for a while and I would appreciate your input on it.”

He hummed. “Please do.”

“Is it… better, do you think, when trying to escape the past, to kill it or simply to run away?”

Aymeric took a breath, released it, then spoke. “Ah. Well, if you only run, something still remains. Whether what remains is a testament to your strength or a mark of weakness, I couldn’t say.”

“And if you kill it?”

“While there is something mighty to such a display… is it not cowardly in other ways?”

“I have no idea.” She sighed, leaning against him. “Would you like to see what I ran from?”

He almost laughed when he realized what she was implying. “It would only be fair; you saw what I killed. Indeed, you did me the service, in fact.”

She blinked. “I did what was asked and required, as the Warrior of Light always does.”

He stroked her cheek softly, observing the tiredness that had washed over her after saying that. “Shall we go now?”

She sat up straight again. “I… suppose? It’s midday now, we could make it to Gridania by sundown, I’d imagine. If we hurried.”

“If we made use of Aetherytes, we could go even faster.”

Etien sighed. “A fair point. So we head for Fallgourd Float. From there, we can go through Alder Springs, I can show you what I wanted to, and then straight for Old Gridania.”

“Lead the way, my dearest,” Aymeric replied with a nod.

_

Aymeric looked around as soon as they arrived in the Black Shroud, mouth hung slightly open as he took in the trees, the wildlife. Here, there was a constant buzz, unlike the silence that had settled over Coerthas with the thick layer of snow.

Etien started walking, but when she didn’t hear the crunch of his footsteps behind her, stepped back, took his hand, and then sallied forth.

“The Shroud is so beautiful,” he commented as Etien hopped across a stream, same as she had on their honeymoon, turning around and offering a hand to support him as he followed her.

“It is. I never had a want for beautiful surroundings growing up.”

Aymeric sighed. “If only all your life had been that way.”

With a sad smile, she shrugged. “If it had been, I wouldn’t be who I am. For better or worse. A life that has my friends in it, has you in it, is all I would dare to ask for.”

“I still think you ask too little, but I am honored to make the list.”

“See that house in the distance?” she asked when she stopped abruptly. “The one with the white awning?”

“I do,” Aymeric answered, squinting. “There’s a Miqo’te hanging laundry.”

“That would be my sister.”

“You have siblings?” There was a note of incredulity to his voice.

Etien laughed. “I do. Why else would I have latched so tightly to the Leveilleurs? I see those two in the twins.”

“The same as Estinien.”

“The exact same,” she agreed. “Do you want to get closer?”

“Not unless you do. Do you?”

Etien shook her head, so they got back on the path through the wood, heading for Gridania.

“This road is the one I walked when I ran away.”

“With the single change of clothes, your bow, and a book?” Aymeric asked.

“Oh, you remembered!”

“I keep all your letters. I was rereading them when I missed you, for a time. So I may have some of them memorized.”

Etien brought a hand to her heart. “Oh, darling.”

Gridania was the same old place it ever was, which calmed Etien as much as it frustrated her. She kept hoping that things were going to get better, but it seemed as though since life went on, no one saw cause to do anything.

But that wasn’t for her to worry about now. Someday, she might try to reform Gridania. For now, though, she was resting before she was forced to, whether that was by Aymeric or from her own body giving out.

But they had made it to that spot in Gridania, finally, the one Etien had wanted to bring Aymeric to. She wondered if Feo would be proud of her.

Probably, They already were, weren’t they?

In any case, the pair of them had bought some food in the markets, and now they were picnicking on a spot between the Blue Badger Gate and the Carline Canopy.

They’d made good time—the sun had just started to set when they’d finished eating.

They looked out over the water, and Etien sighed.

“I did a lot of thinking, the last little while. When I went where I was told and stayed, like a good little girl. Feo Ul was driven mad, I’m sure, by my mooning. I miss them already. It’s a shame, knowing that I’ll never have all my friends together at once again.”

“You had been thinking?” Aymeric prompted, keeping her focused.

