#still get swept up in the momentum of things going off plan

[thebeedleboat]

I think the thing that surprised me the most about the whole shard situation is that the Hells weren't (under the assumption Fearne was taking the shard) going to be there with them? It's still a piece of a Primordial. It was doing damage to anyone who held it!

I guess the players didn't want to be seen meta-gaming after hearing the conversation between Ashton and Fearne, but if it had played out like a lot of them expected, they were justing to stay out of sight and hope the pair weren't consumed in an inferno if it failed?

It's respectable that even as seemingly surprised/frustrated the players were in the moment, they just let it play out. But didn't anyone want to see the harness work??

[shooter-nobunagun]

Falling Leaf

//split from the previous chapter

They duo nodded at each other once, before Adam hoisted himself over and down the slick ladder. The shark giant hadn’t spotted them yet—but it wouldn’t be long now, as they slowly descended. The air was damp and smelled rank, of rotting fish and entrails that were scattered all over the bottom of the well. As they drew closer, Adam saw the giant anchor being wielded by the monster fishman. Great. This was not going to be an easy fight, and given their tight quarters, even less so compared to the battle above. He tapped the huntress lightly, before silently indicating his plan to rush forward as an opening, while she waited behind for an opening. Perhaps if they were lucky, she might even be able to grab Rakuyo immediately and the two could make a break for the ladder.

Of course, nothing was ever so simple. Sio barely stepped out from behind Adam before the giant anchor swung inches from her face, and she was forced to retreat back. So close! She could see the sword right there, sunk at an off-angle from being stuck in the muck and whatever else was down here, but the shark man-beast seemed determined to thwart them. The idea that a giant, mutated monster had the gall to stop her from claiming one of the prized weapons from her homeland sent her blood boiling, and the second Adam had countered the beast’s anchor she fired a burst of shots with her blunderbuss, bringing it to its knees.

“Adam! Now!”

“Don’t need to tell me twice—”

Sio swung high overhead as Adam swept low; their combined attacks knocked the shark beast onto the ground, and Sio dashed forward—

“—Watch it!” Just before her fingers grasped the hilt she felt someone pull her back, just as a second shark giant dropped down out of nowhere. “Fuck, I should’ve known—there’s two of ‘em now!”

“Damn it!” Really, was it so much to ask for things to their way for once? Not in this place they don’t, Sio thought bitterly, now back-to-back with Adam as the two carefully sized up the situation. The first monster was weakened, but certainly not dead yet. And now a there was a second one to deal with, all in a tiny circle with barely enough room for all four of them. 

“Of course, of course th’ bastard’s got a friend,” Adam growled under his breath as he moved his Stakedriver into a defensive position. “Not gonna lie, this doesn’t look good; that first one’s still hanging on, and I’m willing t’ bet both of them can do some serious damage together...” A set of roars nearly caused the well to cave-in as the beasts charged together, one with the anchor overhead and the second simply rushing forward. Steeling himself, Adam braced himself for the inevitable impact as the Stakedriver swung forward to meet the anchor. The clash shook his footing but he remained standing—had to, for if he gave even an inch, there was no telling if he could get a second chance. While he fended off the first beast, Sio used her small size to her advantage to squeeze past him, and then dove underneath the second shark’s legs in order to get behind for a backstab.

Blood splashed onto the already-slick floor as Sio withdrew her spear, following up with a transformed trick-shot to keep the momentum going. As much as she wanted to fire away with her blunderbuss, the risk of accidentally hitting Adam was too great—so single, timed thrusts it was. Already she’d nearly tripped him, and vice versa, yet the shark monster seemed to have no trouble getting around the well. ‘Probably because they’re so big, they know they can just take a swing in any direction.’ Still, their large size was no match for her agility—as long as Adam kept the anchor shark busy, she could chain backstab after backstab, effectively staggering the beast. She risked a glance back, where Rakuyo sat like a temptress, its hilt covered in grime but she could see it was still in prime condition. In a split-second she turned tail and, despite the risk of being caught off-guard, lunged towards the sword.

