#i have felt painfully out of place in most conversations i see happening online

[astriiformes]

Been mulling over an intersection of experiences I had last week and coming to the conclusion that I want it to mean something and inspire me to action, I just don't know how.

We read a text in my Women, Gender, and Science class last week that discussed the gendered/sexual language that began to be used in botany around the time of Linnaeus, and I took the opportunity to point out that there was a lot of allo- and amatonormativity happening in the same descriptions. My professor seemed enthused to hear me talk about it, but even more significantly, one of the grad students in the class, who'd been furiously taking notes while I was talking, mentioned it was the first time she'd learned about the terms and seemed extremely interested in what I was pointing out. It felt validating to bring up an angle of discussion that's a product of my own very aromantic perspective and have someone else find it well-articulated and compelling enough to take an academic interest in my point.

--And then, a few hours later, leadership for the queer student group I'm in (which I have become involved with in an official capacity, so that included me) had to deal with an instance of arophobic harassment in our Discord server, prompted by an aspec person harmlessly venting about Valentine's Day things already feeling inescapable.

All this happened the same day I ran our group's student activities fair booth, and a day after I attended my first student government meeting after signing up for the Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion committee -- and specifically an advocacy project related to LGBTQA+/BIPOC mental health needs on campus -- so it's not exactly like I'm sitting around twiddling my thumbs when it comes to queer activism and advocacy. But broadening someone's horizons by explaining terms that affect me daily and witnessing an attack on an aspec person from within the community, in a space where I've never seen anything like that happen to someone who wasn't aro or ace, has me thinking complicated thoughts about how much work there is left to do when it comes to ace and aro advocacy specifically, and coming to the conclusion that while I have plenty of ideas for ways to be outspoken about my community's needs as a trans person these days, I have a lot fewer when it comes to my asexual and aromantic identities.

Something to keep thinking about, I guess, although I really do wish that caring deeply about aspec issues didn't feel so niche and lonely.

[sagemusesoutloud]

Anti-Romantic, Part 1

(credit to the original owner of the image)

Character | Jaehyun x reader Genre | nonidol!au, Mutual Pining, Slowburn, Fluff WordCount | 3.6 K Author'sNote | lmaoooo the fact that I intended this to be a oneshot type of thing oops. Wellllll, I tried. Most likely to be a two part series, but we'll see.

This is part of a series I intend to call "If Songs were Fics" and this particular one was loosely inspired by TXT's Anti-Romantic bc I'm obsessed. I hope you enjoy reading as much I enjoyed writing it!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

I don't know who loves me

And I don't care, It's a waste anyways

A romantic feeling, Kinda scares me

“Any plans for you birthday next week?”

Jaehyun shakes his head at you, “no, not yet, don’t you have that date with that barista?”

“I’m not sure, he’s been acting weird over text lately. Might not be worth it,” you shrug your shoulders. “Besides, it’s your birthday! You only get one of those a year, we should plan something.”

You were on your way to the gym, a ritual you and Jaehyun had ever since you both found out you worked for the same company. You had been childhood friends, but ended up losing touch since you went to separate universities.

It was a nice surprise to see a friendly face on the first day of orientation and throughout the duration of your training for the next six weeks. Although you were both from different departments, you enjoyed taking your lunch breaks together and sharing small gossip about your old class-mates.

“ugh, don’t remind me,” he let’s out a long sigh, “every year, it seems like my family won’t stop pestering me about starting a family.”

“What’s so wrong about that?”

“Nothing, just not for me. Or at least not yet. I don’t think I’m the type to settle down,” he shrugs again as if it were no big deal.

You gasp, “how could you say that? I’ve seen your insta account. It’s got your cousin’s kids all over it!” You stop to take a good look at him as he holds the door of the gym open for you. “Back in school too, you used to tutor those elementary kids for volunteering hours. Even when you didn’t need them. You’ve always liked kids.”

“That’s different…”

“Right. Totally different things. Got it,” you roll your eyes. This wasn’t the first time he mentioned not wanting to settle down. At first, you had thought it was because he liked ‘keeping his options open’ like back in high-school. Or, not that you knew for sure, but if the rumors were true then it meant he slept his way around. Apparently, he never slept with someone twice and despite the cold shoulder the other party would get, all you had ever heard were praises. Not that you paid that much attention or anything.

You and Jaehyun had the same circle of friends, but despite that, he had never made any advances towards you. You’d be lying if that didn’t bother you at least once or twice. You just assumed that he didn’t want to make the friendship awkward or mess with the friend dynamics of your group. Which was why your crush on him in junior high ended as soon as you got to high-school.

You ended up going on dates with other people, but nothing that kept your interest. Nothing that compared to how you felt around him. Not that he seemed to think the same, so you tried your best to stay the good friend you always have been. You didn’t want to push something he clearly didn’t want; not that it didn’t hurt any less. Throughout the years it’s become bearable, at least. Almost like a painful habit.

You check in and head to the locker rooms to change. His nonchalance about the subject had always puzzled you. You’d seen first hand how all the female coworkers seemed to sway their hips as they walked by him, how some would pop a blouse button more than usual when around him, and you swore no one else was getting that much help throughout training more than him. He was handsome and a gentleman, that much was painfully obvious.

You meet him outside by the water fountain, “ready for warm-up?” he guides your way to the treadmills.

“When’s the last time you dated?”

You would have laughed if you weren’t so shocked to see him trip from the corner of your eye. “why the sudden curiosity?” He finally responds.

“Not sudden, I’d always wondered.” You defended. “You’re good looking and you’re very…I mean, you live on your own and have your own car. You have good relations with your family AND you’re good with kids. So, what is it?” You hadn’t realized how troubling you thought it all was. But now that you started digging you couldn’t stop.

“I just—” you pause, “it doesn’t make sense.”

You hear him chuckle, “you might wanna slow down before you pull something.” You look down and realize that your pace had gone from a relaxed jog to a borderline run during your rant. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to psychoanalyze your only friend in the city.

“Well, I just don’t know how to let people in. It’s just that.” He finally responds. “I love kids, but I don’t know or think I’d be a good partner.” He slows down before stopping, ending the conversation. He waves you off with an easy smile as you stay running.

Huh, maybe you pushed him too far. Your eyes can’t help but follow him around the gym.

Sweet and bitter chocolate, The taste at the end is always the same

Like the saddest movies, Only tears in my eyes

Your hands were sweaty the entire morning, anticipating your lunch time. It was his birthday today, and while you hadn’t made any concrete plans you ended up agreeing to go over to his place after work. Your gym bag was ready with snacks and comfy clothes to stay over. You remembered him saying he was excited to watch that new Marvel movie that had recently come out so you had bought it online to stream it at his place as a surprise. But what had you nervous was the small heart shaped box sitting in your purse. You didn’t know what possessed you to buy it but you had immediately thought of Jae when you passed by it at the mall. You remember vaguely mentioning that it was a special occasion to the sales lady (as in, his birthday), but she must have thought it was your significant other rather than friend because she changed the box to the red velvet shaped one while giving you a wink. In her defense, you could have protested but…why didn’t you?

You hear a knock on your door, “hey little miss sunshine.” Ah, Nakamoto, this couldn’t be good news. He was only sickly sweet to you when he needed a favor.

“What do you want?” you deadpan. He only laughs as he makes himself comfortable in your office. “Well, nothing in particular. Can’t stop by and see how you’re doing?” he feigns hurt.

“Right—the last time you ‘came by’ you left me working over-time through the weekend,” You sigh, “so what is it this time? Missed meeting? Late proposal?” To be fair, your supervisor WAS overworked sometimes. And since you were the only worker under him, it was normal for him to sometimes share some of the load with you.

He smiles at you, “nope. Just have a proposal for you. I know you’ve been working hard these past few months and I’ve been really impressed by your work ethic.” He stands and moves closer to your desk, “And I thought some sort of reward was in order, as well as celebration.” Ok, now you’re confused. You were ok with the reward part, it usually came in the form of a gift card to your favorite coffee shop, but celebration?

“Why would we celebrate? Did I miss something?”

“Not yet, but I did recommend you to the partner position with me. And I wanted to be the first to tell you that the boss approved it earlier today. So, what do ya say? Dinner on me?” he extends his hand out to you and wiggles his eyebrows playfully.

Oh.

Shit! You were hoping this would happen eventually, moving up from the entry-level position you had. But you had never thought it would be this fast. “Oh my gosh, are you serious?” You give him your hand and he shakes it in mock salute.

“Of course, some people will come by to move your computer to the office next to mine. You start Monday!” he winks, “So, wanna go to that new rooftop restaurant? This is a once in a life-time ticket, so you best say yes.”

But your dinner with Jae…He’ll understand, right? He has to. It’s not like he seemed that excited about it anyway. And you could always spend the day together tomorrow, too. It would be pretty rude to turn down Yuta after he pulled some strings for you…

You smile at him, “Thank you Mr. Nakamoto, I won’t let you down as a partner. Yeah, dinner sounds great. Wanna meet there?”

You sit down on the small table, now nervous for other reasons.

Jae sits opposite of you, a small smile on his face. “Hey you,” he greets.

“hey…” you start, “I hate to change plans so suddenly, but…” crap, you feel really shitty. But you really were between a rock and a hard place.

“everything ok?”

“yeah, no. I actually just got promoted,” you start.

“You did? That’s awesome! So fast, too. Wow—but shouldn’t you be more enthusiastic about it?” he chuckles.

“I am, just—my old supervisor wanted to go to dinner to celebrate. And I don’t think I could say no after helping me out like that.”

“I mean, did you want to skip it or?” Now he’s confused.

“Well, he wanted to go out tonight since I start Monday and today’s Friday…I don’t think I can come over tonight,” you explain.

Realization crosses his features before he gives a small smile. “Don’t worry about it, you’re fine. And he’s treating you! You don’t know when the next time he offers might be,” he continues, “we can celebrate another day anyway.”

“Are you sure?” now you feel like shit.

“Of course I’m sure.”

For the rest of the lunch, a thick silence settles before he excuses himself back to work.

Jaehyun knew this was coming. Nothing ever went his way; it’s why he kept everyone at a distance from his heart. But he was weak when it came to you. This game of push and pull was bound to keep happening, and it only brought him that all familiar foul taste in his mouth.

I know, that sweet love song, Those words of promise

When you turn around, It's just an unfamiliar someone

It was why he decided to go else-where for university, instead of joining you and some of your friends to the one closest to home. He chose to go across the globe—far, far away from the curse of you.

It had started on a windy day, back when you were 4 and new to the town he grew up in. Jaehyun didn’t want to leave his mother’s arms, he didn’t like the thought of being with strangers until later in the day even if his mom promised that she would be back. A little girl with jean overalls like his came up to him and his mom, “why are you crying?”

“I am not!” he sniffed. He didn’t need to make new friends like his mom was trying to tell him. All he needed was to go back home. You took out something from your pocket and showed it to him, “look, my mom said I could give one to my first friend. She said it was sharing. Want one?”

In her little palm, were two kiss chocolates. “You’re not my friend,” he grumbled, “I don’t know your name.” At that, you giggled, “I’m Y/N!” you took his hand and placed a chocolate there, “there, now we’re officially friends.”

“See, Jae? You can spend some time with Y/N and have fun. Before you know it, I’ll be back,” she promised.

“Yeah, Jae! Come play blocks with me, and then we can try the coloring.” You held his hand as you led him deeper into the classroom. Just like that, Jae began to feel a little warmth in his chest. He didn’t mind that his favorite thing to do was play tag outside or that he wasn’t really good at coloring inside lines yet. But that didn’t matter to him. As long as he had this one friend around, he was content.

Sorry I'm an anti-romantic, I want to run far away

My heart that already chases after you, Blazes up as a small flame

Looking back at it now, it was a little funny. All it took to let you in back then was a simple chocolate kiss and your little sticky hand in his leading the way. You were always larger than life to him, sometimes he forgot that you were just as human as him.

As you two continued to grow, nothing seemed to change your friendship. But he knew that the depth of his feelings wasn’t mutual. It was in the way that you brought a lot different people together and decided to call it your family. Another of your friends, Jungwoo, liked to joke that you collected introverts for fun. To Jaehyun, it was more likely that you just didn’t see the fun in leaving people out. You were charming and passionate. Traits he wished he had. Your empathetic nature and gentle disposition were all that Jaehyun needed, even if he wasn’t the only recipient.

Once you guys started to hit puberty, things started to feel rocky. Jaehyun couldn’t help but physically distance himself from you, his ears were always red-hot. You had always been pretty to Jaehyun, but you were starting to become really beautiful. And if the boy’s locker rooms’ talk were anything to go by, then other people were definitely starting to realize “what a great catch” you were.

It really pissed him off. Who were they to say things as if all you were was a piece of meat? It disgusted him. But what disgusted him more was the fact that sometimes, he couldn’t help but also feel the way your body felt in his when you hugged in greeting. He hated the way his body reacted to everything you did.

He first messed around with a senior girl back when he was a sophomore, Sooyoung. She was leaving and he couldn’t take it anymore. Your boyfriend was a piece of trash and he was tired of hearing the way he would share what Jae considered to be intimate moments that had no business being public. But you seemed so happy… that next game, Jae stole the ball from him and scored on his own. Even if it cost him a three hour lecture from the coach, he would do it again. Fuck being a team, that guy was an asshole.

What he hadn’t planned on was liking messing around. He would never admit it, but the reason he couldn’t commit was because he couldn’t get rid of that small grain of hope that glowed in his chest every time you stared at him longer than would be deemed normal. It wasn’t often, but he knew he wasn’t seeing things. So, he succumbed to the cycle of push-and-pull that you guys had going on.

Jaehyun wasn’t blind, he knew that your work definitely spoke of your professionalism, but he’s also seen the way Nakamoto stared after you. Of the way his hand would often touch your waist when walking together. Even now, as he hears you apologize through the phone again as you get ready for your “date” with him he can’t help this heart feel heavy with anger. Anger at himself, for letting you slip away once more. He usually hopes for nothing but the best for you, but this time, he wishes you had an awful dinner.

Sorry I'm an anti-romantic, I don't believe in romance

I'm afraid that after burning my whole heart, It will only leave behind ashes

Throughout the entire dinner, you can’t seem to get Jae out of your mind. It keeps you from enjoying the delicious food, keeps you from keeping your usual banter with Nakamoto.

You’re about to call it a night and thank Nakamoto for inviting you out when he beats you to it, “damn, I was hoping this might be a good break from the usual overtime we do, but something tells me your mind has been elsewhere,” he offers good naturedly, “I know it’s valentine’s, so maybe this is why we feel so awkward, right?”.

You grimace a bit at that, “ah—I’m sorry. I really am grateful for the way you look after me in the company and I’m also thankful for this lovely dinner,” you stop a bit, afraid you might offend him, “I agreed to come out tonight, so no need to feel awkward.” You offer a smile.

“Alright then. I guess you already have your sights on someone?” he prods. Should you be honest? There was no rule against dating outside your department, and you were pretty sure your new boss’s wife also worked within the company. “…I do. But I’m pretty sure they don’t feel the same way. It’s been so long since we’ve known each other. Surely if something were to have happened, it would have by now.” You were loosening up, definitely the wine’s fault.

Nakamoto sighs at that, “damn, and here I thought I could woo you after this,” he winks jokingly but you laugh him off. You knew he didn’t care for you that way. “I really hope you’re talking about the guy you always eat lunch with. I swear everyone thought you guys were married when you were released from training.”

“What?! No, I—we’ve been friends since we were children—”

“Aha! So it was him then,” he smirks. “Good.”

You groan, “Please, no.”

“What, it’s not him? You sure about that?”

“I will neither confirm nor deny that statement,” you groan. Why were you discussing your love life? You push the wine away and take a sip of your water.

“Hmm. That’s too bad. Could have sworn that guy was after you.” He stands up. “But fine, I’ll stop prodding.”

You sigh in relief—“for now.” You groan. “What do you even mean by that? You don’t even know him. Or me, or at least personally at least.”

“Mmm, I don’t have to. Some things you just know. Like how he wishes I was six feet under every time we run across him at work,” he sobers up at that. “He seemed like a cool dude, but his glare isn’t too friendly. I don’t know how you fell for that.”

You scoff, “just because someone has a resting bitch face doesn’t mean they’re a bad person.”

You both make your way to the underground parking. “You’re right, it just makes them unapproachable. Is that why you won’t confess?” His genuine tone rubs you the wrong way, you don’t need be given false hope.

“Stop it, you said you would drop it,” you frown, “Anyways, thank you for the food boss—”

“—not your boss anymore. Just call me Yuta, we’re partners now.”

“Aren’t you two years older than me?”

“And?”

You shrug at that, “well, thanks Yuta. For the food, not for the interrogation.” He chuckles at that, nodding while pulling out his car keys. “see you Monday!” he waves you off.

You sigh as you get home. It wasn’t as late as you thought it was, only a few minutes past nine. You really wanted to see him. Would he be busy?

You fish out your phone and dial his number before chickening out.

“Hello?”

“Jae! It’s me. Are you busy right now?” your heartbeat is pounding so loud, you’re scared he could hear it on the other end. “Right now?” you hear shuffling on the other end, “no, I was just reading that book Jungwoo sent me. Might have dozed off a bit into it but don’t tell him I said that,” he chuckles.

“Why, is everything ok? It’s still early, did you end dinner that fast?”

“Oh, Yuta and I called it a night pretty early. Too many couples were out and about and it got a bit awkward,” you explained.

“Yuta?”

“Ah, yes. Yuta Nakamoto, but now that we’re associates, he said it would be better to address him less formally.” You waive him off, “actually, I was wondering—if it’s not too late, can I still come over? If not, that’s cool. We can still hang out tomorrow, but your birthday is today and I thought—”

He laughs at your rambles, “of course you can come over, you know you don’t have to ask. How many times have I told you that?”

“Ok, ok. Just checking,” you still had your comfy change of clothes in your car, so you opt to save those for tomorrow and change into something causal for tonight.

“Do you want me to go get you? We can get ice cream on the way, hopefully they don’t close early.”

“Sounds like a plan then,” curse your heart for melting at everything he says.

“Alright, give me 15 and I’ll be there.” He hangs up.

You look at your bag, resting on your sofa and you sigh. The entire night, it’s almost as if you could feel the weight of his gift weighing it down. Yuta is known for being very observant, it’s why he was so good at his job. Closing deals and making contracts in advertisement. Would he be right about this? You know you desperately wish he was, but is it worth risking your best friend?

EndNote | Woooow, that was a longass ride. Let me know if you liked it or if there are other typos I missed! Or just to let me know what you thought, that would be much appreciated. I'm thinking of finishing it by Sunday 6/13, so hopefully the next part is up by then. Until then!

Here's Part 2!

[alirhi]

How I'd have done TFATWS pt 1

Okay, I am such a whore for positive attention that, yes, it literally only takes one person expressing interest to get me to do something lol. So, for the lovely @goblin-tea, here is how The Falcon and the Winter Soldier would have gone for Bucky if I'd been a writer on the show!

Also, shoutout to @gunshou, who popped up showing support when I was in the middle of writing this lol 😘

Episode 1: New World Order

I actually love how most of this episode was handled; it's what drew me into the show in the first place, and gave me such hope for the rest of it. Most of the changes that I'd make here are pretty minor, tbh.

I'd specify the setting in some way for Bucky's nightmare. Obviously, since he was there and knows what happened, when, and where he was, it wouldn't be like the setting changes in movies where they slap a big, bold title card over the scene. Still, I'd probably open with a brief establishing shot showing the city skyline or something; some identifying feature so that viewers can work out where this happened without needing a direct statement from Marvel (note: if you need to directly address your audience to clarify something from within your story, you're a bad storyteller). What year did this take place? I show technology from the time; perhaps a dated cell phone in someone's hand. The point is to establish where and when The Winter Soldier killed RJ Nakajima, without detracting from the emotional impact of the scene. Why does it matter? Because we should know why. Why is Bucky dreaming about this particular incident? Was it his last mission before the events of CA:TWS (a theory I see frequently repeated but with no evidence to back it up)? Was it earlier on? Is RJ only on the forefront of Bucky's mind because of his (unhealthy, but we'll get to that) friendship with Yori? How long has Yori been suffering under the weight of his grief?

I would not have had him crash through the wall, btw. As cool as that shot looked, let's try to remember that The Winter Soldier was a ghost story for 70 years. Ghosts don't leave giant gaping holes in hotel walls. I'm not saying brazen wholesale destruction is out of character for him (obviously not. I've seen CA:TWS lmao. many times. this moment lives rent-free in my brain:

found on google without credit; pls lmk if it's yours so I can credit.

but you don't become a "ghost story" if you always leave that much evidence, ijs)

I'd leave the terrible therapy session alone. That scene was beautiful. Beautifully shot; I loved how claustrophobic it felt, and it really did a wonderful job of showing how Bucky felt on the spot, scrutinized, almost put on display for this bitch woman. This scene establishes Raynor as clearly wrong, and an unprofessional mess, and Bucky calls her out on it. I fucking love that!

lmao gods, I love his painfully awkward forced smile... Guys, this episode is fkn great. (betcha weren't expecting so much praise from me, were you? 😂)

"You're free." "To do what?"

👆👆👆 In my show? That would have more of an impact on Bucky's arc. That question would be one of the underlying issues moving his whole story along. Twice in this show, he's told that he's free, but no one addresses what he's free from, much less what he's free to do next.

It's a minor thing, but when Yori tells Bucky to ask Leah out? I'd have Bucky do more than just shake his head in silent horror. Not much more, just something that matters to me as someone who's worked in the service industry for many, many years and dealt with too many creepos: Bucky would flat-out say "she's at work! that's harassment, Yori!"

Yori can still stomp right past that boundary, and Leah can still smile and agree. I just really want someone to verbally acknowledge that you don't fucking ask someone out when they're at work. Ever. Bucky cringing and apologizing puts the power of the conversation back in Leah's hands; it gives her an out to politely decline if she's not interested, and just laugh off Yori's flirting on Bucky's behalf as a senile old man being silly, so I'm actually fine with how this scene turned out. I just would personally have gone that extra inch there for the idiots in the audience who don't get Bucky's subtle "wtf" reaction and why Yori's suggestion was so bad. If someone's livelihood depends on being nice to you, keep your goddamn distance. Flirting with them or asking them out when they're at that big of a disadvantage and have virtually no power to say "no" is harassment.

Here is where I'd make one more subtle change, too. When Yori sees the mochi and is reminded of his son, and tells Bucky about his death, I'd just slip in a time frame. "x years ago, my son was..." blah. (Guys, it really bothers me not knowing when that scene took place rofl can you tell?)

One complaint I've seen a lot online about this show is how it's a bit murky on just how well known Bucky is in-universe. He can walk around Brooklyn with more or less total anonymity, but he's also recognized as "an Avenger" (when he was never actually technically in the group)... but honestly? I think it's actually pretty realistic. Just because someone's famous doesn't mean every single person on the planet knows who they are and what they look like well enough to instantly recognize them on the street. People look different in photos than in person, and pre-Blip, Bucky had the complete Jesus look - long flowing hair and a full beard. In TFATWS he's a little scruffy, but not this:

Sebastian looks like about 10 different men from one moment to the next just irl with a change in haircut, lighting, expression, whether or not he got enough sleep the night before... 😂 I don't really find it hard to believe that people not expecting to bump into an Avenger would have trouble seeing Bucky post-haircut as anything other than just another attractive white guy.

Anyway! Sorry for the segue lol. On to the date!

Earlier in this very same goddamn episode, it is established that Bucky can remotely operate a car with a tablet. This is not a technologically-inept geezer. This is a 30-something nerd who loves new technology, who, yes, is facing a brave new world and a whole lot of new technology, but has never shown any issue picking it up. The crappy flip phone he handed Raynor earlier? a burner to keep her out of what little personal life he does have (we never see it again in the real show, anyway). The "tiger photos" line? Stays, not to show Bucky's floundering ineptitude with technology, but as a little nod to his bisexuality. (don't like it? don't wanna see Bucky as bi? go watch the show and read Skogland's borderline-offensive interviews. This isn't "how I would pander to a homophobic audience" it's "how I would have written it." the "Bucky is bi" interpretation is super fucking common and has been since TFA so bite me 😁)

Tiny nitpick, but I'd also have the Battleship boards actually set up properly lmao. What even was that? Anyway...

I don't think I'd have Leah get all ranty about Yori and RJ. That's not first date talk, for one thing. For another, let's ease up on the beating Bucky and the audience over the head with that one incident in a single episode, shall we? Instead, I'd have her stick with the date questions - she asked his age, asked about his family; I'd have her follow it with questions about what he does for a living (giving us a chance to not only actually have that question answered for us - how the hell does Bucky keep himself from being homeless? lol - but also set up...)

He shuts down a little when she starts asking about his past; she's innocently curious, just trying to get to know him, but he's flinchy and deflects with questions about her. The date is awkward, but doesn't abruptly end with him running away lol. He walks Leah home, like the old-fashioned gentleman he is, goes home, himself, and end on him grimacing in his sleep, in the clutches of another nightmare: not as much detail as the RJ murder scene, we see disjointed, disorienting images of fluorescent lights glinting off of machinery, the occasional shot of Bucky writhing in the chair, a shot of that damned notebook (to remind the dumber audience members why Raynor's passive-aggressive notebook thing was so triggering for him), and we hear echoes of a couple of the trigger words, and Bucky's screams.

[peaceoutofthepieces]

Sink Or Swim

tag list: @cleocc @feeling-kinda-so-so @hopelessromanticvirgo @dreamy-slytherin @adora8 @lockerfivethreefive @painfully-oblivious @poeticinemaa @jjustonemorething @saraben00 @wedarkacademia @coolguyssyndrome @hischbabe @suckerforsobbe @tayspots @starmansander @theah0lt @zoenneforever @invisibleme @chibibanane

~^~

Sunday, 13:43

Song: Jeremy Zucker, Chelsea Cutler - better off

Jens reads over the text message again as he sits on the bench and waits. He rubs his spare hand over his knee, trying to ease the itch under his skin.

Jana: can we meet up? I really need to talk to you

Despite how much he doesn’t want to have this conversation, he knows it’s necessary. That’s why it had only taken him a few minutes to say yes. He isn’t sure why he’s psyching himself out so much. He supposes he and Jana just don’t have the best history with serious conversations, and he has no idea what to expect from this one.

He’s sitting on a bench at the edge of the park, waiting. Jana is only a few minutes late, but it’s prolonging his anxiety and leaving his foot tapping against the pavement. He wishes he’d denied the offer, saying he had other plans.

Only, he did have other plans.

His eyes widen as the realisation hits and he checks his phone again.

He had other plans, that he was supposed to attend to over half an hour ago. He curses under his breath as he navigates to his messages, and surely enough there are a few from Lucas. Saying that he’s there, waiting, asking where Jens is, asking if he’s okay, asking if he was coming or not. The chat with Jana had been open the whole time, and Jens hadn’t even gotten the notifications. He curses under his breath and quickly tries to think of a reply, heart speeding away and hands shaking.

I’m so fucking sorry Luc, Jana asked to meet up and I completely forgot

I won’t be able to make it

He stares, and waits, and the message remains delivered and unseen. The last message from Lucas was only about five minutes ago, and Jens realises he’s probably given up and gone home. He drags a hand over his face and he grips the phone tightly, barely preventing himself from tossing it into the street. He’s in disbelief at himself, more than any anger, disappointed and upset and frustrated and he feels so stupid.

Lucas, Lucas, how could he forget Lucas?

He knows how. It’s because he’d been distracted all morning, listening to his father rant about and insult his boss (who is at least a decade younger), complaining that he ‘can’t believe anyone would raise their son to be such a ‘pansy’. It’s because his father had turned to him and expected him to agree, waving his hands about as if to say ‘you know exactly what I mean’, and Jens had wanted to tell him that no, in fact, he didn’t.

It’s because he’s begun to understand the ache in his chest in these particular moments and why exactly it’s there.

It’s also because Jana had texted him, then, asking to meet, and despite how painful the conversation is likely to be, Jens had wanted nothing more than to see her and feel some sense of normal and comfort.

It’s because he might have forgotten Lucas on purpose.

Jana finds him like that, hunched over in a panic, still staring at his phone, startling as she sets a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” she appeases. “You okay?”

Jens quickly pockets his phone and lets out a slow breath, nodding. “Yeah, sorry. Was starting to think you’d ditched me, is all.”

Jana smiles, and it isn’t tense, and it eases Jens’s worries a little. “It was tempting,” she admits.

They regard each other for a moment, and even though it’s been two years, Jens almost feels like he’s been portaled back. He can recall them in this same scenario, too many times before, and it certainly doesn’t begin to make him feel better.

But Jana sits down next to him, and bumps his shoulder, and smiles. “Don’t look so scared. I’m not going to try to kiss you again.”

Jens huffs and tries to hide some of his relief. “Well you have to admit it’s a legitimate concern.”

Jana bumps him again, rolling her eyes. She’s avoiding his gaze now, looking out in front of her and making it impossible for Jens to guess where this is going to go.

“Hey,” Jens prods gently. “You can talk to me, huh?”

She offers him a small smile. “I really wasn’t planning on kissing you. I know we’ve talked before about if we still had feelings and agreed we wouldn’t go back there. And that still isn’t my intention.” She takes a long breath. “But I do have something to tell you.”

Jens clasps his hands together in his lap, pressing in and out on his knuckles. “Okay.”

“Do you remember, in the summer, when I said I was supposed to be moving to New York?”

No.

Jens nods slowly.

“Well, they’ve only just sorted out mom’s transfer. I’m leaving in a week.”

Jens’s heart falls into his stomach and he can only look at her. He’d thought, when it was first brought up, that he’d made his peace with the idea. But then school had restarted, and Jana was still there to join them, and all worries of the matter had disappeared. Now it feels like a bomb being dropped all over again, while Jens feels unstable enough as it is.

“Jens?” Jana places a gentle hand on his arm.

Jens rubs his hands over his jeans. “What about school?”

“I have already made plans to transfer there. I was going to study online with them from the beginning of the year, but I worked it out so that I could spend it here.”

“So you knew it was still happening.”

“Yeah.” Jana’s voice is soft. “I’m really sorry, Jens. I know I should have told you earlier.”

She should have, but Jens understands why she hasn’t. He wouldn’t have liked having to break the news to her, if it was the other way around.

“No, I get it. I should be the one making sure you’re okay. It’s a lot. Does anyone else know yet?”

“I’ve told the girls. But only a couple of weeks ago. I told Amber not to tell Aaron, because I wanted to make sure I could tell you myself.”

Jens nods. “Does Robbe know?”

“No. I wouldn’t ask him to keep that from you. I think he’s been through enough of that.”

She hasn’t moved her hand from his arm. Jens looks down at it and wonders why he doesn’t feel more, even though he already feels too much. His feelings and his thoughts are all a mess, but that no longer seems unusual.

“Why did you kiss me then? Was it like...a goodbye?”

Jana shrugs, and her smile returns, though a little rueful. “A bit, I guess. I was thinking about having to tell you, and I knew I was going to miss you and I wanted to spend that little bit of time just being us again. Then I felt like I needed to make sure it was really done. That we couldn’t go back there, and I wasn’t making a big mistake leaving and letting that go.”

“And you were a bit tipsy.”

Jana rolls here eyes, but laughs. “A bit.”

“But now? You don’t feel like you’re making any mistakes?”

“Of course I’m going to miss you all. I would stay if it was just my choice. I just didn’t want to leave behind any what-ifs.”

Jens nods. He understands, beyond the fuzz occupying his head. He knows what she means, and he’s now glad of it, too. He probably would’ve wondered, as well. He thinks the idea of what they could have been will always lie between them, but it would have been much worse if they’d let the idea linger with Jana leaving. He understands, because after that kiss, he no longer wonders over his feelings for Jana, either.

“This kind of sucks,” he says. “I’m gonna miss you.”

She smiles softly. “I know. But we’ll still stay in contact, yeah? And I will visit.”

“As long as you don’t forget about me.”

She scoffs. “You’re more likely to forget about me, with all your new friends.”

Jens would love to respond to the teasing with a smart comeback, but instead there’s a sharp pain in his chest with the realisation his phone hasn’t buzzed. “Yeah, well, they might not be around for long either.”

“What?” Jana’s brow furrows. “Lucas? What’s happened?”

“I was supposed to meet him at one and I completely forgot. I sent him a message to apologise and he hasn’t messaged me back.” He feels almost ridiculous admitting it. He feels ridiculously upset that he thinks he can see a pattern.

Jana’s expression turns sympathetic. “Fuck, was that my fault? I’m sure he’ll understand when you tell him that. You can be quite good at apologies when you want to be.”

Jens snorts. “You mean when I apologise.”

“It’s always worth it,” she informs him. “Really, why were you so bummed about this, huh? Lucas isn’t going anywhere.”

“What? Like you, you mean?” Jens mumbles. Then he closes his eyes. “Sorry. I know it isn’t your fault.”

“No, but you’re allowed to be upset.” Jana squeezes his arm. When Jens doesn’t answer, she takes a moment to examine him. Then she’s asking, “You really like him, don’t you?”

Jens whips his head around to stare at her. “What?”

“Lucas. He’s only been here a couple of weeks, but you get along really well, right? He’s already like one of your best friends.”

Oh.

Of course that’s what she meant, he reminds himself. There’s no way for her to know. There’s no way for anyone to know.

For a few seconds, Jens considers telling her. It would only take three words.

I like him.

Instead he says, “Yeah. He is. It’s just that...Robbe’s super busy now. He always had other things going on before, but then he usually came to me to get away from them. Now he doesn’t need to. Aaron is always with Amber or talking about Amber. Moyo is working or dancing or whatever it is he does. Lucas...Lucas feels most like my friend.”

Jens is ready to backtrack, say ‘no, that was weird’, but Jana is already nodding and the smile on her face is a little too soft. A little too understanding. “I can see that. And when he’s that important to you, you’re not just going to let him slip away because of one dumbass mistake. That’s not you.”

It feels good, to think she’s right, even if he doesn’t entirely believe it. Jana has always seemed to know him better than himself, however—at least, when she wasn’t doubting him all the time. Her having this little bit of faith in him, it does help. He decides he can probably trust her a little bit.

“Lucas isn’t you, though,” Jens reminds her. “He’s important, but he doesn’t cancel you out. I am going to miss you.”

She smiles, and it’s a little sad, and she gives his arm another squeeze. “Me too.”

“It’s still nice. Just being with you. I’m going to miss that.”

“Just not like that anymore,” she shrugs, her gaze soft.

Jens wraps his arm around her shoulders and leans back against the bench, hugging her to his chest. She winds her arms around his stomach and rests her head on his shoulder and Jens presses a kiss to the top of her head. “No,” he agrees. “Not like that anymore.”

[nelllraiser]

when you wake | cutler, dakota, & nell

LOCATION: the catacombs. PARTIES: @clarkesconvenience, dakota, & @nelllraiser. SUMMARY: the key to waking the dreamers is revealed, but cutler, dakota, and nell are unlikely to succeed without first giving something up of their own.  CONTAINS: sibling death, torture mention, self-harm, gore

Cutler’s hands were aching. It had started in the morning as a dull, persistent twinge between the joints and had only intensified as the day went on, morphing into a sharp pain. It refused to leave with knuckle cracking and finger-splayed stretches, tendons only seeming to tighten and pull the bones of his fingers further into themselves. The half dozen advil hadn't helped, nor had the stiff drink he had downed before taking to the crisp winter air as a last resort. 

He hadn’t intended to go to the catacombs. In fact, he would normally avoid the labyrinthine stone pathway system that ran below the city at all costs. It was for this reason that he was shocked to find himself standing on the stairs at the entrance, fire licking up his hands as he descended. He grimaced as he crossed the threshold of the stone entrance, puffs of dirt and dust settling around his feet. The pain rippled across the back of his hands, as if leading him forward. 

“Bad idea.” He said aloud, even as his feet took him further into the depths. As if in response, the muscles in his hands spasmed painfully. Pulsing deep below the criss crossed lines of his palms was the knowledge that the cause of this sudden affliction was ahead of him, not behind. “Guess we’re doing this.” He spoke into the cool shadows, hoping no one was there to hear it.

Dakota had been having dreams for weeks now – although she didn’t know if they were just part of some bizarre fantasy slipping out in her slumber or if they were truly nightmares. Regardless, each time she laid down or rested in the slightest, she saw fleeting images of a cave-like place, low lighting, darkness… All flashing before her eyes too quickly for her to make too much sense of it all, but each time she woke up she comforted herself with a cigarette and a mug filled with coffee. Probably wasn’t the best idea for someone who, as of late, kept having a racing heart and acid reflux. But none of that really mattered, because at present she was standing at the entrance of a place she’d never been before – a place she was pretty sure she hadn’t ever noticed on a map of White Crest. 

Her memory was… Fuzzy, at best. She remembered grabbing a jacket, but not getting out of bed. She remembered moving through the underbrush in the middle of the night, and she remembered thinking it was strange that she was walking through tree branches in the darkness, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember walking out the front door. What scared her, though – aside from not being able to recall how she got to where she was standing – was that she didn’t even know why she stood at an entrance to what she could only assume were the catacombs of White Crest. You can wake up any time now, you know. But to her horror, she realized that perhaps she wasn’t dreaming, because she’d heard a voice that helped to snap  her back into reality, not too far away, amidst the shadows in the night. What the hell? “…Doing what?” 

The smell of blood was what Nell awoke to, though she couldn’t be all that sure of the difference between the real world and unconsciousness when White Crest had begun it’s steady descent into the collected subconscious of its citizens. Had she even been asleep when the tangy and salty scent of blood had alerted her? Ever since people had been falling into unwilling and unwelcome slumbers, the witch had done her best to sleep as little as possible, not wanting to be the next victim in a string of people that were something deeper than comatose. It wasn’t all that hard considering the fact that sleep hadn’t been easy since May of last year, the month that her sister had been struck down before her very eyes in Nell’s stead. But Nell couldn’t afford to fall into a sleep that she wouldn’t awake from. There were far too many things in her life that needed constant attention, obligations that refused to be silent in the form of a demon cult needing downing, a family whose father had been eaten by a demon shark, and her summoning magic that seemed to have grown a mind of its own at times. 

While she blinked bleary eyes open wider, her heart began to race, Nell’s mind picking up pace to match the beating in her chest as she recalled the last time she’d risen to the smell of blood. It had been the sticky redness of her sister’s beheading that had covered her face, arms, legs— and panic rose in her chest while she wondered if she’d soon find Bea’s headless body on the floor next to her. Thankfully there was no decapitated body in sight, though Nell couldn’t shake the feeling of wrongness the scent of blood was bringing to her head. Where was it coming from? There was something deeper in her gut, a pulling and yearning that seemed to yell until she was forced to listen, and follow the metallic smell of blood. She walked until she came upon a familiar sight, the very entrance she and her sisters had used when they’d hunted Montgomery, Bea’s killer, down into the catacombs, capturing and torturing him so that they might earn their final retribution. She hadn’t dove back into the catacombs shadowy bowels since that day, almost worried that if Montgomery had a ghost, it would be down there in the belly of the town, still being digested, not yet truly gone. Was he the one who had brought her here? 