“Oh. Right. Thinking about us, and how I keep having to run off and be away for so long. I still think sometimes about what could have happened in Ala Mhigo. But that was why we did what we did before I left, hmm?” She played with the myriad pendants on her necklace, slipping her finger into the ring again. “But I was thinking about you, about us, a lot on the First. About what our marriage meant.”

Aymeric’s eyes widened, but he tried not to move too much, for fear of dislodging Etien from where she lay and having her never lean against him again, after she said something like that.

He swallowed. “Oh yes?”

She nodded. “Yes. Thinking about how a marriage is a blend of bureaucracy—which we’re both more than familiar with—and legitimizing passions… which I think neither of us is. Mostly I was thinking about coming home to you, rolling the word ‘husband’ around. Rarely was that word used for you when we were on the First. It was always your name or ‘people who miss you,’ for you, Estinien, or both. Feo Ul called you my knight in shining armor once or twice. But… you’re my husband.” She looked up, stretching to kiss the underside of his chin. “My darling Aymeric. So really, I was thinking about how I married you to solidify the promise I made, that I’d always come home. To make it explicitly clear that home is you. Anywhere you go, I’ll go. Anywhere I go, I know where I want to head for when it’s over.”

“Etien,” Aymeric replied softly.

“Actually, it would be hard to give a reason I married you. I wanted to, primarily. I could love you with or without the paperwork, but you offered and I absolutely could not say no. I wanted to be your wife.”

“I wanted you to be my wife.” He cleared his throat. “I still want you to be my wife. I--”

She giggled, nose crinkling and eyeteeth glinting in the setting sun. “I know what you mean.” She was quite for a moment, blinking slowly. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you as well,” he assured her.

She slid down, so her head was in Aymeric’s lap, taking his hand and draping his arm across her stomach. “Let’s not do that again for a good long time, all right?”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” he assured her.

_

They spent the night at the Roost, deeming it too late to go running through the Shroud again.

So they settled into the soft feather bed, folding into each other a little more tightly than they had to at home.

But it was cozy. Hells, Etien had missed Aymeric enough that crawling into his clothing and never leaving sounded ideal.

In the wee hours of the morning, she happened to roll just a little too far away, and found herself getting tugged back to him.

His voice was still thick with sleep when he sighed out a desperate “stay.”

She relaxed into his arms. “I’m staying.”

[whelvenwings]

A Pretty Good Pair

it just turned midnight here in the UK, which means IT’S MY BIRTHDAY!! have some destiel fluff, 2.7k of fake relationship goodness, on the house :DDD

read it here on AO3 if you’d prefer!

***********************************

“Sir, I’m sorry, but we really need the table…”

“Five more minutes,” Castiel said. “Just five.”

He checked his phone under the table as the waiter walked away.

Nothing.

His boss, on his left, gave an impatient sigh.

“Castiel, we should just order,” Naomi said. Across the table, her partner Bartholomew gave a curt nod. Castiel swallowed hard.

“He’ll be here,” he said. “He just -”

“Got stuck in traffic,” said a voice behind Castiel, and then there was a light kiss being pressed to his cheek, and he was turning to find Dean Winchester standing above him and squeezing his shoulder. “Sorry, Cas. I’m here. Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

As Dean took a seat, Castiel gave him a wide-eyed look that tried to encompass everything he was feeling, and couldn’t even begin to do one percent of the job. Dean raised his eyebrows in return.

A brief flash of their conversation of two days earlier flashed into Cas’ mind.

My boss is inviting me out for dinner. She wants me to bring my partner.

Cas… you don’t have…

I know… what will I do? She’s totally biased towards people in relationships. Last week she gave Jody a raise because she heard that Jody and her wife got a dog. She’s all about ‘family values’.

Well… at least she’s not homophobic…

No. Just arophobic, I suppose. Anyway, she’s going to overlook me for this promotion just because I don’t have a nice husband and a picket fence and a sedan.

I mean… well, I mean, what if you did? For one night?

Castiel could still feel the way his heart had twisted in his chest.

“You going to introduce me?” Dean said now, smiling at him. “Babe?”

At the pet name, Castiel felt his mouth go dry. His fingertips were tingling as though with pins and needles. This plan was never going to work. They were going to be caught within the first few minutes. But Dean had told him it would be fine - had said that they’d easily make it through the evening.