“Got it...!” Fingers grasped the cold steel, as Sio grinned to herself. Finally! It was hers now, all hers and no shark or undead warrior could take it—

The huntress’ victory was cut short by a blow strong enough to knock the air out of her (and probably crack several ribs). Sio went flying into the stone walls, her breath barely audible as wheezing pants as she struggled to stand up. Dimly she heard Adam’s concerned shouts, as she tried to force her eyes open. Blood tainted her vision and made it hard to see, but she could feel the steel of Rakuyo in her grasp still, as if reassuring her. Heavy, pounding steps vibrated the floor in front of her, and as Adam yelled out a warning, Sio flipped Rakuyo around, dodged low and swung up in a high arc—just as the shark giant was about to devour her. Though her vision was still blurry with red, she knew her hit had connected—and was fatal. Warm, stinking blood rushed down the shaft and soaked her sleeves, before the weight of the corpse followed as Rakuyo pierced clean through. Sio barely wiped her face in time as the giant’s body threatened to crush her, but she managed to dodge backwards in a half-hearted roll.

“Sio! You alright?” Back against the other side of the well, Adam couldn’t exactly see what had happened—he hoped the shark was dead, but it was taking all his concentration to keep the other bastard with the anchor at bay. “Sio!” He’d seen her make a break for Rakuyo, and then the beast walloped her into the wall. Before he could reach her the other shark giant gave a furious roar and charged with its anchor at the front, forcing him to counter. “Fucking bastard...!” He shuddered as one of its webbed hands swiped his head, leaving several bloody gashes across his cheek. 

“Adam!” He looked up only to see flash of silver as a blade pierced clean through from behind, the shark giant pausing as if not quite believing what had happened. Adam took advantage of the stun and charged up his Stakedriver, firing a stake into its heart the same time Sio pulled Rakuyo back into a visceral attack. Finally the shark menace slumped to the floor, both hunters staring at each other in a bit of a daze as they caught their breaths.

She didn’t look too much worse for wear, thankfully, though the nasty gash on her head needed to be patched soon. Same could be same for me, Adam thought, gingerly touching the lines across his cheek and wincing.

He stilled as the girl gently blotted out the blood with a handkerchief, ignoring her own wounds. “Sio...” Even now her touch was soft and tender, careful not to hurt him. “Don’t worry about me; you should get your head looked at...”

“It’s fine; I already used a blood vial, this is just the residue,” she continued to wipe up the blood, until it was as clean as she could get. “Adam, I-I...I’m glad you’re not hurt. And even though I know it was a huge risk...we did it,” she declared, holding up the bloody Rakuyo in triumph. “And it’s just like I’ve read—it doesn’t require blood, it just demands high dexterity.”

Adam nodded. He’d seen just how effective she was the second she got ahold of the the weapon, and that was before any training or upgrades as well. “Yeh, I saw; I’ll admit, I’ve no doubt you’ll be able to master it even more than the Rifle Spear. That being said,” his eyes narrowed, “that was one hell of a risk t’ take. You could’ve been badly hurt—or worse...” 

All her enthusiasm from the victory seemed to drain as her face sagged a little, though Sio knew Adam was right. “...Yeah, I know. And I’m sorry I gave you such a fright...but, I meant it when I said that I know this will help us. More than I already am. You may be concerned about me, but so am I; I worry about you too, Adam. The way you always put yourself in harm’s way...” Those maroons furrowed downward as Sio resisted her tears. “I, I know it was extremely dangerous...but if you want me to believe until the morning arrives, then please, trust me...”