Nell didn’t know how long she tread the empty halls of the cavernous catacombs before hearing a voice, and in an instant she was drawing a knife from its hiding place, brandishing it before her. Following the sound, it didn’t take long until she found the source of it— a man who looked as lost as a lamb without it’s shepherd, and the woman she’d traded fierce words with outside The Stacked Deck. “Were you both brought here too?” Nell asked, familiar enough with mysticism by now to recognize that no natural force had placed her here. Was it the same for them? The tail end of her words was caught up in the howl of a wolf, a long and mournful sound that turned her head down the most narrow tunnel to the left of the party. “Did you hear that?”

“Oh, fuck. Jesus.” Cutler’s knees bent instinctively and his entire body lowered into a defensive stance at the reply in the darkness. It took him a moment to recover from the shock, leg still bobbing shakily with hopped-up nerves, even as the decidedly not-scary woman became visible in the darkness. Smooth, Cut. “Going into the creepy catacombs alone. Suppose this solves half that problem. I’m Cutler.” He began to lift his hand to shake and immediately dropped it again as his knuckles screamed and scraped against themselves. He tried on a reassuring smile instead, manifesting as more of a pained wince. 

It was then that a second voice breached the dim, settling heavy in the mildewed corners and damp brick. Anxiety and tender pain fluttered in his chest. “Brought here? I wouldn’t say-” A dry cough stuck in his throat, rasping behind his words and cutting off the statement that he didn’t quite believe. “Were you?” His hands clenched and unclenched at his side nervously as he fumbled for a way to lighten the conversation. “This isn’t how I usually meet people, but if this is the new spot maybe I should come down here more often.”

Dakota vaguely remembered him, but everything around her seemed like a distant memory at the moment. Was it that online forum? Did she see him at a grocery store? It was starting to irritate her just how confused she felt. “Cutler,” she heard herself say, though her gaze drifted more so back to the catacombs. “Do you know why –” she trailed off, mostly due to the fact that yet another voice was thrown into the mix. However, this girl was more than just a vague memory – she was more than even just familiar, because she was that girl from The Stacked Deck who burst through her poker game, though she never caught her name. The two exchanged words, something about being “brought” here. That was enough to finally snap her out of her dream-like trance.

“I was, yeah. I don’t remember getting out of bed. I don’t remember walking out the door. But somehow I’m standing here in the middle of the night with you fine people—” she paused to toss Nell a look. She wasn’t still angry about The Stacked Deck… per se. A howl in the distance, though, did in fact shut Dakota up quite quickly. Someone had told her to watch out for wolves. “Does anyone know why the hell we’re here?”

Nell’s dagger had dropped to her side into a more relaxed position, though she made no move to stow the weapon back from whence it had come. Giving the man named Cutler a nod, her lips pursed while she took in her surroundings, trying to remember how long she’d already been walking the craggy walls of the catacombs. Ten minutes? Thirty? A few hours, maybe? She couldn’t remember, and that only added to the stone of dread pooling in her gut, an unsteadiness that always formed these days whenever she could feel control slipping through her fingers. “I’m Nell,” she told the man before narrowing her eyes towards the other woman, barely resisting the urge to offer more sharp words. But she could feel that there were more important things at hand than a petty feud over some flipped tables and spilled cards. “You didn’t say your name.” By the way the dark-haired woman cut her words in the midst of another howl, Nell took it as confirmation that she wasn’t the only one hearing things. “I don’t know- but it’s probably for some bullshit reason.” That’s what had happened at the lake all those months ago, wasn’t it? People had come to Nell for the demon banishing ceremony, pulled by some otherworldly force to the right place at the right time. Another call of the wolf had Nell staring down the tunnel in question, a desperate need to answer it seeming to pull her towards it. “I think...we should follow that howl, though. Do you feel it?” The need that was seated in her mind’s eye, like an itch she couldn’t quite reach.

There was something in the air between the two women. Cutler was scared, not stupid. The tension was thick, billowing around hanging spider web scraps and floating dust specks. He could cut it with a knife. That is, if his quivering hands could even hold one in their current state. As Nell spoke, his fingers were reaching down the hallway even as his mouth protested. “Follow it?” His voice was high in his register, squeakier than it had been in several years. 

Something in him shifted as the young woman’s voice spoke once more. Calmer than she had any right to be. Grounding him. Can you feel it? Whatever “it” was throbbed in his hands and tugged at his gut, pulling him forward. “Yeah.” He found himself saying, “I can.” He turned back, making eye contact with both of his newfound companions. “We don’t have a choice, do we?”

By the second howl, Dakota couldn’t have given a rat’s ass about exchanging names and pleasantries, because she was about ready to turn around and head home. But… The moment she thought about retreating, there was a sickening, sinking feeling in her gut that made her stay. She felt it in her bones, she felt it in her chest – a knot tying itself tighter in her stomach that pleaded only one request: stay. “Dakota,” she muttered a few moments later, eyes looking askance towards the entrance of the catacombs. She wasn’t sure what the hell was about to be down there, but she was sure as shit not about to risk her life for some adventure.

… Except that she was, because a third howl began to make her think that being inside the catacombs was a lot safer than being out here. “We don’t. I feel it, too – whatever ‘it’ is. Let’s just.. Follow the howl and hope we don’t end up fucking mauled.”

Nell knew that a wolf howl was more often dangerous than not in a town like White Crest, a place so steeped in the supernatural that it had almost become...natural. She couldn’t begin to explain it, just as she couldn’t entirely explain why she’d come here in the first place, but the howl of the wolf didn’t seem threatening. It was a long, searching sound, as if calling out to someone for help. The subject of whether or not they had a choice was a touchy one for Nell, always balking at being forced into anything, but she couldn't’ help but feel that Cutler’s words were true. Steeling her shoulders into a determined and hard stance, she took the little height she possessed and made the most of it as she began to lead that way into the tunnel, doing her best to ignore all former thoughts of Montgomery as she began to descend. “Let’s get going, then.” While she walked the path, the scent of blood grew stronger, so much so that she swore she could nearly taste it on her tongue, thick and sharp. All the while the wolf’s howls led the way, showing which path to take when they came to forks or a circle of tunnels. “I think we’re almost there.” She could feel the magic in the air now, a shimmering that she’d known since a young age that was shining brighter in her head the closer they got.

Cutler fell in step behind the girl in front of him instinctively. She operated with a natural leadership and seemed to possess some hidden knowledge as she looked around the tunnels where he only saw shadowy recesses in grimy brick. In the low light, he spread his hands in front of him, looking for some medical explanation for the tingly-sharp pain that only grew stronger the deeper they went. At the back of his tongue, the familiar, coppery taste of blood brought back memories of the surgeries he had performed with these same hands; once valuable enough to be insured, now primarily used for punching prices behind a cash register. “Almost where?” He had almost run into Nell when she stopped, and scuffled backward a few steps. He looked to his left, making sure Dakota was with them. Whatever was around the sharp bend ahead, he didn’t want to face it alone. 

The thick, cloying scent of blood hit him like a wall, meaty and organic. Blinding pain seared through his hands and he expelled a soft sound, halfway between a moan and a cry. His eyes screwed shut instinctively, willing the static from the edges of his vision. “You guys don’t feel that?” He stared at his feet, sharp, jagged breaths hampering his attempts to get the words out. “Tell me you feel that.”

As they submerged themselves deeper into the damp, dank tunnel, Dakota could smell the presence of some sort of blood – fresh, most likely. It reminded her of hunting with her uncle when she was a kid – that smell of blood, human or animal, was almost universal.. And it was present down in the halls of the tomb that they walked. The phrase almost there was something she didn’t want to hear, but Cutler summed it up when he’d asked the question she was already forming in her own mind – almost where? 

The deeper they went, the stronger the scent grew – like a thick curtain or a shroud hanging around the three of them, metallic in its fragrance. Deeper into the tomb they walked, and the stronger it grew. Dakota’s heart hammered in her chest, not knowing exactly what lay ahead for them. Cutler had said something, and though she was fit to answer, she caught a glimpse of an object on the floor, farther ahead than she cared to go, that seemed to resemble something far too close to human remains.

“Hey, guys…? What the fuck is that?” 

Cutler remained bent over, hands on knees. “No.” The word tumbled out of his mouth, quietly and aimed at the floor. He barely heard it himself over the sound of blood rushing in his ears. Dakota was speaking, Nell was ahead, but his gaze remained trained steadfast on the floor below him and the centuries of dirt and whatever else filled the gaps between the ancient brickwork below them. 

When he finally summoned the courage to stand back up, both of the women were looking at something ahead of them. It was dark, and he didn’t have his glasses on him, but he knew what it was, the same way he had known to come to the catacombs in the first place. What little light there was in the tunnels bounced off pale skin in the shadows. “It’s a-” Cadaver was the word at the front of his mind; the only other time he had been privy to the sickly white tones of bloodless flesh. “-a body. I think. Or part of one.” He drew air into his chest, forcing it to expand and contract, reminding himself to breathe. He could handle this. He’d seen dead bodies, operated on them. This was nothing he hadn’t faced before.

And then it moved. It jumped forward, movements quick and erratic. Spidery limbs crawled across the floor as it came into focus in sharp terror under the lamp light. It was a hand, isolated from the rest of its body, moving independently with jerky, inhuman motions. Cutler was already reaching for the Swiss army knife in his pocket; numb, throbbing fingers jammed themselves into his too-small jean pockets. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He barely managed to retrieve the multitool in time to stab the knife squarely into the hand in front of him. As it collapsed to the ground, he looked around frantically. “There’s got to be two, right? Two of them?” 

A soft scraping below him snapped his gaze back to the floor. It was moving. Again. 

Somehow Nell had walked right past the hand that had scuttled towards Cutler, and his string of curses made her head turn backwards over her shoulder, a frown of concern firmly in place. How the hell had she missed a living hand? Either her senses were growing duller, or the thing hadn’t spawned until after she’d passed it. Whatever the answer may be, the appendage certainly shouldn’t have been inching all over the ground like some fleshy crab. At least Cutler had managed to stab the hand, though it soon became apparent that the abandoned body part had made a steady and full recovery, dancing around the man’s feet as if it were auditioning for some grotesque rendition of The Addams family and the role of ‘Thing’. “Two would make sense.” After all, hands came in pairs, didn’t they? “So where the hell is the other one?” she muttered, sharp eyes scanning the shadows that seemed to be looming closer by the second as the walls of catacombs blurred and twisted into shapes she could almost make sense of. Squinting into the darkness, she searched for movement that she could track and caught a glint of silver instead. The moment she took notice of the abnormality, an enormous injection needle shot through the darkness, the three foot long steel tip of it aiming for Nell with deadly accuracy. “Holy shit!” she called out as she rolled and dodged, never having been a fan of any shot, let alone one that looked as if it’d been created for giants. 

Quick movements caught her attention, but Dakota wanted to haul ass in the opposite direction the moment she saw a fucking hand scurrying near their feet, like some sort of spider. Moments ago she was trying to decide if she were in a dream or walking along in the realm of reality, and now she was wishing to open her eyes and see that this was all an illusion. Cutler’s curses and quickness, though, reassured her that this wasn’t something she was going to wake up from anytime soon. “Stab it again!” Dakota exclaimed, hopping on the bandwagon of belief that there must be a second one walking around – another hand that needed to be destroyed. 

Her eyes searched the darkness hurriedly, hoping it would appear out of the blue so that she could stomp on the damned thing and get this hellish night over with. However, that wasn’t the case. Nell’s scream was a distant cry at this point – she’d felt herself wander into a spiderweb of some sort while looking for the other hand. Instantly she began to brush off, muttering little curses to herself, anxious hands running over her limbs. She couldn’t see a thing, but it was like she felt them all over. “Fucking Christ!” she shouted in disgust, obsessively sweeping her hands over herself only to stumble over another object on the floor – the second hand? -- hitting the ground with a thud.

To Dakota’s absolute horror, in the dimness of the catacombs she saw what looked like hundreds of spiders crawling towards her, some small and some large, others akin to tarantula size while some were beastly, at least as large as a dog with legs as long as she was tall. Letting out a string of curses – “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” – along with a cry of disgust as the small arachnids crawled over her legs. Finally, she had managed to scramble herself to her feet, now noticing the giant needle as the swarm of spiders seemed to follow every which way she ventured. She didn’t know how these nightmarish visions were spawning, but she had one idea that might put an end to them.

“Cutler, stab the goddamned hand!”

Cutler didn’t see the needle, or the spiders, or the fear in his companions’ eyes. He didn’t hear the persistent calling of his name over the chaos. He saw the scene as if from outside himself. Disaster arced outward, nightmare spawn barreling toward him and the hand at ground zero. The hand twitched, rising from the floor on clicking joints and he just stared, glassy eyed. This isn’t real. This can’t be real. 

The pain in his own hands brought him back to his body with a sickening jolt. Hot saliva pooled at the back of his tongue and pearls of sweat began to dampen his collar. The pain had changed. What was now a dull throb became a stabbing agony; converging at the centre of his palms where his life and love lines intersected. He knew what he had to do. The round, clean-cut fingernails of his left hand scraped nervously at the faux-mahogany handle of his multi-tool for a moment, seemingly impervious to the events unfolding around him. A series of moments flashed before his eyes. His first surgery in the OR. His last one. The good, the bad, and the ugly: all perpetrated with these hands. 

When the blade of his knife pierced the skin of his palm, there was no hesitation. It was a smooth cut. His professors would have been proud. An excruciating scream filled the tunnel. At first, he thought it was coming from him, but his teeth were clenched together over his locked jaw. Below him, an identical wound had appeared on the pale hand on the floor, viscous liquid seeping from it and into the sandy tile below. 

“I got it.” The words were spoken at regular volume, overwhelmed the shrieking from the hand below. The same inherent knowledge that had led him here told him it wasn’t long for this world. “I got it.” He said again, louder this time. Stronger. One down, one to go. 

The moment Cutler made his incisions was the same instant the enormous needle faltered mid-trajectory, dropping to the ground as if it too had been defeated. It gave a long enough pause for Nell to look past her attempted impaling for a moment to see the scene that lay before Cutler. His blood dripping from one hand onto the one below him, the ruby red droplets staining its ghastly skin red. Of course. Nell had been foolish not to realize it earlier. Between the plethora of magic swirling in the air, and the blood that the hand had demanded, it was becoming clearer by the second exactly what it was that was going on here. “It wants a sacrifice,” she said slowly, knowingly as she continued to glance warily towards the giant needle that lay still on the catacomb floor. “It needs payment in exchange for…” In exchange for what? They still didn’t have the faintest idea of what it was they were trying to accomplish here beyond making sure they didn’t get murdered by their worst nightmares. Suddenly, a voice seemed the echo through the cavern, raw and rough but full of determination and confidence. “We need to get the parts to the pedestal. We need to use the rest of our energy to get these parts to the real world. Like the skeleton said...they need to be made real so that they can be destroyed.”

Make them real so they can be destroyed. Based on the nightmare-ish visions they were experiencing and the voice’s mentions of the ‘real world’, Nell could only guess as to why the parts had to be done away with. This was what needed to be done to bring back those that had fallen prey to whatever sleeping curse had taken White Crest as its prisoner. Those like...Bex? Iron determination was quick to find its way back into Nell’s gaze as she thought of her slumbering pupil, an innocent girl caught between things she didn’t yet understand along with the rest of the town. “Where’s the other fucking hand?” she hissed, intent on stabbing the thing herself if she could find it. She’d do whatever it took to ensure her town was happy, that her little witch was safe. But whatever antidote Cutler had worked seemed to be wearing off, the needle rattling from its resting place to rise once more while the other hand roamed free. “Find the damn hand!” Nell yelled as she dodged another stab of the needle, narrowly escaping impalement. 

Amidst the darkness scattered hundreds of spiders, all that seemed on a manhunt for Dakota. The beastly ones reared up on hind legs, towering over her, latching on to her fear of them as if they fed off of it, the smaller ones closing in while crimson red dripped from Cutler’s palm to the single hand below. Sacrifice. The word rang in her ears as she dodged the spiders, though the moment his blood dripped they held themselves at bay, a few vanishing into thin air. Just that the few drops weren’t enough, apparently, because as the needle trying to impale Nell began to bring itself to life once again, aiming straight for her. 

All she knew was that if they didn’t find the other hand, and quick, she’d run out of energy and succumb to being eaten alive by a bunch of snarling tarantulas and Nell would be given a hefty dose of dead, God only knowing what would happen to Cutler. Dakota, though still panicked by both the spiders she was frantically kicking away from herself, hoping against hope the giant ones, as well as the giant needle chasing Nell, would vanish the moment Cutler destroyed the hands. It was painfully clear, though, that they all only had one option: face their manifested fears. You can do this. They’re just spiders. It’s just a dream. 

The spiders continued to rear up on hind legs, Dakota continually dodging left and right in order to miss the others when she noticed something large and ghastly scurrying through once again. The same object she must have tripped on in the first place. The second hand.  Adrenaline flooded her veins, knowing damn well that if she didn’t make her next move and follow that hand, the risk of all three of them not making it out of the catacombs alive would be much higher than she cared to gamble for. They’re just spiders. It’s just a dream. 

Taking a few steps back, Dakota braced herself before sprinting forward, dropping her right knee just in time to slide across the floor, right between the legs of the beast before her, only to chase down the hand she’d spotted moments before. “There!” she tried desperately to communicate with the others as the swarm of spiders began their chase, the hand speeding between Cutler’s legs and hoping to retreat to safety. “Do something!”

Cutler wasn’t worried about the other hand. The moment that Nell had said the word sacrifice, he had understood that proximity wasn’t the issue. It was the sacrifice in the action. The final relinquishing of his surgical career in a single choice, offered up to the dark mirror of what were once his most valuable assets. He was surprised to find that he felt lighter knowing he would never again hold someone’s life in his hands. Dark life force seeped down the grooves in his skin, tiny rivers running back to the sea. At this rate, he may never hold anything at all.

The tendons in his hand jumped and rippled around the wound. He looked at it clinically, like the cutaway diagrams in his anatomy textbooks, bridging the gap between his limbs and what every person was underneath. Meat. Flesh. As corporeal and precariously mortal as any other animal. Bone, muscle, and tendon scraped together as he switched the knife to his still-bleeding hand. Strangely, he felt no pain. It was what allowed him to repeat the action once more, stabbing the blade into his uninjured palm. Another scream from below him: the second hand meeting its end.

At once, sights and sounds began to seep back into his peripheral. Yelling from his companions, impossible visuals bombarding him. The hands were gone, but this was far from over. “We have to move.” Ahead of them, he felt the pull of a greater force drawing them forward. He had just made the greatest sacrifice of his life, and it was only a taste of what was to come. An appetizer for the great, slavering hunger that was closing its’ jaws around them. “Now. We have to move, now. I’ll cover you. Run.” 

Dakota didn’t know Cutler. His aspirations, his dreams, his pain, his guilt – it was all lost on her, but it didn’t take much to realize that what he’d just done was the sacrifice of his life. She stopped running from the spiders long enough to look upon the scene in both awe and admiration. There wasn’t time to unpack that, though, because while the bloodthirsty needle had dissolved into thin air and the crawlers she’d been dodging had suddenly vanished, she felt the pull – a foreboding sense of ruin lying ahead. We have to move, now.

Only one word made sense to her: run. It was something she’d done her whole life – something she practiced often and knew all too intimately how to do. It was a knee-jerk reaction that came with a side of always having an escape route in her back pocket. Dakota was hesitant about a lot of things in life, but one thing she’d never think twice about was disappearing without a trace… Until now. Breaking into a sprint, she knew there were more things than just two hands to destroy, and the faster they could find them, the faster she could retreat back to safety, burrow herself back into her own little world where shit like this could only ever exist in horror films. 

Her gut was never to be trusted, but something told her to hang a left as she was running through the tunnels, splotches of red catching her eyes, beckoning her to follow. The sense that she was growing closer grew stronger, her heart pounding wildly in her chest, blood rushing in her ears. She could feel it like it was burning a hole straight through her, whatever this force wanted her to find just at her fingertips, so close she could almost taste it – a few more feet and… Dakota slowed to a stop, the splotches of blood she’d been following leading her to this: 

A still beating heart lying balefully at her feet. 

Nell couldn’t begin to guess at what exactly Cutler had given up. After all, she’d only met the man some twenty minutes ago. Nevertheless it was apparent that his sacrifice had been more than enough, the stabbing of his hands paying the debt that had been demanded. Once they were out of here, she’d ask to take a look at his hands. Healing wasn’t her forte, but she could do enough to at least stop the bleeding and make sure he didn’t keel over from blood loss. She would have taken a look at his injuries now if another organ hadn’t spawned in the midst of them, the thumping of the bloody organ louder than any tell-tale heartbeat the witch had heard before. It seemed to bounce off the walls of the catacombs, until it echoed in her ears, drowning out her own thoughts as she watched Dakota approach the heart. 

Nell took a confident step in the direction of the heart, only to be met with iron bars shooting up from the ground mere inches from her nose. The message was clear enough. This was Dakota’s sacrifice to make. “Looks like it’s your turn,” she said none too begrudgingly, knowing her time would most likely be coming sooner rather than later. “It’s your sacrifice to make now.” As soon as she’d said the words, the bars that had kept her from the heart began to move towards her, as if trying to pin her against the rock of the catacombs. Taking a stuttering step back, Nell tried to quell the anxiety that was pooling in her chest as imprisonment looked unavoidable. This was too much like the underground jail of the Ring, and the place she’d been trapped for an entire week, continuously drained of her magic and barely fed until she’d finally managed to break free. The only thing it was missing was… Before she could even finish the thought a familiar voice was worming its way into her ear, silky, smooth, and commanding as Jax’s silver tongue made its demands. “Fuck off,” she growled despite knowing the man was dead, rising dread making it difficult to remind herself of logic.

The wet pumping of the heart matched the rapid thrum of Cutler’s own in his ears. Thud-thud. Steel bars shot up between himself and Nell. Thud-thud. The sharp smell of hospital antiseptic at the back of his throat. Thud-thud. The cracking of whisky over ice. Thud-thud. The cavernous walls of the catacombs swam under half closed lids as his brows furrowed together. Thud-thud. Around his neck, the crinkly plastic collar of a surgery gown began to tighten. 

Drawstring dug into the jumping tendons leading to his collarbone as he scrabbled at his jugular with red-ringed fingernails. With each breath he took, the string tightened further. His lungs burned with the effort of pulling air into them; black constellations spotting across his vision. Desperately, he kicked forward. The rubber sole of his work boots connected hard with the bars in front of him, sending reverberating shockwaves up his knee. 

“It’s not real!” The words hissed through his bared teeth as he lifted a knee once more. “Close your eyes if you have to, Nell! None of it is real!” This time, he felt the bar give under his foot just a little. On the third kick it bent inward with a dull clang and he felt the pressure on his neck release all at once at the string snapped. Coughs ripped painfully through him as he leaned against the bars. He thrust an arm through the newly widened gap, blood-slicked hand reaching for the young woman inside. “See this? Flesh and blood.” His voice was smoky and hoarse. “I’m as real as it gets. Climb through.” 

Something was wrong. It had started small, a little irritation, a headache beginning to form just behind her eyes. But Kevin had not had a headache in over a thousand years. She had felt them before, the dreamers, poking and prodding and sticking their minds where they didn’t belong. At the moment, she had paid it little mind. There was a spell to weave and a town in desperate need of dreams. But those pesky dreamers kept poking and prodding, meddling and touching. They scraped inside her chest and dug about inside her mind and spread a dreadful itch down her arms. They meant to tear her apart. Still, there was only so much there could do. Then she felt it. White hot, burning through her hands. Her scream tore through the air, a thunderclap echoing. Even as her fingers cracked and shriveled, she sought the source. There. The catacombs.

Kevin appeared with a burning flash of light. The air around her sizzled, her eyes blazing as she searched for the meddlers. Ah. There. Her eyes burned as she lifted a broken, burnt hand. The fingers were charred, black like charcoal creeping up her arm. “You. You will stop. Dream now, and forever more.” Her hands may have been ruined, but some of her power remained. It took only a jerk of her head to throw Dakota against the wall, leaving her unconscious, dreaming sweetly on the floor. She turned slowly toward the other two. “And you. Unless you wish to join her, you will leave. You will go and forget all that has transpired. I will not tell you again.”

“I know- I know!” Nell gasped as the bars scraped against her ribs while she grabbed hold of Cutler’s wrist, trying to avoid the self-sustained injury of his hands while he helped pull her out of the metal maw of the jail cell. “Thank you,” she breathed in gratitude. But just because things weren’t real didn’t mean that they didn’t set her heart to pounding. Her brain knew that the voice of Jax tickling her mind couldn’t be possible, but the rest of her body didn’t seem to understand, responding with rampant fight or flight to the sound of a man who’d cause her and Remmy unmeasurable despair. Thankfully— she’d always been the one to choose to fight. And it seemed the world had answered that need with a clear target in the form of the woman who’d appeared before her and Cutler, sending Dakota flying. “Shit,” the witch cursed underneath her breath, hoping Dakota was alright but knowing this wasn’t the time to check on the woman. “You’re the one doing this?” Nell demanded angrily, it being less of a question and more of an enraged accusation. This was the bitch that was keeping Bex asleep- that was keeping all those other innocent citizens in a hopeless slumber. “Fat fucking chance,” was her only reply to the other woman before she began to charge, a knife appearing in her hand from its hiding place as she ran towards the one responsible for the sleeping town. “Cutler- get the heart, and I can keep her busy!”

Sand and grit stuck to his hands as he dropped to the ground, patting his way forward. Cutler had thought he had last seen the heart here, by their feet - by Dakota’s feet, actually - but his frame of reference was now lying unconscious across the cavern. Sweat pearled at the back of his neck as he moved forward, feeling the centuries of dirt rise, puff and cling to his forearms and legs. He had seen the flashing glint of a weapon in Nell’s white knuckle grip just before she had hurtled herself toward their now-revealed foe. She was risking everything. He couldn’t let her down. What he would give to have his glasses now. 

He closed his eyes, lashes light with settled dust. He heard his own heart first; thudding fast and irregular against his breastbone. Then, slowly, he heard the other. Calm and steady. Confidently marking the offbeat. Got you. His knees scraped stone as he moved toward the sound, growing steadily louder. Finally, he was on top of it. His stomach turned over as he felt the heat radiating off of the muscular, pumping organ in front of him. 

The meaty-red smell of blood washed over him as he pulled the sticky blade away from its multi-tooled brethren in his swiss army knife. It wavered in the air above the throbbing mass in his shaking hands. Last time, stabbing the hands hadn’t worked, but he was out of sacrifices. There was nothing else to give but a prayer. His lips moved, silently voicing the words in his own heart. 

“God, please let this work. I’ll do anything. No, I’ll do everything. No more taking things for granted. I want to live.” 

They were close, too close to ruining everything. Kevin could feel her head swimming. Her hands still burned. Even if she were to cut them away, the searing pain would remain. And now they were aiming for her heart. If she could simply bring into focus, drive them away, force them into sleep like all the others, it would be fine. She could start again, rebuild, put herself back together. But their meddling had already taken its toll. The world was slipping in and out around her, her vision blurring, thoughts slipping like water through her fingers. 

She turned toward Nell. The witch had to go. Her power was bright, intense. If she could be eliminated, the other one would be easy. Kevin moved in a blink, appearing inches from Nell’s nose. “What is your aim? Why do you fight? Rest. Don’t you want to? Your dreams are so dark, little witch. I can see them all, I can feel them. You’ve lost so much, haven’t you? Would it not be easier to slip into a dream? I could take it. Your pain. Let me take it all away. It would take only a moment. Your dreams would be peaceful, you could have all that you want. Let me set you free.”

Even without the power to drive her words, Kevin’s questions seemed to pull at a part of Nell that so desperately longed for rest. Her words were soft in the witch’s ear, speaking to a tender place in the brunette that was simply tired. Tired of losing family and friends. Tired of losing literal and figurative pieces of herself. Tired of living on edge, wondering where the next blade or punch or bite would come from at all hours of the day. If she let herself slip into the peaceful slumber that Kevin promised, it would all be over. Kevin was right. Nell was barely twenty-four and she couldn’t help but feel as if she’d lived multiple lifetimes since her return to White Crest a year or so ago. This town was draining her, sapping the energy from her limbs even as she stood here with her knife still poised- frozen somewhere between herself and Kevin. Just let it end. Let it be over. She was more shell than human these days between infiltrating a demon cult, dealing with the aftermath of her accidental demon-shark summoning, and Bex falling into a deep sleep. Bex. The girl’s face rose to meet the eye of Nell’s mind, sweet and peaceful as she lay trapped in Kevin’s dreamscape. Nell seemed to jolt awake as she thought of her student, another sacrifice that would be made if Nell let Kevin take her. It wasn’t a sacrifice that Nell was willing to make. 

The ever-present fire that seemed to live within Nell’s belly was quick to reignite as she reminded herself of all the harm had done- the lives she’d be taking if Nell let herself go. Kevin had moved unnaturally fast in her approach on Nell, but she could be quick too. Uttering a spell meant to grant her speed beneath her breath, Nell’s knife was quick to flash through the air, mindlessly aiming for where Kevin’s heart should beat. It wasn’t until the blade had buried itself deep into Kevin’s chest that Nell realized how futile the action was. She could see the heart underneath Cutler just a few paces away— see his own knife stabbing into it over and over again. There was nothing beneath Nell’s dagger to stab. “I won’t leave them behind.” Nell promised as she savagely dug the knife deeper, anger and bloodlust making the decision for her despite the knowledge that there was no point. She wanted to make it hurt, to make Kevin feel even a flicker of the pain she’d unleashed on the town. “I’ll never leave my friends behind. Or people that don’t deserve to die. So you can fuck right off, you piece of shit.”

The first hit slipped off of the tubular structure of the heart like squeaky wet rubber. It continued to beat, even as the sharp edge of the blade tore through tough ventricles and into the spongy tissue underneath. Cutler could taste the warm, coppery liquid that sprayed from it, only realizing after his third hit that his teeth had bit into the soft skin of his bottom lip. A shaky inhale whistled through his fast closing windpipe, hot tears building in the back of his throat. This had to work. There was nothing else. 

Several feet away, Nell spoke. Her voice was soft and level, but he heard it in his own ears as clear as day. Another scream rang through the cavern; this time from the heart as he drove the blade toward the ground once more. His eyes flicked upward just in time to see Nell’s mirroring action, digging the blade into the soft tissue of their tormentor. He didn’t feel the quick-coagulating drip of blood at the corner of his mouth or the spill of tears washing tracks down his cheek. 

“We’re almost done.” As soon as he said it, he knew it to be true. He coughed into the crook of his elbow, covering a throaty sniffle. The steel toe of his boot connected with the now-shrivelled remains of the heart at his feet. “This is it.” 

Pain. It was still so foreign, so wrong. Kevin had cast it off long ago, the parts of her that were able to hurt. Or so she had thought. They were supposed to be gone. She was beyond this, between petty human aches and blows. But Nell’s knife cut as deep as her words. Her heart wasn’t home, the bloody, pulsating piece trapped in Cutler’s grip. Still, blood flowed from the wound. It drifted up, out, around them as if they were underwater, the blood moving as though to attract circling sharks. Kevin found herself stunned. It had been so long. Large, salty tears rolled down her face as she grabbed Nell’s shoulders with her withered hands. “I could have given you all so much. I wanted to share my dreams with you. I could have brought you peace.”

Kevin staggered back, hands clutching at her empty, heaving chest. This world, this sad, wretched world. It was wrong. It was broken. Perhaps it had always been too much for her to fix. Not even her most wonderful dreams could have set it right. Her entire body began to shake as she sunk to her knees. The air around her swirled, heavy, charged, heated sparks flitting through the air. They burst, flickering, snapping, brighter and brighter as a low cry spilled from her lips. The sound grew, filling the catacombs. It echoed, louder and louder, the force of it pulling the wind, shaping the air itself. With a force strong enough to whip up rocks, to tear deep gouges into the earth beneath her, Kevin let out her final cry. 

The wind rushed and roared, buffeting the walls of the catacombs, flecking them with blood so dark it was nearly black. But it slowly began to fade. Rocks fell back to the floor as the dust settled and Kevin lay motionless amidst the rubble, her eyes shut, as if asleep in one final dream. 

Nell watched Kevin fall with not nearly as much satisfaction as she would have wanted. The mysterious woman was down, and seemingly it was going to be for the count as she didn’t stir. Nell turned at the sound of Cutler’s voice, eyes resting on the shriveled heart that lay at the man’s feet as she wondered what would be the last of the parts they needed to destroy. Hands, Heart, and...what? Rocks began to tumble, and Nell spoke another spell, her hand raising towards the ceiling as a shield began to form above herself and Cutler. Unfortunately, a lack of sleep had made her reaction times slower than usual, and a boulder the size of her head slipped through before the magical shield was fully in place. It struck her shoulder just perfectly, a loud crunch echoing through the cavern as the witch gasped in pain, instantly recognizing the sensation of something being dislocated. “Fuck,” Nell cursed, glancing back to Cutler to make sure he hadn’t been hit as well. The rocks tumbled harmlessly off an invisible dome stationed a few feet above his head, the magic doing its job well-enough. 

It seemed that even though Kevin was incapacitated, her magic had no intention of stopping. Perhaps it had gotten away from her, metastasized until it functioned under a mind of its own- continuing to bring the dream world into the reality of White Crest. Or maybe this was just the design of the spell, a fail-safe self destruct button that would keep going even after Kevin was unconscious on the floor. “Yeah- we gotta keep moving,” Nell grunted through gritted teeth, her arm hanging uselessly by her side. The time for fixing it would come later. She didn’t trust that the momentary rockslide hadn’t jeopardized the structural integrity of the catacombs. Who knew if the rest of the underground tunnels were just waiting to collapse? Glancing back at the body of Dakota, Nell flexed her magic once more until the woman’s form floated alongside the witch, trailing after her like some morbid and hovering duckling. Nell was past the point of wondering what Cutler would make of her abilities, knowing that could be dealt with when White Crest didn’t hang in the balance. She advanced to the next chamber, stopping short as she heard a familiar voice. “Are you sure you want to play this game little girl?” 

The stuttering step of her gait jerked her arm uncomfortably, but she barely noticed as fear-blown pupils began to comb every corner of the new room. “Did you hear that?” she asked Cutler, her voice barely above a whisper while she gripped her knife even tighter.

Cutler watched the rocks tumble around him, landing off of him in a perfect circle and leaving him unharmed. Nell’s movements made two things clear to her immediately. First, that the impossible protective forces around Dakota and himself were a result of her. Second, her shoulder was dislocated. It hung loose and dead by her side, swinging as she continued to move forward.

“I didn’t hear anything.” He turned professional, examining her for signs of delirium or head injury. All he saw in her face was pale, unfiltered fear. It made her look younger. No, it made her look her age. She was young. Too young for whatever this was. “I can fix that shoulder.” He stepped close, hand hovering above her arm, mouth running as a distraction. “If I wasn’t already losing my mind, I think tonight’ll do it. How do I explain this to people?” 

His injured hands settled on her arm. He could feel his own distress; texturally, his skin was torn and bleeding, but there was no pain. For him, that is. Nell was putting on a brave face, but even the small movements from the last chamber to this one must have been excruciating. “Alright. This is gonna hurt, but just for a second. Like ripping off a band-aid. Ready? I’m gonna go on three. One. Two-” His fingers tensed, and he shifted her arm in the socket to hit the right angle in one swift movement. A single push upward returned her arm to the correct orientation with a sickening pop. A mixture of pride and relief washed across his face as he stepped away. “Sorry, that was a dirty trick.” 

Cutler wanted nothing more than to stop. To sleep, or to wake from this nightmare. He could feel heavy fog clouding his brain, telling him to relax and recover. He blinked slowly, the dark seal of his eyelids warm and tempting, willing his breath to a relaxed rhythm. It was Nell who kept him from succumbing, piercing eyes and bright determination tearing through his supernatural lethargy. It was her sharp gaze that tapered the last of his focus into a coherent thought: I’m losing my mind. My mind. 

“It’s the brain.” 

A coiled pink organ was there, right in front of them. It always had been, only now visible by his verbal acknowledgement; like invisible ink under blacklight, revealed by exposure. 

“Let’s finish this.” 

Cutler’s confirmation that he hadn’t heard anything did little to quell Nell’s mind, certain she'd heard the words echoing through the cavern clear as day. “You’re sure?” The owner of the voice couldn’t be present. It was impossible. She’d seen the life bleed out of him with her own eyes as she gave him his penance along with her sisters. A more fearful voice in her own head reminded her that the dead didn’t always stay dead. Be had come back, hadn’t she? Who was to say that some other necromancer hadn’t found the hunter’s bones and raised him back to the living? Maybe he’d been bitten by the undead before his death, and the sisters simply hadn’t known. Her racing thoughts were brought to a halt as she felt Cutler grip her arm, just barely hearing his assurance that he could fix it.

“What? No- no, just leave it,” Nell began, having no reason to trust that the random man she’d met in the catacombs knew anything about popping a dislocated limb back into place. “Don’t count- I’ll just get someone to fix it once we’re out of-” Her words were cut off by a painful grunt as the arm was put back into its rightful socket, a wince flashing over her features as she once again thanked the fact that she was used to pain. Begrudgingly, she offered him a “Thank you,” while also deciding to ask him about his apparent first aid knowledge once they got out of this place.

Having lost his distracting question in her attempts to keep him from fixing her arm, Nell’s brows knit closer together as she found an answer. “Easy- you don’t tell anyone about it. Then there’s no explaining needed. Especially about anything you’ve seen me do,” she added with the smallest hint of a threat. After all, there was still a confirmed witch hunter in town. “Unless you ask me first,” the witch compromised. “And if you need any explanations for yourself...you can talk to me after all this is over.” Her focus shifted to the brain on the ground, kneeling before it as she took a closer look. No doubt it would fight back just as the hands and heart had. “Alright...the sacrifice-” Without further delay, she took a new, clean knife from another hiding place before drawing it carefully down the bottom of her forearm and letting the ruby red of her blood gather neatly. Blood was always the standard for payment in her practices, certainly it would serve her here as well? 

Nell held her arm above the brain as the blood began to fall, and the witch willed it to place itself neatly on top of the last organ they were meant to destroy. Tiny rivers of red began to flow, filling the rivlets of the trenches and dips of the fleshy pink thing until they pooled along the floor. “That should do it.” She raised her knife- poised to finish the job before thrusting it towards the brain. But at the last moment a hand gripped her wrist in a vice-like grip, the blade still dangling above the brain. “Cutler, what the fuck-” She looked up expecting to find the face of the doctor looking back at her, preventing her from finishing the job. Instead she found the grin of the man who tread her nightmares far too often, a ghost that wouldn’t let her be despite her constant attempts to shake him. Again his voice sounded through the catacombs, one that sent shivers up her spine as he echoed the words he’d spoken that day in the forest where her sister’s life had been taken. 