Dean knew that Castiel was a decent liar, and a good actor when he needed to be. Dean knew that Castiel was desperate to get this promotion. There were lots of things Dean knew - and there was just one thing that Dean didn’t know. One spanner in the works, one fly in this already bizarre and ridiculous ointment.

“Of course,” Castiel said.

The one thing he didn’t know -

“This is my partner,” Castiel said to Naomi and Bartholomew, “Dean.”

- was that Castiel had been wishing he could honestly say those words for two years, now.

Dean beamed at Castiel’s boss and her husband, a winning smile. Just seeing him react so happily to Castiel’s words - fake though they were, just lies - had Castiel in a spin.

“Nice to meet you at last, Dean,” Naomi said smoothly, taking a sip of her water. “Castiel’s been with the company for almost five years and we’ve never met. Did you two only recently get together?”

Castiel opened his mouth to answer, but Dean was already speaking.

“No, no. We moved in together about three years ago. We’ve been roommates ever since.”

“Roommates?”

“Well… in a manner of speaking,” Dean said, with a wink. He looked to Castiel, who gave him a look that would have been imperceptible to anyone who didn’t know him as well as Dean; Dean cleared his throat, and made an effort to look serious. “I guess just living together brought us closer, and after a while, I realised I was totally gone for this guy.”

He reached across the table, and Castiel struggled with himself for a moment before putting his hand in Dean’s and smiling across the table at Naomi and Bartholomew. He squeezed, and then let go.

“That’s nice,” Naomi said, though she sounded as cold as ever. “At the company we really value strong family values. We like our employees to be settled, happy people.”

And of course, Castiel thought bitterly, that could only be the case if the people were in a relationship. Never mind that he and Dean had been each other’s rocks since before Castiel had even developed romantic feelings for him, and had continued to be so throughout all these years without being in a romantic relationship.

Dean didn’t even feel that way about Castiel, after all. Castiel was pretty sure.

Three years of living together. He’d have noticed after three years.

“So, are you two thinking about the future?” Naomi said. “I notice there’s no wedding ring.”

“Oh,” Dean said. “Right. Well, uh… you know, sometimes things are a little complicated…”

Naomi’s neutral expression was turning into a frown.

“We’re very committed,” Castiel cut in. “It’s just, you know… we haven’t really spoken yet about that.”

“Why not?”

“Well…” Castiel looked back to Dean, his expression wide-eyed.

“Uh, it’s me,” Dean said. “I guess I just haven’t got my head out my ass and… uh, bought a ring yet.” Naomi still looked unimpressed, and Dean went on. “To tell the truth… I just haven’t been sure that Castiel really wanted me to. And I didn’t want to put any pressure on him or make it awkward between us, I guess. Sometimes I got a vibe, you know, but…” He looked back to Castiel. “I wasn’t… sure.”

Castiel stared at him.

“That’s very honest,” Naomi said, raising her eyebrows and looking down at her menu, as though finding Dean’s supposed truthfulness a little distasteful. “Let’s see if we can order.”

“You should be sure,” Castiel said to Dean, who was twisting his hands together under the table, where only Castiel could see.

Dean smiled at him, a little uncertainly.

They ordered, and the talk turned to smaller things: the weather, the upcoming Halloween party at work, the latest statistics at the company. Bartholomew held forth on golf for a long ten minutes, during which Dean kept kicking at Castiel’s leg under the table to try to make him laugh.

When the food finally arrived, Castiel hoped that they could eat in peaceable quiet; Naomi, however, seemed to have other plans. She fixed her gaze upon Dean, and said,

“So, do you plan on having a family?”

Castiel didn’t even know what the right answer to that was; Naomi didn’t like her employees taking parental leave and frequently expressed frustration when they did so, but also wanted everyone to be settled and family-oriented. He supposed it was asking too much for her to make sense and be consistent. When Dean hesitated, Castiel said,

“It’s a little early to be thinking about that.”

“I think Cas would make a great dad,” Dean said, “if he wanted to be.”

Castiel, taken by surprise, offered Dean a smile.

“I feel the same,” he said. “Dean would make an excellent father.”