“I—” Damn those eyes; that look was enough to melt any and all reservations he had earlier about her intentions. “...I do trust you, Sio. It’s just...let’s both just agree to try and avoid any more risk than absolutely necessary, yeh?” Once again, with just a single look he found himself unable to voice his doubts. Adam wondered briefly if he was under some kind of weird enchantment or spell that caused his mind to fog over whenever they had a moment like this: caught between tension and vulnerability, being so close after a physically exhausting fight—

“Oy, what are you...” Since when did the huntress get so close? This was not like when she was cleaning his wound earlier, no; certainly her eyes then hadn’t been so dark and hazy, those lips drawing closer against his own until he could feel her breath. “Sio, what—”

“—Shh, please, just let it happen...” Adam found himself pushed back against the stone wall as the girl leaned in, then closed the distance and he found himself kissing her back. Slowly at first, then with a kind of fervor that was usually reserved for the bedroom, not at the bottom of a dank, dark well. Her lips were soft, a tongue eagerly running against his and he could taste a tinge of metallic blood—whether it was his or hers, he didn’t know—her fingers warm and delicate as they brushed against his neck. It took a few second before he realized her hands were close to undoing his belt, which shook him out of his reverie.

“H-Hey there, now hold on a second,” Adam forced himself to break the kiss and wrenched her hands back up. “What the hell d’ya think yer doin’?! In a place and time like this?!” He hissed, cheeks flushed from embarrassment. “Sio! Get a hold of yourself!”

“Adam, please,” her lips trembled as she whined low, which certainly sent a shiver down his spine. “Just a little bit...”

A little bit? What the hell did that even mean? How could you only do it a ‘little’? Before he could answer Sio’s hands were at his waist again, but this time Adam firmly grasped her wrists together. 

“Sio Ogura! What’s going on? We need to get back up before Hunter an’ Tell think we’re dead!”

"I know! But I...I’m...” Biting her lips, the huntress looked as if she were debating herself; then to his relief, she pulled her hands back. “...I’m sorry; you’re right, Adam. It was...wrong of me to do that...I’m sorry.” Without another word she tucked then newly acquired Rakuyo into her pack, then began climbing back up the ladder. Adam remained a bit stunned at the sudden whiplash of her behavior, before following her back up.

It happened again... This strange, almost split-personality trait she still exhibited. But wasn’t that supposed to be cured now, with the blood transfusion? Or maybe this was something else entirely—a hidden side of her that had nothing to do with the blood sickness or even the Frenzy. His anxieties came back with a vengeance, Adam now once again see-sawing between just what Sio’s true feelings and intentions towards him were.

“Och, ye made it—again,” They were greeted with an exasperated but relieved surgeon, who helped pull them out. “I s’pose I shouldnae put anything past ye two at this point—and I see ye got what ye came fer, eh lass?”

“Yeah, I did get Rakuyo...but I couldn’t have done without Adam. So, thank you...” Still, as she said this Adam noticed the huntress was turning away from him. “A-And, thank you Hunter, Tell...for, trusting me and keeping watch up here.”

“Well, you succeeded in the end, so that’s all that matters,” said Tell in that even tone of his, while he eyed the relic. “So that’s Rakuyo; I suppose it is the original version, and not the blood-imbued one that Lady Florence wielded?”

Sio nodded. “Yes, I was able to test it out down there—it really is one of the best weapons for a dexterity fighter, so I’ll be sure to do my best.” The huntress bowed low.

Off to the side, Adam stood quietly as he watched the girl chat with the other two men. She seemed normal enough; but again, what was with the sudden and strong come-on? And after a battle, to boot, he thought warily. Was there something about the high of a life-and-death fight that made her mind more susceptible, and allowed her true nature to come through—which gave him more pause than her ambiguous intentions—or was there something else driving her odd behaviors? Something, like say, fear of a surrogate pregnancy...

“Yur awfully quiet,” Adam didn’t even flinch when Hunter came over to him, as they prepared to press onwards. “Dinnae like the lassie throwin’ herself into danger again, ‘ey?”

“...No, but when has she ever listened to me,” Adam replied blithely, deciding to keep this second incident to himself for now. “Anyway, like Tell said we did manage to get it, and she proved its worth the moment she grabbed it.” Even though this could be more ‘proof’ that she could have ulterior motives, a part of him wanted to believe Hunter and Tell.