“Are you sure you want to play this game little girl?” Montgomery was here, and looking as real as the day he’d lopped Bea’s head from her shoulders. “Get the fuck out of my head,” Nell growled despite her shaking hand, heart beating a frantic rhythm in her chest as she looked upon the person who’d brought fear into her life. Nell had always been reckless, one who constantly jumped without looking to see where she might land. She still was to an extent. But Montgomery was the reason for her newfound caution, and the feeling that she constantly needed to look over her shoulder in case someone new was lurking around the corner with the desire to kill those she cared about. Growing up, she’d been the fearless little girl- the one who was never shaken no matter what it was she encountered. She’d carried that into her young adult life, the confidence of youth and the sense of indestructibility that came with it giving her the strength to never falter in the face of danger. But then had come a danger she couldn’t stop, couldn’t fight against as it claimed the life of the person who’d died to protect her. The life of her oldest sister.

Nell hated it. Hated that Montgomery had made her this way. Hated that he’d taken one of her strongest attributes and turned it against her, making her heart race whenever someone crossed the property line of her home uninvited. Hated that he’d made her weak. Hated that he made her afraid. But she’d been unwilling to admit it, believing that looking it in the face would give it power— and power was the last thing she would be willing to forfeit. Not when it had been so forcefully stolen from her via the man whose hand was still holding her wrist captive above the pulsing brain. “Just admit it,” his voice came again, though these were words she’d never heard him speak before. 

“I’m not doing anything you want,” Nell spat back, seeming to forget that this was all simply a figment of whatever magic Kevin had conjured. “I’ll kill you ten times over before I do anything for you.” She tried to pull her wrist away from the cold of Montgomery’s hand, nerves still making the tightness of her throat nearly unbearable as panic continued to rise. Not here. Not now. Please- not in front of Montgomery. If he saw her fear, he’d know she was weak, know the power he held over her. He’d know that she'd begun taking the stairs over elevators because it felt like the walls of them would close in on her ever since she’d been kept holed up as a prisoner by the Ring. He’d know she had to sleep in her greenhouse when Bea wasn’t home, unable to rest in a home that reminded her of the time her sister had died. He’d know that she spent far too long looking for the escape route of any room she found herself in— that she wasn’t strong enough to protect all the people she loved. 

Again his coarse voice made demands of her. “Admit it!” Nell’s head shook silently as her bottom lip began to tremble, thinking of all the people that would stay asleep and lose the rest of their lives because she couldn’t utter one little truth. “No,” she protested once again, the singular word weaker as a tear slipped down her cheek. “I don’t want to. I can’t.” Montgomery shrugged, looking down at her as if he already knew her secret, a wide smirk playing across his lips. “Then you know what the price is.” Nell stared at the brain, remembering her promise that she’d made not five minutes ago about leaving no one behind. About always helping those in need. Was she so selfish as to go back on her word this soon? But admitting it felt like giving up, letting Montgomery win a fight that had started months ago and managed to live past his own expiration date. And what else did she have left to cling to if she let this go?

For one last time, the murderer’s voice rang out. “I knew you couldn’t do it.” And he was right. Hadn’t Nell proven that by staying silent? The desire to fight rose in her ever so briefly, the need to prove him wrong finally giving the push she needed to admit the truth. “Fine!” she snarled, still hateful that she’d have to admit it in the first place. “Fine,” came her voice a little softer this time, her arm going limp in his wrist. Her last defense had tumbled, forcing her to lay a truth that she hadn’t even begun to admit to herself bare before the man who was the root of it. “I’m afraid.” The words were quiet as they could come, but as she released them her wrist was freed, the apparition of Montgomery disappearing before her eyes while her blade finally fell onto the brain, piercing it deep as she admitted to the prisoner she’d become when it came to fear and her own mind. 

Cutler watched the kinks of the brain slowly fill with red, tracking the infinite curls and dips. The only brain he had ever seen up close had been off colour and logged with preservatives; undeniably dead. This one was swollen with life, sinapses presumably still firing through it despite it’s disconnection, seemingly uninterrupted by the splashing of Nell’s blood onto the surface.

When Nell raised her arm to strike it, her aim was true and he was just as surprised as she when her hand stopped before delivering the final strike. He heard own name sprung from her lips, venom in her voice. 

“What? I’m sorry, I-” He was cut off by her next words, delivered in his direction but not to him. Her eyes were glazed and unfocused, clearly seeing someone else in his place. “Who’s in your head?” A million expressions flickered across her face. There was a battle going on behind her shaking lip and desperate protests. A battle for control of her mind, and one that she had to fight alone. When she finally voiced her fear, he recognized it for what it was: an offering. A display of strength, masquerading as an act of weakness. The effects were immediately palpable as the manufactured dreamscape around them dissipated. The rumbling of the cavern stopped and the fog in his mind began to clear. Every sensation returned tenfold. Sand, grit, and blood sealed the dry cracking edge of his lips. Sweat and cool humidity stuck his shirt to his back as he turned, looking for confirmation in Nell’s face. 

Then he felt the pain. It manifested itself as simple whiteness that blocked everything out, shielding him from the agony. His vision became a blazing void of nothingness, accompanied by a high whine in his ears. It was all he could do to remain standing in the face of his temporary blindness. When the cavern faded back, the pain was no longer blocked out, the muscles in his arms lit aflame by the wound in his palms. 

“I have to go. I have to get out of here.” He willed himself to take a step toward the doorway. “My hands.” The words sounded distant and strange, as if spoken by someone else with his voice. The early morning light haloed his heavy frame as he stood in the stone archway, looking up. They had walked through what felt like miles of hallways to get to the inner chambers and yet...he could feel fresh air from above ground and a misting of fresh dew on his cheek. It smelled like freedom. Like life. “You coming?” 

It was a long moment before Nell rose from her kneeling spot before the now shriveled brain, the previously pink tissue blacked and cracked. It was over. Finally it was done, and she knew as much when the air returned back to its normal density, the thickness of magic no longer pervading the stillness of the catacombs. Her gaze stayed on the broken brain for too many seconds, and somewhere an insidious thought began to form within her mind. Was this what her brain would look like one day? Rotted and burned out from one too many hits— turned into something she barely recognized? And then there was the revelation of her admission. She was afraid. Afraid because Montgomery, Jax, and countless others had shown her just how much she had to lose ever since the witch had returned to White Crest from a five-year travelling stint. It’d been easier when she was distanced from this place, friends and family out of mind’s eye and arm’s reach, their pain and suffering out of sight as well. Her shoulders remained weak while she stared into space, a few trailing tears still finishing their descent down her cheeks while she sat shell-shocked. Now what? What was she meant to do with this newfound fear? 

Again she thought of Kevin’s words, and the promise the mysterious woman had made to take all the pain away. To set her free. Would Kevin have taken the fear, too? It was too late to find the answer with no way of going back. Still— now that Nell knew the truth...how was she meant to live with it?

Nell’s reverie was broken by Cutler’s question, haunted eyes turning back to the man as she looked to his hands. She’d be able to see to them now- at least make sure that he didn’t lose any more blood than he already had due to the sizable injury. And Bex. Bex should be awake now, shouldn’t see? Nell wanted to be there when she woke up, or at least soon after. To tell Bex that she’d kept her promise. To prove that Nell had come back for her, and found a way to wake the girl from her neverending sleep. So despite the feeling of hollowness in her gut, and the dread forming in her chest she rose slowly from her knees, wiping them with tired and still shaking hands. The world was waiting for them out there, whether they were ready for it or not. It would be changed, the victims of sleep and nightmares unable to go back from what they’d seen and felt. Or perhaps it was simply the victims who would be different, and in turn they would change the world to fit their new selves. Cutler and Nell were different, too. That much was obvious as they made their way towards the rising sun, eyes blinking in the harshness of a new morning and new reality. They’d be left to find their own new way in the world, just as the sleepers would as well. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m coming.” Whether or not they’d be successful at such a feat was unknowable as they left the catacombs behind, but at least they wouldn’t be the only ones opening their eyes anew to the day’s dawn. 

[missmalice202]

Designing Your Melody: Chapter 18 - Vocals

Chapter 01 - Chapter 17

There were some situations that could only be put into perspective by venting to your best friend. Having a boy basically state his interest in you in a romantic capacity definitely qualified as one of those situations.

“Alya,” Marinette whined, looking at her best friend sitting on her couch. “What do I do?”

Ever since Luka’s confession two days ago, Marinette had been debating what her next move would be. She really really liked spending time with him, but she didn’t want to chance messing up the comfortable friendship they had developed.

“Girl, what do you want to do?” It was killing Alya to keep her mouth shut about Viperion’s true identity, but she agreed with Nino that this was something that their friend had to work out on her own. However, that didn’t mean that she couldn’t give her BFF a little nudge in the right direction. “What would you do if it were, say, Adrien confessing his love to you?”

She was appalled at that idea. “Adrien? Alya, you know I don’t like him like that anymore.” She shook her head in disgust. “No, even if Adrien were to tell me right now that he was in love with me and wanted to be with me, I’d tell him that we’d just have to stay friends”

“Okay, so it’s not the fact that someone likes you, it’s the fact that it’s Luka who likes you, correct?”

She stopped in her tracks and stared at her chestnut-haired friend. She hadn’t thought about it that way before. Maybe she wasn’t scared of being in a relationship, maybe she was scared of being in a relationship with Luka specifically. “Why does that scare me so much?” she asked anxiously.

“Girl, you’re scared because you’re already invested in your relationship with him.” She stood up and walked over to grab her friend’s hand, pulling her back to sit with her so she could focus on their conversation and not her pacing. “Even though you guys aren’t romantically involved yet and he said ‘no pressure’, you’re still worried that if you try to be with him and it doesn’t work out, it’ll destroy whatever it is you guys have now.”

“You’re right. It’s not worth it. I don’t want to lose him.”

Seeing the determination on her friend’s face, Alya realized that she needed to try a different tactic before Marinette sabotaged any sort of romantic involvement before it even began. “Let’s look at this from a different perspective. How would you react if it were Viperion saying that he wanted to be with you. Would you react any differently?”

She knew that she had to tread lightly. She didn’t want to reveal everything too soon. She was a little worried about using Marinette’s crush on her clanmate against her, but really, the girl was just so dense at times. Sometimes you just had to come right out and smack her across the face with something to make her acknowledge it.

“Viperion? What does he have anything to do with this?”

Alya growled, frustrated at her own decision to keep her mouth shut. “It’s a hypothetical question. Purely hypothetical. I asked, ‘what if’ to make you think about if you would behave differently.”

Marinette pondered that question for a few seconds. Would she react differently if it were Viperion? She did really like talking to their reptilian clanmate and she looked forward to playing with him whenever she got a chance to get online. Plus, he had an easygoing nature that made it really easy to open up to him. There were times that she wanted to ask him if they could meet up in real life, but she was comfortable with that degree of separation between them. Crossing that line would make him real, a flesh and blood person instead of a voice behind her screen.

If Viperion expressed an interest in meeting her and cultivating their friendship into something more, would she be so quick to shoot him down and play it safe?

“Honestly? I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t know the real Viperion, only what he shares with me online. Just like he doesn’t know the real me. We only know what we tell each other.”

Alya chuckled softly. “That’s true of any relationship we have with another person. It’s up to you how much you share with the other person. Just because you don’t know what Viperion’s face looks like doesn’t mean you don’t know what his heart looks like.”

She looked at her friend in shock. “Wow, Alya. That was kinda deep.”

“What can I say?” she retorted with an exaggerated hair flip, “I have my moments.”

They both started giggling and the absurdity of Alya’s statement. After a few moments, Marinette took a deep breath and continued talking. “To be honest, I think if it were Viperion who had confessed his love to me, I think I would give him a shot.”

“Really? So what makes Viperion different than Luka?”

“I don’t know. I’m just so comfortable around Viperion. We can laugh and joke around and there’s no expectation there for anything else. When I’m with Luka, I can be myself around him, but there’s still that, I don’t know… pressure? I can’t really describe it.”

Deciding that she’s pushed her friend far enough for one day, Alya changed the subject. “So have you seen Luka since Saturday? Has he been stopping by the bakery like he used to?”

Marinette shook her head. “I think he’s giving me space. He invited me to see him perform next Saturday, though.”

“Oh my god, you have to go!” she shrieked. “Nino and I will go with you if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Would you?” she looked relieved. “I was going to ask Adrien if he wanted to come too. Get him out of his house for a night, ya know?”

Alya’s nose crinkled as she scowled at her friend. “Really? You think bringing Adrien to go see Luka play is really a good idea?”

Marinette’s brows furrowed in response. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be a good idea? He’s one of my best friends!”

She sighed at the naïve girl’s utter lack of awareness. “If you think it’s a good idea, then go ahead and invite him, girl. It’s your funeral.”

-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-

To Marinette, she thought of the evolution of her relationship with Adrien Agreste as a marker to indicate how much she had grown up and matured over the years. If someone had told her that she would be able to personally invite him out to join her – and their friends – to a club to watch a band perform without stuttering or making an absolute fool of herself, she would have called that person a liar. When they had been teenagers, there had been something about him that had made her brain short circuit in the most embarrassing of ways.

In a way, she was flabbergasted that the blond boy had never caught on to the way she had felt about him back then. In her mind, her obsession with him had been so painfully obvious to literally everyone except Adrien himself. Maybe he was just that oblivious. Or maybe he had been aware and was ignoring her affection for him in order to avoid a painfully awkward rejection.

It was something that she had wondered about many, many times over the years, but as her attraction for him had waned, she’d decided to just leave it alone and put it behind her.

Once she had moved on and made the conscious decision to be Adrien’s friend rather than just another fangirl, they had grown even closer than she had ever imagined. She was aware of the constant pressure he was placed under from his father and she had become a sort of safe haven for him to turn to when the stress of living up to his father’s expectations while pursuing his own dream became too much. If she were to be honest with herself, she was honored that she was the person he turned to when he just needed a break from reality.

However, recently she had begun to wonder if he had an ulterior motive for seeking out her company.

Over the past few months, she’d begun to notice that he’d been making more and more excuses to spend time with her, even if it meant squeezing in time between his university classes to drop into the bakery to snag a few pastries before returning to campus across the city. Surely there were other places much closer to his university where he could eat his lunch.

But Marinette never questioned him. She never brought up the lingering glances she caught him giving her. She never confronted him about the casual way he would invade her personal space, even if it was in a platonic way. She was hesitant to rattle the status quo they had been living in for so long, especially if her intuition was wrong. God, that would be embarrassing for him, as well as her.

A trickle of unease ran down her spine when she saw the way Adrien’s grin lit up his face when he noticed her approach in front of the club where Luka’s band would be performing that night. The sparkle in his eyes was something that she chose to ignore. After all, she was here at the invitation of another man.

‘Oh crap,’ she thought to herself. ‘Now I understand what Alya meant.’ She really hoped her utterly brilliant idea of inviting Adrien to watch Luka’s performance would not end up blowing up in her face.

As she and Adrien made small talk while waiting for the other half of their group to arrive, Marinette sent up a silent plea to whoever was listening that nothing bad happened tonight.

-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-

Once inside the club – turns out it really does help expedite the process when a member of the band gives the bouncer your name in anticipation of your arrival – Marinette and her friends looked around for a good spot to watch the show from. Even though they had gotten there an hour before Luka was supposed to hit the stage, the club was packed.

As she looked around the crowded club, Marinette was impressed. She’d been here before with Alya a few times to unwind after a rough day and it had never been this busy. It was standing room only and the mass of bodies crowding in front of the stage was already nearly impenetrable. Apparently, the band Luka was playing with tonight was more popular than he had led her to believe.

Just when she and her friends had resigned themselves to watching the show from the back of the room, a ripple of movement through the crowd caught her attention. The volume of chatter rose over the pre-recorded music being pumped through the speakers, easily becoming audible over the pounding base that made it feel like her ribs were vibrating with the reverberation.

She strained her eyes in a futile attempt to see what had caused the commotion, but she was too short to see over the heads of so many people.

When Nino nudged her arm with his elbow, she glanced at him in question, but he was too busy waving to someone in the crowd. Just then, Luka himself broke through the sea of bodies and the rift he had opened with his passing closed behind him.

He grinned at the four of them and yelled over the music to be heard. “I’m glad you guys could make it! I wasn’t expecting it to be this crowded tonight.”

Marinette couldn’t help but notice the way that Adrien shifted on his feet to inch just a little closer to her. Luckily, Luka didn’t notice the subtle movement due to his attention being focused solely on her. Thankfully, Nino kept the conversation going as he made the necessary introductions, even though she was pretty sure that Luka had met Alya and Adrien before.

They decided to brave the bar in an attempt to get something to drink. Luka stuck to water since he would be playing later and he wanted to have a clear head for the show. The other four, however, ordered bottles of beer to wet their parched throats. The temperature in the club was already becoming oppressive simply from the heat of so many bodies pressed together in one place.

Marinette couldn’t prevent the way her cheeks flushed whenever Luka bent over to yell something into her ear. The music was loud enough to invite the intrusion into her personal space, but she was certain that the hand he placed on the small of her back was unnecessary. Welcome, but unnecessary.

While Luka and Marinette stood off to the side and attempted to carry on a conversation in the loud club, Nino and Alya were keeping a careful eye on how their other friend was reacting to the interaction. He wasn’t taking it very well if the way he was scowling as he quickly drained his bottle was any indication. They tried to get Adrien’s attention away from the couple talking next to the bar, but even as he half heartedly listened to them talk, his eyes never once strayed from their dark-haired companion. Or the hand pressing gently on her back.

Alya and Nino grew more concerned as Adrien ordered and three more bottles of beer and emptied them before Luka motioned to them for them to follow him. Adrien tipped his head back to drain his last bottle and slammed it on the bar before following their group.

Using the dense crowd as a flimsy and utterly transparent excuse, Luka grabbed Marinette’s hand and led her through the crowd to get closer to the stage. With her free hand, she grabbed Alya by the arm, who grabbed onto Nino with her own spare hand. Nino, in turn, snagged the last reluctant member of their party and weaved their way up to the front of the crowd.

When they were in the front, right in the middle of the stage, Luka leaned in one last time. “I’ve got to go finish setting up. We’ll be starting soon, but I wanted to make sure you had the best seat in the house for this.”

Marinette’s heart fluttered. He really was so sweet, sacrificing time he should have spent preparing for the concert to make sure that she was taken care of. She shooed him playfully and he gave her arm one last squeeze before making his way backstage.

They didn’t have to wait long before the house lights dimmed and the spotlights illuminated the stage. The roar of the crowd was deafening when Luka and he other members of the band stepped on stage.

If she thought he was cute under normal circumstances, the moment he stepped on stage, her jaw – and her IQ – dropped. He was wearing simple clothes, nothing fancy since he wasn’t a full-time member of the band and didn’t want to attract too much attention away from the main members: ripped jeans and a shredded black t-shirt with a pair of Converse sneakers on his feet. But the moment he pinned her with his eyes, Marinette’s brain ceased to function. He had heavily outlined his ocean-blue eyes with eyeliner and the way he looked at her did things to her insides that she didn’t want to acknowledge. He was freaking hot.

Marinette joined in and cheered for Luka; she hadn’t learned what the band was called, so she just screamed his name when the vocalist, a tall, slender girl with wild, jet-black hair introduced each member of the band.

The way he winked at her as he slung the strap of his guitar over his shoulder made her mouth go dry. Seriously, it should be illegal for someone to look that good holding a guitar.

From the moment the band started playing the first song, Marinette was mesmerized. Hearing Luka play at her parent’s bakery and in her room had shown her that he had talent, but seeing him on stage, playing with a full band, gave her a whole new appreciation for his skill. The way his fingers danced over the strings of his instrument was a thing of beauty to behold and the way he moved so confidently around the stage told her that this was who Luka truly was.

Gone was the quiet boy who liked to tease her and who she had always considered a bit of a flirt. This boy – no, this man – was sex incarnate. He knew exactly what he was doing with his fingers on his instrument and the dexterity he displayed (as well as the heated way he looked down at her from the stage) made her think about what else he could do with those nimble fingers.

She shook her head to get rid of those intrusive thoughts. She looked up just in time to see him wink at her and smirk knowingly. It was like he knew exactly what she had been thinking about.

The band continued playing, sending the crowd into an absolute frenzy. People around her were dancing and jumping and screaming and Marinette was loving every second of it.

Until she felt someone drape their arms around her shoulders, holding her in an unwelcome embrace from behind.

She turned her head to see Adrien grinning at her from mere inches away. In all their time together, as casual as their physical interactions had been, he’d never been so bold when touching her. It was something she truly respected about him as a person; he knew where the line was. Until now.

She looked to her other side to see if she could get Alya’s help, but her friend was too wrapped up in the energy of the crowd to notice her predicament. She reached up and grabbed Adrien’s wrists, aiming to gently pry his arms away from her, but he only took that as an invitation to cuddle her closer.

She looked up to the stage with a panicked expression. Sure enough, Luka had noticed what was going on. He walked across the stage, never missing a beat, and crouched down to where she was standing. He locked eyes with Adrien and growled, “Let her go. Now.”

The singer’s vocals were loud enough that nobody around them realized what was happening. To the casual observer, he was just interacting with the crowd. But to Marinette’s immense relief, Luka’s actions had caused not only Adrien to release his hold of her shoulders but had also attracted Alya and Nino’s attention to the drama that was unfolding between their two other friends.

Thankfully, once that situation had been diffused, the rest of the concert had gone off without a hitch, but Adrien’s actions made it abundantly clear to Marinette that she would be having a serious discussion with her friend about boundaries and personal space.

-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-

As the club emptied out after the show, Marinette and company were waiting by the bar for Luka to make another appearance. After a few short minutes, he walked up, reached behind the bar to snag a bottle of water that was waiting for him, and drained half of it before he turned to them.

“So, what did you think of the show?”

Marinette beamed at him. She didn’t think her smile could stretch any further across her face. “Luka, you were amazing! How are you not famous by now?”

He chuckled at her enthusiastic reaction. “I don’t want to be famous. I like my peaceful life.” He shrugged his shoulders and took another sip of his water. “I just want to play my music and live in peace.”

While Nino and Alya exclaimed over how good the show was, Marinette could feel the daggers that Adrien was staring at Luka. As time passed and his gaze turned darker and darker, she had had enough.

Just as she was about to confront him about his attitude, Luka reached out and place his hand on her shoulder. “I hate to do this, but I’ve got to help them break the equipment down. Do you think I can stop by your place when I’m done?”

Pulling her phone out of her purse, she checked the time. It was only 10:30pm, so she nodded and told him she’d be waiting for him in the bakery.

With a final thanks to everyone for coming to see him perform, Luka strode off to join the band and clear the stage of equipment.

When they all left the club, Alya and Nino were hesitant to leave Marinette and Adrien alone, especially considering Adrien’s erratic behavior earlier and his questionable sobriety. But Marinette told them not to worry and sent them on their way, giving Alya a pointed stare that managed to convey that she was going to be having a very serious conversation with Adrien about what had transpired that night.

So it was with a little concern – and a promise to text when Marinette made it home safely – that Nino and Alya made their way home, watching as Marinette and Adrien walked in the opposite direction towards the DuPain-Cheng bakery.

-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-

Chapter 19 (Coming Soon!)

*This chapter gave me soo much trouble. The first half I just absolutely hated, but I absolutely flew through the second half. I've been wanting to write Luka's concert for like, ever and personally, I love how it came out. And while I wasn't planning on Adrien acting like a possessive jerk initially, I think it kinda fit. So, I'm sorry if he seems OOC, but I love it and that's all that matters haha. BTW, this is the longest chapter I’ve written so far, by nearly 1,000 words! Yay for progress and longer chapters!

I'd like to apologize for it taking me so freaking long to get this out. Now that I'm not dying of the flu anymore, I'm working so much more, picking up all sorts of shifts to cover for the people who can't work now because they don't have childcare and the kids here are still out of school. I count myself extremely fortunate that I'm still able to work (I'm a home healthcare provider), so I'm not taking that for granted.

Special thanks as always for those who have reblogged, liked, and replied to this story of mine. It sincerely touches me that you like this utter trash that I'm creating and I couldn't be happier. I'm always so excited to see what you guys have to say about the new chapters and I so look forward to your feedback. I love you guys so much!

The next chapter will be exciting for me to write. Marinette confronts Adrien with his stupid behavior and Luka sees something he shouldn't.

Until next time, my lovelies XOXO*

@write-for-your-life2

[spaceskam]

for @youaremyworldlois ❤️️

ao3

“Do you wanna come stay with me? There’s room.”

“No, no, I don’t wanna get your dad sick on accident.”

“Okay,” Liz said skeptically, “I’m here if you need me.”

“I know, thank you, but I think it’ll be fine,” Alex sighed. 

He was huddled in bed, trying not to pout too much about the situation for the last week. Starting Monday, classes would be solely online which sucked since he was a guitar major and there were few things more anxiety-inducing than being in a small apartment and practicing for hours on end. However, it was only made worse by the fact that he was stuck with his stupidly hot roommate that apparently didn’t have anywhere to go home to either.

“Stay safe, love you!” Liz told him.

“Love you too.”

The call ended and forced Alex to see that it was already 2PM and he hadn’t gotten out of bed. He decided to climb out of bed and face reality. He put on pants and a shirt, knowing damn well his roommate would probably be roaming around. He wasn’t even sure that guy even slept.

For the first two years of college, Alex had lived in a dorm with random guys that always made him uncomfortable. He hated living with strangers in just one room with no semblance of privacy, especially when he had no idea what they would do if they knew their roommate was gay. Then, whenever dorms would close, he would have to couch hop since there was no way he could go back home. 

So, after his sophomore year, he started looking into off-campus apartments. He had a good amount of money saved up and all he had to do was find a roommate. It proved harder than expected because Liz already lived with her boyfriend and Maria lived back home, so he had to actually look for someone he could be comfortable with.

That’s when he found Michael.

Or, actually, Liz found Michael. He was her boyfriend’s brother and apparently a genius that doubled as a giant puppy. He was in a frat and had lived in his frat house for a while before deciding to move out so he could focus better in school. They’d met and Alex had laid out all his concerns and Michael had taken them all in stride, happily agreeing to whatever as long as he had a place to rest his head.

They’d been living together for about six months by the time schools were beginning to shut down and, the closer it got to when UNM would be closing, the more Alex got anxious. Living together for six months didn’t actually mean they hung out ever. Most days, they never even saw each other and he could count the number of conversations outside of ‘I’m going to the store, you need anything?’ on one hand.

But now, according to the fucking CDC, he was going to be stuck alone with him for the foreseeable future.

“Good morning,” Michael said, not even looking his way when Alex stepped out of his bedroom.

“Is it morning?” Alex asked. Michael looked up from whatever the hell he was doing at the coffee table and smiled.

“For you it is,” he answered happily.

That was another thing about Michael. He was so painfully heterosexual that he didn’t seem to have any idea what the hell that smile could do to someone like Alex who basically fell in love with any guy who gave him attention. It was the worst and it would the main reason Alex had no problem keeping his distance from him.

“So, quarantine,” Alex hummed, looking in their newly stocked kitchen for something to eat. He decided on toast and popped two slices of bread in the toaster. “Are you, like, gonna go home?” Alex already figured the answer was no since he didn’t go anywhere to Christmas, but he figured he should ask.

“Nah,” Michael said, “You?”

“Nope,” Alex answered, “So I guess we’re stuck together.”

Michael gave that overwhelming little smirk and licked his lips, cocking his head in Alex’s direction. “I guess we are.”

Alex turned to face the toaster and tried to think of how he was going to survive like this. Why did he have to be so hot and so straight at the same time? It just wasn’t fair.

When Alex had first met him, he’d thought that maybe he wasn’t straight. It was just a vibe he gave off and the way he sat in his chair. However, when he asked Liz about it, she’d basically laughed and said he was the straightest guy she knew. Then, when Alex inevitably let him know that he was gay, Michael just said ‘cool’ instead of coming out as anything other than straight. It was even further confirmed whenever he’d text Alex to make sure it was okay to bring a girl over. Which, that only happened about six times, but still. All girls. Straight, straight, straight.

Not like he’d have a chance anyway.

“What exactly are you doing?” Alex asked, holding a napkin under his toast as he walked towards the living room. Might as well get used to talking to him.

“A puzzle,” Michael answered. However, when Alex got closer, he saw what looked like the base of a miniature house.

“That is not a puzzle,” Alex laughed. Michael laughed right alongside him.

“Yes, it is! 3-D puzzle, it’s a replica of the Neuschwanstein Castle.”

“The what?”

“Sorry, did I pronounce that wrong? I didn’t Google it.”

“I have no fuckin’ idea,” Alex said, shaking his head. Michael gestured for him to sit on the other side of the coffee table.

“Wanna build it with me? Maybe we can actually bond for once?” he suggested. Alex huffed a small laugh and agreed, carefully sitting down across from him and placing his toast on the napkin on the table. “So, Alex, you come here often?”

“Is that how we’re gonna bond? Because I think I might have to go back to my room.”

“No, stay,” Michael laughed, “Help me build this thing.”

So Alex did. It was kind of weird actually spending time with him, but it turns out Michael wasn’t so bad for a straight guy. He was funny and a whole lot better at building than Alex was. 

When the castle was halfway built, Alex felt a socked foot graze his calf. Every hair on his body stood up in alert, eyeing Michael in shock only to see him straight up steal the rest of his toast by shoving the entire thing in his mouth.

“Did you just eat my toast?” Alex scoffed. He was actually pretty thankful for the distraction because he would’ve hyperfixated on that little touch for hours. Who was he kidding? He was going to do that anyway.

“You haven’t touched it for five whole minutes,” Michael said, his cheek puffed out and stuffed with bread, Alex laughed, genuinely laughed.

“What is wrong with you? Were you never taught manners?”

“No,” Michael answered innocently. Which, honestly, just made them both laugh harder. “Also I lived in a frat house with, like, 10 other guys for two years. We consume or we die. You’re, like, the cleanest and most respectful guy I’ve ever lived with.”

“Well, thanks, I guess.”

“Want me to make you some more toast?” Michael offered. Alex smiled and tried not to become too obsessed with his charm, shaking his head.

“No, but I will take you up on a pot of coffee.”

“On it!” Micahel said, standing to his feet and showing that he was in nothing but a ratty old t-shirt and tight boxer briefs and socks with little koalas on them. Alex tried—and failed—not to watch him walk to the kitchen area and slide on his socks towards the coffee maker.

This was going to be a long couple of weeks.

-

“Hey, I hate to be that fuckhead, but could you turn your music down? I have a lesson.” 

“No problem,” Michael said, turning his music down. Alex gave him a thankful smile and then quickly went to go to his online guitar lesson at his setup in his room.

He had his sheet music in front of him on his stand and his laptop propped up beside it, easily connecting whenever his professor started the video call.

It was weird, trying to take notes and adequately tweak them via video. He was used to being shown in person how to correct his finger placement or his posture. This was just... He wanted to go back to normal.

“Keep up the good work,” Dr. V said. Alex could tell, though, that he was just as irritated with the lack of hands-on teaching. Working with one teacher one on one really created a close bond of trust and familiarity. Alex could fuck up with Dr. V and not even think twice about it. They were like family.

And now it was fucking weird.

“I sent you scans of that more contemporary piece considering it’s less crucial for you to work on your performance pieces. Have fun with it, play around, show me what you come up with next lesson,” Dr. V added before saying his goodbye’s. Thankfully, that was Alex’s last class of the day.

“You’re really good.”

Alex nearly jumped out of his skin when he opened his bedroom door to see Michael loitering a few steps away. He looked like he’d been there for a while.

"Were you standing there the whole time?”

“Huh? No, I, uh, I was gonna ask what you wanted for dinner and then I heard you were still playing, so I was waiting so I wouldn’t interrupt you. And, well, you’re really good,” Michael said, his fingers tapping against his thigh as he rose up on his toes and dropped back down. His curls sprung with the movement.

“Thank you,” Alex said, trying to smile despite the fact that made him uncomfortable. As stupid as it was, he didn’t really like having random people hear him play. It was different when he was actually performing. Whoever was there came to see him and wanted to hear him. But, like this, it felt like he was simply being annoying.

“You know, I always wanted to play guitar,” Michael said, biting down on his lip just a little bit and Alex had to wonder why the hell he deserved that.

“I mean,” Alex started, looking around before being forced to look back at Michael due to the lack of scenery, “Maybe I can show you a thing or two sometime? I don’t just know classical.”

Michael split into a happy grin and bounced on his toes one more time. “Sounds super fun.”

“So,” Alex said, “Dinner?”

Michael blinked a couple times as if suddenly realizing where the conversation had originated. It was the cutest thing.

“Oh, right.”

-

“We need to do this more often, I think it’d help my fucked eating schedule.”

“Well, we can, if you want.”

“Cool,” Michael said all happily. They were making breakfast together like some sort of domestic couple, bustling around the kitchen to concoct something edible. Eggs, toast, and apparently Michael also needed waffles with those things. 

Alex got to work on the toast and waffles while Michael made the eggs.

“Don’t put any pepper in mine, please, pepper makes me wanna gag,” Alex mentioned. Michael gave him a bewildered look.

“Says the guy who put, like, an absurd amount of Tony’s on his fried rice,” Michael scoffed. Alex grinned. He remembered that?

“That’s different.”

“Is it? Is it really?” Michael asked. Alex laughed and swatted in his direction. Michael grabbed his arm instinctually and tugged him closer. It caught Alex so off guard that all he could do was stare with wide eyes. Eventually, Michael seemed to realize that was a little fucking weird and let go, taking a step back. “Do you want me to put Tony’s on your eggs?”

“Yes, please,” Alex said, clearing his throat in an attempt to not sound like that was weird. Which, it was weird. And absolutely not at all good for him brain that seemed to think Michael was more and more lovable each day.

A couple minutes later, Michael got his attention again.

“Try this, tell me if it’s enough,” he said, holding up a fork with scrambled eggs on it. Alex looked between it and Michael’s eyes a few times before realizing he was just going to feed it to him. Is this what they did at the frat house? He would really like to know.

But, instead of questioning it, Alex opened his mouth and let Michael feed him the bite.

“Good?” Michael asked, smiling all proud of himself. Alex almost forgot what he was asking about.

“Yeah. So good.”

-

“I’m gonna go insane.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Alex hissed, covering himself with his blanket to try and stifle his words despite the fact that Michael was taking a shower and couldn’t hear him, “He’s so fucking cute and nice. Who allowed him to be both? It’s a goddamn crime.”

“Alex, his niceness is why you let him be your roommate in the first place,” Liz pointed out with a laugh.

“Yeah, so?” Alex groaned, “It’s overwhelming. Do you know what he does for fun? Puzzles. And then, last night I guess he ran out of puzzles, because I woke up at, like, three in the morning to get water and he was building a house of cards. Not just a house, a fucking castle. What the fuck is that? Why am I attracted to someone who builds card castles?”

Liz laughed even louder, “Alex, maybe it’s the quarantine. I mean, you’re stuck with him, so you’re bound to catch some feelings because they have nowhere else to go.”

“Okay, but he’s a straight guy that I once saw wash his hair in the kitchen sink on one side and defrost chicken on the other.”

“Ew,” Liz said.

“I know! And yet I look at him and want to put my head through a wall to stop feeling like a pile of goo,” he groaned, “Sometimes I think he is just instigating it.”

“What do you mean?”

“A couple mornings ago, he pulled me close to him and fed me a bite of eggs. Like, who does that? The more I think about it, the more I think he’s messing with me,” Alex whined. Liz was silent for a moment.

“Michael isn’t the type of guy to just, like, mess with people. Especially not his roommate,” she said cautiously. Alex didn’t know what to respond. “Maybe ask him not to do stuff like that? Ask him not to lead you on?”

“Okay, but I’m not going to ask him not to lead me on because then he’ll think I like him,” Alex argued.

“But you do.”

“But he doesn’t know that!”

“Hey, Alex?!” Michael called from the other room, very quickly making Alex panic about what he could’ve overheard.

“Yeah?!” Alex yelled back.

“Can you get me a towel from the dryer?! I washed them to take a shower and then I forgot!” he called. Alex gulped hard and looked upwards, letting out a quiet, strained noise.

“Yeah, gimme one second!” he yelled, “Okay, Liz, I gotta go, He needs me to get him a towel.”

“Seriously, Alex, you need to ask him—“

“Nope, bye! Talk to you later,” Alex said, hanging up before she could try to pressure him into having an adult conversation.

Instead, he went and fetched a towel and then knocked on Michael’s bathroom door. The door opened only a few inches, but it was enough to see a soaking wet body that was tanned and covered in chest hair and Alex realized he was beyond help.

Instead of risking saying anything embarrassing, he just held out the towel. Michael flashed a smile, a ringlet already forming against his forehead that dripped water onto his nose. How was he even real?

“Thank you,” Michael said, winking before he closed the door again.

Alex decided then and there that it had to just be hormones. He was going stir-crazy with nothing but hormones and a hot guy. That’s it. Because there was no goddamn way he looked that good. Alex had to be exaggerating in his head.

He just fucking had to.

-

“Okay, you promised me over a week ago that you’d teach me some things on the guitar and you still haven’t.”

“Okay, okay, come here,” Alex said. Michael smiled like a kid in a candy store and bounced on his toes before meeting Alex on the couch. 

Alex had been a little bit better about keeping his distance and giving himself a reality check daily after the amount of wet skin he’d seen during the shower incident. That was really only two days ago, but still. He was reminding himself that he only felt so attracted to him because he had no other choice in the moment or something. Now, however, that was hard to remember when he was sitting so close.

Still, Alex handed over his guitar. Michael looked at him expectantly. It was almost too much to handle.

“Okay, so these things are called frets and the strings are numbered one through six going from this end to this end,” Alex said, pointing at what he was talking about. Michael nodded along. “Okay, so put your index finger on the first fret, second string. Middle finger on the second fret, fourth string. Ring finger, third fret, fifth string.”

Michael slowly did just that. When Alex reached to adjust his finger and hand placement, he let him. He listened well and molded to whatever Alex suggested.

“Okay, now strum,” Alex told him, listening to the sound it made, “And that’s C Major.”

“Oh, shit,” Michael laughed. Alex huffed and rolled his eyes.

For the next few minutes, Alex walked him through chords: A minor, G Major, F Major, the basics. He explained how to hold the neck of the guitar so it wouldn’t cramp up his hand and how to not press down too hard, but also not too light to get the best sound out of it. They walked through them and switching chords. Alex explained how it got easier with time and with calluses. 

“And now basically you can play 90% of pop songs,” Alex said. Michael’s eyes went wide and he laughed.

“What?”

“Yeah, most pop music is made up of just those four chords or variations of them. Sorry to disappoint,” Alex told him. Michael shook his head.

“Show me another one,” he asked. 

“Okay,” Alex agreed. He leaned a bit close again, talking and guiding Michael through the finger placement for D Major. But then Michael moved his hand off the body of the guitar and to Alex’s cheek, leaning.

For a moment, Alex was frozen and feeling more confused than he had in a long time.

“Sorry, do you not want to?” Michael asked after a few seconds of kissing Alex and Alex just not kissing back.

Logically, Alex should’ve explained that he was confused. He should’ve said that he thought Michael was straight and that, if he was indeed straight, he shouldn’t be doing this because this was mean. He should’ve been an adult. 

But he had been stuck alone with him for three weeks and all sense of logic seemed to fly out the window.

Alex moved the guitar to the coffee table with one hand and grabbed Michael’s neck with the other. He pulled him in for a much more heedless kiss that the first one. Michael made a soft noise of approval as his hands went to pull Alex closer by his hips.