After another ten minutes of small talk and eating, Dean excused himself to the bathroom; after a few moments, unable to resist, Castiel stood up and offered his apologies, too, to follow him.

In the bathroom - or rather, a fancy, carpeted, mirrored anteroom that led into the bathrooms themselves - Dean was washing his hands in a marbled sink. When Castiel came in, he turned around, and smiled.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hello, Dean.”

“We make a pretty good pair,” Dean said, and Castiel’s heart skipped a beat. “I think we’re selling them on it, right?”

He stepped back towards the door, walking towards Castiel; he must have misjudged the distance, because he ended up very much in Castiel’s space. He smelled amazing - wearing his best cologne, Castiel thought. He smiled, and gently reached up to adjust Dean’s tie. He never normally would, but - well, tonight, they were together, weren’t they?

“You’re doing wonderfully,” he said.

He looked up into Dean’s eyes, and Dean swallowed.

“We should get back out there,” Castiel said, after a long moment.

“They’ll think we’re doing things to each other in here,” Dean said, in agreement. Castiel tried not to let his mind wander towards what those things might be.

Dean left the bathroom first, and Castiel took a few moments to wash his own hands and give himself a look over in the mirror. He breathed in, and out. Was he reading too much into things, being too hopeful? When Dean had said those things about how he hadn’t been sure whether Castiel really wanted him to make a move…

No, it couldn’t be anything. Surely. It was just wishful thinking, being in this confusing situation where all their normal lines were being crossed.

The way Dean had looked at him, though… Castiel knew him well enough to recognise that Dean didn’t wear an expression like that lightly.

The idea that Dean might actually feel that way about him - Castiel couldn’t even begin to comprehend it. It was so exhilarating as to be terrifying. Castiel had decided with relative happiness over the last few years to enjoy being Dean’s best friend, to living with him for as long as he could, to just cherish being as close as possible for as long as it lasted. He knew Dean would eventually find someone else he liked romantically, and want to build a life with them - though the number of dates he’d been on had dropped off sharply over the past couple of years, now that Castiel really thought about it -

The point was, Castiel had never really entertained any real hope of Dean liking him back. It just wasn’t possible.

He left the bathroom, and sat back down at the table. When he rejoined the conversation, he realised that they were talking about hobbies, and Dean was discussing in very close detail the enjoyment that Castiel found in needlepoint.

The fact that Castiel had never embroidered so much as once in his life didn’t seem to be holding him back, particularly.

“And you should see the cushion he made for my aunt Mavis last Easter. Just two giant chickens, sitting on two giant eggs. I don’t want to know how they laid those things, but it sure was nice to look at. Maybe needed a vet afterwards, I don’t know. He’s just very skilled.”

“Oh, Dean,” Castiel said, “you’re too kind. Listen to you talking about my needlepoint and not even mentioning how good you are at singing.”

Dean’s expression split, momentarily, into absolute horror. He could immediately see where this was going, Castiel knew, with a burst of enjoyment.

“Oh, well, babe… don’t flatter me…” Dean said, awkwardly laughing.

“No, he’s fantastic,” Castiel insisted. “Operatic, you might say. Go on, Dean. Give them a little Puccini.”

“I don’t think this is the right…” Naomi said, sounding worried.

“Yeah, wrong setting for it,” Dean agreed, before she’d even finished her sentence.

“Are you sure? I think everyone would love to hear you. Remember the time you made a whole restaurant weep just by singing me ‘happy birthday’?”

Naomi’s protests slowed, and her eyebrows went up.

“Let’s order dessert,” Dean said, and hailed the waiter. Castiel pulled a wry face at Naomi and Bartholomew.

“He’s just very humble,” he said.

They shared a slice of apple pie for pudding; Castiel could feel Dean’s begrudgement of every bite Castiel took, but Naomi and Bartholomew were sharing and it seemed like a couple-y thing to do. It was delicious, at least. This place was going to break Castiel’s wallet, but at least it was worth the money.

When they were all finished, they paid for the meal, put on their coats, and made their way outside. Overall, Castiel thought, a successful night. Not exactly one that had been filled with sparkling conversation on all sides, but Naomi and Bartholomew didn’t seem at all suspicious - and with any luck, he’d have that promotion before the month was out.