Would it make a difference if she wanted to be with you both because she loved you, but also because she wishes to avoid birthing a surrogate?

Adam grit his teeth as Tell’s question came back. Did it really matter? He didn’t know; he didn’t want it to be, but if she was more interested in just a warm body...

‘Don’t. You can’t keep making assumptions like that.’ 

Sio looked back at him with a curious, almost guilty expression, but he turned away. Not now; not until he figured out what he really wanted, could he confront her with an answer. --------- The stink of rotting fish guts did not help the churning in her stomach, especially after her loss of control after gaining Rakuyo. ‘Stupid...you’re so stupid Sio, giving into your fears like that...! Now he’s definitely going to avoid you even more...’ Even now the huntress still wasn’t sure what possessed her to come onto him like that. Maybe I am possessed, she thought sarcastically as group moved up the hill along the worn path, keeping a close eye on the abandoned buildings. The adrenaline in her veins, twisting and confusing her senses between fear of a surrogate and her lustful desires towards Adam; Sio grit her teeth and vowed to not let temporary feelings contaminate her mind.

She loved Adam; that much she was sure of, despite everything. Her own erratic behaviors were just as distressing to her as they clearly were to him; yet, as Sio mulled over her memories, she also remembered a feeling of longing, that perhaps a moment of indulgence wouldn’t be so bad—and what if she really were at risk of being impregnated, if so then wasn’t it imperative that she do all she could right away to prevent that—

“—Sio! On your left!” Her head jerked up just in time to see the javelin fly by, not quite missing her as it drew a thin red line across her nose. Cursing, the huntress immediately ducked and spun around, firing her blunderbuss just as the mutated fisherman came charging forward. The creature stumbled and fell, and before it could even get back up Rakuyo’s sharp edge decapitated him. Blood splattered as it landed with a dull ‘thud’, soon joined by other bits and pieces of body parts as Sio whirled Rakuyo with an uncanny ability. Even though she’d only picked it up a a few moments ago it already felt as if she’d trained with it forever. 

“Whoa...and it’s not even fully upgraded yet,” she muttered, a bit in awe at how much damage she could do now. Not that the Rifle Spear had been lacking; it’d gotten her through all kinds of trials and horrors up until now, and she vowed to keep it in storage as a backup. Perhaps there would be situations that would require its specific abilities, and in any case, it would be a waste to simply toss it after all the resources she’d spent on honing it. She was just about to congratulate herself on clearing the fishermen out on her own, when a familiar, dreaded roar shook the air.

Sio cursed under her breath as she spun around. “Oh no...it’s another one of those!” Another giant shark beast was charging through the waters towards them, also armed with a rusty anchor. This time they were prepared however—Adam and Tell rushed forward to meet the beast as Hunter hung back, partly out of fear but nonetheless he backed them up with his pistol. A sharp metallic clang rang in her ears as Adam’s Stakedriver parried its anchor, while Tell followed up from behind with a swing of his Bowblade in its original bladed form. Thick, slimy blood oozed all over the place as the beast staggered backwards, still roaring in fury. While it was staggered, Sio dashed up with Rakuyo now transformed into dual blades; with one weapon in each hand, she spun in place, using the blades to slice the monster into several pieces. 

“Holy...” Hunter let out a low whistle as they regrouped, Sio panting from exertion as she attempted to wipe off the gore as best she could. “Well lass, consider me convinced. Tha’ attack you just pulled off, ‘s definitely one-of-a-kind.” 

“I’ll say; almost looked like you were dancin’, or somethin’,” Adam said, and Sio blushed slightly from both mens’ words. “You sure you’ve never trained with this type of weapon before, back in your village?”