Things moved fast. If it were a normal circumstance or a normal situation, Alex would’ve thought it was too fast. But this wasn’t normal and Alex couldn’t contain himself. He’d been thinking about this for days. Weeks. Probably even months.

He let Michael kiss down his neck, he helped strip them both down, he happily melted when he was finally being touched by someone that wasn’t himself.

He enjoyed every second.

-

Alex wished his horny brain had warned him that the next morning would feel weird.

He woke up first and laid there, frozen on the couch for thirty minutes because he was too scared to moved. Michael was laying on top of him partially, his head on his chest and his thigh draped against his hips. It was the first time Alex had ever actually seen him sleep and so he was too nervous to wake him.

In that hour, though, he was able to plan what he was going to say. He was going to assure him that it didn’t mean anything and that things happen. It was just circumstances. They could still be roommates. Going down on a guy didn’t make anyone gay. He had it all planned and fully expected a breakdown the moment Michael woke up and realized what happened. 

Only, again, he couldn’t have predicted what actually happened.

Michael woke up slowly, shifting a little bit and stretching his legs out. He didn’t jump or scream. He rubbed his thumb all the way from Alex’s nipple to his armpit and made a sweet waking-up sound before raising his head.

“Hi,” he said sweetly, his voice a little deeper than normal. It was jarring and Alex was trying to find the beginning of his speech. He was only more thrown off when Michael kissed his jaw and put his head back on his chest, seeming comfortable in their placement.

“Hey... Uh, maybe we should talk?” Alex said awkwardly. Only then did Michael seem to react, pushing himself up a little bit. He took in whatever expression happened to be on Alex’s face and sat up completely. Alex followed suit. “So, um, I’m sorry about last night. We’ve just been crammed together and stuff happens. I hope this doesn’t make it awkward between us. We can still be roommates.” Micahel’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and, with each sentence of Alex’s speech, seemed to become more and more offended.

“What?” Michael asked, rubbing his face.

“I-I mean, don’t worry,” Alex assured, “What happened doesn’t make you gay and I hope you aren’t, like, weirded out by me.”

“Alex,” Michael said, voice matching the offended look as he held his hand up, “What the fuck are you talking about? Why are you acting like I wasn’t a fully engaged participant? Like, I did that on purpose, it wasn’t an ‘oops, tripped and fell onto your dick’.”

Alex gulped, shifting a bit as he began to feel offended. So he wasn’t wrong. Micahel had been leading him on.

“Okay, well, you can’t just act interested in me because you don’t have any girls to hook up with, that’s just—“

“Alex!” Michael said, cutting him off and looking at him with genuine hurt, “Why do you think I’m acting? What the fuck?”

Alex didn’t actually know what to say to that. He stared at him blankly, trying to think of a response that wouldn’t make this situation worse. But he figured he’d already ruined a soft morning by accusing him of things, so he might as well just say what he was thinking.

“You’re straight,” Alex said. Michael huffed a laugh, falling back into the couch and staring up at the ceiling.

“Why the hell do you think that?” Michael asked. Alex sat up pin-straight, looking at him in a whole different light by that one little sentence.

“You... You’ve only brought home girls,” Alex pointed out weakly.

“That’s just not true,” Michael said, looking over at him with amusement rather than anger. Alex relaxed a little. “Ari was a guy, you just didn’t see him, and Dylan was non-binary, you just didn’t see them either—and that’s just since we moved in together. You never saw anyone I brought over, Alex, don’t assume based on names I say and the way I look.”

Alex felt his face flush and he started feeling more than a little embarrassed. In fact, he was so embarrassed, he kind of wanted to cry. Or lay on the floor. Preferably both.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he said, dropping his head into his hands. Michael sighed and shifted closer, his hand pressing into Alex’s shoulder.

“It’s okay. I’m honestly more concerned with how many allegedly straight guys you’ve hooked up with that you had a speech prepared,” Michael said. Alex laughed a little.

“I was the only gay guy in my high school, I got pretty used to it,” he admitted.

Michael clasped his hand over Alex’s shoulder and pulled him in for a hug. Alex melted into it, hoping that it meant he hadn’t embarrassed himself for life.

“I’m bisexual,” Michael said so confidently that it almost made Alex cry just by that alone. He was so sure of himself. 

“So does that mean you were flirting with me?” Alex asked when he got to courage to raise his head. Michael huffed a laugh.

“Wow, thanks for noticing.”

Alex groaned, “God, I’m embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. Just, you know, head’s up, next time we hook up, I’d prefer to have the speech be at least an hour after I wake up,” Michael said. Alex groaned louder. “What? No cute remark about me saying next time?”

Alex held back a smile and glared at the boy in front of him.

“I already know there will be a next time because we are still going to be stuck alone in this apartment for at least a couple more weeks. It’s after that that I’ll have questions,” Alex said.

“So confident for someone so embarrassed,” Michael teased. Alex raised an eyebrow that said ‘am I wrong?’ He got a kiss instead of a response. “Here, to balance out your embarrassment, I’ll admit a thing. The only reason I brought that many people over was because I wanted to see if you’d get jealous and make a move.”

“I don’t get jealous, I just get confused.”

“Noted,” Michael laughed, nudging his nose against Alex’s. It was so much touching, so much affection. Alex couldn’t remember a time anyone had done that to him in a non-platonic way. “Point is, I liked you the moment I met you.”

“Liz insisted you were straight so I kept my distance until I couldn’t because I didn’t wanna catch feelings.”

“Oops.”

“Yeah, oops.”

They both laughed for a few seconds before it slowly died down through Michael giving him full heart eyes. It made Alex’s heart go a little haywire.

“Okay, so now that we talked, can we have a redo of last night where you don’t think you’re getting head from a straight dude?” Michael asked. Alex flashed a smile and nodded.

Who knew something good would come out of this?

[sabrinamichele]

2019: The Year of Love, Love Lost, and Paris

     I know it’s time. Time to finally open up and talk about what’s been happening in my life. I know that I don’t have to share, but every time I try to move past it, I continue to feel drawn to share this. I know that in sharing this, like the countless times I have shared before, I will find myself better for having opened up. So, to be clear—this is not a completely selfless act—but it doesn’t make sharing it any easier. So, I’m ready to talk about dating, about love, and the heart break that 2019 brought me. I feel strongly that I need to preface this piece with the understanding that these words, thoughts and feelings, while they are mine, I know that by sharing them I may hurt someone. My intention is not to be mean or to hurt someone, but by being so candid, and by sharing my truth, I recognize that I very well might. I think there will always be that risk, and if you are on the receiving end of that, I am sorry. With that said, I want to be as honest and real as I can, because this isn’t the space for fakeness, or for pretense. This is where real truths, even when they’re hard, come out and vulnerability is found. So, in the spirit of sharing, *takes a breath* here goes...

     While I have dated for the past five years, I have, for the most part, remained pretty mum on the details. This hasn’t been done because I didn’t want to share, but, more or less, because I frankly didn’t know how to. My dating/love life has often, in hindsight, felt like learning how to drive a car: definitely with its starts and stops, plenty of awkwardness, some wrong turns made, and so much to learn. (Yes, this analogy truly describes how dating as an adult for the first time in your thirties after being married for eleven years truly feels like. *laughs*) Needless to say, I did not know how to navigate it very well, let alone to start opening up about topics like dating, sex, love, and heartbreak. So, after five years later, I think I’m finally ready to share. To be clear—I absolutely do not have it all figured out. I am not perfect, and I definitely have made my fair share of mistakes (yup, still human). But I also finally acknowledge that that doesn’t mean I don’t have something valuable to share. I don’t know, frankly, what the sharing is going to look like, but I am ready to start. As I have with every single thing I have written here up until now, I share with the hope and intention that in doing so it might help someone else. I truly believe it’s this shared humanity—the realness and vulnerability that exists in sharing what is real in our lives, and often times hidden away—that this is so incredibly attractive, because it is so rare, and it’s also where real connection takes place. So, with that intention, I promise to be real, honest, and vulnerable as hell.

“The mark of a wild heart is living out the paradox of love in our lives. It’s the ability to be tough and tender, excited and scared, brave and afraid—all in the same moment.”

— Brené Brown, Braving the Wilderness

     When I think about the past five years, and trying to navigate dating, this quote feels so incredibly true and relevant in my life. The ability to, despite everything that has happened in your life up to this moment, meet the next moment and person with fresh optimism and hope for what might be. The ever-optimistic question of, “What if?”  Trust me when I say I know all too well what it is to be equal parts excited and scared. That is where I was a little over one year ago: Trying to date...again. Despite the heartache and the disappointment, and all the frustrations that go along with online dating—I was willing to try again because, deep down, I genuinely wanted to find someone, even if all my previous attempts had failed not ended the way I had hoped. Can I just take a moment to commiserate with anyone that’s reading this (male or female) who has also felt the pain and frustration of online dating? Yes, it can suck—and yes, people can suck—so you’re not alone in having mixed feelings about it (yes, I’m making some assumptions here, but I feel safe in making them). Goodness knows that I have had enough iterations with the dating apps, both love/hate, and moments where I swear “Never again!!” With that said, I think we can all—okay, fine—most of us can agree that they are a tool, and in today’s society of disconnection, they are a very helpful tool for connecting people; so, if you can get past the crap and frustration, they can be a positive. (Notice the emphasis on can here; I didn’t say they always are! *laughs*) This is at least the reason (and justification) for their reappearance in my life last year.

     This is how I started dating again, and how I met him—the man who would become my boyfriend last year. (Trying hard to not use names here—ever.) By and large, he was the most significant event last year—significant in many ways, but I think context helps to clarify why he was a significant event in my life. To back up a bit—dating has been incredibly hard for me in the wake of my divorce—there have been many men I have “dated,” in a sense, but often times I have, in the early stages of dating been too afraid of the labels, and the commitment, to even consider calling it a relationship, let alone calling someone my “boyfriend.” Before him, I have only had two relationships I could truly classify as truly “dating,” and only one I think would agree that we were boyfriend/girlfriend—exclusive, at the very least. Trust me—so many labels, so many new hurdles to navigate—so dating him was significant in that we both jumped in rather quickly, and also fell pretty quickly for each other. It was the first person, post my ex-husband, to tell me that he loved me, and to also ask me to be his girlfriend. I’m aware that, to many, that may sound cheesy, even juvenile, but here’s the truth: despite all the hurt and frustrations I’ve had with the opposite sex—deep down, I am a romantic at heart. A romantic with an insanely big heart who wants to fall in love again. (Yeah, I just admitted that.)

     So, I fell hard. I fell in love with all the firsts: the way it felt when I was around him—it felt exactly how it had, falling when you are young—the way you get excited to hear someone’s voice over the phone for the first time, the first time they hold your hand, the first kiss, the way they look at you...we were like two kids, and it felt incredibly special. I share all of this because I think it’s important to reflect—to look back and smile knowing I got to have that again, to experience having love, and a boyfriend, again...I want to be intentional in saying that because, if you’re like me, when something like that ends, it is incredibly easy to demonize someone, to focus on only the hurts, and to forget all of the good parts. I hope that you don’t.

     Suffice it to say, we did not last. Much like a candle that burns hard and bright, then just as quickly burns out...that was how we seemed to be, unfortunately. The man I fell in love with...well, I don’t know what happened to him, honestly. All the emotion, the vulnerability, and amazing connection I felt in the beginning, just...disappeared. I felt it most acutely on our first trip away together. I had been trying to communicate with him about it, without much success—and then the night before our trip, when I tried to talk to him about it again, the message I got back was, basically, “I don’t know what to tell you. This is how it’s going to be,” In my head, what I heard was something to the effect of, “Tough shit.” I was dumbfounded. I was trying to connect with him on this lack of connection, to discover the “why,” and met with, well, nothing. It was incredibly hard hearing that as we were about to go away for our first trip together. Trying to have a romantic weekend with someone who is not emotionally connected with you, or even trying to be, well...it’s a good recipe for a disaster, which is what that weekend was. I tried to make the best of it, but I found myself reminded of how disengaged my ex was with me and it, frankly, scared the shit out of me. In hindsight I wish I had had more courage. Courage to have a real conversation on the real disconnect we were having that weekend. But it felt like every time I tried, it was like trying to talk to someone who spoke Greek, and there was no place for understanding or vulnerability there. I came back not really knowing how to proceed, but knowing we definitely still needed to talk about it. After I made multiple attempts to initiate talking about it with him, I was met with only short texts back, and several blow offs instead of actually talking to me in the week following our trip. I felt miserable, sick to my stomach, and only an escalating sense of desperation to have this awful feeling end. I felt like I had been taken to this incredible high in our relationship, to then be dropped off the edge of an emotional cliff. Without a partner willing to communicate, who literally just disappeared after an uncomfortable first weekend away, I just felt desperate to have my pain end. Less than a week from my birthday, desperate to do what I thought was best, I ended it—after which I promptly bawled my eyes out. (Yeah. I’m being painfully honest here.) In hindsight, I can see that we weren’t meant to be, but the truth is, it, and he, still meant a lot to me. I have had well-meaning girlfriends even try to convince me that I didn’t actually love him, “No, not really.” Well I am here to say that I did love him, and that I don’t regret it. Any of it. As hard as that breakup was for me, I will always be grateful for loving him. I will always be grateful to have him show me what it should really look like...even if it didn’t last. To have someone show you that you are worthy of pursuing, worthy of going on romantic dates with, worthy of romance, and, ultimately, worthy of love...I am honestly grateful for all of it.

     With all of that said, the end of “us” left me in a very dark place for a time. I felt betrayed and I felt rejected. Rejection’s sting is something I am far, far too familiar with these past five years, but it always hurts more when I’ve invested more. I am not necessarily proud of how I chose to handle my hurt and pain this time, but I embraced that I was in a “dark and twisty place,” as I called it, and I set my intentions with men accordingly. I didn’t want anything more than something of a casual nature, which suited my needs, and my heart, just fine during this time. I don’t look back and applaud this; it was simply the way I chose to handle the hurt I was feeling at the time, and I want to be honest about that.

     If you’re still reading, I applaud you. My dating/love life is not for the faint of heart or those only inclined to read short stories. Without further ado, this is when someone new came into my life. I feel the need to pause and say that I do feel badly—he met me smack dab in the beginning of my “dark and twisty” phase—right as I had intended to not be with anyone in a romantic way, is when he met me. I told him as much the night we met, but the message still got filtered a bit through the lens of someone who I think, deep down, was hopeful for more. He and I were not friends, per se, but we were also not dating—because I was not interested in dating anyone in the dark place I was currently in—but I also found the previously used label of “friends with benefits” didn’t quite seem to fit either, so we found a label we could both agree upon, which was “lovers.” And we honestly enjoyed as much time as we could with each other in this space. For me, it was exactly what I needed in that moment. We enjoyed each other’s company, and we enjoyed many of the same things; we found a safety with each other—both in the sharing of our past, but also simply just by being together. I recognize this title implicitly says more than I ever have shared before about a relationship, and I’m okay with that. I am thirty-six years old and incredibly tired of living in the fear of talking about or not talking about sex. I was married eleven years, so I think it’s safe to say I am aware of what sex is—and it’s something I still engage in to this day. *laughing* I know that by sharing this, there will be some of my family/friends who are probably disappointed, but frankly? I’m not interested in filtering my writing anymore for fear of what you, or others may think (or not think). Enough said.

     I am a firm believer that people come in and out of our lives for a reason. With that said, I genuinely believe I was meant to have this man in my life. Even if it was unconventional and didn’t look like other relationships—it was still meaningful, even it if wasn’t meant to be for forever. I was very up front and honest with him about where I was at, day one, but it doesn’t mean that feelings didn’t get involved. If I’ve learned anything in my years of dating—it’s that it’s incredibly easy and natural for emotions and feelings to get involved where sex is concerned. I think we both knew that this was always a possibility, and we were both very honest with each other about what that would mean. I knew he was potentially moving out of the area soon, so it felt safe. Safe to let my guard down; safe to just be me; safe also because it was just so easy to be around him. But, with all of that said, I never felt that way about him. Even when I found feelings creeping in, I pushed them down not wanting to go there—we weren't supposed to go there, right? But, before I knew it, we were facing a point of no return—I had agreed to go out of state to a wedding as his plus one—and subsequently had made plans to go to Paris the day after we were to get back. The trip was going great, but somehow, without really seeing it coming, I found myself hearing him tell me that he was falling in love with me, and that he needed more. My heart ached in that moment. My heart ached because I knew I couldn’t say the words he would have liked to hear me say next, and that I couldn’t give him more. I have never taken those words lightly, and I didn’t then either.  The next day we flew back, and I had to face one of the hardest goodbyes I have ever had. It was hard because not only was it over, but I was also losing a friend—he couldn’t stay friends with me—and we had truly become close over those few months—my heart ached knowing I was losing that, but also for all the unspoken words I felt between us in that moment, “I’m sorry I can’t give you more. I’m sorry you met me here, in this dark place I’m at right now. I’m sorry I am not where you are at, at least not today.” So, I said goodbye, and I flew to Paris two days later.

     So, Paris. I flew to Paris, kind of spontaneously, with a man I had dated earlier in the year, and who I really liked. If I’m being honest, he was someone I had hoped (deep down) to have something more with someday. In hindsight it all feels like it was wishful thinking, but, at the time, I couldn’t help but feel excited and hopeful. A handsome man who I was interested in had invited me to join him in Paris and, on a whim, I had decided to say yes. I mean, how do you say no to that? Our first date was one of the most romantic I’ve ever been on, honestly. I was about to go to Paris for the first time earlier in the year and he had invited me to a French themed charity dinner, and the night ended with slow dancing (yes—slow dancing) in his living room. I know, it all sounds a bit hard to believe, maybe even a little nonsensical, but I genuinely believe that a big part of love is truly that—nonsensical. So, seven months later, I went to Paris for a second time, but this time, with him. I went to Paris, and I tried hard to keep my expectations in check, but it was hard for me to not find myself hopeful...for a spark, for more... I do not want to dwell on the details, but I will say that my overwhelming feeling from this trip was one of disappointment. I know that it’s not fair to compare, but for me, there was no way I couldn’t not compare them, having both trips so close in proximity to one another. While one man was so incredibly attentive, emotionally connected, and engaged—the other was the exact opposite. Perhaps, not at first...but as the trip went on, I was incredibly aware of it. It makes me sad, in hindsight—I was in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, and I felt more alone than ever being there with him. I felt like he didn’t emotionally connect with me most of our time together, which was a little surprising, but also left me at a bit of a loss, as I’m incredibly empathic to the people I’m around. I often felt a bit like I was walking around on eggshells being with him, unsure how to “just be” around him. It was not romantic. It was not about me. And my heart turned in on itself with the juxtaposition it found between my travel companions. I had hoped, foolishly so, to fall in love in Paris, and instead I was with someone who I realized was still in love someone else. I don’t say all of this to be hurtful, but to simply be honest. It was a painful and incredibly emotional week for me.

     But, somehow, even after all of this, my emotional week wasn’t complete. There was more waiting for me. Sitting in the Paris airport, waiting to come home, I was sitting next to my travel companion, filling the time while we waited to board the plane by mindlessly scrolling through Instagram when my eyes caught on two words, a name. His name. A man I have written about here before—the first man I fell in love with after my ex-husband. My brain was still registering seeing these two words again as my brain finally assimilated what it was I was seeing. It was a picture of the man I had fallen in love with proposing. My heart dropped. I sat there in shock, absorbing these pictures, these words—then I quickly closed the app—my brain’s obvious attempt at self-preservation. I sat there for about ten minutes before finally starting to cry—my partner sitting next to me completely oblivious to my tears or my pain. I have been asked, since then, why I cried...and it still baffles me how anyone could ask me “why?” But I will try to convey to you the “why,” even if it’s completely irrelevant.

     I cried because the man I fell in love with was proposing to someone else. I cried because he was, in every single way, exactly what I wanted—at least in that moment of my life. And even though I can look back on us and see just how much he didn’t deserve the love I had for him, it is irrelevant to the simple fact that I did...love him. I loved him in a way that I have never known before...connected with him in a way I had never known before. I cried because this hurt me—seeing this, as it should. But it was also necessary. I knew this was the moment I had to let it all go. To finally, somehow, find a way to forgive him—to let go of all the pain that had been inside me for far too long. That is one thing I will always be very grateful for. To the man that I would call my boyfriend, and the man I would call my lover—I realized just how much pain I had been living with, not just from my breakup, but from the men I had loved, but who, ultimately, hadn’t been right for me. I finally recognized this in moments I had been with my friend, my lover, and he would be asking me simple questions, and I would be reduced to tears in a matter of moments. It was embarrassing, but he also never made me feel bad or ashamed for it. I also had a moment of clarity, a few months later, in a conversation with my last boyfriend, finally talking about our breakup and how much his actions had hurt me. He said to me, “Don’t let me be the cause of your pain.” Those words resonated with me because of just how true they were for me. While I had done such a good job of not letting my divorce not define my life, to keep me from moving on and dating again, I had allowed these men, each heartbreak, to carry on in my heart—each hurt still there, right beneath the surface. I realized then and there I owed it to myself to finally forgive them, and to move on.

     While I haven’t figured it all out exactly since then (read: I’m still figuring so much out in this crazy life, especially now), I am proud to say that I came back from Paris and I finally forgave the man who broke my heart more than most. In writing this, I recognize that there is still room for forgiveness, for letting go, which I completely acknowledge. I am not perfect, and I’m still figuring this life out as I go, but I’m also incredibly proud of just how far I have come.

     I have loved, deeply. I have had my heart broken, and, sadly, I have hurt some hearts along the way. I am here, sharing this, to hopefully normalize that dating may not look the way you expect it to—it may be messy and unconventional—and you may make some mistakes (or a lot), and you may have your heart broken...but here’s also a beautiful truth: you get to decide what happens next. You.

So, in this moment, I am creating something new and I am trying to have a wild heart in dating. I am both hopeful, excited and scared...but above all, ready. I know what I bring, and I also know what I want. Dating is hard, but it’s also so much harder if you’re not ready.

When I wrote these words, almost a year ago now, I was in such a different place. I was actually ready to try to start dating again. Unfortunately, this year has not been the year for trying to date, at all. It’s been incredibly hard trying to pick this piece back up, to try and talk about something that’s happened so long ago now, but I also feel like I needed to. To give these words voice, even if I find myself in a space where I’m not optimistic about love or dating, as I was earlier in the year, pre-global pandemic. With that said, I still want to write about love. I still want to talk about what dating has taught me, even as I find myself in a particularly weird year for it.

With that said, the best advice I can offer, for the years of dating I have experienced, is this:

•    Know who you are, but also be comfortable, just as you are. You don’t need anyone to complete you or to make you happy. Trying to have someone fill this role won’t make you happy, ultimately.

•    Know that it’s okay to want someone—but not to “need” them to feel okay. You have to be okay, just you. You also have to love you, first, before anyone else can love you. Any attempts to shortcut this will leave you disappointed.

•    Try really hard to not grasp for someone or something, or to chase someone who has left of their own accord. I’ve had to learn this the hard way, and sometimes I’ve needed to be reminded, but it is a powerful truth. If they want to talk to you, they will. If they want to see you, they will ask. Try to not read between lines that aren’t there. Sometimes it really is that simple. You deserve someone that pursues you. Pure and simple.

•    Be honest and be kind. I think I’ve said this very yearly on in my writing, but it begs repeating. It does no one a service to tell them what you think they want to hear, let alone yourself. Always be honest (even when it is hard). And try to do so with kindness. Enough said.

•    Grace. If I had to leave you with one word, it would be this one. Have grace, and not just for others, but also for yourself. I know, for me, I need to have equal parts grace, both for others and for myself. It is so easy to allow my expectations of myself and others to put people on a pedestal. Pedestals are unrealistic, though, and people aren’t meant to be on them. Have grace for when people disappoint you, or for when you disappoint yourself. This beautiful adventure is called life. It’s going to surprise you and challenge you—and it’s not going to look how you had expected it to—ever! And that’s okay. Get comfortable in the uncomfortable—the not knowing.

     With all of that said, I end this post a little differently than pre-pandemic Sabrina would have. I always feel like I have to end things on a positive note. Maybe it’s because I’m a sucker for happy endings and naturally want there to be one. Pre-pandemic Sabrina ended this so full of hope, excited for a year full of as of yet unknowns and adventures. While this year has definitely held quite a few surprises, not all of which were bad, more than ever this year has tested us all and pushed us to many of our breaking points. I wish I could share something incredibly positive, something uplifting, or something exciting, but I’m afraid I just don’t have it. I think in the absence of that, the one positive this new space has left in my life right now is time to reflect, time to sit in the space created, just me. I’m getting comfortable, really comfortable, with just being me. It’s not easy, especially as I crave connection and companionship, but I also know, deep down, just how necessary it is. In this vacuum of time and space this pandemic has created, I’m learning how to truly love me, to learn the wounds I have yet to heal, and—probably the hardest yet—how to finally let go of not having a romantic relationship. It’s hard, and it can be scary, but I think it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be. As scary as “giving up” has felt for me, I feel only stronger in who I am for having finally done it. I’m not giving up forever. But I am—for now. And I’m okay with that. In letting go, I feel that I have found the strength within me to face this, but also a feeling of peace about it. I genuinely don’t know what this next year will bring, BUT I can confidently say a stronger Sabrina will be here to face it. And for that, I am grateful.

[rohad93]

Authority Online : ch 13

She woke up sweating.

Some of that probably had to do with Celeste, suctioned up against her back under their shared blanket and radiating body heat like a furnace, but most of it was probably the green, polyester prison she was currently steaming alive inside.

It felt like a sauna inside the tent and she could already feel her bad mood rearing its ugly head as she became aware of everything sticking to every inch of her

The clamminess of her skin wasn’t doing a lot for her sunburn either, but she was torn. Celeste was pressed up against her back, with an arm slung over her waist and her face buried in between her shoulder blades, sleeping peacefully. 

Now she was faced with the task of escaping Celeste’s grip and this prison without waking the slumbering baker, who was currently breathing hot air on her already too hot skin; which ultimately was the deciding factor.  

She carefully and almost painfully, slowly pulled at each of her fingers knotted into the black fabric of the tank top the blonde had slept in till Celeste’s hand hung loosely over her waist. She slowly wiggled herself out from beneath the blanket, silently cursing under her breath and setting Celeste’s arm gently on the ground, no easy task with everything sticking to her damp skin. 

The tents zipper may as well have sounded like a hail of gunfire as loud as it was in the quiet of the morning and the low sounds of Celeste’s breathing, but she never moved as Jaune crawled out of the tent, trying to make as little noise as possible. 

She zipped it back up and sighed in relief as she stretched out to full height and the cool air hit her damp skin.

She cringed at the idea of another night in the damned thing as she ran a hand through her hair, pushing some wet strands away from her forehead and trying to finger comb what she was sure was outrageous bedhead, into submission.

The campsite was empty save for the other tent, from which she could hear faint snoring, otherwise it was perfectly quiet save for the ambient sounds of the woods all around her.

There was a light breeze blowing, rustling the bright green leaves overhead and the dull, distant humming of cicadas that always accompanied summer and was the telltale sign of a hot day.  

The sun was still sitting just behind the treeline on the opposite side of the lake-shore, casting long, glimmering rays of light across the water that shone so brightly it blinded her when she looked right at them. 

She could use a little cool water to wash off her face and a short walk to stretch her stiff muscles. Normally she wouldn’t be comfortable walking around outside in the shorts and tank top she slept in but she was hot and groggy and couldn’t care less, especially since their little campsite and section of the lake seemed to be isolated from anyone else, as she had yet to see anyone else except the occasional person in a boat. 

She carefully picked her way down to the water’s edge with her bare feet and wadded out into the water up to her knees, it was cool. She stuck her cupped hands in and splashed the water on her face, and her grumpy, heat-induced mood was quickly evaporating with the water trickling down her face. 

 She sighed to herself, completely forgetting she’d ever been grouchy to start with. She picked up another handful of water and just let it run through her fingers, taking the quiet moment to just be, for once.

Except for the little ripples she was making as water dripped from her fingers the lake appeared like a smooth, unblemished mirror. Her reflection stared back at her from the smooth dark water, red-faced, and hair a mess. 

She ran her wet fingers through her hair, pushing the pale yellow strands carefully into place.

Except for the painful sunburn she now had... and getting smacked in the face with the tent pole…. And the tent itself… she wasn't having as bad a time as she thought she might.

Not a great time either, mind you, but decent enough that she wasn’t going to complain, especially not to Celeste, or make her think that she was having a terrible time. She recognized how important this trip was to her girlfriend.

She had still yet to really interact with Rose at all. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was supposed to do or say. She certainly wasn’t going to prostrate herself to the twenty-eight year old school teacher. If she wanted to continue sending dirty looks her way for no reason then so be it.

She now had a better understanding of the situation but she had done nothing to warrant the younger woman’s suspicion and she wasn’t going to act as though she had. 

She would be cordial and make any and all attempts to be friendly to Rose, but she had her pride, she was not going to beg for anything. 

She was so lost in her thoughts, staring into her reflection in the water that she never heard the quietly approaching steps. 

After a few minutes, she shook the excess water from her hands as she turned and stopped, finally noticing Celeste, sitting cross-legged on a large rock and smiling at her from the shore.

“Good morning,” she greeted, wading out of the water. “Did I wake you?”

“Good morning yourself and no, it was a bit hot in the tent, though I suspect you knew that already,” she laughed, looking at the lawyer, now damp with lake water.

“It was a little warm…,” she tentatively agreed but said no more. She wasn’t going to complain, she wasn’t. Celeste smiled knowingly, but didn’t comment on it further. 

“How’s your face feeling?” She scooted off the rock to stand in front of Jaune. Cobalt eyes roaming over the burned skin of her face. 

“Tender, but I’ll live,” she assured, lips curling into a smile as she watched Celeste examine her face with an amusing amount of concentration. 

“Well, for that I’m glad,” she chuckled and laid a quick peck to the blonde’s cheek. “We’re supposed to go hiking once they get up, are you coming?”

“Of course” 

It hardly mattered that she had never hiked before in her life, nor that her interest in it was minimal at best. She had already agreed to come on this trip, knowing it wouldn’t be her thing, but she refused to damper her girlfriend’s mood by turning down the activities. She wasn’t going to ruin the family’s time when she had come knowing she wouldn’t have a good time. She would suck it up; it was one weekend. 

“You’re going to need a hat, we don’t want your burn to get worse…” Celeste hummed. 

Jaune made a face. She wasn’t really a hat person… even if it was a valid point. She really didn’t want that to happen.

“You’ll live,” Celeste smirked, seeing the look. “If you’re done down here you can come help me make breakfast.” She held out her hand and Jaune didn’t hesitate to take it. Celeste just smiled, lacing her fingers between hers. 

The other tent was still closed when they got back up the hill. 

“I’m going to change,” Jaune said before crawling back inside the slow cooker that was their tent. She made quick work of it, eager to get back outside and changing inside the small space was no easy feat to start with for most people, much less someone as tall as her.  

When she came back out Celeste had already started cooking on the small portable grill they had brought along and the smell of cooking eggs and sausage filled the air along with the coffee from the percolator sitting on the metal grates. She sat on the log nearby with her cup, waiting on the coffee.  

Within a few minutes, loud shuffling and grunting noises started coming out of the red tent.

Jaune watched silently as the zipper suddenly opened up just enough for Steven to come crawling out with a bright grin. He made a beeline for his aunt, attaching himself to her legs.

“Morning!” He grinned brightly, much too cheerful for someone who just woke up. 

“Good morning, love.” She bent down to place a kiss atop his black curls. 

Jaune watched as she poured boiling hot coffee into her mug, catching the boys attention. He detached himself from Celeste to jog over, clambering up onto the log beside her.

"Hi, Jaune." He smiled up at the blonde with his wide, gapped tooth smile and she couldn't help but smile back.

“Good morning, Steven.” 

"Are you going hiking with us?" he asked.

"I am" she nodded, taking a drink of the dark, steaming liquid. 

Celeste watched the two out of the corner of her eye as Steven talked and Juane nodded along, occasionally throwing out short answers between sips of her coffee.

She smiled to herself.

Steven seemed rather fond of the lawyer, who was always happy to indulge the child's long winded and often off the wall conversations and topics that changed at the drop of a hat.

Something she was convinced he had inherited from his mother. 

With low groans and grunts the red tent finally unzipped all the way and Rose came crawling out, looking haggard as she climbed to her feet and shuffled over to them.

“Good morning” Celeste greeted, moving eggs around the pan with a spatula. 

Rose grunted out a word that almost sounded like ‘morning’ before grabbing one of the empty mugs and filling it with coffee.

Greg followed a moment later with a jaw cracking yawn as he rolled out, inch worming his way out on his back. 

“Morning everyone,” he called out.     

Steven abandoned his place beside Jaune to jog over to where his dad was laying on the ground and climb on top of him.

“Ughh” Greg groaned. “Steven please,” he rasped, closing his eyes, resigned.  

Jaune snorted into her cup with a small grin. 

~ ~~ 

After breakfast, camp was cleaned up and they set off down the trail into the woods.

Greg and Rose walked ahead, trying to keep up with Steven, running around and across the trail, climbing onto every rock and log he could find and jumping off them while giggling madly as he ran about, inspecting every plant, bug, animal and rock he could find.

Jaune and Celeste brought up the rear, walking a leisurely pace while Jaune fiddled with the wide brimmed fishing hat she had been forced to wear to keep the sun off her already burnt face. 

She grumbled to herself under her breath as she pulled at the canvas material.

"It's fine, Jaune." Celeste rolled her eyes, exasperated with the blonde’s mumbling under her breath.

With a huff she finally took her hands away from the hat, but was still scowling.

"I'm not a hat person…," she huffed, fingers itching to go back and continue to mess with it.

Celeste reached out and wrapped her fingers around the lawyers right hand before she could think to fiddle with it again. 

“Maybe it’s not your best look, but you need to keep the sun off your face,” she reminded, squeezing the fingers wrapped in hers.

Jaune made an unhappy noise but squeezed back and didn’t touch the hat again. Celeste just smiled to herself. 

Luckily most of their hike through the woods, they were shaded by the trees that lined the path, especially as the sun continued it’s journey overhead, heating up the air and making her sweat beneath the damn hat. The cicadas were loud, but they eventually faded into the background noise of the woods.  

The worn dirt path led steadily uphill, the thick foliage thinning out some the higher they went. At one point they found themselves walking along the side or a drop off.

While she wouldn’t call it a cliff, the thirty or so feet to the forest floor was fairly steep. From here they could see the lake, peeking out from between the trees.

Greg and Rose had stopped just ahead of them, talking quietly and passing their canteen back and forth. Jaune and Celeste were looking out at the view when Steven scrambled over to them.

“Are you having fun, love?” Celeste smiled down at him as he stopped at their feet.

“Yeah! I can see the lake!” He peered out into the distance, even from here the sun shining off the water made it too bright to look at. 

His eyes were glued to the horizon, looking at everything there was to see and completely unaware of the thin, crumbling area of the ledge he was standing on.

Till the dry ground gave way. 

It was a flurry of movement after.

Being closest to him, Jaune had immediately lunged forward as the boy began to tumble forward over the edge, both arms wrapping around him, but in her rush had overestimated the distance and for a split second found herself careening over the edge. She held the boy tightly to her chest as the world became a dizzy blur of color, sound and pain. 

Rocks and sticks dug into her skin as they tumbled down the drop, bouncing off the ground. Several times before eventually rolling to a stop somewhere at the bottom, luckily they had missed all the trees that could have easily killed her had she rolled into them.  

Everything hurt and it took several long moments for her head to right itself enough to realize Steven, still wrapped in her arms, was crying and wailing, but it was still a long minute before she got all her knocked out breath back and could find the strength to move. 

She carefully pushed herself up, letting Steven out of her grip, but he stayed where he was, crying, but at the very least, very much alive. Nothing seemed to be broken, or at least didn’t feel broken. She flexed her arms and fingers, carefully pushing herself up onto her knees, gently testing her back and legs. Something warm and wet was running down her forehead into her left eye. She reached up and felt the liquid dripping from her brow and sure enough her fingers came back coated in blood. 

She must have hit her head on a rock on the way down, it also explained the headache that was beginning to roar to life, drowning out all the other aches and pains in her body.

It was also only now that she was becoming aware of the screaming from up on the ridge.

She couldn’t see them through the canopy of leaves they had rolled beneath, but could hear them just fine.

“Steven!” 

“Jaune!” 

“W-we’re okay!” She yelled back up and the yells stopped for a second.

“We’re coming!” Greg’s voice bellowed and then the distant sound of running before it all went quiet.

It had taken them about half an hour to hike to where they had been, so even running it would take at least half that to go back down the path and around to where they were, she wiped away the blood still dripping into her face away with the back of her sleeve and turned to the boy, still laying in the dirt, crying.  

“Steven, does anything hurt?” She very carefully helped the crying boy sit up, she’d held him tight against her but that didn’t mean nothing was broken, no doubt her weight had pressed fully against him at least a couple of times in the tumble down the ridge.

He nodded through his tears.

“What hurts?” she grunted, wiping the blood dripping into her eye from her forehead away again before pressing her sleeved arm against it to help staunch the blood flow. 

“M-My ankle,” he sobbed, holding his right ankle. 

“You have to let me see.” She gently pulled his hand away and moved her fingers over the skin. It didn’t seem to be broken but a bruise was starting to form; probably sprained.    

“Can you walk?” 

Sniffling and with fat tears running down his face he tried to stand but the moment he put weight on his right ankle he crumpled, wailing.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she said gently, trying to soothe his tears. 

“Momma!” He wailed, holding his ankle and gulping in large lungfuls of air, hiccuping between cries. 

More blood dripped into her eye and she growled under her breath before quickly undoing the buttons on her plaid shirt and pulled it off, leaving her in the blank tank top. 

She managed to rip off one sleeve and tie it tightly around her head, hopefully staunching the majority of the blood flow, at least for long enough that she could get something done!

She ripped off the other and carefully tied it around the boy's ankle while he cried. A temporary fix but better than nothing, anything to put pressure on it. She shrugged the now plaid vest onto her shoulders, she might need more fabric from it later. 

She sighed, it would take less time to get back to camp if she could meet the other’s halfway. 

She was going to have to carry him.

“Come on, Steven.” She helped maneuver him onto her shoulders, careful of his ankle.

He’d stopped wailing but was still sniffling, tears rolling down his round cheeks.

“I want momma…,” he hiccupped. 

“I know, we’re going to go find them, okay?” She grunted as she stood, balancing the thankfully small for his age boy, and carefully started picking her way through the brush and undergrowth back the way they had come. 

It was hot and humid down in the thick of the woods, top that off with the blood still slowly soaking through the fabric tied around her forehead and the sneaking suspicion that she had a concussion and Jaune had decided.

She really hated camping. 

Steven sat quietly on her shoulders, hands loosely fisted into her hair, and occasionally sniffling.

“We’ll be there soon,” she gently assured him.

Luckily that was true, as a few minutes later she could hear the sounds of frantic running through the grass, along with heavy breathing

She rounded a bend and could see Greg, Rose and Celeste running toward them.

“Steven!” The man yelled over his panting. 

He slid to a stop in front of her and carefully removed the boy from her shoulders and held him in a crushing embrace which Rose quickly joined, both with tears in their eyes. 