“I’m getting a taxi,” Dean said, once they’d left the restaurant. He began to look towards the road, ready to hail one down. “Just need to drop back into work to pick up some stuff before heading home, babe.”

“Of course, Dean.” Castiel couldn’t bring himself to use a pet name, not even to sell the lie. He tucked his hands into his pockets, the cool September air nipping at them.

“Where do you work?” Naomi asked, sounding interested.

“I’m a -” Dean began, and Castiel knew how that sentence ended - tattoo artist, a profession that Naomi would never approve of.

“Bank!” he interrupted. All eyes turned to him.

He cleared his throat.

“Dean works at a bank,” he said.

“Well,” Naomi said, looking a little confused, but apparently accepting it. “How nice. It was good meeting you, Dean.” She shook his hand, just as a taxi pulled up beside them - Bartholomew had seen it, and managed to catch the driver’s attention on Dean’s behalf.

“Thanks,” Dean said, shaking his hand, too. He turned to Castiel, who was standing right beside him. “Uh…”

They stared at each other for a long moment, Castiel suddenly filled with panic. Would a simple “goodbye” give the game away, after Castiel’s fairly suspicious answer to the question about Dean’s work? Did they have to -

Dean answered the question for him by leaning forward, and placing a quick, nervous, chaste kiss on Castiel’s lips. He pulled away, and looked Castiel in the eyes.

In that single, pivotal moment, Castiel knew. It was in Dean’s eyes, in the way he didn’t smile, in the way he swallowed. It was right there, in front of Castiel’s eyes.

And then Dean was in the taxi, and the door was slammed, and he was gone.

Castiel felt frozen. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t breathe.

“Well, Castiel,” Naomi said. “That was a very pleasant evening. Perhaps tomorrow you can come to my office and we can discuss -”

“I quit,” Castiel said.

There was a long, long beat of silence. Neither Naomi nor Bartholomew moved, save that their mouths fell open in comically identical expressions of shock.

“You - what?” Naomi said.

“I quit,” Castiel repeated, calmly. It made perfect sense. He knew exactly what he wanted, now, and it wasn’t this crappy promotion. “I’ve had enough. Your policy on promotions and raises is discriminatory. You are nosy and judgemental. I have had enough. I will be sending you my formal letter of resignation tomorrow and coming to clear out my desk.”

“You - you will not be getting a reference from me,” Naomi spluttered, taking a step backward.

“Fine,” Castiel said, riding a high the like of which he’d never known. He turned to go and find his car in the nearby parking lot, but then caught himself; at the last moment, he looked back at the pair of them standing like agitated scarecrows on the street, and said, “Oh - and Dean does not work at a bank. He is a tattoo artist.”

And he walked away.

The drive passed in a haze. All this time - all these years. They’d been waiting for each other to make the first move, waiting for the perfect moment, waiting, waiting, waiting.

Castiel had had enough of waiting, now.

He stepped through the door of Dean’s tattoo parlour, which was in near-complete darkness. Dean was just making to leave, having switched off the lights. When he saw Castiel framed in the doorway, he went very still.

“Cas,” he said.

Cas didn’t speak - knew that if they talked, if they got caught up in sentences and explaining, then he might never have the courage that he needed. He walked across the dark tattoo parlour, and he put his hand on Dean’s cheek, and he looked into Dean’s eyes -

And then he kissed him. Softly, yes - and not for long, still hesitant - but into that kiss, that brief touch, he poured it all.

The wishing.

The longing.

The terrible, wonderful, terrifying hope.

He tried to pull away, but Dean’s hands came up to cup his face, and Castiel was being kissed back - was lost, suddenly, in a world of sensation. A world of fingertips and soft lips and nearness.

“Cas,” Dean said again, sounding rough and ragged and so, so happy, when they finally broke apart.

“You were right,” Castiel said. He kissed Dean again, swiftly, because he could, and Dean kissed him back, and they didn’t speak again for a while.

“I was?” Dean managed eventually.

“We make a pretty good pair,” Castiel said.