Seeing Steven safe in his parents grasp, Celeste hurried over to her, also on the verge of tears. She looked like she wanted to wrap her arms around the blonde, but restrained herself, not knowing how injured she might be. 

“You’re covered in blood!” Blue eyes were blown wide as she took in what Jaune assumed must be a rather grisly looking scene.

“I hit some rocks, I think. How bad is it?”  

She reached up and gently held the blonde’s face, and hesitated a second before pulling up the material to look at the cut and winced, it tried to stick. 

“It doesn’t look... terribly deep…” She bit her lip, pressing the fabric back down gently. It at least didn’t seem to be bleeding much anymore. Jaune nodded.  

“I think he has a sprained ankle...” She nodded to Steven. Her head was killing her and she was so tied. “...and I think I have a concussion,” she rumbled, closing her eyes. The sunlight was killing her head and her burned face. 

“We gotta go,” Greg said upon hearing this, moving Steven to his shoulders and they moved quickly back toward camp. 

Celeste stayed close to her side, watching her worriedly and holding her arm when she stumbled a little over the thick underbrush. 

It only took about fifteen minutes to get back to camp but it felt like so much longer as her head throbbed with every beat of her heart.

“Get in the van” Greg handed their son to Rose and opened the back doors. 

“What about all our gear?” Rose looked at him as she held Steven.

“I’ll come back for it another day, we need to get Jaune to the hospital and have Steven checked out.”   

Jaune and Celeste climbed into the back while Rose hopped into the front passenger seat with Steven still curled up in her arms, his face buried in her neck.  

The tires spun when Greg punched it. The dirt road jerked them around a little as he sped back toward town

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Celeste asked her quietly as she used an antiseptic wipe from the first aid kit on the many tiny cuts on the blonde’s arms and face she hadn’t even noticed. Thankfully she’d been wearing jeans. 

“I don’t think so…,” she mumbled, her eyes sliding closed but not five seconds after they did, Celeste was shaking her.

“Jaune, I know you’re tired, but you need to keep your eyes open, you can’t go to sleep yet, darling.” 

“I know,” she grunted, eyes opening, but still trying to fall shut. Rose watched them over her shoulder and Greg frowned, glancing at them in the rearview mirror. 

Once her cuts were cleaned, Celeste sat next to her, holding her hand and keeping her awake till they got to the hospital.

~ ~ ~ 

It was getting dark when they got back to the bakery after Steven had been released with a small sprain hours before and Jaune, who they had wanted to watch for a few hours and did indeed have a concussion though thankfully, by a miracle, a minor one.

“I’m going to take Jaune home.” Celeste told Rose as they walked through the bakery, they could see the blonde outside, leaning against her car, arms crossed and frowning, waiting on Celeste. Several butterfly bandages holding the cut on her forehead closed and honestly, looking like a ragged, bloody mess in her torn jeans and plaid, blood stained, now vest. “I don’t want to leave her alone, as least for tonight.” 

“That sounds like a good idea… but, before you go… I gotta talk to her,” Rose said.

“Right now? She’s really not…,” Celeste started, only for Rose to cut her off.

“Right now,” she insisted, walking out the lobby doors with her older sister on her heels.

“Jaune,” she called, approaching the blonde, who looked up, both brows rising in silent question upon seeing the school teacher approach.

Instead of stopping Rose walked straight into the lawyer, wrapping her arms around her waist and squeezing.

If she hadn’t been so shocked, Celeste would have found the wide eyed look on her girlfriends face quite comical.

“Thank you,” Rose said, squeezing the blonde even harder for a brief moment, mindful of her injuries “Thank you so much.”

Before she could think of anything to say, Rose let go, stepping back and wiping at her eyes. “

“I’ll see you both later,” she said before turning and walking back inside.

Jaune looked at her and she shrugged, but was smiling.

“It probably would have been so much worse then a sprained ankle if you hadn’t been holding onto him so tightly. You probably saved his life.” 

“It was just instinct…” Jaune shrugged, looking away. There hadn’t even been any conscious thought to it. She’d seen him falling and she’d reacted.  

“We’re all still very grateful.” Celeste insisted. “Come on, let’s get you home,” she said, climbing into the driver’s seat of Jaune’s car. 

The five minute trip was spent in relative quiet and Jaune headed straight for the shower the second she walked into the house and Celeste waited in the living room for her.

When she finally came back out, her damp hair was combed back and the dried blood on her face was washed away. She was wearing fresh, clean clothes and looked far better then she had twenty minutes beforehand.

“Feel better?”

“Immensely” Jaune sighed, plopping down onto the sofa beside her and leaned her head on the baker's shoulder. They sat there in companionable silence for a few minutes before Celeste couldn’t help herself.

“I’m sorry I made you go with us.” 

Amber eyes popped open and she sat up to better look at Celeste.

“You didn’t make me do anything,” she started. “I chose to go.” 

“But I know you didn’t want to…, I could tell you weren’t exactly having a good time even before you fell off the trail,” Celeste countered, frowning. 

Jaune frowned, lips pursed, before finally sighing.

“No, I didn’t. I’m not an outdoor person, I never have been.” She shrugged.

“Then why did you agree to come?” She turned to better face Jaune. 

“I just wanted to spend time with you and make you happy,” she finally said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world and Celeste supposed it was. 

Cobalt stared into amber for a long moment before she leaned forward, her forehead gently pressed to Jaune’s, mindful of her cut and sighed.  

“I do appreciate it, Jaune, really I do, but please, darling, next time, just tell me, alright? You're not as much fun when you're sunburned and grumpy.” She chuckled.  

“Right” Jaune smirked, eyes closing and body sagging. 

“Tired?” 

She hummed an affirmative. Exhausted was a better word, and she still had a headache, though not as pounding as it had been. 

“Come on then, let’s get you to bed.” She stood up and held out her hand. 

Jaune took it and let Celeste lead her down the hall to her own bedroom, hitting the lights as they went.

She all but fell into the bed, glad it wasn’t a tent.

She could hear Celeste chuckle to herself as she flicked off the bedroom light and climbed in behind her, arm wrapping around her waist. 

Lips pressed softly against the back of her neck, followed by a quiet, breathy goodnight. 

She mumbled the sentiment in turn, hand finding the one slung over her waist and gave it a brief squeeze before finally getting to close her eyes and let the sleep she had been fighting off for hours finally take her.

[parisian-nicole]

Aftermath: A RoLo Fic

Summary: Set after DOFP (movie version). Logan is keeping a secret from Ororo.

Rating: M for adult language and violence.

Date: Written 10/07/2019 but finally finished/posted online 12/31/2019

***

“Good Morning, Logan,” She greeted as she rounded the corner of the maze garden to stand before him suddenly. He stopped abruptly a little surprised that he hadn’t sensed her presence nearby. He had been out of sorts lately, his mind preoccupied and that was what he had chalked it up to. But the truth was she had been stalking him for a while, as she worked up the courage to confront him. She had also used her powers to shift her scent away to purposely throw him off guard.

 “’Ro,” Logan mumbled out a greeting as he dropped his eyes and began to step around her and continue on his way out into the back forest for his morning hike. She watched him closely and curiously. His entire demeanor was so off to her lately. The way he seemed to not want to talk much with her. Not that it had ever been his thing with others, but they would often have long and deeply intellectual conversations about any and everything, something Ororo enjoyed ‘before’. Now, he’d usually give her a nod or a mumbled reply whenever she tried to strike up a conversation. On the off chance she could get close enough to him to speak he would never look at her. It was as if he were cowering away, which is something Logan would have never done, ‘before’. But the most hurtful thing for Ororo was the fact that he seemed to go out of his way to avoid her. It had become so painfully obvious to her that she felt she had to find him, corner him, and ask him why, what she had done.

 “Logan, can we talk a moment?” She called out to his retreating back. She could see his shoulders stiffen as he stilled in his steps. He didn’t immediately reply or turn to regard her, and had he not stopped and not been who he is, she would have assumed he hadn’t heard her. She could hear the sigh fall from his lips the second before he turned back to face her, and it crushed her a little more inside. Why did he seemingly not care for her company when ‘before’ she would have attested that she was the closest person in the entire mansion to Logan. Dare to say that she was his closest friend and confidant, as she felt he was hers. In that moment as he stood in front of her looking as if he wanted to be anywhere else, she found that she had lost a lot of the courage she had mustered up to confront him about his change in behavior towards her. Now, she avoided his eyes as she fought to keep back the tears that suddenly wanted to overcome her. “Logan, are you mad at me?” She finally asked so softly, in such a meek manner she sounded pathetic to her own ears. And his barking reply didn’t help her any.

 “What?” He sounded harsh and irritated.

 “Have I done something to upset you?” Ororo rephrased her question. She lifted her eyes, even as her head bowed to him and she gripped her hands together in front of her. Again, Logan sighed as he closed his eyes a second while he shook his head. Then he opened his eyes once more and held her gaze, and something shifted as his hardened shoulders now drooped in defeat. The steely glare that was just in his eyes melted and they now held regret as well as concern.

 “Naw, ‘Ro, I ain’t mad at you and ya ain’t done nothing to me,” It was his turn to bow his head.

 “All right, then could we please sit and talk a moment?” She asked as she gestured to the nearby stone bench, one of many places throughout the gardens. Logan simply nodded in agreement and when she moved to the bench and settled upon it, he followed her actions. “I sense there is a strain between us, my friend,” She began and noticed the way he snapped his eyes shut and clinched his jaws. He looked as if he were battling within himself. “Please, Logan, please tell me what is wrong,” She reached out and placed a hand atop his, but he abruptly pulled his hand away. Ororo tried to not let her hurt show. “You say I have done nothing and that you are not mad at me, but it is very apparent to me that there is something going on.”

 “It ain’t nothing ya gots to worry about. I’m dealing with some personal things and they ain’t got nothing to do with you,” He offered.

 “I think that was the first time you have ever lied to me, Logan, and you are very bad at it too,” She replied as she frowned up a bit in offense. He threw his head back, looked towards the sky, and sighed. “And stop that!” She demanded as she jumped from the seat beside him, which alarmed him a bit. “Stop sighing like that and treating me like my mere presence or the sight of me annoys you. You’ve been acting this way for weeks now and I want to know why. Ever since your return … I don’t understand entirely all that the Professor told of you coming from the future or another timeline, that you altered. Honestly, thinking about the logistics of it all and how it’s even possible gives me a headache. But what I do know is that you were in a future that was horrible, so horrible that the future professor sent you into the past to change it. You did change it and somehow, you’ve changed the present too. Or maybe you haven’t changed anything. Maybe you are not you, not my Logan, but a you from that alternate future flung into another reality. From a reality where we are not friends, or maybe I didn’t even exist,” She spoke mainly to herself as she mulled the thoughts over in her head. She had seated herself back down beside him during her tirade and Logan sat silently watching her. He was slightly amused but also ashamed that he had caused her such distress. He had thought that by distancing himself it would make things easier for them both. He now realized it was mostly for himself.

 “I’m me and this is my reality, a new reality from the one I remember. Things have definitely change from how they were before, but better in a lot of ways. And if Charles is right, hopefully, it will be a much better future for the world. Billions of people human and mutant will live. And you will live ‘Ro,” He said the last part so gently and the way that he looked at her as he said them led her to believe that in the future he came back from, she had died. “But…” He trailed off not sure he wanted to continue. The Professor had warned him about discussing the future for fear it would somehow alter it and undo what he had done. Logan had just scoffed at him and jokingly told him to just send him back again to fix it like before. In truth he had already spoken with Jean about it some as well as Cyclops. But this conversation with Storm he had not wanted to ever have, it was just too painful.

 “But what, Logan, please tell me?” She asked but didn’t push him because she knew when cornered Logan would either lash out or get out. She also knew he wouldn’t purposely attack her and so he’d close himself off and walk away, and she didn’t want that.

 “I didn’t want to do it, go back to change the future,” He finally confessed to her what he hadn’t even shared with the Professor, though he supposed that he knew already.

 “B…but, the Professor said that we were at war with giant human made robots created to capture mutants, and that they ended up turning on both mutants and the humans who created them. That the world lay in ruins and only a handful of us were left. It sounded terrifying and horrible,” She said and he nodded in agreement.

 “Yeah, it was so bad that the skies had become so polluted from all the atomic dust from the bombs the Sentinels kept dropping on us, the sun hadn’t shone through in nearly a decade. Nearly all of our friends were gone. Every inch of the Earth was pretty much scorched. We had ta fight nearly every second of every day ta hide and survive it.”

 “Then why in the world would you want to remain in what sounds like a hellish existence?” Ororo questioned. In reply he dipped his finger inside the collar of his shirt and tugged on the chain he wore. Instead of the dog tags she had expected to see him holding, her eyes fell to a gold wedding band.

 “It wasn’t all hellish ta me,” He answered somberly. “I don’t even know how this survived,” Logan spoke again. “I mean I know I’ve altered the future and changed the past, so this shouldn’t have remained but it did. I thought about ask’n Charles about it, how it was possible, but I was too afraid that he would want me to give it up, destroy it, or something like that. I’d rather die. I’ve already given up everything, even the woman who gave me this ring. So, this I’m gonna keep come hell or highwater.”

 Ororo sat transfixed as she stared at the ring that glistened in the sunlight. It suddenly became so clear to her and she knew without a doubt she had given him that ring. It explained his recent behavior towards her. Why he avoided her like she had the plague. Why she would sometimes catch him staring at her in a way that made a heated blush creep all over her body and then in another moment his gaze would be one of sorrow.

 “My Goddess,” She gasped out as she reached out and touched the ring. “I was your wife, wasn’t I?” She stated with conviction as she knew it without a shadow of a doubt and he nodded.

“Yeah, darlin, you were my wife,” He affirmed as he dropped his head a bit and locked his sorrow filled eyes to the ground. “You were my everything. And I knew that if I went back ta change the future, I would lose you. It was like lightening in a bottle the first time around us gett’n together, and I knew there was no way in hell I’d be that lucky again. So, initially I had said no but you were so mad at me and you said you’d go if I wouldn’t. I couldn’t let you do that. Not knowing what might happen to ya. So, I went and did what I had ta do. Then, when time caught up ta me and I was back here everything was like it was but different too. Folks who had died before were alive again and that’s how I knew it had worked.”

 “Who had died in this present time, before?” She inquired momentarily forgetting the issue between them.

 “Scott, Charles, and Jean,” He answered and she bunched her brows in confusion as her mouth fell open in shock. “I could try to explain it to you, but do you really want that headache, darlin?” He asked and she quickly shook her head but knew that she would ask him to explain things another time. “Good, I’m sure you’ll have enough hella nightmares tonight just knowing that in some once upon a future time, you were married ta me,” He tossed out jokingly along with a sad smile.

 “Not at all,” Ororo replied as she shook her head a bit, her eyes still locked onto the ring. “I have often thought that you were my kindred spirit and I think we are quite compatible in many aspects, Logan. I just never thought that you would ever be interested in anyone other than Jean. But I suppose in that timeline she was dead and I was there so…”

 “No,” He quickly cut off her train of thought as he frowned up at her words. “It won’t like that at all. You weren’t a replacement or stand in fer Jean,” He spat out as if the words left disgust in his mouth. “Ya helped me heal from the guilt of killing her,” Her eyes enlarged in horror and shock at hearing this. “That’s a story for another day, but believe me when I say I had no choice. She’d already killed Scott and Charles and she begged me ta kill her ta stop her. Hell, you were the one that told me it was the only thing to be done… Look, it’s a long story and not one I’m even sure I should be tell’n you. Just know I wouldn’t have done it if it wasn’t needed,” He spoke with pleading eyes which held true remorse and regret that Ororo could see and she calmed herself and nodded.

 “Of course, Logan, I know how much you love Jean,” She replied honestly.

 “No, ‘Ro. I care fer Jean, but I don’t love her,” He confessed as he shook his head to deny her words. “I know I put up a good pretense from your recollection, but I’ve since had decades of living and experiences. I’ve had the love of a good woman. You taught me the true meaning of love and I ain’t never felt that kind of love or loved anything as much before nor since,” Logan declared and by the way she fidgeted nervously he wondered if he had said too much or scared her. “Look, I’m sorry ‘Ro,” He said suddenly as he stood from the bench which caused her to stare up at him in confusion. “I shouldn’t have told’ja ‘bout none of this shit.”

 “No,” She interjected as she hurriedly stood before him and placed her hand upon his forearm. “I mean, thank you for telling me. I am glad that you did,” She then noticed the way he looked at her with a longing gaze and she quickly snatched her hand away from his arm and took a step backward. She understood now that her presence was a painful reminder for him of what he had lost, and she didn’t wish to make things harder for him. “I now know that you have not been mad at me.”

 “No, never,” He said as he bowed his head and let out a heavy sigh.

 “And now that I know the secret of why you have been aloof, I hope you will stop it, please. Logan, it is quite hurtful to me to have you, the person I feel closest to, be so distant with me,” She pleaded and he tossed her the saddest look she could ever recall seeing on his face. Along with a crooked smile.

 “I imagine it is no more hurtful than to have you, my wife, be so close to me but not share my memories of us. And not being able ta talk ta you, touch you, or have you the way I want you,” Logan countered as he looked at her lovingly while he lifted his hand with the intent to stroke her hair. But he quickly fisted his hand and snapped it back to his side.

 “I am so sorry, Logan, I did not think before I spoke,” She stammered and silently cursed herself at her callousness. He had just confessed to her that in the future he had come from they were married, and that in is mind’s eye they still were. Yet here she stood seeming to care more for her own feelings than his. “Well, we have quite the conundrum, don’t we?” Ororo offered with a kind smile as she bowed her head a bit while Logan nodded fully understanding what she meant. “You cannot stand to be near me as it is painful for you, and it pains me deeply when you stay away from me. And I know that it must seem very selfish of me, but I do miss your company, Logan. I miss our friendship,” She said this softly as tears sprang to her eyes. “And I wish that we could be as close as we used to be, but I never want to cause you pain. So, I shall try to keep my distance, give you space, and wait for you to tell me how you want things between us to progress,” She stated and moved to him without thought and embraced him as she had many times before. She then tried to pull back but realized Logan still held a tight hold on her as he buried his face into her hair that fell across her neck. She felt heartless in this moment. After all he had just told her, and what she had just promised she still put her selfish needs before his needs. She had done something that was so normal and natural for them, and what she desired most in the moment. She had embraced him and likely invoked memories she could not share with him about a life and love they had some place and time ago. After a few seconds where they stood there embracing Logan finally released Ororo but neither stepped back from where they stood toe to toe and face to face. Something about the way he stared at her, the closeness of him, how what he had told her made her feel…all of these things stirred something within her that made her step back to him. She moved her face closer as she intended to place a kiss on his lips, but Logan’s sudden grip on her forearms stopped her.

 “Please, don’t,” He nearly growled out through gritted teeth as he stared off at something in the distance, purposely evading her gaze.

 “I…I am sorry,” She apologized as she took a couple of steps back from him and wrapped her arms around herself as if to shield herself from his rejection.

 “You ain’t done nothing wrong here, ‘Ro. Yer just be’n you,” He offered an explanation to try to ease the distress he could see he had caused her. “But if you kiss me, I don’t know that I would be able ta stop myself…” He let the words hang there and she truly understood and simply gave him a curt nod as a reply.

 “I promise I will try to be more aware of your feelings Logan, and work to not do or say anything that might cause you painful memories,” She declared.

 “None of my memories of you are painful, ‘Ro. It’s just the leav’in you that haunts me. So, you don’t need ta tip-toe around me or change the amaz’in person you are, not fer me,” He said as he tossed her a genuine smile. “’Sides, there probably ain’t nothing you could say or do that is gonna change this fer me,” He placed his right hand over his heart. “I’ll see ya later,” He added as he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, bowed his head and continued on his way. Ororo turned and watched his retreating back as she thought on what he had told her and why it caused butterflies to flutter in her stomach. She watched on until she could no longer make him out in the thicket of the back forest, and then she made her way back up to the school.

**

Sometime later

**

“So, he finally told you, I’m glad,” Jean replied to the tale Ororo had just shared with her. Ororo had come from meeting with Logan and immediately headed down to Jean’s office in the medlab. She had needed some girl talk with the person, next to Logan, she was closest with. Ororo had cast herself onto the leather sofa in Jean’s office and shared what Logan had told her. From the outside it would have looked as if they were holding a therapy session, as Jean sat in the matching chair nearby listening intensely to her beloved friend.

 “Wait, you knew of this and did not tell me, dear sister?” Ororo asked as she leaned up on her elbows and threw Jean a surprised look.

 “Yes, Logan mentioned it in one of our talks, I think it has been eating him up inside and he needed to tell someone. And how could I tell you? It was not my story to tell, it was Logan’s,” Jean stated and Ororo knew she was right. “I am actually surprised he told you. He had been so adamant that you never know the truth. I had advised him that I think it would help you both, as I could sense your distress at how he had been avoiding you. But Logan can be quite stubborn,” Ororo only nodded to that very true statement.

 “Well, I cornered him and gave him little choice,” She said and it was Jean’s turn to nod and she chuckled a little.

 “Yes, and I did inform him that that would very likely happen, but he was so sure that he could play a better game of cat and mouse then you,” They both giggled at this. And then Ororo grew somber before she spoke again.

 “Did he tell you about what happened with you in the past, the past before he changed things?” She asked Jean and the way the red head dipped her head and dropped her eyes shamefully to the floor spoke volumes. Ororo could see it was a touchy subject for her. “I do not mean to pry, if you do not wish to share it is all right.”

 “No, it’s okay,” Jean shook her head and latched her green eyes onto Ororo’s blue eyes. “It is still so difficult for me to believe that I maliciously harmed the Professor and that I … I actually killed Scott,” She choked on a sob at those words, as she lifted her hand to her mouth as if to hold in a scream or her breakfast from getting out. She took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself and Ororo sat quietly and allowed her to recover. “But as he told me everything, I could see all of the things he had experienced, seen, and done in that time. He has retained it all. Even the Professor knows…remembers things, to some extent.”

 “It must be so difficult for Logan, having all of those memories of things that happened but now didn’t happen. My Goddess, it makes my head ache a little whenever I try to sort it out, I cannot imagine how horrible it must be for him. I know the Professor has the ability to deal with it better with his powers, but poor Logan.”

 “And what about poor Ororo?” Jean questioned and Ororo turned a puzzled gaze to her friend.

 “What about me?”

 “Well, how do you feel now that you know you were Logan’s wife and the true love of his life? And I must admit I am a little sore to discover I never really held that last title,” She quirked her brow with a smile as she teased a little.

 “I…I feel no…nothing. Why, wh…what should I feel?” Ororo stammered as Jean’s smile broadened over her friends obvious flustered state.

 “I don’t know. I just thought it might cause butterflies in your stomach at knowing you hold the heart and soul of the mighty Wolverine,” Jean countered and then laughed outright at the way Ororo narrowed her eyes accusingly at her. “Oh, sister, I didn’t need to read your thoughts to know that. I have experienced first had what it is like to have Logan’s attention. I recall the flutters I’d get sometimes when he’d say something flirty to me or I’d catch him staring. I would never act on it but I won’t lie, it had invoked some very intense and graphic wet dreams.”

 “Jean!” Ororo exclaimed around a laugh as Jean too giggled.

 “What? I am human you know and Logan is very handsome and damn sexy, and don’t you dare sit there and pretend like you have never thought and wondered about him like that,” Jean said as she arched a brow at Ororo.

 “I admit that I have. Maybe, once or twice … Or hundreds of times,” Ororo giggled and then squealed as she gripped one of the pillows on the couch and covered her face briefly with it while Jean laughed at her disclosure. Then Ororo tossed the pillow at her friend’s head, who effortlessly stopped it mid-air and gently placed it back upon the couch, just as Ororo knew she would do. “But it was easy for me to desire him from a far and have fantasies, because I knew Logan only had eyes for you, and that I never stood a chance of ever being able to act on any of it,” Ororo volunteered.

 “But you wanted to,” Jean stated as she gave a knowing smile while she quirked her brow.

 “Goddess, Yes,” Ororo hissed out as she laid back more and stared up at the ceiling with a dreamy look in her eyes and goofy smile on her face.

 “Well, I’d say your chances are pretty good now,” Jean replied. “And you could start right now…please come in Logan,” Jean spoke out as she kept highly amused eyes upon Ororo, whose own eyes doubled in size as she abruptly scrambled to stand up from the couch just as Logan opened the door and entered.

 “Oh, sorry, Red, I’m not interrupt’n nothing, am I?” He asked as he frowned up a bit and took note of the fact that once again that day Ororo’s presence had surprised him. Although, he figured it shouldn’t since she was all that he seemed to think about even more so now than when he had first arrived back in the present time. So, she had his senses on overload already.

 “No,” Ororo yelped out as he bunched his brow at her in slight concern. “No, we were just…” She looked to Jean for help.

 “Oh, just having a little girl talk,” Jean said with a smile. “You know, talking about the boys Ororo likes,” She added.

 “Right,” Ororo agreed with a nod and smile that faltered just a little as her mind played back the words that Jean had spoken. She wouldn’t allow herself to turn and glare at her friend as she longed to do, but she did send her a flash to her mind of how she was going to pay her back later.

 “Oh,” Logan replied as his face fell a little as he thought about the ‘boys’ Ororo might like and she somehow picked up on his train of thought and wanted to reassure him somehow.

 “I mean, no we were not talking about ‘boys’ I like,” She started to explain as she shot a glance to Jean again for some assistance and Jean was all too happy to oblige.

 “Right, I’m teasing. It wasn’t ‘boys’ in the plural sense. We were just talking about one, ‘you’, Logan,” Jean stated and Logan arched a brow, intrigued while Ororo tried to keep her plastered-on smile in place as she clinched her teeth and turned to Jean. She flooded Jean’s mind with all of the profanities she could think up along with vengeful, murderous thoughts. Jean found it even more difficult to contain her laughter at her friend, as she knew Ororo would never actually do any of the things she was thinking. However, seeing her usually composed friend throw such a mental tantrum was entertaining. Even still she decided to let her off the hook and help her out. “I hope you don’t mind Logan but Ororo mentioned that you have finally told her about who she was to you in the future. And I was just saying how it is good that the air is clear, and now hopefully you both can come together and find a way to work and live more harmoniously again.”

 “There has been no real discord between Logan and I,” Ororo argued.

 “No, not intentionally,” Jean continued making sure to broach the subject carefully as she could tell by the look on Logan’s face it was not something he wanted to be discussing with the current audience. “But I have become aware of a rift between you two, and please know that I have not and would never intentionally probe you, but sometimes you both ‘think’ very loudly,” She tapped her temple as she said this and both Logan and Ororo understood and felt remorse that they had allowed their thoughts to project onto Jean.

 “Sorry, Red,” Logan grumbled out.

 “As am I, I shall try to be more mindful, Jean,” Ororo added.

 “There’s no need to apologize, your thoughts have never cause me physical pain, though I find that it does still pain me to see my friends in such despair. Logan, I don’t know that any of us can help ease the pain of the loss that you have experienced. But I want you to know that I do realize the sacrifice you made, and because of it I am here alive and well, as is Scott, the Professor, and probably billions of others. And for that I will be eternally grateful and I will do whatever I am able to do to help make your transition into this ‘new’ reality and life easier,” Jean promised as she heard Ororo’s thoughts drift across the room. Ororo had said that she wished she knew of his sacrifice. As if she were a Genie granting a wish to her Master, Jean, in an instant telepathically sent some of the poignant thoughts and memories that Logan had shared with her about all that he had gone through. Normally, she would never had thought of doing such a thing as she knew it was a violation to Logan and his trust in her. But in this case, she was very sure that it could be a catalyst that would help both Logan and Ororo to find peace, and maybe something more. It all literally took Ororo’s breath from her as she gasped out and stumbled a bit. Jean helped to keep her standing with her telekinesis, while Logan looked at her in growing concern.

 “You all right, ‘Ro?” He asked as he fought to remain still and not reach out for her as he was longing to do. After their morning chat he had decided he would work harder to suppress any thoughts of a life he once shared with her. He hoped that it would at least make it easier to be around her more since that was something, she wanted from him, and he could never deny her anything as she never asked for much.

 “Yes, I am fine,” She smiled warmly at Logan and then rushed to Jean and embraced her, which her friend welcomed with a smile as she reciprocated the hug in kind. “Thank you, Jean,” She whispered and Jean knew it was thanks for sharing Logan’s thoughts more so than the chit-chat they had. She stepped back and then moved beside Logan. “I shall see you later, Logan? May…maybe we could have an evening stroll through the forest, after dinner?” She offered as she coyly ducked her head, lifted her hand to her hair, and used her fingers to tuck some of her hair behind her ear. Jean tried not to look like a fangirl as she internally rejoiced at how cute they looked as they stood before her like two teenagers who had a major crush on one another. A walk through the forest was something they had done quite often before this new Logan arrived, and Ororo had truly missed it. Now, that she had some glimpse into the life Logan and her future self had shared, she was very curious to know more about ‘them’ and how they had gotten together.

 “Sure, darlin, if ya want to,” Logan agreed with a nod as he thought that at this rate his plan to smother his thoughts and feelings for her was going to surely be shot to hell. But he recalled their evening walks and felt that they were the times when he felt most at peace. Alone in the darkened wilderness with a child of nature like himself whose night vision was just as good as his own. Sometimes they would walk for hours in silence relishing the sounds of the nature surrounding them as well as the other’s company. He did miss that immensely and if she wanted to talk and walk in the forest, he would give her that and bask in it as well.

**

Later that night

**

Once dinner was done Logan and Ororo had made their way out the back entrance of the mansion, through the back gardens, and then into the woods. It had been a full hour and a half of them silently walking as the full moon hung high in the sky, before Ororo had mustered up enough courage to speak.

 “I have really missed this,” She confessed with a sated sigh as she reached out her hand and looped it around Logan’s arm, and when she noticed no recoiling movement from him, she pressed her body against his side. This type of closeness between them was a completely, natural, amicable, and platonic way for them, but now it stirred a warmth within both of them that started in their bellies and fanned out down their legs. Both felt it instantly and intensely and both tried to ignore it. “I know that I am being so selfish demanding your time like this,” She said but he reached up a reassuring hand and placed it on top of the one that gripped at his arm.

 “Naw, you ain’t. Yer just doing what we’ve done a million times before,” Logan stated. “And I ain’t gonna lie, I’m being a little selfish too enjoy’in yer closeness. I know that this version of you ain’t my ‘Ro, you ain’t my wife, but at the same time you are my ‘Ro. You just don’t have the feel’ins that she had for me.”

 “But you still have your feelings for me, l mean, her?”

 “Yeah I do.”

 “And even though I am not her in the sense that I never had her experiences with you, you still love me just as you loved her?” She asked meekly and hoped that her line of questioning did not anger or upset him.

 “Yes, sorry but I can’t help it,” He said with a heavy sigh and then they both grew quiet. Ororo had decided she wouldn’t ask anything further from him as this revelation was mind-blowing for her. She was sure that he had nothing else he would share, and so she was stunned when he continued on several minutes later. “Yer still her, you know? You may not have all of her memories and may never have them but, it ain’t like you are a completely different person. Yer, you, just a you with a different perspective ‘cause ya never experienced what my ‘Ro had. And I probably ain’t making much sense, huh?” He tossed out around a smirk as he bowed his head. Ororo just stared at him seeing him as clearly in the darkness that currently surrounded them as she would were the sun hanging in the sky.

 “No, Logan,” She countered with a gentle smile. “That was actually the only thing that I have heard about this entire future past saga that makes any real sense to me.”

 “Oh, yeah?” He replied as he graced her with unsure eyes, while hers twinkled delightfully back at him.

 “Yes,” She affirmed and she nodded her head. “I am your ‘Ro, just ‘before’,” Ororo’s smile widened as she thought on it with a newfound clarity. “Before you swept me off my feet and made me fall in love with you. And I must admit I am very curious to know how exactly you did that.”

 “Did what?” He asked around a chuckle though he knew full well what she had meant. He was very pleased that she seemed to understand things more clearly, and ecstatic that she wasn’t rebuffing him completely. Instead she acted as if she wanted to not just know about his ‘Ororo’s experiences but somehow experience them for herself.  

 “How did you sweep me off of my feet, woo me, dare I say court me?” She asked teasingly as she poked at his side. This was familiar for them both this comfortable and easy camaraderie they had always had between them.

 “No, you shouldn’t say, ‘cause none of that happened,” He said with a slight smile as he nudged her with his elbow to let her know that though his words may have sounded harsh, he had no ill will about what she suggested. She understood but also thought maybe it was too touchy of a subject for him and she released her hold on his arm and picked at her nails.

 “I am, as Rogue would say, being too nosey, aren’t I?” She asked as she bowed her head a bit and some of her thick white tresses fell down across her face. Again, Logan found himself battling his urges for her as he had wanted to reach out and rake his fingers through her hair, instead he reached out and grasped her hand and once again looped it around his arm.

 “No, and I know you know me well enough ta know that if you we’re I’d tell ya ta-”

 “Mind yer gotdamn business, Storm,” She cut him off as she did a horrendous impersonation of him, though the words had been spot on. He couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled out as his head fell back a bit while his body joyfully shook. She laughed along with him just from the happiness of seeing him so carefree and relaxed, as it had been a long while she could recall seeing this in him. And it tickled her pink that she was invoking this side of him. After a moment for them both to collect themselves she spoke again. “So, if you are okay with sharing then please tell me.”

 “Tell you what? What exactly do ya wanna know, darlin?” He replied as he yanked a thin long twig from a nearby branch as they passed and slid the end between his lips as the rest dangled out the corner of his mouth.

 “You know, how you first romanced me. You are not the wine and dine, bring a girl flowers and candy type. That’s more Scott’s style.”

 “Very true, but yer not the kinda woman to swoon and be impressed by all that sorta stuff, either. That’s more Jean’s style.”

 “Touché,” Ororo said and she smiled widely at the fact Logan truly did understand her better than most. “Tell me this, when did you first kiss me? And I know we have kiss probably a thousand times as friends, but I mean the first time you kissed me as a man kissing a woman he liked as more than just a friend,” The smile on his face disappeared and she wondered if she had crossed a line she shouldn’t have. But before she could take it back, he began to answer her.

 “Actually, it was here in the forest on a night just like tonight; a full moon in the sky, us walking arm-in-arm,” He said as he bunched his brows and looked to be contemplating something, while letting the twig fall from his mouth. Although this news probably should have made Ororo uncomfortable and racing back to the school it hadn’t. It only piqued her interest more as the butterflies stirred up in her belly again. “And for the record, as improbable as it might sound, you were the one who initiated that ‘first’ kiss not me,” He added that cliff note in the hopes to lighten the moment and not have it feel awkward for her.

 “Not improbable at all, I can totally see myself doing that, kissing you first,” She chimed in nonchalantly also hoping to make him feel less awkward. Logan watched her out of the corner of his eyes as she looked everywhere but at him. She was pretending to be more at ease than she really was. He could see the slight blush that spread across her neck and clavicle bone. The way her heartbeat increased and how the hairs on her arms stood on end. But it was the scent of her that stopped him in his tracks. She was aroused and it was heady and strong to his nostrils and senses.

 “We should probably head back now, ‘Ro,” Logan stated as he began to turn them but Ororo resisted as she pulled him back towards her.

 “Did I ask your permission first?” She questioned him further as if she had not even heard what he had said. Logan shook his head a little to push off his arousal as her delicious musk began to overwhelm him.

 “What?” He replied as he found it somewhat difficult to follow her line of questioning, never mind trying to think of a coherent response as his engorged member started to cut into his jeans.

 “No,” She answered her own question as she shook her head slightly. “I do not think I would have asked, not with you. Your spirit is too wild. I would have had to capture you,” As she said this, she reached out both of her hands and cupped his face. Logan stood stock still as he watched her every movement in anticipation and some fear. “And taken what I wanted of you,” She continued while she leaned into him and tugged him closer. Her movements were not rushed but meticulously slow. She stared directly into his eyes as she moved closer. She wanted him to see and fully understand her intention, and give him time to end things if he so chose.  Finally, she closed the distance and covered his mouth with hers. Logan welcomed the kiss as he opened his mouth and busied his tongue with hers. Ororo moaned out her pleasure as the kiss deepened and she wrapped her arms more snuggly around his neck and entangled her fingers in his hair. For Logan, although his mouth told of his insatiable and ravenous need for her, the rest of his body did not move. A deep growl emanated from his chest. When she started to involuntarily rub her body against his, the sound of metal scraping metal filled the air as his blades unsheathed. Ororo stopped and pulled back some as she looked at him nervously. “Is that a good thing or bad, do you want me to stop?”

 “Darlin, that’s me try’n really fuck’n hard right now ta be gentlemanly and not ravage you,” Logan hissed out through his clinched teeth. As she took him in, she could see how every muscle in his body seemed to be coiled up tight as he fought to keep whatever urges he was feeling in that moment contained. Just knowing that she had made him on the verge of hysteria with desire for her only made her want to give him whatever he wanted. And so, she leaned back into him, moved her mouth to his ear, licked his lobe before she spoke again.

 “Logan, I have never thought of you as the gentlemanly kind, and I know you can smell just how much I want to be ravaged by you.”

 “’Ro, you aint gotta do something you don’t wanna do, or wouldn’t do under normal circumstances. I do wantcha, but not like that,” He said as he retracted his claws, reached up and gently grasped her arms, and held her at a bit of a distance.

 “Do you think that I go around throwing myself at every man that crosses my path?” She asked though her voice and face showed no irritation or anger, for she knew he knew her better. “Right, and you also know that I do not tend to do things that I do not want to do. And no, these are not ‘normal’ circumstances. In this reality I want you just as much as I have always wanted you, Logan,” She confessed and he snapped his shocked eyes up from where he had been looking just off behind her, and locked onto her eyes. His face held a look of awe and disbelief to what she had proclaimed. “Except in this new reality you actually want me in return. You seem to no longer desire Jean’s attention and affections but you want mine. And I know I am not your wife, at least not yet,” He arched his brows in surprise to those specific words, ‘at least not yet’. “But as you have said I am still her, still your ‘Ro, and I promise you that I do desire you probably just as much as she did.  Would it be a terrible thing to explore something romantic between us? I would like to and I am willing if you are, Logan,” She said shyly as she bowed her head a bit, too embarrassed to face him.

 “We gotta go back to the mansion,” Logan spoke more gruffly and a scowl covered his face as he grasped her hand and pulled her along with him at a quick pace. Ororo was in tuned with his demeanor and she instantly knew that his curt action was not a rejection but that there was something seriously wrong.

 “Logan, what is the matter?” She asked as she hurried along with him.

 “We need to go talk ta Charles.”

 **

A short time later, back at the school

**

 “Charles, I think I have royally fucked up things here,” Logan barked out as he burst through Professor Xavier’s closed office doors. He already knew the man was inside and he had never been one for being courteous particularly when he sensed danger.

 “We are sorry for bursting in on you like this Professor,” Ororo apologized as she had been tugged along by Logan’s hand. He released her as he raked his hand through his wild hair and began to pace a little.

 “I knew I should’ve left as soon as I got back here. Gone up to the Canadian wilderness and just retired or something, let the future just happen,” Logan began to rant as he paced. Ororo stared at him wearily as she watched him devolve into a near manic state. It didn’t help her fears any when she looked to the Professor as he sat watching the flames that danced in the nearby fireplace, seemingly disinterested in their presence. Though she knew he was hanging on every word Logan spoke. “I think it’s all happening again. I might have changed or fixed some things in the past but the endgame is gonna be the same,” Logan stopped and looked at Xavier who in turned looked back up at him as well. “Just now when ‘Ro and I were out walk’n in the forest she … we,” He paused as he took a deep breath to try to calm himself and to find the right words. He didn’t really wish to say anything disrespectful of Ororo or cause her any kind of embarrassment but he knew now was not the time for delicacies. “We almost shared an intimate moment out in the woods,” He finally divulged and Ororo defensively wrapped her arms around herself as if to shelter herself from being exposed. “And I swear it happened almost exactly as it did before, the first time in the other timeline.”

 “It did?” It was Ororo’s voice that touched his ears with the question and he looked over at her shocked face.

 “Yes, some of the dialog changed but some was verbatim, and the scene was identical,” He confirmed. “And I don’t know if my telling you about us being married in the future triggered something but…” Logan now focused back onto the Professor. “But what if my telling any of you about the future somehow makes it happen?”

 “I do not think that to be the case Logan,” Xavier finally spoke.

 “You sound sure,” Logan countered as he frowned a bit at how calmly the Professor seemed.

 “Yes, quite,” Xavier replied with a slight smile and he opened one of his desk drawers, pulled out a newspaper, and tossed it across the desk towards Logan. Logan picked up the newspaper and read the headline, “Dr. Bolivar Trask Vs the Mutants”.

 “Dr. Trask announced today that he has found a solution to the ever-increasing Mutant population, which he will present to the U.N. when they convene next October in New York,” Logan read aloud. “I knew it,” He barked out.

 “Look at the date, Logan,” The Professor instructed and Logan did and his mouth fell open a little at what he saw. “That paper is nearly a year old and it was published long before you returned back to this altered time.”

 “Wait a gotdamn minute, Bub,” Logan practically growled out as the veins that had started to appear in his neck bulged. Ororo could feel the sudden rage sipping out of him and directed at the Professor and she carefully took steps to place herself between the two men in the room. She also telepathically called out to Jean to make her aware that there may be trouble and to come to the Professor’s office with Scott. “Are ya tell’n me that I came back here fer nothing. That I left my…” He moved his bloodshot eyes to Ororo just as Jean and Scott appeared at the door. “It was all fer nothing, it didn’t stop anything? Did you know even then that it wasn’t gonna make a fucking difference?”

 “I am sure that me from your future time suspected as much, but Logan, some things did change and we have yet to truly know of what the future might bring us now. Your wife died in that future fighting to keep the Sentinels from stopping what we were trying to do, sending you in the past. She understood how important it was for you to return here, that even if there was a sliver of a chance that it would change that future, it was worth it. And I promise you her sacrifice was not in vain,” The Professor said as he tried to calm the man before him who he could see was battling his berserker rage.

 “Wait, sh…she died while…” Logan questioned as the rage seemed to drain from him and was replaced with a mournful cutting sorrow. “While I was still there in that time and you didn’t let me go help her? You did nothing as she died, as our baby growing in her belly died?” Logan spat out around angry sobs. All the others in the room looked on in shock and could sympathize and almost feel his pain. More so Ororo than the others as she instinctively clutched a hand to her flat belly. It was her voice that offered him some sense of reason.

 “Logan,” She called to him softly as she moved slowly to him and placed a gentle hand on his arm. He only dropped his head and clamped his eyes shut as if the mere sight of her was too much to bear in that moment. “This is not the Professor who did those things, you cannot lay your anger and blame onto him. Also, you know as well as I that I would freely sacrifice myself for the greater good. That is my nature. You yourself told me how hellish our future had become and I know that I would have done anything in my power to change that if I could have,” She gasped a little in surprise when he snatched her into his arms. His weight wasn’t heavy though she felt weighed down by the despair he was in. He took her with him when he crumbled to his knees and cried into her hair and shoulders. She just pulled him closer and held him tighter.

 “I’m sorry ‘Ro. God, I’m so sorry I left you, that I didn’t protect you,” Logan babbled out not caring that there was an audience who were witnessing him in this weak moment. He had lived long enough and seen so much in their war with the Sentinels that he long ago gave up keeping up some hardcore nothing hurts him façade.

 “But I am here Logan, I’m right here with you now and that future has not happened,” She assured him as she rocked him in her arms.

 “And it may never happen,” The Professor spoke again. “Logan, I truly believe that sending you back has provided us the potential for changing things. Just look around you, there’s Jean and Scott alive and well. You did that. Before you returned, I did not know of the true plans that Dr. Bolivar Trask had planned, that he was planning to build Sentinels. Now, thanks to you we know and we can better prepare,” The Professor’s words seemed to finally reach Logan who sniffed back his tears and cast a deadly glare up at the wheelchair bound man. “We can come up with a way to stop Trask and make sure the future you came from never happens, Logan.”

 “All right,” Logan replied calmly as he released Ororo, stood up, and then helped her to stand. He then turned and silently stalked to the exit. Jean and Scott both stepped aside to let him pass.

 “I will stay with him,” Ororo said as she was already following him.

 “I think it would be best to allow him some time to digest things,” The Professor suggested and both Jean and Scott nodded in agreement.

 “If you really think that Professor then you do not know him as well as you may think you do,” She replied as she paused at the door to look to her mentor, and then hurried down the corridor after Logan. She caught up to him a moment later just as he had opened his bedroom door and was about to enter his room. “Would you like some company?” She asked as she moved up beside him at the threshold and leaned against his door jamb.

 “Any other time-” He started to speak but she stopped him as she danced around him and made her way inside.

 “Great! I would love some company too, so shall we just keep each other company?” She said as she moved to the king-sized bed in the middle of the room and plopped down on it.

 “Look, ‘Ro, I’m really drained right now,” Logan spoke as he still stood at the opened door. “I just learned that my wife and unborn child were killed and I…” He paused, dropped his eyes to the floor, and then closed his eyes a moment. When he opened them again, he looked over at Ororo who looked back with concern plastered all over her face. “I just really want ta be alone right now. I’ll probably just sleep, I feel like I could sleep for days,” He sighed out as he rubbed his right hand against the back of his neck.

 “Oh, cut the shit, Logan,” Ororo spoke in a demanding tone as he arched a brow at her. “You are trying to get rid of me so you can sneak out, track down Trask and his secret lab, and leave a trail of blood and carnage in your wake. Am I right?” She arched her own brow as she folded her arms across her chest and stared defiantly back at him as if she were daring him to deny it. He scowled at her, let out a frustrated growl, and pushed the door shut as he fully entered the room. He moved to his closet to grab the gear he always kept ready for his secret covert getaways, which apparently wasn’t so secret or covert to Ororo he thought. He inwardly laughed over the fact that she always could tell when he was up to something.

 “Yeah, when yer right, yer right, darlin,” He didn’t bother wasting anytime denying it. “And if things ain’t changed I know where he’s build’n the Sentinels, and I’m gonna go there and I’m gonna gut that motherfucker and then chop his head off,” He proclaimed. “Ya know, all the shit he was always spout’n about how humans should fear mutants and how the Sentinels were human’s best chance ta save humanity, that fucker is actually a self-hating mutant,” He could see the horror his words had invoked in Ororo as her complexion paled a little. “That’s right, ‘Ro, it was one of us who decimated all of mankind, not the humans like we all thought it would be.”

 “Well, I know I cannot stop you when you get like this, so I shall not try.”

 “Good, ‘cause we ain’t got the time ta waste.”

 “Agreed, and so I will not try to stop you but I shall join you on your mission.”

 “Fuck that, nun-uh,” Logan shook his head at her words.

 “And why not?” She asked offended. “You and I have gone on many missions together Logan, and you have never had to carry me. I have always held my own in every single one of them and even saved your ass a time or two.”

 “Look woman, everything I have done up to this point has all been for you, ta keep ya safe. There ain’t no way I’m just gonna walk ya right into danger. You ain’t had the pleasure of meeting one of those Sentinels yet, ‘Ro and if I have anything ta say about it ya never will,” Logan declared and Ororo was a little scared at the thought of seeing one of those giant killing robots that it seemed may still destroy the future. Yet she knew there was no way she would allow Logan to face them alone, nor did she want to alert the others into it either. If she and Logan were to fail the world would need the remaining X-men to fight for the survival of mankind.

 “Logan, I am not your wife ‘yet’,” She stated as she stood and folded her arms across her chest and glared him down. Again, he found himself to be taken aback by her referring to the possibility of becoming his wife someday. “So, you do not get any say in what I do or where I go.”

 “Yer right,” He agreed with a nod as he looked down to the floor a moment before looking up at her again. “But ‘Ro please don’t fight me on this,” He looked at her and his eyes looked desperate and sad. “I don’t wanna lose you again,” As she took in his nearly defeated demeanor, she stepped up to him and cupped his face in her hand. He closed his eyes and turned his face more into her hand. He took in deep breaths as if to replenish her scent that he often feared was fading from his memory.

 “You will not lose me Logan, because as we do on any mission, we go on together, you shall have my back and I shall have yours. So, I have no doubt that we will be the victors. We have the RoLo Combo, remember?” She coaxed with a smile as she used the team name Logan had christened them with after their very first solo mission together. Because he had been so impressed with her fighting combat skills. When he had first said it to her, she had rolled her eyes and scuffed at him, but internally she had been delighted that the badass Wolverine thought she was a great teammate and could hold her own in battle. Logan dropped his head a bit and chuckled at the name as his mind flashed with some great and damn near perfect fights they had been in together. The way they moved together was like a dance, and they were so in sync every opponent they ever went up against always fell fast and hard.

 “Yeah, I remember darlin, and there ain’t nobody else I’d rather have watching my back than you, Storm,” He declared with such conviction in his eyes it made her chest puff out just a bit.

 “And I too feel the same way about you, Wolverine,” She announced and smiled inwardly at the fact they were using their codenames, which they always did when they were heading into battle.

 “Right, and I suppose you want to get everybody else, hop into the Jet, and go do this?”

 “No,” She replied and he furrowed his brow a bit in confusion. “I think it is best we do this mission secretly and on our own. If something happens to you or I-”

 “I won’t let nothing happen ta ya, ‘Ro,” He promised and she gave him a kind smile and a nod. “Never again,” He mumbled out the last bit but she still heard it and it touched her heart.

 “Still, it is best that the others sit this one out. In the highly unlikely event that something was to happen to us, they will be there to pick up the torch and continue the fight,” She stated and he could understand what she was saying and so he didn’t argue her point but instead gave a nod. She was relieved that he seemed resolved to the fact that she was going with him. “Now, please tell me this secret Sentinel lab is in driving distance, because I think it shall be very difficult to sneak out the Blackbird without anyone noticing.”

 “Yeah, Trask started in a lab just outside the city, about an hour’s drive,” Logan said.

 “He has been so close this entire time?” Ororo asked as she shivered involuntarily at the thought that this monumental danger was literally in their back yard.

 “Not fer long,” Logan assured her and she looked to him and nodded, and then they suited up, grabbed Wolverine’s special gear, and snuck out to complete their mission.

 **

A couple of hours later

**

“What is wrong?” She asked him with an amused look on her face as she watched him tug and stretch in the uniform he wore, which he had been doing since they left.

 “I had forgotten just how restricting these damn suits are,” He huffed out. “Ya’d think Charles could find a better design, I mean, leather, really?” Wolverine tossed her a disgusted look and she giggled.

 “Well, maybe you had gained a few pounds in the future,” Storm teased and was rewarded with a playful growl. “I have no complaints I think it fits me very well.”

 “Yeah, I think it does too,” He replied as he raked a hungry glance over at her. “But it ain’t never been very practical in combat. In the future I designed our suits and they had kevlar plates to help minimize damage to the body. All tactical and built for combat.”

 “Doesn’t sound very fashionable. I personally…”

 “You’d prefer to be as naked as the day you were born, I know,” Logan finished for her and she was stunned for a moment that he knew exactly what she was going to say. “You don’t change yer beliefs and views much over the next 20 some years, baby,” He chuckled out as his eyes remained fixed on the huge metal door nearly 40 feet from their position hidden at a side building. She blushed a little at his term of endearment, which flew from his mouth so naturally she was sure it hadn’t registered to him that he had even said it. He lifted his arm and checked the military grade watch housed there. He noted that it took the guard exactly 19 minutes to go around the entire building. “Looks like this place is set up so that is the main way in and out,” Logan whispered as he pointed at the large door before them.

 “That does not seem practical or smart,” She offered as she pressed herself against his back to get a better look.

 “Yea, well I’m sure Trask has some other secret way out, in case the shit hits the fan,” Logan offered. “And we don’t want that, we need ta find a way ta get in undetected so we can stop him before he escapes and we need ta shut the entire thing down.”

 “Well, lucky for you, you marry a master lock picker. We should go, I would say we have got about 15 minutes before those guards make their way back around, and if that lock is digital, I might need all of that time to break it,” Storm said as she moved around him and hurried to the locked door. It had only taken her 4 minutes and 11 seconds to break into the digital lock and get them inside without alarms blaring. “I hope that is a skill I have been able to retain in 20 years,” She playfully whispered to Wolverine.

 “Darlin, age has only improved ‘everything’ aboutchu,” He replied as he stealthily led the way down the corridor. She smiled in kind at the compliment as she followed him.

 “For this to be such a secret compound holding Trask’s prized Sentinels there is not much security around the inside,” Storm observed.

 “Yeah, I noticed that too,” Wolverine countered. He then lifted his head and sniffed the air. “Shit!” He exclaimed as he looked to a darkened door way to their right. Storm followed his gaze and let out a gasp as a red light suddenly illuminated the room.

 “Mutant lifeforms detected,” A robotic voice spoke out and they could hear the echoed steps of the yet unseen being as he moved to them.

 “Is that a Sentinel?” Storm questioned as she stared over at the machine that now stood before them in the corridor. “I imagined them to be much bigger,” She added as she stared curiously at the robot that seemed to be the same height as her.

 “Trust me, they get a major upgrade in the future,” Wolverine promised. “I’m talk’n skyscraper big,” Storm frowned up at the thought of it. “And they do more of the try’n ta kill us and less of the stand’n and stare’n,” He continued as he frowned up at the machine standing there seemingly void of any real threat to them.

 “It seems to be in some early stage of development then. Maybe all it can do is detect a mutant,” She offered and as if her words had been a reminder the red light in the Sentinels visor brightened.

 “Get down,” Wolverine barked out as he shoved Storm away just before the blast intended for her struck him in the back. The roar it pulled from his lips and the grimace on his face, told Storm it had really hurt him. But Wolverine’s recovery time had always been quick and in his next breath he had already turned and decapitated the iron beast, whose body remained standing as its head rolled back into the dark room it had ventured from.

 “Wolverine! Are you okay?” She asked as she rushed to his side while he leaned against a nearby wall.

 “Yeah, darlin, I’m all right,” He answered as he patted her hand which gripped at his arm. He took note of the fear and concern in her eyes and wanted to soothe her. “But I’d forgotten how badly their blasts burned. “But I’m all healed now, see,” He turned his shoulder a little and she was able to see a hole in the suit caused by the blast, and she also could see his fully healed fleshed underneath. She smiled and then surprised him when she swooped in quickly and captured his mouth in a kiss. It quickly deepened for a few seconds before they both remembered themselves and where they were, and they slowly pulled from the kiss.

 “Thank you for saving me,” Storm panted out as she pressed her forehead to his and stared intensely into his eyes.

 “I’ll always save ya ‘Ro, or die try’n,” He declared softly as he reached up and stroked her cheek and she blushed sweetly at him. “Now, how about we blow this place up and head home?” He said as he reached into one of the pouches in his suit and pulled out the advanced micro C4 patches that Forge had designed. They were lightweight and tiny but just a couple of ounces of it had the blast power of an atomic bombs. “I think there ain’t many security guards on the inside because they’ve got active Sentinels to protect things. So, stay alert,” He instructed and she nodded as she followed. As they made their way through the warehouse like building, they had come upon and dispatched four more Sentinels. And Wolverine would occasionally stick a C4 patch on a wall. Storm silently watched him and thought it was a bit of an overkill but remained quiet. She could see that the man before had lived a hard life and suffered many losses. Now, he had a chance to change things and he was determined to do everything in his power to ensure history didn’t repeat itself. They had scoured the entire building, which took nearly 2 hours given its size, but they had managed to allude several more Sentinel guards. Finally, they reached the end where there was another large metal locked door. It took a little longer for Storm to crack this door, which told Wolverine that what he wanted was behind it. When the door opened it showed a large lab where a couple of dozen people bustled about. All the people were either too busy or didn’t care to notice their new visitors. They all continued their work which was piecing together humungous Sentinel parts. “Master Mold,” Logan hissed out.

 “Master Mold?” Storm repeated curiously.

 “Trask’s Momma Sentinel. Its job is to create more Sentinels quickly and efficiently. He felt humans can make mistakes more easily than machines, so he eventually takes them outta the equation. In about 10 years from now, that thing is gonna become sentient and it’s gonna realize it’s at the top of the food chain and that humans should be eliminated just like mutants. It’ll want Earth to be Sentinel populated only. It’s definitely gotta go,” He announced as he smacked C4 patches against every panel he walked by.

 “Logan,” Storm broke protocol and used his name as she kept a quick pace behind him. “We have to evacuate these people before we blow the building.”

 “Why, these were the motherfuckers who build the gotdamn things, they’re the reason for everything. So, let’em burn.”

 “No,” She stopped as she reached out, gripped his arm, and pulled him around to face her. “You cannot be serious. I will not be a party to murdering innocent-”

 “Innocent!” Wolverine yelled and she jumped a bit as his rage brushed over her. Even a couple of the nearby workers had stilled and looked at the wild man they hadn’t noticed before. “They had a hand in the death of billions. They’re the reason yer…” He pursed his lips, shook his head as he closed his eyes a second to clear that last thought from it. “They cause it all.”

 “But they are not aware of what will happen, only you have the knowledge of that future. We do not know what Trask has told them about what it is they are building here. And I cannot allow you to be their judge and executioner, I will not,” She stated and her eyes whitened to let him know that she meant it and that she would fight him if she had to, to help protect these people from him.

 “Fuck, why do ya gotta be so righteous all the time, ‘Ro? It’s gotdamn annoying,” He growled out.

 “No more annoying than your ‘leave nothing alive’ policy. Why do you act so heartless when I know first-hand that you are not?” She countered but she could tell that her words nor the threat of a fight had swayed him. “Do you love me, Logan, love your ‘Ro I mean?”

 “Yes and yes, yer one and the same. Thought we’ve covered this already,” He answered around slight pants as his body shook with his rage and his hands itched to get started with some sort of destruction.

 “Then if you love me, please spare them for my sake,” She pleaded. “Because if you do not, I promise I will never forgive you,” She threw down the gauntlet and they began to stare one another down, neither giving an inch in their stance. All of the workers had stopped in their tasks and were engrossed in the stand down that was happening in the middle of the room.

 “If you sons-of-bitches wanna live, ya better get outta here now,” Wolverine commanded as he continued to hold his mad gaze onto Storm, whose hard-glaring back faltered a little as a pleased smile pulled at her lips. When he noticed nobody was moving, Wolverine grasped the gun he had holstered on his right thigh, rose it, fired off a couple of shots. “Get the fuck out,” He roared and chaos ensued as the men and women ran for the exit screaming and tripping over themselves. As a man and two women tried to run by where he and Storm still stood, Wolverine shot out his arm and stopped them. “Where’s Trask?” He asked as he turned to them mincingly. Fear filled all three as they shook with fear. “Well?”

 “W…we don’t know,” One of the females finally answered and Wolverine aimed his gun and shot it so quickly and the woman crumbled to the floor with her bloodied knee before Storm could even react.

 “I really only need ‘one’ of ya ta tell me what I wanna know,” Wolverine growled out the threat as he cocked the gun.

 “Dr. Tr…Trask’s office is through those doors and at the end of the corridor,” The jittery man was the one to speak as the lone female vigorously nodded her head and also pointed. “He’s in there right now if you need to speak with him.”

 “Thanks,” Wolverine muttered out as he shoved past them. “Storm, make sure everyone gets out safe.”

 “What? No, I will not leave you,” She attempted to argue.

 “Hey, you were the one with a conscience, I wanted ta blow’em all up,” He said as he kept walking. “So, they’re yer responsibility.” *SNIKT!* “I’ll take care of Trask,” He said as he disappeared through the opened labs door that led to where Trask’s office was. Storm stared after him for a second before the terrified man recaptured her attention.

 “C..can we leave now?” He asked as he stood stock still, too afraid to move.

 “Yes, I shall help you get out safely,” Storm replied and they helped the wounded woman up and all exited out the building. Once outside she had made sure all the workers had gotten through the locked security gates that encased the grounds. It hadn’t taken much convincing as most took off full speed as soon as they exited. All that remained were the dedicated security guards. She had told them that the place was going to blow up and in reply they had fired their guns at her, so she had to use strong winds to push the guards back and kept them from harming her or rushing inside to ambush Wolverine. Although she knew he would be able to smell them coming. Storm anxiously waited for Wolverine to come out. She found it distracting as well as draining to wield her powers while watching for Logan to walk out or for the building to blow up. A moment later Wolverine burst through the exit at full speed.

 “Fall Back!” He yelled as he fast approached where she stood. Storm rose herself up and drifted to Wolverine, grasped him, and lifted them to the sky and at sonic speed flew them away a millisecond before the warehouse and all the surrounding vehicles and smaller buildings on the grounds exploded. From the position high above they both could see the crater that now replaced the facility.

 “Was that not overkill, Logan?” Ororo asked.

 “I needed ta make sure there was nothing that didn’t burn,” He answered.

 “Is there a way to be sure? I mean, what if there are filed stored elsewhere?”

 “There ain’t, Trask was a paranoid fucker,” Logan stated. “He knew what he had and knew he would be of most value if he made it so no one could ever get their hands on his work ta copy it. So, he never wrote anything down, kept it all in that big head of his, which I cut off,” She cut her eyes to him in slight horror over how callous he spoke of taking someone’s life, and as if he had read her mind he replied. “And don’t give me any shit about it, ‘Ro. That fucker deserved ta die and he died more humanely than all of our fallen friends during the Sentinel war.”

 “So, it is done?”

 “I don’t know,” Logan said around a sigh. “But I do know that that had ta’ve changed the future somehow, and in our favor,” He added. “C’mon darlin let’s go home.”

 “Do you think we should? I am sure those workers got a good look at us. They may report us to the authorities. I do not wish to bring trouble to the school.”

 “Doubt it, that was supposed to be a top-secret military facility, the shit they were doing in there won’t sanctioned by the US government, just by a few powerful and power-hungry politician assholes. They ain’t gonna want any real kind of investigation into what happened ‘cause it’ll expose them too. I’m sure they’ll play it up as a mutant attack. But those workers will all be taken out before they are able to say anything about anything,” He stated and Ororo looked horrorstruck. “Ya shoulda let them all blow up in that place ‘cause now it is very likely their families will be killed too,” She found her heart clinch at the idea of it, and as she carried them to where they had hidden their vehicle she shed quiet tears of remorse and regret for those families.

 **

Hours later, back at the School

**

 Logan and Ororo crept back into the mansion as quietly and easily as when they had left. The darkened corridors attested to the fact that they hadn’t been missed. Ororo had noticed that during the drive back that Logan had been reserved. He was never much of a talker after their missions but it wasn’t his quietness that had her worried. She just knew that he was heavy in thought and that was what worried her. When he had walked her up to her loft door, and before he could fully turn to leave, she spoke to him.

 “There is something you are not telling me, what is it?” She asked as he stood with his back to her. He only turned his head slightly to regard her.

 “I’m leav’in, ‘Ro, and I ain’t com’in back,” He announced and Ororo felt as if he had punched her in the gut. She felt a panic wash over her which left her feeling hot in the summer dress she had changed back into.

 “W…why? I do not understand,” She questioned as her mind reached for ideas that would make him change his mind.

 “’Cause, I don’t know for sure if what we did tonight will change anything.”

 “But as the Professor said, us knowing what took place in the future is in turn changing it.”

 “We were married on New Year’s right down there in the back gardens,” Logan spoke this as he turned to face her fully, yet his eyes didn’t lock on her but to the large window at the end of the only hallway next to her loft. “Man, you were so beautiful, ‘Ro, and I was on edge the whole time think’n at any minute God was gonna tell me it was all a joke and take you from me,” He said as he looked to her with a slight smile which she returned. “I still remember it all like it was yesterday, and you gave me this that day,” He pulled out the ring he kept on the chain around his neck. “And it’s still here. This is why I need ta leave.”

 “Because of me, the memories of the life you had with the other me?”

 “If I changed the future then why do I still remember everything just as it was? Shouldn’t I have no memory of it if things have really changed? Shouldn’t this be gone?” He asked and he clutch at the ring and she looked up at him stunned, fully understanding what he was getting at. “So, maybe I’ve come back to do things different personally. Choose a different path.”

 “A path where you don’t love me or marry me?” She replied as she nodded her bowed head. She found that she couldn’t look at him for fear tears would fall. She couldn’t explain why this news broke her heart as it did. She had only just learned of the life some future version of herself had shared with Logan. She had experienced none of that life but the thought of him leaving and her missing out on that possible life and love pained her greatly.

 “I love you, ‘Ro, and that’s fact. Nothing I can do ta change that.”

 “Then, why leave me?” She asked as she let some tears slip out and Logan cursed himself inwardly at the obvious hurt, he was causing her. “If you do not want to have any kind of romantic relationship with me as before then we can forget what I said earlier. We will remain just friends as we have always been,” She offered and he smiled sadly at her proposition.

 “I know that wouldn’t work,”

 “Why not?”

 “I won’t be able to just be your friend, not now. Not knowing that there’s a part of you that wants me too.”

 “I never thought I would see you run away scared from anything, Logan,” She said bitterly knowing it would rile him up. And she could tell by the hard glare he threw at her in that moment it had been mission accomplished. “We do not know for sure that even if you and I never became involved romantically there would be any change to that future you remember. But I do know that if that future were to still happen those Sentinels would not fair well against the RoLo Combo,” She said with such conviction Logan instantly forgot her earlier put down. He knew she was right she usually was. “But you go ahead, run away from me, from the X-men. See if I care,” She then turned to her door and reached for the knob. “You would not be the first to do so,” She said so low he was sure that she hadn’t really wanted him to hear her. As she opened the door and before she could fully cross the threshold, Logan had grasped her arm and yanked her back around to face him.

 “This could cause the end of the world, and I honestly don’t even care. But dontcha say I didn’t warn ya, that I didn’t try to end things before they got outta hand,” He spoke as he pulled her closer until the weight of her chest pressed intimately to his.

 “Logan, whatever will happen we will face it together as we have since we joined the X-Men. Now, shut up and just kiss me,” Ororo commanded and he curled his lips with a smile. And as Logan leaned in to kiss her, he thought that was something else about her that didn’t change in the future, she sure was a bossy lady.

 The End

[mr-chrisevans]

Meet  Cute - pt. 6

Word Count: 2,222

First Chapter | Last Chapter | Next Chapter

The time between when we started dating and when Chris had to leave to start filming again went by painfully fast. We made the most of every minute we had before he left, but it still didn't feel like enough time. He called almost every day and I hung onto those brief conversations between his shoots as tight as I could. But it still wasn't the same.

"Hey, sorry I couldn't call you earlier they held me on for longer than I thought they would." I could hear how tired he was but something shone through in his voice and I could tell he was happy to talk to me. We were on the same page there.

"No worries. You're a busy man saving the world and all that." I joked.

"I'd rather be in your world than saving a fake one if I'm being honest."

I smiled. He somehow always knew what to say to put me at ease. "This one's pretty boring I've got to say. I do have a little bit of news though."

"Let me guess. Estelle finally let you pick the bar Friday night?"

"Oh if only, that would probably be the single greatest accomplishment of my life." I laughed. "Maybe not quite as exciting, but an online magazine picked up one of my short stories."

"Laurel, oh my god! That's incredible, woah." His excitement made me smile. I hadn't been with someone who had been so supportive of my writing, even though I never let him read any of it. "Who's publishing it?" I hesitated for a second and he sensed it immediately. "Are you ever gonna let me read anything you write?" He laughed, but I could tell he was a little frustrated. Every time he asked to see something I'd written I was adamant about keeping it to myself. He knew writing was something I'd cared about so much my entire life, and he just wanted to see the part of me that I let spill out onto those pages. And yet, I had chosen to keep it all a secret from him.

"I was going to-" I stopped when I heard people talking in the background of Chris' call. He muttered a few words of acknowledgment to whoever had just come into the room then turned his attention back to our phone call.

"Laurel, I'm sorry, they're calling me back now. I thought I'd have a little more time to talk but I'll call you later, okay."

"Yeah of course." He quickly apologized again before hanging up. I sighed. Our conversations were getting progressively shorter and shorter. I knew it wasn't because he didn't want to talk to me, he was just busy being a hero. It just came in the job description. I just still wasn't entirely sure where I fell in all of that.

Estelle could tell immediately that I was in less than a perfect mood after that phone call. "How's it going, kid?" She asked as gently as possible as I walked out of my room and into the kitchen.

I sighed and sat down at the counter. "We got any wine left?"

She laughed and got up to look through our liquor cabinet. "I guess that answers that question. What happened?"

"I mean, nothing really happened we just." I stopped. I didn't know how to spit it out without feeling like a whiny baby.

"Stop clamming up and just spill it." Estelle said, placing a glass of wine in front of me. "You're allowed to have feelings, it's normal. And I'm the last person on earth to judge you for it after seeing me when Andrew and I broke up."

"Oh god. I think that was the worst week of my life."

"You and me both. Now, tell me what happened with Chris." I hesitated again. "I'm a lot cheaper than a therapist."

I rolled my eyes at her but couldn't help to laugh a little. "Okay, okay. I just, I don't know. Ever since he left it just feels like we've slowly been drifting apart. And I know it's cause he's crazy busy but still. I'd like to be able to have an actual conversation with him without being interrupted by someone calling him back to set." Getting the words out there made me feel better, but it was still hard to acknowledge the truth. "Who was I kidding. We've barely been dating a month and I thought we'd be able to go 4 without seeing each other."

"Hey, come on don't talk like that. You liked him and you were optimistic, there's nothing wrong with that." I sat there in silence and sipped my wine. Estelle took a deep breath and I knew I was in for quite the talking to. "Laurel, I know you don't want to admit it, but we can all see how much you like Chris. I haven't seen you as happy with anyone in years as you are when you're with him. Your face lights up every time he calls or texts you and that look you get when you see him? Jesus, hun you've got it bad even if you don't want to admit it to yourself. And don't even get me started on the way he looks at you. It makes me want to melt seeing you guys together because it's just so obvious that you're crazy about each other." She was right. And I know it sounds crazy that I didn't want to admit it but it all just seemed to good to be true. Literally the sweetest guy in the world decided that I was the one he wanted to spend time with. The one he was clearly trying his hardest to make it work with even though we were several hundred miles apart. "Your silence is testimony in itself to how right I am." She said and took a sip of her wine, clearly proud of her accomplishment.

"Okay, let's not be too proud alright?" It felt better to know that from an outside perspective it was clear Chris and I really cared about each other. Estelle's phone buzzed on the counter in front of me and I saw it was a text to a group with her, Jules, and Casey. She saw it pop up too and quickly grabbed her phone. "What are Jules and Casey texting you about that I'm not involved in?"

"Oh it's nothing." She said, her eyes glued to the screen. I could tell she was hiding something and I did not like it.

"Come on, tell me. It can't be that big of a deal." She finally looked up from her phone and she looked like a deer caught in headlights.

"Really Laurel, it's nothing I swear." She started to say something else but I snatched the phone from her hands before she could get it out. "We were gonna tell you, but we just didn't know when to do it."

When I looked at the group message my jaw practically fell to the floor. It was a picture of Chris and I getting into his car right outside my apartment building. I scrolled up and it was more of the same. Paparazzi picture after paparazzi picture of Chris and I together. Intimate moments that I thought had been just between us but were now apparently available to the whole world. I set the phone back on the counter in silence.

"We knew it was gonna upset you, that's why we didn't show anything to you right away." I was stunned. I had no idea how to respond. My closest friends were keeping this a secret from me. I knew they meant well but it still hurt to see all of it right in front of me.

"How did you guys even find all of these?" I said after sitting in silence for a while.

She hesitated before responding. "Jules may have had Chris Evans on google alert for the past month or so." I stared at her completely silent again. "It was just so that we would know right away if there was anything bad coming out so we could tell you and do something about it right away. We didn't think it would be that big of a deal."

I shook my head. "I get it. And I don't think I'm upset about you guys keeping a tab on it it's just-" I tried to keep myself composed as I spoke because I could feel the tears starting to come. "I need a little time to think."

"Okay." Estelle responded, her voice was barely a whisper. "I'll be in my room if you need to talk." She squeezed my shoulder lovingly and walked back to her room. Once I heard her door shut I grabbed my glass of wine and headed out to sit on our tiny balcony. I hid a pack of cigarettes out there, and if there was ever a time to smoke it seemed like now was it. I knew that it shouldn't have been that big of a deal seeing those pictures. I mean they were just pictures. But it felt like so much more. Those moments that were just ours were suddenly free for everyone to see, to make their own opinions of me without even knowing what my fucking name was. I couldn't even fathom the idea of rabid fans hating my guts for taking the man they loved away from them. It was too much for me to take. I had already felt like Chris and I were on shaky ground before, but this made it feel like that ground was falling out beneath me.

Once I had calmed down a bit more I pulled out my phone and sent Chris a text.

Laurel

Hey, can we talk sometime tomorrow?

Chris

Yeah of course. Is everything okay?

Was it okay? I really didn't know at that point. All I did know is that talking to him would either settle all my fears for good or make me realize that maybe this wasn't what I hoped it would be. And I did know that I didn't want him to worry so I had to seem as normal as possible.

Laurel

Yeah, I just wanna hear your voice again.

*****

I told Chris that he could call me after I got home from work the next day and he promised me he would be free to talk the second I got off. I think he could tell something wasn't quite right and he wanted to make sure I knew he was there for me. Estelle knew exactly what was going on so when I barely said a word to her after getting home she didn't try to push it. I was already about to have one difficult conversation, I didn't need to make it two. I tossed my bag on the chair by my closet and sat on the edge of my bed waiting for his call. My heart was pounding. I had no idea where this conversation was going to go and I was dreading it. I didn't have much more time to stress before he called.

I took a deep breath before I picked up the phone. "Hey." I tried to sound as not nervous as possible but I don't think it worked very well.

"What's going on? You seem like you have a lot on your mind."

"Oh, I don't know I just-" I sighed. I couldn't dance around it, I just had to get it out. "Lately I just feel like this is all a lot to handle."

"I understand that, and I'm sorry that it has to be like this. Is there anything I can do to try and make you feel better right now?" I knew every word he said was sincere, and the last thing I wanted to do was hurt him, but I just had to say it.

"You know how much I care about you right?"

I could sense his tension as soon as I said it. "Yeah, of course I do."

"So I want you to know that even though I'm saying this right now, I still care about you so much. If it was just about you being gone I don't think it would be as big of a deal but there are still all these pictures coming out of us and I just don't think I can handle it anymore. I don't think I can keep doing this right now."

There was a long pause and my stomach dropped. I didn't regret saying it because it really was how I felt, but I knew it would hurt him and that was the worst part. I heard him take a deep breath before he started talking again. "Okay." He said quietly and his voice sounded strained. "I wish I could've done something to make this better, but I understand."

"I'm so sorry, Chris."

"It's okay, Laurel. You don't have to apologize for how you feel." We both fell silent again for a while, neither of us really wanted to be the first to go knowing that this might be the last time we talked. "I gotta go, but-" The words I'll talk to you later almost came out but he caught himself just in time. "Bye Laurel."

[ricky-corderbro]

Raindrops keep falling on my head || Ricky & Orion

In which driftwood is collected, thoughts are scattered, and everybody get too wet for their own good. 

Ricky was, by his very nature, a social creature (literally). He loved being around other people, loved feeling that energy, but even as social and extroverted as he was, there were still moments when he just needed to be by himself. Which is why after his morning run he’d found himself down at the beach near his house. Since Harris Island catered to the upper crust, the beaches were generally deserted in the morning, since it was more of a “martini lunches” kind of community. It gave Ricky ample opportunity to prowl the beach in search of some driftwood he could use in his art. People online paid what was truly a ridiculous amount of money for driftwood sculpture and “conversation pieces” and Ricky found a decent enough supply of it on the beach outside his home to keep his bank account pretty nicely stocked. It helped his state of mind that the February morning was cold, with a decent wind tousling his hair. He naturally ran hot, because of Selkie biology, and he preferred being outside in the cold, feeling the cold sand between his bare feet and the wind against his bare arms, only clad in the tank top he’d done his morning run in. He sang softly to himself as he gathered up the wood the storms had tossed on shore, an old lullaby his mother had sung to him when he was young. “A leanbh mo chléibh go n-eirí do chodhladh leat. Séan is sonas gach oíche do chóir.” He was not that close to on key, but, he’d never been a strong singer, bad hearing prevented that, but as the wind carried the soft words of his song away the crashing waves also served to stop him from hearing someone else approaching on the sand.

Orion was avoiding his family. He had slept at the abandoned Scribe Headquarters the night before, something that had become more and more frequent. His family barely even questioned it anymore, buying the all nighter at the library excuse because honestly, what else would someone like Rio being doing? As far as they knew, he didn’t have any friends. He barely did. As long as he showed up for training and lessons, they didn’t seem to really care where he disappeared to. So while he had some time to kill before he had to be back at the Quinn household, Orion avoided his home by strolling down to the beach on Harris Island. During the summer, this place would fill up quickly and stay busy for the majority of the day. But this was the early hours of the morning in February. The wind blowing off the water made it feel even colder and Rio clutched tried to sink deeper into his hoodie to shield himself from the morning air. He had expected the place to be completely empty but was surprised that someone had already beaten Orion to the beach. The closer Orion got, the more details he could make out about the man. For how cold it was, the man was barefoot walking through the sand with nothing but a tank top and skinny jeans to provide shelter from the winds. He didn’t even look cold. Orion was already curious about the man before he could got close enough to get a better look. The man was… really attractive, for lack of any coherent thoughts that Orion seemed incapable of forming at the moment. Maybe it was for the best if Orion forgot about the beach and just went ahead and headed home. He could grab a shower before training. Unfortunately for Orion, he had been too busy staring at the stranger that he hadn’t been looking where he was going. His fought caught against something on the ground, and with a yelp he felt face first onto the cold, frozen sand.

It wasn’t until someone tripped and fell flat on their face that Ricky’s terrible hearing told him he wasn’t alone on the beach. He turned to see someone trip and hit the hard sand and tossed his bundle of of driftwood to the side “Oh shit!” Running over he offered a hand to the young and admittedly cute as hell man to help him up, “Definitely not the kind of weather you wanna be rolling in the sand in. Warm sand is better than icy sand for sure.” The guy looked vaguely familiar, and Ricky couldn’t quite place where he knew him from, racking his brain as he waited for the guy to grab his hand, “Definitely thought I’d have the beach to myself this morning. Usually people avoid it during the winter, so it’s the best time to wander it.” He did a quick once over to make sure the cute brunette hadn’t cut himself on something before offering up his most glittering smile, “I’m Ricky, by the way. Welcome to the wonderful world of getting sand outta your hair!” 