“You - you want to do this? For - for real?”

“More than anything,” Castiel said, “in the whole world.”

[stuffylana]

The Last of Millenniums, chapter one

Genre: Science Fiction

Word count: 1610

Tag list: @amongwriters @storyteller-kaelo @mouwwie @alinakerrin @indievixen @nkta-ink @starrywritingg @magsiswritingnow @outaspacestudent @crypticsx @wasting-ink-not-youth (omg it’s already eleven of you, and I haven’t even posted a chapter yet *the tears of recognition streaming down my face*)

The chapter is under the cut!

‘... and after years of work, we are ready to announce that our first book, The Last of Millenniums, is available on bookplate.sg!’

It’s happening. The history of twenty-ish centuries is revealed.

I have always been curious about the past. It always is the reason why the world became the one we live in now. And, to be honest, I always thought I had to be born a couple of centuries ago. All this technology-controlled life doesn’t feel right. My own personality doesn’t feel right. While everyone does their job and starts a family, I keep on searching for my own self. It’s hard, especially when you read the old books (thanks to the Internet that has so many of them in free access), and see that lots of people had the exact same problem in twenty-ish centuries: they had to find their purpose. And it’s always different for everyone.

But there is one thing I know for sure: if you have a life to live, then live it to the fullest, do your best and never give up. Well, if you live with your parents, then don't take this advice too seriously. Sometimes, giving up on what you want is the only way to avoid arguments with them.

Okay, I lied. I’m not sure about that. It’s difficult to be sure if you don’t even know who you are and why you exist, but I’m gonna figure it out. In some ways, I hope the new book helps me with that, and that’s why I’m here, at the presentation, - to get my copy signed and, of course, ask some questions.

But somebody in front of me grabs a microphone I was going to take, and clears their throat.

‘How was the given information researched?’

‘We used the last-millenium written books and newspapers along with the websites. Also, we used our ancestors’ notes and journals to deepen the information with some POV.’

‘And how can we know all the facts are true?’ they pluck the bottom of their shirt, and embrace a flash drive hidden under the belt. They quickly glance at it and put it in the pocket instead, glaring at me. That’s just a flashdrive, for goodness’ sake. Or is it not?

‘We never claimed they all are. Please don’t forget it’s a work of historical fiction, and that we tried our best to describe a thousand years in one novel, and  some things were made up in the process to add a fictional twist. However, all settings, events with historical value, and used names are the ones that genuinely existed the days the events took place.’

Oh, I’m excited. I’m not even mad that they took the microphone right out of my hand; the questions were exactly what I wanted to know. Although, there is one thing I still have to ask about.

I step forward and take the microphone as they pass it again.

‘Does your story confirm or deny the existence of superpowers shown in the movies?’

‘Neither.’

‘Then how is it historically accurate?’

‘Just like the old history student’s books. Have you ever read about mermaids in them?’

‘No, but since we have explored forty percents of the world ocean, we know they are real!’

‘Yes, but they weren’t important for the world development. Neither are superpowers. Next question, please!’

Phew. Is this the decent reason to think they don’t exist? I hope it is.

Since I was a child, I have had some strange moments with the lights. Sometimes, the rooms became just as light as I needed them to be, and sometimes they were so bright that I couldn’t keep my eyes open. It was rare, but it happened. I hope those were just some dreams I had, but sometimes it felt way too real. But if superheroes didn’t affect history, then they just didn’t exist? They can’t appear out of nowhere, right?

‘Hey, are you okay?’

Somebody softly taps my shoulder, and I turn around to see who it is.

‘I’m Calea Reesence,’ the girl, who is now in front of me, extends her hand, and I shake it. ‘I see you’re quite interested in my father’s work, aren’t you?’

‘What?’ I turn my head back. Right. I was staring at the wall with a book cover the whole time. ‘Yeah, kind of. I love history.’

‘So do I,’ Calea smiles and adjusts the sleeves of her dress. Oh goodness, her smile is… dazzling. I would say I love it if it wasn’t this bright. She is bright. ‘What should I call you, mysterious stranger?’

Despite the tenderness of her voice, it still makes me flinch.