Orion should have known that he couldn’t get out of the situation without finding a way to embarrass himself. Though he wished he could have done it less painfully. The sand was cold and hard, packed so tightly together that it refused to budge when Orion’s face collided with it. Even worse, the man had witnessed it happen and ran over, handing out a hand as an obvious offer of help to Orion. Up close, the man was even prettier, which made Orion want to bury his face back into the sand. Orion sighed deeply, trying to avoid driving himself into complete panic mode, he grabbed onto the man’s hand and let him pull Orion back up onto two feet. “It’s not as soft.” Orion agreed, wiping at his face to try to wipe away any grains of sand that may be sticking there. At least there were some perks to face planting at a beach in winter. The frozen sand made less san stick to his face, and the cold air made it less obvious how hard Orion was blushing. “Um. Same here. It’s a little…” Orion took stock of the man standing in front of him, probably about half a foot taller than Orion himself. He was barefoot with a tank top on. Not exactly February attire. “Uh cold. Aren’t you freezing?” Orion was freezing in a long sleeve shirt, hoodie and track pants. “Ricky?” Orion questioned, immediately picturing his online conversation with the master of self-confidence, “Like, three nice things in a mirror Ricky? I’m Orion! Or Rio. Uh… we talked online. About self-confidence.”

Feeling his smile grow even brighter by several orders of magnitude, he nodded vehemently, loose curls flying around his face, “Three things in a mirror Ricky! And you’re my fucking favorite constellation dude! Are you saying the nice things? Do I need to pull my Ricky magic and just fucking teleport and make you say them?” Rio’s hand was shockingly warm as he dragged him back up to his feet. He wanted to brush some of the sand from the other man’s hair, but, remembering the difficulty with which Orion had even agreed to saying nice things about himself, Ricky thought that physical contact was probably a big no. “Huh?” He looked down at the torn black jeans, tank top, and bare feet and realized that to a normal human, like Orion apparently was, and not somebody gifted with Selkie biology and body heat, he looked like a crazy person. “Not really. I love the cold. If it’s too hot I just feel gross and lethargic. Cold always perks me up. It’s like my gramma always says, craiceann fuar, aigne gear… cold skin, sharp mind.” He scratched idly at his shoulders, fingers tracing the whorls of the tattoo that poked out from under his shirt without really thinking about it, “Do you need something to wipe the sand off your hoodie? You can use my shirt. I promise I put it on right after my shower this morning, it’s not like gross or anything.” The smile stayed bright, if a little less manic as he beamed down at the shorter man, “What brings you to my beach this blustery day?”

“Oh uh that’s me! I’m saying them, I promise.” Orion laughed nervously. He had been trying, truly. Though usually he could only think of basic things, like ‘your hoodie looks nice’ or ‘good job surviving training’. But it was a start. He was mostly surprised that Ricky had actually remembered him. As the two talked, Orion casually wiped at the sand that had stuck to his hoodie and pants. Orion understood preferring the cold to the heat, but there was still a line to be drawn. But he figured that was Ricky’s business, not his own. Orion couldn’t quite catch the words spoken until Ricky said translated them, but the foreign language made Orion perk up. “I love that! Was that… Gaelic?” He guessed, unsurprised by the fact that a foreign language was what could work to break Orion out of his shell. But Ricky offering the shirt off his back was just enough to shove him right back into said shell. “Oh uh no, no! I don’t want to do that. It’s fine it’s just sand.” Orion shrugged and chuckled through gritted teeth. His arms were bad enough, he didn’t need the whole package to have to avoid staring at. As things were now, Orion was trying to focus on a particularly dark patch of clouds drifting towards them instead of making eye contact. “I was just killing time before heading home. Nothing exciting. You?”

“Good. Nobody wants to see me in the mirror behind them in the morning…. Well…” Ricky scratched the stubble on his chin thoughtfully, “They do… but not like that.” he had to admit he was a little surprised that Rio could pick Gaelic up by sound alone. Most people forgot that it was an actual language, “It was! My mom was from Ireland so I grew up speaking it, and since my dad’s from Venezuela I grew up speaking Spanish at the same time. Son of two immigrants I’m just like the walking American dream.” Rio’s body language and tone took a sharp turn after he’d made the offer of the shirt, and Ricky quickly pivoted the conversation, “Collecting driftwood.” he gestured to the pile left abandoned behind him, “Got some orders to fill. Middle class folks just love driftwood home accessories. GIves them that whole ‘on this is only my summer home’ vibe and they’ll pay well for it.” He felt his eyebrow raise a little before chuckling, “Killing time on the beach in February. Sounds like a damn cold escape. But it is nice to see a friendly face out here.” 

Orion’s eyes widened at the obvious innuendo and a nervous laughter escaped his lips. He had to admit that the self confidence was impressive. After Orion was done laughing, a genuine smile rested in its place. The confidence was endearing and not something he was used to. Except on Athena, where it was not nearly as appealing. “I love that! That’s so cool. I’m really interested in learning about different languages. Spanish is actually on my list. I mean they’re all on my list. But since I can’t feasibly learn all the languages, I have a top five that I want to start with.” He realized that he was rambling now. Something he tended to do when he was nervous or overexcited. In this case, both. “Orders to fill?” Orion asked curiously, eager to shut himself up, “Oh? For the art? I think it’s really cool that you make things for others and sell them. That’s impressive.” Orion gripped at his hoodie, scratching at his arm nervously and eventually crossing his arms to stop himself from fidgeting. He couldn’t help how awkward he got around people, especially attractive people, but he had practiced ways to make him appear a little less awkward. Or at least he hoped that it did. “What? No! Not escaping at all. Just uh wasn’t ready to go home yet.” Orion was back to laughing nervously, searching for something else to say. Anything else to say. “Homework! Once I get back to the house I gotta start on classwork and I’m avoiding that like the plague. But I agree! About the friendly face.  Oh and thanks for helping me up by the way… I don’t think I said that before.”

“Well hey! If you ever need someone to practice your Spanish with, I’m around!” It was nice to see what appeared to be a genuine smile come to rest on Rio’s face, “It’s also cool that you have a top 5 list of languages to learn. I just speak like…. three and a half and I think that’s probably where I’m gonna stay.” Ricky chuckled a little as he started to pick the pieces he’d left on the sand “yeah. People need their decorative driftwood candle holders or side tables. Though it’s not nearly as impressive as you’re making it sound. It’s just what I do. Some people teach. Some people are scientists. I’m just a dude in a workshop playing with some wood… which came out wrong I’m so sorry.” Rio practically radiated a nervous energy, which wasn’t what people usually were like around Ricky. It was a little unnerving, and a little upsetting if he was honest. So much of Ricky’s energy and life was spent making the people around him happy and comfortable, not being able to do that here made his brow crinkle slightly. “I don’t fucking miss homework. God. I’m almost done with my masters and it’s mostly practical assignments now. If I ever have to write another paper again I’ll cry. I was…… not a strong student. Shall we say. Pretty much the opposite. School was always super hard for me.” His laugh cut through the wind and the waves brightly “you don’t gotta thank me for that my dude. Just what I do…” the thought trailed off as he looked up and saw some pitch black clouds he hadn’t noticed before coming in very fast from the East, “huh……. that’s…… not great”

“Really?” Orion asked, a bit of wonder apparent in his voice. There was no faster way to learn a language than immersing himself in the language and culture. He started in baby steps, listening to the music, changing the languages on movies to the language he was learning. Eventually working up to changing his phone and laptop languages to his language of choice. But having a practicing partner would be even better. “I would love that. And three and a half languages is super impressive. Uh- What other languages do you know? English, Spanish… Are you fluent in Gaelic?” Orion asked, immediately excited. Certain languages were pretty common around the area now, so seeing one of the rarer languages was incredibly exciting. “Don’t sell yourself short. I bet your art makes a lot of people super happy. Their days are better because of the art you make. That’s gotta be pretty cool.” Orion’s breath caught at the accidental innuendo and he scratched nervously at his neck. For how cold it was outside, his face was surprisingly warm. The blushing must be intense, but he hoped that Ricky just assumed it was the cold air on his cheeks that was making Orion flush. “Schooling isn’t easy. I think having a good professor makes a huge difference on the level of difficulty a class is-“ Orion was interrupted by Ricky’s statement, noticing the dark clouds rolling up against them. The wind had picked up as well, and Orion could tell that rain wasn’t too far behind. Scratch that, just a few moments later Orion felt the first few drops against his skin. The rain was here now.

“Oh yeah dude. I mean half the time I talk to myself in not-english and I talk to myself a LOT. A partner wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. At least somebody would be talking back. He fiddled with the bundle of wood in his hand as he listened to Orion ramble, which he seemed to do a lot. Ricky wondered if it was nervousness around a stranger, nervousness around a hot stranger, or just a general state of being, “I am. I’m fluent in Gaelic, Spanish, and English… and I’m like…. Moderately passable at ASL. I’ve got pretty terrible hearing, and I can read lips really well, but one of my other friends who’s also hard of hearing uses ASL a lot and I’m trying to get better at it for her.” He couldn’t help but laugh at Rio’s incredibly earnest compliment, opting for a gentle shoulder punch as the safest form of physically expressing his thanks, “That’s real sweet of you, Rio, but this shit doesn’t make people happy. They just feel momentarily fulfilled because they bought something and they can brag about it being artisanal. Some of my stuff makes people happy. When I make someone a piece of furniture. Or carve them a box in the shape of a weeping willow that they put pictures of a loved one in because they’d spent a lot of time together under a tree like that. Something make people happy… just not driftwood shit.” When Rio started talking about professors and helping make classes easier Ricky had been about to interject that no, he was just legitimately not that smart when he felt the first drops. “Fuck.” Before the word was even fully out of his mouth the gentle hiss of a drizzle on sand had turned into the sound of full-blown torrential downpour, interjected with peals of thunder and flashes of vivid lightning. “My workshop is right up the bluff!” He pointed towards the stairs leading back up, and the peak of the roof just barely visible over the edge, “We can wait this out there if you want!” Without really waiting to hear Rio’s response he started running towards the safety of the workshop, and the warm dryness it represented. 

Orion was so excited to be talking to someone that knew so many languages that he was actually passionate enough to talk to this complete stranger. The rambling wasn’t exactly ideal, but it was better than the alternative. Curt responses and stuttering. A staple of Orion’s conversations and one of the many reasons that he spent most of his time hiding out in a building that had been abandoned for forty years. He was even more excited to hear that Ricky was also learning ASL. He briefly wondered if the friend he was talking about was Skylar, but she had mentioned that multiple people had expressed interest in the language to her. Maybe there were just a lot of ASL users in this area. Regardless, it was exciting to know someone else that Orion could practice with as well. Though, he didn’t like hearing about Ricky’s theory about the furniture. Regardless of the source, whether it was driftwood or the weeping willow box. It all sounded beautiful. But Orion didn’t get much of a chance to tell him that, since the rain came rolling in way faster than expected. Ricky shouted something about a workshop and then took off across the beach, Orion following behind as quickly as he could. The rain pelted against Orion’s clothes hard enough to bruise. Ricky was just a blur in Orion’s eyesight, but Orion followed behind, leading up to the workshop and rushing in with Ricky. Despite what must have been only a minute or two out in the rain, water poured off of Orion’s body as if he had suddenly decided to hop into the shower fully clothed. He was shivering, the mix of cold and the pelting rain turning hands almost a purplish color, he could only imagine what the rest of him looked like. But after getting over the initial shock of the sudden change in weather, Orion finally glanced around the workshop. It was filled with art, works in progress and some that looked completed, or maybe they still had some work to go as well. But it was all incredible. “Holy… woah.”

It was…. Slightly uncomfortable having somebody in his workshop. Even Winston hadn’t seen it for the first month they’d lived together, and they lived together. Inviting someone who was a total stranger into it made Ricky nervous and as someone who didn’t get nervous… he was uncomfortable with the situation. “Uh… sorry about the mess.” He quickly turned on the space heater in the corner; while his ongoing curse meant he was cold as the grave constantly, he could see Rio’s hands literally starting to turn so pale it was worrying. He rooted around on a shelf in the back and pulled out an old sweatshirt proudly emblazoned with UMaine’s mascot, Bananas the Bear, and the words “Swim Team Captain” and “Cordero” on the back, “Here. you can put this on til your hoodie dries. You’re gonna freeze to death if you keep that thick wet thing on… like legit.” He awkwardly squeezed water out of his curly hair and shuffled his feet on the ground, “So uh…. Yeah. Workshop.” It almost felt like Rio could look directly into his soul. This room didn’t just house the things he made for others, it also housed the things he made for him. The schematics for his new hopefully-unsolvable-by-genius-draugrs puzzle box were scattered about a table, meticulously labelled. An unfinished sculpture of a man carrying a giant torch sat on the back bench. It was all, frankly, a little much.

The change in attitude was almost immediate from the moment that Orion walked through the door. The Ricky here in the workshop was a completely different person than the one that Orion had talked to online and the beach. He seemed nervous and a little more stiff in his movements. Orion got the impression that wasn’t used to others being inside his place of work, and didn’t seem to like it much either. Orion didn’t take it personally, of course, but decided that it would probably be best to leave as soon as possible. A loud crack of thunder from outside made Orion second guess himself. He would leave as soon as the weather cleared up. Soon, Ricky was handing off a shirt, way too large for Orion himself, and telling him to change into it to get into something dry. The shirt was from the college and had Ricky’s last name embroidered on the back, which he remembered had certain implications in high school that Orion would choose to ignore. But Ricky expected Orion to… change into this? Now? In front of him? Orion immediately stiffened up and felt dizzy. “Oh uh – Thank-thank you.” He laughed nervously, though the laugh came out more pathetic than he had hoped, “Do you uh.. have like a bathroom or some place that I can change into it?”

If Ricky was uncomfortable with having Rio in his studio, at least the other man looked just as uncomfortable. When he mentioned changing into the sweatshirt Rio’s entire body language and tone suggested he hadn’t had a high school experience filled with locker rooms. When he asked about the bathroom Ricky couldn’t help but smile weakly. “Uh not in here. Sorry. I just converted the garage. But um… “ he quickly scrambled for something. Rio couldn’t stay in the wet hoodie. It might legitimately be the death of him. “Oh!” He perked up slightly as his brain prevented what should have been the immediately obvious solution, “I’ll go outside!” He had a hand on the door knob before it clicked that this would mean leaving Rio alone in his workshop. With his art. His secret art. That he never showed anyone. And would probably burn before anyone saw it. But Rio was seeing it. Before he could burn it. Fuck. “Just like. Uh. There’re towels on the shelf there. If you wanna dry off. Use the ones on the shelf. They’re clean. Ones on the bench probs have varnish or stain on them. Just like, holler when you’re done.” Before Rio could object, which Ricky was sure he would, he dashed through the door, standing back in the brutal downpour. 

Orion was perfectly fine with freezing to death in his hoodie, rather than change in front of Ricky. And yet, the idea of Ricky willingly walking back out into the rain just to let Orion change in solitude was even more embarrassing. How selfish did Orion have to be to make Ricky do that? He tried arguing against the man, but Ricky was already fumbling with the door knob, yelling about towels and rushing out into the rain. As if it wasn’t just as dangerous for him to be out there, barefoot in the freezing rain. Orion sighed... it was too late now, he supposed. Orion grabbed one of the tells Ricky had pointed out before making his way over to stand by the space heater. Even alone, Orion was uncomfortable getting changed in this small space. But slowly, he peeled off the soaking hoodie, followed by the long sleeve shirt underneath that refused to unpeel from his skin. One strip pulled against a fresh bruise and Orion winced in pain but remained careful not to make any noise. The last thing he needed was Ricky rushing back in because he thought Orion had hurt himself. Once both were off he patted gently at the skin with the towel. As he did so, a couple of pieces from across the room. Charcoal sketches of Ricky, as well as a sketch of a child with a woman. Maybe Ricky and his mom? A chessboard that Orion had noticed when he first walked in (as a fan) but was just now realizing that it was a board that Ricky had built himself. There were also a few sketches of people that Orion wasn’t familiar with around the room. He finished dabbing at the cold skin and crawled into the sweater. It was massive on Orion, who was practically swimming in the material. The sleeves hung past his hands and the shirt went down to his mid thigh. But it was dry and warm and comfortable, so Orion couldn’t complain much. He was walking back towards the door when he stopped at the torch statue. From afar, it was a pretty immaculate statue. But closer it was even more beautiful. He could see the man rising from waves and tears falling from his face. It was hauntingly beautiful, a surprisingly sad sight coming from someone as confident as Ricky. Speaking of, he realized that he had spent too long snooping through the man’s personal art and leaving him alone in the rain. “Uh- Hey you can come in.” Orion yelled out towards the door, hoping it was enough for Ricky to hear him.

The rain was cold, so cold it almost felt like burning, in a weird paradoxical sense. But then again, that could have just been Ricky himself. The curse had stretched on for over a month now, and there hadn’t been a moment’s respite or warmth the entire time. Morgan had said that they were close to breaking it, and he believed her, it was just a little hard to see the silver lining when his very core felt frozen to listlessness. The garage lacked eaves, and therefor any way of protecting himself from the rain, but the force of the deluge was such that he honestly didn’t think it would matter. His teeth began to chatter, and all he could think to do was just start talking. Ghosts were real, maybe his mom was listening. “Not really a fan of leaving him in there, ma. But. Man’s clearly got some body related issues and far be it from me to judge any of those.” He continued his conversation with the empty air, fluid Gaelic slipping in and around the interruptions of the thunder until he heard Rio yelling from inside. Quickly ducking through the door he stood just inside, shutting it behind him and dripping onto the floor. The sight of Rio drowning in his hoodie was…. honestly a lot more adorable than it should have been, but Ricky quickly pushed that thought from his mind as he shot the other man a crooked smile. “Uh. Hey. So. I’m gonna take my shirt off. Because it’s cold and wet af… I just wanted to like…. forewarn you or something.” Turning back towards the door so his back was to Rio, Ricky stripped off the sodden tank top and let it fall to the floor. He knew either side of him that faced Rio there’d be things to raise the other man’s eyebrow. Ricky had a fair number of scars on him from misadventures in the ocean, it was just a matter of which ones he was showing off. “So……….. yeah. I’m gonna be honest with you man. I’m at a bit of a loss as to what to do here.”

Orion couldn’t help but feel miserable watching Ricky walk back into his own workshop dripping wet from the storm that Orion had inadvertently sent him back out into. Orion grabbed another towel from the stack and began walking towards Ricky, freezing when Ricky warned him about taking his shirt off. “It’s fine. It doesn’t bother me.” Orion claimed. He was only partially lying. An attractive guy taking his shirt off in front of Orion was bothersome, but not nearly as bad as the idea of Orion himself exposing his body. He could survive as long as he stayed clothed. Ricky turned his back, pulling the tanktop off. Orion went to look away, but the sight stopped him short. There were scars lining his back, not unsimilar to the ones on Orion’s. His head tilted curiously, focusing in on the wounds and wondering how Ricky had gotten those scars. But Ricky speaking finally snapped him out of the spell and Orion quickly looked away from Ricky’s body. “Uh, I grabbed you a towel.” Orion threw the towel over to Ricky and realized that though he was technically here by invitation, he wasn’t quite sure he was welcome. Orion wanted to talk about Ricky’s art, tell him how cool and beautiful it was. How talented Ricky was. But wasn’t sure if that was the right move considering it hadn’t been Ricky’s intention to show the place off. “Uh – Thanks again for letting me come over and wash it off. I don’t think the rain is that bad anymore. So I can probably head out now. Thanks again.” Orion awkwardly grabbed for his soaked hoodie and long sleeve shirt and then began heading towards the door.

As soon as Orion mentioned that it didn’t bother him if Ricky took his shirt off he could immediately tell that it did. Which was unfortunate because Ricky had been seriously considering ditching his jeans too, but it seemed like the sight of a guy only in some black boxer briefs might be more than the nervous young man could handle, “Uh huh…” as he slipped out of the shirt he couldn’t help but call Rio out on what was obviously a lie. “Thanks for the towel.” He turned to face Rio and catch the thrown towel before using it to dry his still sopping hair. When he was finished he draped it over his shoulders, using it to cover as much of himself as he could. Jagged scars stood out bright white against the darker skin he’d inherited from his father, and some of them involved stories he couldn’t really tell. Luckily, he didn’t feel the need to explain as Rio made some motion to start heading out into the deluge. Before Ricky could respond, a crack of thunder shook the small building and he looked through his damp curls at the other man, “Bullfuckingshit you are, Orion. It hasn’t let up a single goddamn iota and if you think I’m letting you go out in that you have another thought coming. I will strip goddamn naked and stand in front of this door to stop you but you’re definitely not leaving yet.” His inborn protective streak overrode his nervousness at having someone in his most secret sanctum and he tried to give what he hoped was a reassuring smile, “Do you like tea? I’ve got an electric kettle out here. And some really fucking dope lapsang suchong that I got from town the other day.”

Orion was being threatened, so apparently he wasn’t leaving the workshop. Not until the rain actually let up. Orion held his hands up in surrender and backed away from the door. He supposed he could hang out here a bit longer. “Uh sure, tea is fine.” Orion didn’t have much experience with tea, his family preferring coffee to anything else. But he could give it a try. He wasn’t sure that either of them were particularly comfortable with the choice, but it had been made. So Orion awkwardly set the wet tops back down and awkwardly strolled around the place as Ricky worked to get the tea ready. This time, he tried to be more subtle, not full out gawking at the art. He didn’t want to make Ricky uncomfortable. But he decided that if he were staying any longer than it was worth the risk to at least tell Ricky how great his art was. “Um…” Orion spoke aloud but couldn’t quite find the words to say. Instead, he began talking with his hands, putting together a few words that he had learned in sign language. I think your art is really beautiful. Suddenly, he realized that Ricky had said he just barely knew ASL. So he finally spoke, “Um… I think your art is really beautiful.” Orion repeated himself, speaking slowly and signing the words again as he spoke.

“Tea is always good. You’ll like this. It’s smoked over pine needles so it smells literally like a cup of campfire.” Ricky turned on the kettle and pulled two mugs down, carefully spooning the loose tea into a steeper. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Orion made his orbit around the room, obviously looking at everything. It couldn’t be helped; he knew he was at least passably talented and he’d invited the man in, but when Rio turned and signed out that he thought his art was beautiful, for some unknown reason Ricky felt a lump in his throat. He chuffed a laugh and nodded gratefully when the other repeated his phrase out loud, Thank you. He signed back, But beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I think I see more flaws than you do, you might be...  his knowledge failed him for a moment as he tried to remember symbols “Claonta.” he finally muttered out loud, his brain having to click through several languages to get his meaning across, “Biased.” He poured the water over the tea leaves and offered a mug out to Rio, “you should let it steep for five or so minutes, but it’ll be nice to hold. Warm you up. Plus it smells good.” 

Luckily, it seemed Ricky could recognize Orion’s signing. He signed back towards Orion, the boy being pleasantly surprised that he was able to follow the conversation. He was picking up quickly on the language. “Claonta” Orion mumbled to himself, wanting to hear the word from his own lips to get a feel of the language. Orion assumed that it was Gaelic. He would need to consider adding the language to his current list. After all, a lot of history behind Fae fell within Irish and Scottish mythology. If he was going to protect the creatures from his family, it couldn’t hurt to learn a language that some of them may still comprehend. At the very least, he could use them to help translate some of the older journals in the Scribe library. “I don’t think I’m biased at all. I don’t even know you.” Orion claimed, walking to Ricky to gently grab the cup from his hands. The mug was hot, but Orion welcomed the warmth, maybe it would give some color back to his skin. Not that he had much to begin with. “If anything, I’d say you’re the one who is biased. Spend too much time on something and you begin to obsess over every little flaw.” As he waited for the tea to finish steeping, he listened towards the walls, waiting for the rain to let up. He had bothered Ricky enough. Now it was time to go. “Are you selling any of this stuff? Or is it just for you?”

It brought a smile to Ricky’s face to hear someone, even somewhat clumsily, speaking the language of his heart, “That was surprisingly not terrible.” Their fingers brushed briefly as Orion took the mug, and Ricky found the somewhat strange and unwelcome thought in his head that he was sad he was still cursed, because he couldn’t actually feel what they felt like. That was absolutely not where his mind needed to go right now. “It’s my livelihood. I have to obsess over every flaw. If stuff starts going out flawed then… I’m up shit creek.” He took a slow orbit around the room, tea abandoned on the table as he looked over what Orion was seeing (not that he could even feel its warmth anyway). “It’s a little bit of both. Some commissions. Some just... “ His voice fell uncharacteristically silent, because it wasn’t used to speaking about these pieces. His hands haltingly rose to finish the sentence, Working some things out. He tried not to look at what was very clearly a self portrait in wood and metaphor but his eyes glanced over it quickly, “But. Enough about me. My heart’s pretty clearly and embarrassingly laid out here. Tell me about you. Why such trouble with being nice to yourself in the mirror?” 

Flattered by the comment, Orion scratched at the back if his neck nervously, “I’ve been told that I pick up on languages pretty quickly. But I am familiar with Gaelic a bit, so I know about the pronunciations.” Orion shrugged, trying to not make much of it, “Some of my favorite pieces of history come from mythology, and European mythology has all kinds of fascinating folklore, so I’ve come across Gaelic a few times while learning about those stories.” But the last thing Orion wanted to do was bore Ricky to sleep with boring history crap. And clearly, the last thing Ricky wanted to do was talk about his art, as he changed the subject pretty quickly. Message received. Even if Orion had no interest in talking about himself, he would bite. He was the guest after all. “Um, honestly I’m pretty boring. Nothing super exciting about me.” Orion started, finally taking a sip of the tea. The taste was a lot stronger than he had expected, but not hating it. It had an earthy taste to it that Orion couldn’t exactly pinpoint. “I’ve lived here my whole life. I live here on Harris Island with my parents and twin sister. Uh, and I’m in college right now. Double majoring in history and computer science. Honestly, there’s nothing else even remotely interesting about me. I just have never had a ton of self-confidence. What do you want to know?”

“That’s beyond impressive. It’s one of the harder European languages. Maybe I’ll have to recruit you to be my language buddy. I can teach you some Gaelic so I don’t have to call my gramma for a decent conversation.” Rio seemed to have a mean investigative streak if he was reading deep enough myths to need any sort of scrap of Gaelic knowledge. Listening to Rio talk about himself was, in a way, painful. Every statement was colored by some caveat about how he was boring or uninteresting and Ricky couldn’t stomach hearing it. It hit some deep part of him, something inherited from his mother and her bottomless capacity for good, and he wanted to help fix it. “Surprised we haven’t run into each other on the beach before. I’ve lived on Harris Island since I was ten after… yeah since I was ten. But history and computer science is really cool dude. That’s like… Jesus. That’s way above my intelligence level. Like. Miles above it.” He took a sip of his own tea. “Here’s your first Gaelic lesson. Repeat after me. Taím cliste. Táim suimiúil. Is fiú a bheith ag caint faoi.” It might have been a dirty trick. But. It wouldn’t be the first time Ricky had conned someone into being nice to themselves. 

“Oh! I’d love that.” Orion agreed a little too quickly. “I mean, if you’re serious. I am always interested in learning more about languages.” Not that he didn’t have enough on his plate already, but it was just another language. What could be so bad about learning the basics? Besides, if he befriended Ricky then maybe Rio could convince him to help translate some of the journals at the Scribe headquarters. He would just need to figure out how to explain that to him. “Yeah, that’s crazy. Small word I guess.” Rio of course knew why they hadn’t run into each other. Orion’s childhood was filled with training, studying and school. No time for distractions or useless hobbies. It wasn’t until just a few years ago that they were granted a few new freedoms. But that didn’t matter, not anymore. “It’s not. I mean, it’s-“ Orion cut himself off. He wanted to say the majors were nothing special, but he couldn’t say that without Ricky defending Orion’s honor or something. Better to just ignore it and speak some Gaelic. Orion repeated the words back to Ricky slowly, knowing enough to understand that Orion was saying something about himself. “Wait… what did you just make me say about myself?”

“I’m absolutely serious. I can only handle hearing someone ask me why I don’t have a husband yet and when I’m going to adopt her some grandkids so many times before I seriously consider throwing myself off the bluff outside. Someone who can talk to me about other things in my native… well… at least what I consider my native tongue, is always welcome.” Ricky returned to his tea, holding it loosely in one hand as he listened to Rio, enjoying the smell of smoke that wafted off the warm liquid, “Though to be fair I think I’m a couple years older than you, and I spent a lot of my time out in the woods being sullen and a grump and one eyeliner pencil away a poster child for behavior issues. Didn’t really take the time to get to know the rest of the island.” It was actually legitimately impressive that Rio could even pick up that he was talking about himself. It indicated more than just a passing knowledge of the language, “you know, sometimes affirmations work better if you don’t know you’re saying them. But, you were saying that you were smart, that you were interesting, and that you’re worth talking about. Which are all incredibly valid statements.” 

Orion gulped at Ricky’s statement. Had he just said husband? That was a twist that Orion hadn’t necessarily expected. He had just expected the muscled, ridiculously tall and attractive man was straight, like everyone else. But Orion needed to get a grip on himself before he ended up having a panic attack or passing out on Ricky’s floor.  “Uh- yeah. Well I’d be honored. I love having someone else to practice with.” He took small sips of the tea to avoid it burning his mouth. “Yeah well, I didn’t get out much. So I guess it makes sense that we missed each other.” Orion wasn’t sure how much older Ricky was than himself, but wondered what it might have been like if the two had met each other years prior. Maybe Ricky would have been able to force his self confidence on Orion back when it could have actually fixed him. “Wow. Cheap trick dude.” Orion laughed, cursing himself for actually saying the word dude out loud. To another person. Jesus he was awkward. “Is this what practicing languages will be like? Just you trying to trick me into compliments?”

It didn’t seem like Ricky could make a statement without Rio looking like he was about to pass out from the shock of it, and somehow it seemed like the revelation that he was gay was another thing added to that list. Ricky didn’t think it was a homophobia thing, he’d seen some of the glances the other man had given him when he’d taken his shirt off, but either way, it probably wasn’t a good look if a near-stranger passed out in his workshop. “I think it’s easier. My gaelic got rusty after my mom died, and it wasn’t until I went over to Ireland to meet her family and see the village she grew up in that it really got strong again, and that’s because they prefer to speak Gaelic. Gramma legit refuses to speak English.” He almost snorted tea out of his nose when Rio called him dude, if only because it seemed like the most out of character terminology for the man to use, “Is it a trick if I’m just getting you to speak the truth in a different way?” He sat at one of the stools in front of his workbench and pulled a piece of paper towards him, idly sketching as he talked, “We had to read The Picture of Dorian Gray in high school and like, oof, not my fav, but, at some point someone says something about how an object of beauty can’t ever truly appreciate itself because it can’t accurately grasp the entirety of its own beauty. Think of it that way. I’m just like… filling you in on the beauty you’re missing.” 

Orion hadn’t expected to hear that Ricky’s mom had passed. He supposed Ricky had seemed too positive for something like that to have happened to him. Though the fact made a few of the art pieces around the room make a bit more sense. The portraits of his mother and himself, never past a certain age. Orion could only assume that those pictures were from around the age that his mom had died. It also helped explain some of the sadness that emanated from the torch statue. “My parent’s don’t see the point in learning another language besides Latin. Which they only made us learn so we could read the bible.” Orion blinked a few times after saying it, surprised by himself that it had come out of his mouth. “But my sister and I both love them. Of course, she’s better than me at it. She’s fluent in quite a few languages already.” It was too late now he supposed. He was careful not to expose too many secrets about his family. Too dangerous for all parties. “It’s definitely still a trick. Regardless.” Orion giggled. “I can’t believe I just got compared to an Oscar Wilde character. I mean, that’s like every literary college student’s dream.” Orion’s hunter hearing picked up on the changes outside, the pounding of the rain against the workshop lessening, the sounds of thunder further and further away. He scratched at the back of his ear instinctively. “Uh, sounds like it’s finally letting up. So I can get out of your hair soon.”

As far as sentences that made it sound like you were raised in a cult went… revealing that your parents only allowed you to learn Latin so you could read the bible was right the fuck up there, “Well…” Ricky attempted to be as tactful as he absolutely could, which was a stretch for the normally blunt if charming seal, “There’s certainly something to be said for reading the classics in their original language.” Which was technically going to be Aramaic or something along those but Ricky certainly wasn’t going to split semantic hairs like that. He was just going to take this victory and keep on going. “Never really had much religion when I was growing up. I think my dad was raised Catholic, but my mom wasn’t, so it really wasn’t around much. Then, you know after she… and then he left… so not really much church going in my childhood.” The series of truncated phrases had left an awkward feeling in the air that Ricky quickly attempted to cover up as he scrambled through one of the drawers looking for something, “Well then I guess I’m just going to have to start reading a lot more, if that’s the key to getting you to accept compliments.” When Rio made the comment about the rain letting up, Ricky laughed, straightening as he found what he was looking for in his desk, “Well, this isn’t Phantom of the Opera, Rio. I’m not holding you captive in the catacombs, you’re welcome to leave whenever you want, though you being here definitely isn’t you being in my hair. My hair is way too nice for that.” Not strictly true, he was still about ten seconds from an anxiety attack with Rio seeing all of his art, but Ricky had a feeling that if Rio knew that there’d be an explosion of mutual anxiety. “Well. Here’s my card.” He held out what he’d been looking for in his desk, one of the many cards he’d had made when VistaPrint was having a sale. “Ricky A Cordero, Woodwork and Restoration” Printed in bold font in bronze on a black background. It looked far fancier than Ricky himself was, but, it had definitely gotten him some business. “I’m serious about the language thing. I can teach you Gaelic if you want, and I’m down to practice Spanish whenever you get a handle on it.” He also grabbed the piece of paper he’d been sketching on, folding it into quarters and passing it over to Rio, “Open it when you’re out of the rain. But. To help with the mirror affirmations in the morning. You know, I’m really glad that we got caught in the rain together.” 

Orion wanted to tell Ricky that he wasn’t religious either. To have something in common. That he could never feel the pain of losing a parent, let alone both. But he could relate to parental issues in an entirely different way. But Orion had already said way too much. He had an image to uphold. His family was too dangerous on their own, and Orion wasn’t strong enough to stop them. Not yet at least. So, for now it would have to be left at that. He could read between the lines of Ricky’s statement. He knew what it had meant. “There are a lot of books I’d love to be able to read in their original texts. Just to see how much the translations differed.” Ricky was being nice obviously, offering Orion the chance to stay as long as he wanted. But Orion could tell that he was still on edge about someone he didn’t know well being inside of his workshop, so Orion decided it was time to take his leave and ease both of their minds before one of them lost it. But Ricky won a laugh out of Orion for the laughed at the hair joke at least. “Thanks. It’s fine. I need to get back soon anyways.” He grabbed the card from Ricky and inspected, noting the number on the card. Was Ricky just giving Rio his number? Definitely no time to explore that without freaking out, so Orion moved on. “I will definitely take you up on that! Once I get settled with my other classes.” Orion awkwardly took the scrap of paper and glanced at the outside of it, stuffing it into his jean pocket when he couldn’t make out any of the details from the outside. “Uh – yes. You too! It was nice meeting you.” Orion didn’t know how to take anything about Ricky’s statement, and was too afraid to think any deeper into it. Not right now at least, so he finished off his tea and handed the mug back off to Ricky before walking towards the door and giving one last awkward wave, “Welp. Bye then.”

When Orion got home, he went up to his room and immediately dug the paper out of his pocket and set it on his dresser. He began changing into different clothes but stared at the folded piece of paper the entire time. He slipped out of his soaked track pants and into a pair of dry joggers. Then he gently took off Ricky’s hoodie and folded it to add it onto his dresser next to the folded-up piece of paper. In Orion’s mirror, he examined the scars and bruises that riddled his body. Though not very similar to Ricky’s own scars, it was strange seeing someone else with their own wounds. Like the two shared a connection, even if Ricky couldn’t know about Orion’s. Orion was not brave enough to show the world what Ricky was willing to. He slipped on a short sleeve shirt, the training coming up being the only time he was willing to do so. The shirt would end up getting torn anyways, so no need to waste a long sleeve shirt. Before heading down, he finally grabbed onto the piece of paper and began unfolding, unsure of what to expect. But of all the ideas, he certainly hadn’t expected the portrait of Orion that Ricky had drawn. He recognized the stance as the constellation and he recognized the hunter’s face as his own, but other than that there were so many differences between Orion and the portrait in front of him. The hunter stood tall, not slouched as Orion so often did. The look on the hunter’s face wore confidence and determination, something that the anxiety ridden Orion did not have. ‘To Help with the Mirror Affirmations in the morning’ Ricky had said. A view that Ricky had wanted Orion to see for himself. Jesus. What did that mean? Orion had stared at the picture for a long while before he finally heard a voice yelling from downstairs. “Orion! You’re late. Let’s go. Practice is about to start. Athena is already in the guest house” He could hear from his mom’s tone that he shouldn’t make her wait any longer. He folded the paper back up and stuffed it into his top drawer. “Sorry! Coming now.” He yelled back down, before rushing into the hallway and pulling the door shut behind him.

[hamfistedmorals]

Rise of Skywalker: Initial Thoughts and Feelings

As a movie, it was engaging. As a Star Wars story, it hooked me. But as a conclusion to this particular trilogy? As a final chapter to the entire saga? Oh boy, was it a hot mess.

BEWARE OF SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

(Disclaimer - I’m one of the 5% of Star Wars fans that loved The Last Jedi, so that might influence my opinion, but I’ll try to keep things unbiased.) 

It was all over the place, and I mean that quite literally. 

We got to see so many new locations, and most of them seemed interesting. Unfortunately, because of the breakneck pace and the ticking clock, the film doesn’t spend any time developing these places apart from Exegol - and that’s only planet who’s name I can remember. Adding on to the map of a Galaxy Far, Far Away is always a good thing. But so many new locations in one movie, with our heroes jumping back and forth every ten minutes...doesn’t make this universe feel larger. Actually, it makes it feel smaller. In past Star Wars movies, it would take time to go from one planet or star system to another. But that really doesn’t seem to be the case here. If there’s one problem that’s been semi-consistent throughout this trilogy, it’s the confusion of timing. (What’s the point of the title crawl if Episode 8 is going to pick up immediately after Episode 7? But I digress.)

The Dyad in the Force is easily the most fascinating concept of the entire trilogy.

I braced myself for the movie to ignore the connection previously established between Rey and Kylo Ren, as it ignores so much of Episode 8. But no, Rise of Skywalker actually build on the bond between these two characters and gives us more amazing scenes of them interacting entirely through their connection in the Force. We learn that they are essentially a one-of-a-kind anomaly, that Palpatine can use to restore his life energy. Rey and Ben even learn how to use their bond by the end of the film. It’s a new idea that Star Wars hasn’t done before and I kinda love it - I just really wish they had explored it more, and better outlined what it is, where it came from, and how it works. Then again, after how much people hated the Midichlorians, I expect the writers are hesitant to give any answers about how The Force works. 