You met an awesome girl. Don’t mess it up.

‘Sorry for being rude. I’m-’

‘Carthie, we’re leaving in five!’ my brother interrupts me, and I sigh. This is too early!

‘Sorry…’ I begin, but Calea cuts me off with a sweet chuckle.

‘You apologize too frequently, and we just met. I take it Carthie is your name, right?’ She smiles again and twists her thumb ring.

‘Right. But could you please call me Phoebe? I just like it better.’

Calea raises her eyebrow and squints her eyes. Great. Why did I have to tell her this? We won’t probably see each other anymore.

She takes a glass of dragon fruit champagne from the tray one of the waiter robots brought, and exhales.

‘Yeah. It really fits you. Phoebe… I hope we can meet someday again. I wanna use this name more often. Nobody has called themselves so for centuries. Here,’ she pulls out her phone from the dress pocket and gives it to me. ‘Give me your number. I’d like to have a cup of coffee with you someday. We could, you know, talk about names and stuff…’

She keeps saying something, but I don’t really listen. A girl just called me out? I didn’t mess up? I? Didn’t?

Okay, I should probably just type my number and get excited later. Furthermore, she might have thought my brother was my boyfriend, so maybe she just wants to be friends.

I’d love that too, though.

As I touch the numbers on the keyboard, my brother comes up and smirks, but doesn’t say anything.

‘Here,’ I smile and return Calea her phone. She takes it, and our fingers touch but I don’t know whether it was accidental or not. ‘I saved it.’

‘I’ll call you tomorrow, then,’ Calea locks her phone and puts it back into the pocket. ‘Have a good day.’

‘You-’ I cut myself off the moment she hides in a crowd. Ugh.

‘So you’re going on a date?’ Elriot smirks again, wrapping his arm around my shoulders, and we both head to the exit.

‘It’s just a walk. Moreover, I’m not sure she would call. She must’ve been nice, that’s all.’

‘If you say so.’

I unlock my handbook as Elriot and I exit the building, and the light gleams on the display. I look up, and a smile touches my lips. The night lights are already on, among the infinite constellations. When I was a child, I thought they were the moons, but now I know: the moon isn’t half as beautiful as they are. Maybe, that’s because they change colors as they shine?

I smile to myself again as we approach the car, and Elriot touches the button to open the door.

‘So, carrot, did you get your copy signed?’ mom asks as we get in. I forgot to!

Ugh.

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘Well, she has a chance to,’ Elriot’s lips curl into a half-smile, and he elbows me.

‘Elriot!’

‘What? It’s not me who has a date with the author’s daughter!’

‘And you, as a nice brother to have, should’ve stay mute about it. It’s not even a date, and I told you that!’

‘Of course, it’s not.’

Mom smiles and turns around to me when the car stops at the red traffic light.

‘I’m happy for you. Don’t forget to get some good sleep! I won’t wake you up if you’re gonna stay up next day.’

I don’t reply and turn my sight back to the sky. Why can’t Elriot keep his mouth shut?

I’ve already had my heart broken before, and he knows that. The last thing I would ever want is to hear the words of sympathy if it doesn’t work out. We don’t even know each other. And even though I thought it would be a date, I don’t think I want it to be one anymore.

It’s nearly midnight, and we are finally home. As I come into my room after washing my hands, the first thing I do is fall on my bed with eyes closed. I don’t wanna do anything but sleep.

The robotic voice reminds me that I still have one more thing to do.

‘Good evening, Carthelia. Would you like to journal today?’ my best friend, Velmena, levitates closer and hands me my tablet. My secret tablet nobody can see.

‘Sure,’ I sit on the bed and take a tablet, unlocking it with a finger.

‘Do you want me to bring you something else?’

‘No, thank you, Velm,’ I give her a short smile, and she levitates back to her charger.

Journaling… This is my only way to track what’s going on. Or, maybe it’s not. I just love it.

I open my journal app and note things that happened tonight. My phone vibrates, and I smile the moment new text appears.

Unknown, 11:57pm:

Hey, Phoebs, is that you? It’s Calea. Just wanted to make sure I got your number right.

The new day is going to be good.