I also appreciated the official introduction of Healing, as a Force Power. 

Say what you will about some of the Force-Abilities introduced in TLJ, but this one makes perfect sense. So much so that I’m pretty sure it’s already a thing in Star Wars video games? It was well foreshadowed and it played a role in Rey and Ben’s final fight, as well as that heartbreaking climax. Honestly, I truly thought Rey was dead in that moment. I teared up, thinking that her parents’ sacrifice was for nothing. Wondering if Finn could sense that she was gone. Wondering what Ben would do without her, since he had no one else. To be honest, I almost wish Rey had stayed dead, since as it stands...we have a redeemed villain sacrificing himself to save the hero that redeemed him...sound familiar? If Ben had lived, and Rey had died, it could have been a tragic inversion of Return of the Jedi, instead of just a retread. But oh well. I had a feeling they were going to kill off Kylo Ren anyway. 

It feels like they did have plans for Finn, but never properly carried them out. 

Rise of Skywalker very clearly implies that Finn has discovered that he’s Force-Sensitive. Which is a good idea, it just comes out of nowhere. Apparently, that’s what he was going to tell Rey - JJ has clarified it. One problem...that’s not a detail that should be confirmed in an interview. It should be answered within the movie. There were two separate conversations about Finn wanting to tell Rey...something, but the film never comes back to that or gives it any conclusion. Likewise, the idea of Finn being force-sensitive is only ever foreshadowed, never brought to light. Overall, Finn got some great moments, like when he met Jannah and got to connect with another former Storm-trooper...but his overall character arc in this film never got off the ground. 

Was it just me...or was Poe constantly angry throughout the movie? 

I don’t know if this was just Oscar Isaac’s frustration slipping through, or if it was meant to be the stress of the war, or something...but Poe was in a bad mood in just about every scene. But just like with Finn, this never gets resolved or even really acknowledged. Didn’t Poe go through an entire arc in the last film about learning to be less of a hot-head? For some reason, he and Rey are at each other’s throats...even though the end of the last film hinted that they found each other attractive? He does get some backstory as a Spice Runner (though they don’t explain what that is. Maybe it’s answered in one of the books, I dunno.) and we get to meet Zori, who is truly a charming and compelling character. Even if she was only written in as a final “no-homo” to Finn and Poe, I wanted to learn more about her. 

They did Rose dirty. They did her so dirty.

She should have been an official member of the squad in this film, not relegated to cameos. There was no reason she couldn't have been more involved. Her romance with Finn should have been addressed. Even if it was just him gently letting her down, they ought to have mentioned it. Regardless of how you feel about Rose and that particular pairing (Personally, I adored her) it's downright strange that she's so absent from the story when she was a main character last time. Gee, I wonder why this was done? Could it be because the character was eviscerated online by a group of hardcore “fans” who compared her to Jar Jar Binks? Who not only made racist, sexist, and body-shaming comments about the character - they drove Kelly Marie Tran off social media? It really seems like downplaying Rose in this film was a direct response to how unpopular she was, and that isn’t fair to the character or the actress. It just seems...cowardly.

The CGI on Leia...could have been better. 

Not gonna lie, it might have been safer to simply reveal Leia’s death in the title crawl and open the movie with her funeral. Don’t get me wrong, I was initially quite impressed with how they managed to re-create Carrie Fisher. It was nice to see her training Rey, and we even get an answer to the age-old mystery of why she never became a Jedi. But as Leia’s scenes went on, the cracks started to show. It became very noticeable after a while that she would never adjust her standing position or really move at all. So many of her lines were shot to avoid showing her face while she spoke. Don’t get me wrong, I understand why it looked this way. I’m just saying that as a viewer, I noticed. Leia’s death scene was the worst offender of this. By the way...what exactly killed her? She apparently gave the “last of her energy” to call out to Ben, but...nothing beforehand indicated that her health was failing, so why would a simple telepathic message consume all her life energy? She’s done it before. Either way, the death scene was kinda lame...but other characters reactions to it? Hit me right in the feels. Chewie’s breakdown tore me to pieces. I wanted to hug him. And as for Ben...

 That Han Solo Cameo

I’m impressed, first of all. We all though Han could never come back since he wasn’t force-sensitive, so he wouldn’t get a spirit form. But the great thing is, Han didn’t come back - not really. It was all in Ben’s head, hence the lines echoing his father’s death. I love how Leia’s death, compounded with Rey healing Ben and all but telling him that she would be with him if he wasn’t on the dark side, is what ultimately swayed him to turn back. When he called Han “Dad...” In that broken voice, and Han just said “I know...” Honestly, that was the best scene in the movie. Ben previously said to Rey that the Dark Side was in her blood, so she couldn’t escape it. It was so clear that he felt that way about himself too, which may have been part of why he turned. Seeing Han was a perfect reminder that he had more than just Vader in his ancestry. 

Chewie’s “death” was the other scene in the movie that took my breath away. 

Echoing the Force-Battle over Anakin’s lightsaber, Rey and Kylo Ren have a tug-of-war for the ship Chewie is on, and in her rage, Rey accidentally conjures Force-Lightning and blows up the ship, shocking everyone. It demonstrates Rey’s power, as well as her natural leaning toward the Dark Side (through anger.) It also foreshadows her lineage. Plus, the whole concept of accidentally killing your beloved friend..It’s got so much tension, so much emotion - it’s fantastic. Only one problem...Chewie survived, and we find that out not even five minutes later. Honestly, it’s the last movie. Anything goes, you can kill off main characters, even beloved main characters. All of the emotional drama that this scene brings to the table stops mattering once you find out Chewie’s alive. I would love to see Rey actually have to deal with the consequences of what happened, for the movie to explore how it makes the other characters feel about her. On the other hand, one of my first thoughts after it happened was “Geez, if the fandom hated her before...” All the fans who complain Rey is a Mary Sue (She’s not) Yeah, they’d never, ever forgive her if she was responsible for Chewie’’s death.

I can’t decide how I feel about Kylo Ren repairing his mask. 

When I first realized it was happening, I was disappointed. In a way, it undoes his character growth in Last Jedi when he rejected his hero worship of Darth Vader - and even did what Vader could not, slaying his master and living to succeed him. Kylo Ren surpassed Vader once he stopped trying to be him, and that was awesome. But between bringing back the mask (with the painfully on-the-nose line about the “cracks in your mask”) and the reveal that “Snoke” is still alive, all of Ben Solo’s coolest moments from TLJ have been reversed. On the other hand... the Kylo Ren mask is, and always was, a symbol. In TFA, it reflected a pretentious attempt to be more like Darth Vader. But in this movie, it seemed to reflect Kylo Ren embracing the image of being the “Big Bad.” much like how Luke embraced his status as a legend, just before he died. And I’m not gonna lie, seeing the words “Supreme Leader Kylo Ren” in the title crawl was quite satisfying. Not to mention, at the end of the day...it’s all an act. Kylo Ren has always tried very hard to be “evil” but his heart just isn’t in it. He’s trying to be something he’s not - so maybe it’s okay if the mask comes back. 

Let’s rip this band-aid off: Bringing Palpatine back was a mistake.

If they needed a greater-scope villain for the climax after Ben was redeemed...why not use Snoke? Apparently, they’re the same person anyway, and people were mad that Snoke died without having a greater story to tell. Palpatine’s return goes entirely unexplained. He just hand-waves the issue by quoting Episode 3. As a viewer, why should I feel triumphant when Rey kills him at the end, when as far as I know, nothing is stopping him from returning again? After all, he survived certain death before, and we don’t know how he did it. (This is what I mean when I say the film is good by itself, but highly flawed as a continuation of existing Star Wars.) Palpatine’s return devalues Anakin’s sacrifice. It weakens both Vader and Kylo as villains because it removes their agency - we now know they only turned because Palpatine manipulated and groomed them. They’ve made him the greater-scope villain of every single trilogy, which just feels weird. I always thought the overarching villainous force of Star Wars was supposed to be, y’know, the Dark Side and it’s tempting call. That anyone could potentially succumb. But speaking of this film rejecting the idea of “anyone” being special...

Rey...did not need to have a bloodline. 

You need Palpatine to have a reason that he’s so intrigued by her? You’ve already got that - she’s part of an anomaly in The Force that no one’s ever seen before. Need a life-changing shock that pushes her closer to the Dark Side? All you have to do is let Chewie stay dead, and have it be her fault. As much as I have genuinely loved Rey’s character growth and I always enjoy watching her, I can’t help but feel like giving her a bloodline at this point was at least partially done to mitigate the claims that she’s “too powerful.” Not to mention, it ruins the reveal at the end of The Last Jedi, and it’s one more thing that makes the Star Wars universe feel smaller. Coming from a powerful bloodline shouldn’t be a requirement for changing the fate of the Galaxy. Sure, Force-Sensitivity is often hereditary, but not exclusively. Besides, there are more people out there attuned to the Force that just the Skywalkers, Palpatines, and Kenobis. Why couldn’t Rey just be one of them? If Star Wars really is going to go on forever, it can’t simply be the continuing sage of two or three families screwing up the Galaxy. 

What’s up with the super-rushed tone of the ending? 

So, Rey and Ben share a kiss - whether or not you ship them, this moment is wholesome, heartwarming, and so earned -  But then Ben immediately, and I mean immediately falls down dead. He doesn’t get any last words or even a last moment. (Come to think of it...does Ben have any lines at all after his scene with Han? I...don’t think he does. That’s just weird.) Nope, he just fades into the Force so quickly that I didn’t even realize what happened at first. Rey makes it back to the Resistance base and reunites with her friends, but they don’t share any dialogue either. No final moments, not even Finn telling Rey that he’s Force-Sensitive. Disney gets to check off their diversity clipboard by having two nameless women kiss in the background, and Rey then visits...Tatooine, of all places, to bury The Skywalker twins lightsabers. Because you see, a Jedi’s Weapon deserves respect. Burning them? Shameful. But burying them, A-Okay.

Rey is never shown mourning Ben Solo.

Whether or not you think he “deserved” redemption, the film clearly sided with the idea that he did. It based a lot of it’s conflict on Rey and Ben being a hero and a villain who also cared about each other. Going so far as to include the Dyad, and give them a kiss scene. So it’s bizarre that Ben’s death doesn’t seem to affect Rey. She doesn’t even have any sort of reaction to it, but she does have a gold lightsaber now. Which is so incredibly cool that it baffles me that they didn’t let her have it sooner. She never gets to really use it. A random local shows up, for no other purpose than to ask Rey who she is. Rey looks on to see Luke and Leia’s Force-Spirits give their blessing (No Ben, for some reason.) And she then introduces herself as Rey Skywalker. Because they had to justify that title somehow, right? Then the scavenger-turned-jedi, who started out all alone on a desert planet but found a family through her travels...ends her story all alone on desert planet. Hey, wait a minute-

The problems of this trilogy boil down to the fact that it had two writers, with two different visions for the characters.

Perhaps the death of Snoke, the introduction of Rose, and Rey’s lack of lineage directly conflicted with J.J.'s plans for the new trilogy...but The Last Jedi happened. It's canon now. Trying to pretend otherwise doesn't "fix" that. Having moments that directly contradict the previous film, even taking intentional jabs at it (looking at you, Force-Spirit Luke) is a waste of time and honestly feels...kind of immature? As a writer, I’m sure it isn’t easy, but you've got to work with what you have, follow the ideas and plot threads introduced, or else none of it will feel organic. So many moments like repairing Kylo Ren's mask, bringing back Anakin's destroyed saber, giving Rey a bloodline...they just cause whiplash.The only arcs that really continue through each movie are Kylo Ren's redemption, and Rey's identity issues. The writing of Episode 9 does everything it can to erase the ideas of Episode 8, and as a result, the entire trilogy feels directionless. The story feels like its at war with itself. I understand if Rian left J.J. in a compromising position, but sometimes you have to let go of ideas if they can no longer work in your story, however much you want them to. And, not to pick on J.J. too much, but...if he really had a major plan for the trilogy, then why didn't he stay to write Episode Eight? He left the second chapter of the trilogy to an entirely different writer, so...what did he think was going to happen? 

It’s a good movie. It really is. I was on the edge of my seat. If you’ve never seen the first two films, you’ll likely enjoy the hell out of it. But if you’re hoping to get a satisfying conclusion for the characters you’ve grown to care about...well, I’ll just say that I didn’t find that here. 

[chierafied]

Prompt: "Humans will pack bond with anything." I had wanted to give an ichiruki prompt, but this fits jily better. Good luck and thanks in advance!

This fic is like a year late but hey, I got it done in the end.

For the longest time I was drawing a total blank on the prompt but then my campus library made a post last summer on their instagram about their robot vacuum. And well, it all started to come together from there. :D

Hope you enjoy the fluff!

Life Outside of the Library

James Potter wasn’t typically the type to frequent a library. 

Sure, his mother had taken him to one sometimes when he’d been a kid. He had good memories from libraries and liked them in general. In James’ opinion, they were an important service to have and it was nice they existed. 

But sitting in a library wasn’t his preferred way to spend his spare time – not when there were football practices to go to, friends to see, video games to conquer and endless Youtube videos to laugh at.

And even if he did enjoy reading the occasional book, he didn’t feel a need to surround himself with them.

Now, though, in his twenties, James Potter had become a regular at his university’s library and had gained a whole new appreciation for them.

He loved his friends, and had a blast living with them – but sharing a flat with three other blokes did not offer the kind of environment to be productive in. And productive was what he desperately needed to be, now that he was working on his thesis.

Though to be fair, even had he lived alone, James still likely would’ve got more work done at the library: his home offered too many comforts and distractions for him to resist.

Besides, whenever he hit a snag with his writing or had trouble finding a good source to cite, he could go and ask one of the librarians for help. 

Like miracle workers, they tracked down the information he’d need or located a whole bunch of great sources for him.

He wasn’t quite sure how they did it, but he silently suspected that some sort of magic was involved.

James visited the library at least three times a week. Some days he only stayed close to an hour in the morning. On some rarer occasions, he came in as the doors opened and stayed in until closing.

Of course, James being James, he was also on a first-name basis with everyone working at the library.

Including the robot vacuum that silently whirred about the floors in the mornings, doing its thing. James called it Robert.

He swung in early one Monday morning, refreshed after the weekend and ready to get some more progress made on his thesis. 

He didn’t head straight for his usual spot in the quiet back corner but stopped at the information desk.

The librarian on duty smiled fondly at him.

“Here again, eh?”

“Nowhere else I’d rather be, Nora,” he replied, grinning. “How was your weekend? Does Thomas still have the flu?”

“The weekend went as well as could be expected,” Nora said. “Thomas is on the mend but he hasn’t gone back to school yet. He’s passed it off to his father though, so now I have another baby to nurse to health.”

James laughed. “Take care of yourself, too, and don’t get sick!”

“Thanks. Good luck with your thesis!”

James nodded his thanks and started toward his preferred spot.

In between the shelves, he came across Robert the robot vacuum, whirring about and keeping the carpets clean.

“Hullo, Robbie, mate,” James told it as he walked past.

He settled at his table and logged on to the desktop computer set there. Some students carried their laptops around, but James preferred not using his own laptop for the same reason he’d come to the library in the first place: to keep all distractions to a minimum.

It was working, though, since he had made a surprising amount of progress on his thesis.

Six weeks ago, he’d barely had an inkling of an idea. Now, he already had almost 15 pages written and his online survey was up and receiving responses. 

Today, he settled on refreshing his memory of the theory of his chosen research method. The theoretical and academic textbook wasn’t the most immersive book he’d ever read, but he lost the track of time nonetheless, scribbling down a couple of notes for himself on a scrap paper.

When his stomach started grumbling a few hours later, James typed up his notes, packed his things and left the library.

——————-

A week or two later, on a foggy Tuesday morning, James walked into the library. He hadn’t been at the library for over a week, as he’d gone home to visit his parents for the autumn break. 

He headed straight to the shelf holding reserved materials to pick up the books he’d requested.

He greeted the librarian – Susan – as he passed the information desk and started towards his back corner. 

Only something seemed off.

The library was oddly still.

He was nearly at his table when he realised what was different this morning – he hadn’t seen Robert anywhere.

He dropped his books on his regular table, then followed the soft thumps of books being handled. It was coming from the shelf over the next, where he found a young woman standing by a book cart and shelving books.

James didn’t recognise her, but she had a name tag pinned on and was obviously working, so she had to be staff.

Before James could speak up, she noticed him. She turned to him and met his eyes, flashing him a quick smile.

“Can I help you?”

“Uhhh,” James offered lamely because his breath was stuck somewhere in his throat and his brain had momentarily stalled. He’d forgotten why he’d sought her out in the first place. 

Then, it all came back to him in a rush. “Yeah. What’s up with Robbie?”

The librarian blinked.

“I’m sorry, who’s Robbie?”

“Robert. The robot vacuum,” James explained, feeling like a complete pillock.

Her green eyes sparked and the corner of her lips twitched suspiciously, but thankfully she didn’t laugh at him.  

“Ohh, sorry. I didn’t know the robot vacuum had a name,” she replied. “It’s out of commission for the time being, seems like there was some sort of a malfunction with the loading dock over the weekend but it’s being looked into.”

“Okay. Thanks. I was just wondering since I’m so used to seeing it around in the mornings.”

“You’re a regular, then?” she asked.

“Yeah, working on my thesis,” James said.

“All the best with that,” she said.

“Thanks. Well, I won’t keep you any longer,” James said, nodding at the book cart. “See you around.”

“Bye,” she replied, then returned to shelving.

James walked back to his table, his heart pounding in his chest and his face glowing with flustered warmth. 

He’d definitely made such a lame first impression with the new, fit librarian… but on the bright side, the only way from here was up.

——————-

The new, fit librarian’s name was Lily, and she wasn’t actually a librarian. Like James, she was a student at the university and in her final year. She was majoring in library and information science and was doing an internship at the campus library. 

They’d been chatting on and off whenever she managed to be on a shift when James showed up at the library.

Just little things; the kind of usual small-talk he had with any of the librarians working there. 

Except when he was chatting with Lily, his heart was always racing in his chest, and no matter how mundane the conversation he’d treasure every word and go over their discussions later in his mind, replaying them over and over again.

That certainly never happened with any of the other librarians.

Simply put, James was absolutely smitten.

He’d been a goner since the first time they’d met; when she’d stolen his breath with her bright smile. 

Even Peter had made an off-hand comment on how cheerful James seemed coming home from the library. 

Despite his feelings, however, James wasn’t sure yet if he should pursue Lily or not. 

He didn’t know if she was at all interested in him or if she was simply being friendly. He hadn’t really tried flirting with her, either. 

Because as much as he treasured each interaction with her and even though they were both students at the university and therefore on an equal ground… James was painfully aware that during every chat they had at the library, she was a member of the staff. 

Not only was she working, but for her being friendly towards the patrons was part of the job description.

That’s why James felt he was on shaky ground and wasn’t sure how he might broach the topic of meeting Lily outside the library – or if, indeed, he should broach the topic at all.

Feeling torn and conflicted, he stepped into a coffee shop near the campus, accompanied by the chime of the bell at the door.

He joined the queue and had dug out his phone to check on his notifications when a flash of familiar dark red in the periphery of his vision caught his attention. 

Lily was preoccupying his thoughts so thoroughly that, at first, James believed his brain had conjured her up and that he was so far gone that everything now reminded him of her.

But even as he stared, the sight didn’t waver or change. Instead, Lily turned, drink in hand, and noticed him.

The surprise in her eyes mirrored his own and she offered him a hesitant wave. 

James couldn’t help the grin that rose to his lips. He waved back. His gaze followed her as she made her way to a table by the window.

Impatient, James queued up to the counter and made his order. 

As soon as he’d got his coffee, he made a beeline to Lily’s table. 

“Hi,” he said, a little breathless while a smile that was sure to be goofy tugged at his lips. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” she replied, flashing him a smile in return as she indicated at the empty seat across the table.

A bounce in his step, James circled the table, set his drink down and claimed the seat. 

Their gazes met, and the corner of Lily’s lips twitched upwards. 

“So…” James drawled, “looks like there’s life outside of the library.”

“Maybe,” Lily replied, “though given how much time you spend there the comment applies to you too.”

“That’s fair,” James said.

His fingers drummed against his coffee mug. 

While he was glad that she’d responded to his teasing comment in kind, just sitting across from her, here and now, had agitation thrumming through his body.

If he wanted to act on his infatuation, he couldn’t have been served a better chance than this. 

“Oh, Robert the robot vacuum has made full recovery,” Lily said.

“Really? That’s great. Will be good to see the little guy around again.” James ruffled his hair to stop himself from fidgeting. “Does that sound too weird?”

“Nah.” Lily shrugged. “Having seen Robbie for myself now I can understand the appeal. And at the end of the day, it isn’t any weirder than me talking to my cat.”

“Well, cheers, that makes me feel a little better,” James said, flashing her a smile. “I was sure I had made a terrible first impression as this huge dork that had named a vacuum cleaner.”

“You definitely did come off as a huge dork that had named a vacuum cleaner,” Lily agreed. “Doesn’t mean it was a terrible first impression though. It was kind of sweet, actually.”

James perked up. Faint and frail wings of hope fluttered in his chest. 

He sipped his coffee, gathering his nerve.

Then, he took the plunge.

“You know it’s funny we ran into each other here, like this.” He met her eyes, managed a small crooked grin. “I’ve been wanting to ask if you’d want to grab a coffee with me for a while now.”

Lily’s eyebrow arched, and the look in her eyes turned appraising.

“Really? What’s been stopping you?”

“Well,” James started, cheeks flushing, “I wasn’t sure it was all proper, what with you being staff and me being a patron. I’ve heard too many horror stories about customers’ unsolicited attempts at flirting or mistaking friendliness as a sign of interest and I really didn’t want to be like one of those arses.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Lily’s lips. “The fact that you’re aware that people like that are arses proves you’ve no need to worry about being one,” she told him. “Where have you heard all these horror stories, anyway?”

“My cousin Dorcas. She works at a pub so she sees all kinds.”

“I bet.” Lily took a good long sip of her drink, then leaned her cheek against the palm of her hand. “You know, that’s not really something we need to worry about at the library. Our patrons don’t really flirt with us.”

“I don’t know,” James said, his tone teasing. “I’ve seen how that blond girl with the purple backpack looks at you.”

Lily laughed.

“She’s cute enough,” Lily admitted. “But I think I prefer a different type.”

There was a gleam in her eye that had James'  throat growing dry and the pit of his stomach trembling. 

“What’s your preferred type?” he asked, his voice a little hoarse.

Lily looked at him, keeping him at the edge of his seat while she brought her mug to her lips and sipped.

“The sweet and dorky type that names a vacuum cleaner and worries so much about being an arse that they won’t even ask you out,” she replied at last, smiling.

“Well then,” James said, unable to keep the blinding bright smile from his face. “I happen to know someone who fits that description.”

“Maybe you could introduce him to me,” Lily said, grinning.

“I suppose I should,” James agreed.

He reached across the table and offered Lily his hand.

Playing along, she took it and gave it a warm, firm shake.

“Hi, I’m James Potter and I fancy you a lot.”

“Nice to meet you, James,” she replied, voice trembling from barely contained laughter. “I’m Lily Evans and I was wondering if you’d like to have a coffee with me sometime.”

“I’d love to,” James answered, still holding her hand in his as their gazes locked.

Her green eyes were alight with laughter and more beautiful than James had ever seen. Her palm was soft and warm against his. Her smile was wide and a little smug and it still completely stole his breath.

James’ heart soared and even though he still barely knew her, even though the two of them were only in the very beginning of their journey together, he was suddenly certain of one thing: this was the woman he’d marry.

[steviemillcr]

Hey is that [DIANA SILVERS]? No, that’s just [STEVIE MILLER]. They’re [TWENTY-FOUR], and have spent [ONE YEAR] in Dayton. I hear that they’re kind of [OPEN-MINDED], but also [COMPETITIVE]. Did you hear their vices are [VIDEO GAMES & ECSTASY]? Can’t wait to see [SHE/HER] at the next party!

full name: stevie monroe miller

nickname: mills . 

age: twenty-four

date of birth: nov 8th

place of birth: tampa, fl

zodiac: scorpio

gender: cis-female

nationality: american

sexual orientation: pansexual

romantic orientation: homoromantic

relationship status: single

PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES.

height:  5″7

weight: none of your business

hair color: brunette

eye color: hazel

need glasses/contacts? nope

tattoos/piercings: power button behind her right ear and a triforce on her left ankle. clit piercing

distinguishing marks: freckles.

BACKGROUND INFORMATION.

hometown: tampa, fl

current residence: dayton, ca

past residences: nyc, ny ( college )

living arrangement: apartment

spoken languages: english

financial status: average

education level: college; bachelors of fine arts ( graphic design ) 

occupation: youtuber / twitch streamer / freelance gd

FAMILIAL INFORMATION.

father: jason miller. 40.

mother: unknown

siblings: none.

children: none.

pets? black cat named felix

other: none.

PERSONALITY.

positive traits: open-minded, creative, honest, intuitive

negative traits: aimless, competitive, insensitive, finicky

likes: reds. oranges. warm colors. chocolate. morning dew. citrus. watercolor paper. flannel. hot chocolate. milk. white russians. legend of zelda. kirby. slasher films. the scream trilogy. serial killer documentaries. sketching. animal crossing. aqua. raves. ecstasy. sex. 

dislikes: blatant stupidity. button mashing. most rom coms. shitty headphones. asmr sounds. trolls. bein told what to do. campers. waking up early. high nasally voices. 13 yr old boys who talk shit. 

quirks: - coming soon - 

stevie is a fairly laid back individual. she grew up with thick skin and a sharp tongue. but underneath it all she’s not so bad. she comes off as closed off and introspective, which for the most part is true. she doesn’t just go up and start a conversation with a stranger unless she has a reason. she will sit and sketch one though.

online, she is much more extroverted. that’s not to say she feels safer there. more like she cares less. on one side, she knows the people she plays with are people-- but the fact she can simply shut off the game when she’s pissed and not have to explain or do shit? it’s much easier. she cares less what people may think of her which, wasn’t much to begin with.

she’s blunt. painfully so. to everyone. friend and stranger alike. though if you are a friend, she’ll find a way to apologize if she came off too harsh. she’s not afraid of being humbled and in fact appreciates it more than having things sugar coated.

She doesn’t go out of her way to be a bitch. sometimes it just happens.

she holds grudges. a. long. fucking. time. she still hasn’t fully forgiven her father/brother/jason for his betrayal even though she knows he was doing what he thought was best. 

when she’s on molly, stevie is a very different person. touchy feely lovey dovey. she’s a hot mess and she’s had her fair share of nights that left her in awkward positions.

Stevie isn’t shy about sex. Shell try just about anything once and she’s usually pretty good about keeping her feelings out of the equation. 

But hasn’t had a lot of great experiences in the bedroom. She knows it can be fun and it has been a handful of times, but more times than not, it’s just...something to do. That doesn’t mean she goes out and picks up people whenever she gets bored, but when she has an itch, she’ll scratch it and that’s all it usually is. An itch.

THE RUN DOWN.

was raised believing her father is actually her older brother

her grandmother raised her along side her father  brother in tampa, florida

the household was a close one and between her ‘mother’ and ‘brother’, she knew she was loved.

she was often the object of teasing in school. she was too odd or too mean. her mother was too spacey and her brother too hot. but she took it in stride, learning to weaponize her words ( and sometimes her fists ) and after a while, learned to ignore it, even when it got out she was pansexual and in love with her best friend

the feelings were unrequited, she made that clear, though her friendship only grew stronger

she went to nyc on scholarship, choosing graphic design as her major specializing in motion graphics

the stress of the work often left her zapped and working in a computer lab all night? not helpful. so when she had the chance to go out and party she would.

her fesitivities mostly consisted of underground / secret raves. the music, colors, and atmosphere did a lot for her. she kept things pretty tame, only drinking and smoking pot occasionally.

but when her mother passed, her world was flipped on its head. as per his mother’s dying wish, her brother came clean. he admitted that he allowed her to believe she was abandoned...unwanted by both parents, because lets face it, there was no way she was biologically her grandmother’s daughter. she spent her whole life believing she was forsaken and it was the one person she loved more than anything that let her

going back to school had been hard. she was angry. so so angry. and sad. her grandmother, the only mother she’d ever known was gone and her brother-- dad? she wasn’t talking to him. so she pushed. she worked harder and she played even harder

she took her first taste of ‘e’ three nights after arriving back in nyc and it was the most elevating thing she ever experienced. nothing in the world felt wrong. everything was amazing. more than that. exhilarating.

it became a regular thing, though she took care. only after her school work was done and her schedule was clear. what was the harm in it if she were careful? what was wrong with wanting to feel good, to erase that crippling anger just for a night?

when she finished school, she moved home. almost. she couldn’t go back to Jason, not even after two years. she loved him, yes. she appreciated his sacrifices, yes. but she couldn’t look at him, let alone forgive him. not yet. so she went to orlando to look for work.

the field was full of competition, which she often enjoyed but somehow she was getting lost in the shuffle. unmotivated. she got a few freelance things, but most of her time she spent online, chatting with friends from college or destroying teenage boys at call of duty. 

it got to a point she wasn’t leaving her apartment. she’d order food, do some minimal sketching and just...play.

it was a friend that suggested she make a youtube channel. she played enough and her perspective was nothing if not interesting...so she figured she may as well. youtube gave way to twitch and patreon and before she knew it she was receiving checks for fucking around online. not literally. well maybe once.

about a year ago, she came to dayton for a gaming convention. it was a small thing, targeted at twitch streamers. lots of big names in the game so of course she came. she just...decided not to leave.

she loved the chaos Dayton offered, their parties, and especially their molly. she doesn’t make it a habit but as her life continues to plateau, she keeps a regular stash to make things interesting.

[inspiredstory]

As requested from my lovely mom @freshsugakookies , I wrote an angsty one-shot for 2Min and TaeKai. You didn't tell me if you wanted it to finish all open-ended or with a choice so I made a decision and I hope you like it, if not I’ll have to modify lol.

Anyway, I hope you and whoever else reads this enjoys this!

I didn’t proofread or think much about time and whatnot (how long everyone knows each other along with how long they’d been dating and all that shit) so I hope it’s not much of a bother.

Couple: Taemin x Kai / Taemin x Jimin

Genre: Angst, fluff (if you squint)

Word Count: 1.9k (i think??)

Taemin stood in front of the now deserted park. He’d been going there for years eventually picking up the fact that most people are gone by 10 PM. His hands shakily wiped the small beads of sweat forming on his palms against the harsh material of his black denim jeans; he unlocked his phone screen glancing at the time

1:21 AM

Less than ten minutes before a decision had to be made. Truthfully, if he could split himself into two people and love both Kai and Jimin, he would. No hesitation at all. But since that obviously wasn’t a possible option he had to make the harsh decision of breaking someone’s heart.

           Kai was someone he was familiar with, someone who showed him how to accept himself, how to love with a heart so pure and so open. He showed him how to not be so hard on himself and not to take life so seriously. Whereas Jimin showed him diligence, how to look at other talents and abilities through a different lens, he showed him innocence in its best form and made him realize how much he enjoyed protecting someone far more vulnerable than him.

It had been 3 years since he and Kai painfully called things off. Taemin often winces at the memory of them spitting out words laced with hatred and venom.

How did we allow things to get that bad?

 “Stop lying to my face! You’re ashamed of me, Kai!” Taemin screamed with tears uncontrollably escaping his eyes.

“Where are you getting this bullshit from?! Never once have I given you a reason to believe I'm not completely in love with you!”

“I never said you don’t love me damn it! You’re just ashamed! Kai how is it fair that I, your boyfriend, can’t hold your hand or kiss you in public but you aren’t afraid to do it with your friends?! Even if it’s just a simple kiss on the damn cheek! How do I know you haven’t even-”

Kai angrily closed in on Taemin, his legs hastily walking past their shared bed stopping once his chest bumped forcefully into Taemin’s as he grabbed his hand with force, “Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Taemin. Don’t you dare accuse me of sleeping or loving someone else when you know damn well that I would never do that to you.”

“That’s not what happened with Krystal was it?” Deep down he knew that Krystal was a sensitive and unfair subject to bring up. After all, if it hadn’t been for her inviting Taemin to their photo-shoot he might’ve never gotten the courage to make a move on his best friend. He knew that he was mostly to blame for Kai cheating on Krystal with him before officially ending things with her. He was fully aware that if he hadn’t kissed him on that day he would still be with Krystal and maybe, at this point, married to her. But he wasn’t thinking clearly now, anger was fogging up his mind. Perhaps more than anger it was hurt. Hurt that his boyfriend of 5 years and best friend of over 10 was more affectionate with his own friends (not even best friends, just friends) rather than with him.

“I can’t… you’re seriously bringing that up?” Kai dryly laughed as he shoved Taemin away from him making him stumble on his feet. “You… I can’t believe you. You know, there isn’t an ounce of my best friend left in you. I don’t know what monster you are, I don’t know who the hell you are. You’re empty a shell of who my best friend-my boyfriend­-used to be.”

“Don’t act so innocent, K-”

“FUCK TAEMIN! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY TO MAKE YOU BELIEVE THAT I ACTUALLY LOVE YOU AND THAT I’M NOT FUCKING AROUND WITH YOU! YOUR OWN DAMN INSECURITIES ARE FUCKING ANNOYING AND I HATE THEM! I HATE THAT ABOUT YOU! YOU KNOW WHAT! I WANT YOU TO PACK UP YOUR SHIT AND LEAVE! MOVE OUT! GO MOVE IN WITH KIBUM! I’M SURE YOU TWO WOULD LOVE TO FUCK AROUND WITH EACH OTHER!”

He shook his head at the pitiful memory choking back the tears threatening to appear at any given moment. His memory moved over to the moment he and Jimin first began dating; the butterflies in his stomach, the way he would shyly hold his hand or occasionally steal a kiss from him, the shy giggles when he would compliment him. He loved all of it. However, the happy memories didn’t last for long as they were soon replaced by the reason he was standing in the park waiting to make a decision. He sighed, as the memories spilled into his mind as if someone were pouring them straight from a water bottle.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Taemin asked, already getting ready to shut the door.

“I know you told me not to come and see you in person, that you need your time and to keep this from Jimin but I cant. I had to see you.” Kai stood broken-heartedly in front of Taemin’s half-opened door taking in the beautiful sight of his now ex-boyfriend. He was far more muscular than when he last saw him, maybe he’d finally picked up dancing again or maybe he just worked out more. Kai couldn’t keep himself from finding Taemin once he reached out to him on social media and actually receiving a positive response from him. In reality, Taemin had only replied hoping that it would ease Kai and make him leave his life but he unexpectedly began reeling him in and making him fall in love all over again with every mobile or online exchange. It wasn’t until Kai asked to see him again that Taemin had realized that this wouldn’t be fair to Jimin, the man that helped him glue his heart back together. How would Jimin react if he found out the man that once had his boyfriend’s heart was looking to get back together with him and not only was he allowing the advances to continue but he also was a part of them. This was the reason he began rejecting him and declining his pleas to see each other again.

“Ta-Taemin I still love you and… and fuck I know I shouldn’t, I know you have someone in your life but I… I still love you-” Kai stepped into the apartment taking advantage of his ex’s absentminded state, “I still love you.” He repeated, “and I feel like you do too-” his hands gently cupped his face, his thumbs gently wiping away the tears occasionally slipping out, “I want you back, I need you. Taemin… I-”

“Taemin?” He didn’t have to wonder how Jimin would feel anymore. “What’s going on here?” Jimin asked, with his voice visibly cracking as his arm went up to cover his lips as he had already begun crying at the sight of his boyfriend with his ex. “What is this?!”

“Jiminnie, I swear-”

“Don’t go,” Kai whispered towards Taemin, pressing his forehead against his. Jimin angrily pulled Kai off of his boyfriend yelling at him to stop and asking him why he was here if Taemin hadn’t contacted him in ages. Kai, despite having gone there with the intention of not leaving until Taemin was his again decided that Taemin would have to officially leave Jimin before he could be in the picture again; he chose to tell Jimin to talk to his boyfriend as it appeared he wasn’t as honest as he initially thought and left without saying anything else.

“Taemin… what was he talking about? Why did he say you weren’t being honest with me?” He asked through hiccupped cries. Taemin couldn’t even meet his still boyfriend’s eyes; all he could do was hand over his phone and let Jimin see the betrayal with his own eyes. “Please, please tell me this isn’t real. Taemin I’m begging you, tell me you didn’t cheat on me.”

“No! I would never! Jimin, I love you!”

“That’s a little hard to believe right now with all of this… bullshit on your phone! I can’t do this.” He paused for what seemed like an eternity only opening his mouth to speak in a whisper. “I can’t fucking do this right now. Taemin, you need to make up your mind. Me or Kai”

That happened around a month ago.

Jimin had texted Taemin telling him they were broken up until he had the balls to make a decision, even going as far as sending his close friend Taehyung to his apartment with a box of his things that ended up in his own apartment through the years.

Taemin had decided to schedule both males at 1:30 AM in the aforementioned park a week prior. This was the only time he had contacted Kai after he made a sudden appearance in his life.

The first person to arrive was Jimin. He was noticeably upset, his face not having the usual glow it had before he hurt him. He let out a strained smile as he nodded at Taemin letting out a weak “hi”. Before anything else, Taemin made sure to let Jimin know that Kai would also be arriving soon as he wanted both of them to hear what he had to say. At 1:37 AM Kai thankfully arrived surely adding more tension to the air but at least now the conversation could finally happen. Kai didn’t ask why Jimin was also there, it wasn’t all that important to him. He knew things had ended for them, having peaked at Jimin’s relationship status on social media. Taemin’s initial shaky hands worsened as he knew that he would officially cut ties with one of the two men in his life.

“Jimin, Kai, thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I wanted you both here because I needed you to both hear what I have to say. Firstly, I want to apologize to both of you. I think I played with both of you and that’s, obviously, not ok. I’m so sorry for not having been able to make a decision.” He turned to face Jimin, gently taking his hand. “Jimin, you pieced me back together when I felt like I was irrevocably broken. You showed me how to love again and showed me what it was like to love someone openly, proudly and unforgivingly. I’m so sorry for hurting you like this.” He placed a soft kiss on his knuckles before turning to Kai and also taking his hand, “Kai, you were my best friend for many years, you accepted me when I came out and chose me over someone you thought was the love of your life. You risked it all for me and allowed me the opportunity to feel what love was like. You also didn’t deserve me hurting you the way I did. And I’m also sorry.” Like he did to Jimin, he also placed a kiss on his knuckles evading his hand when he attempted to hold his face like he did in the apartment.

The moment was here.

He slowly moved to stand in between both men only moving, his eyes glancing back and forth between them. Finally, he turned to face the man he would hurt one last time.

“Even though you showed me so much and we experienced so much together… I can’t… I don’t… love you…anymore. That night at the apartment, when I was alone without either of you… it wasn’t you who popped into my mind. It was him. All I could think about was how much he was hurting and how I hurt him. Not you. And… I’m so sorry... I'm so so sorry. I can’t apologize enough times for this… but I don’t love you anymore… and whatever it was that we had, it’s over. For good…”