“N-No, honestly I’ve only ever read about it...” Though she was used to learning quickly by now, even the huntress was surprised at how well she’d adapted to her new weapon. Was it something innate that caused her to pick it up so quickly? The joy she’d felt at having mastered something was replaced with a rising fear that it could be tied to her other strange behaviors, and she took a deep breath to steady herself. ‘Don’t go there Sio, you don’t know that for certain. Now’s not the time to be worrying yourself into a mess, anyway.’

Up ahead was a dilapidated lighthouse, and though they had no map or even the barest idea of what awaited them, all members of the group seemed to feel the same. There wasn’t even a need for discussion; instead they set out for the building, as if guided by some unknown force. Sio held her breath as Tell pushed the door open, but let out a sigh of relief as she saw the familiar lamp. “Whew...maybe we can take a quick rest here.” They all sat down in varying states of relaxation; Adam and Tell set about on weapon maintenance, while Hunter checked their supplies and used the opportunity to take a closer look at some of the more serious injuries. The huntress herself was busy with embedding blood gems into her new weapon, when all the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Even though there was no sound and nothing in her sights to indicate danger, instinct told her to turn around.

She almost wished she hadn’t. A wide, leering grin stared back at her, those eyes dark as coal as the assassin Mahesh Mirza stood no more than a few feet away. There wasn’t even time to fathom how he’d gotten so close without any of them noticing—or how he’d even gotten here at all. Sio immediately leapt to her feet with Rakuyo at the ready, startling the other men until they too noticed the intruder.

“You!” Adam didn’t even bother with a response before he swung the Stakedriver forward; the assassin seemed to vanish in an instant however, and the stake hit only air. “What th—” A split-second later his body exploded with pain as the Bloodletter smashed into his side, its spikes thrusting clean through. He heard Sio scream his name, but the shock was so intense he could barely breathe, let alone respond. Another swipe came towards him, but Adam managed to pull the Stakedriver up in time to block the fatal blow, but not before it nicked him across his chest.

“Adam! Damn you, Mirza!” She should’ve known he wouldn’t keep his word; the man had already proved to be a scheming, wily liar on more than one occasion, so why did she think he would actually leave her alone as she went about this ‘test’ or whatever the hell this place was? Adam was right; there would be no more second chances, not if she could help it. In a fit of rage she leapt up, both blades pulled into diagonal slashes as she broke through the Bloodletter’s guard and forced the assassin to the ground. “Die!” Blood splattered her clothes as she fought with a fury unlike anything she’d ever experienced: rage at her own naivete, the carelessness that now put those she cared about in danger—but most of all, Sio had just about had enough of this nightmare. Even the spikes shooting out couldn’t deter her, the huntress letting them pierce her on purpose as she closed the gap and transformed Rakuyo back into a single weapon. As Hunter managed to temporarily stun Mahesh with a backstab, Sio dashed and thrust Rakuyo forward at the same time, sinking the blade clean through the assassin’s torso. 

“Die, you son of a bitch.”

Still, even as his body sank to the ground from the fatal blow, there were no words or taunts; only the same, psychotic grin, and a bone-chilling laugh as the body collapsed, then dissolved into dust. Sio grimaced as she stared at the empty spot where the Church assassin had just been. It didn’t feel right; how he’d just appeared out of nowhere, and not uttering a single word. Given how chatty the assassin was whenever they met, it felt unsettling that he’d simply vanish like that. 

That mystery was for later, however. Sio pushed those worries to the back of her mind as she rushed over to Adam, who was already being tended to by Hunter and several blood vials. “Adam!” One look at his wounds, however—blood pouring from several deep holes where the morning star had pierced through and his entire left side stained a deep crimson—and she burst into tears, much to the bewilderment of the men.

“O-Oy, come now lass, I promise it isnae that bad; it looks worse than it is, trust me ye?” The surgeon tried to comfort the huntress, but it did little to stem her sobs. “Och, there there...”

“O-Oh, I, I’m...I’m sorry, Adam...everyone...” Still hiccuping, Sio tried to regain a sense of control, but that failed as she continued to cry. She felt Tell pat her back in a comforting manner, reassuring her that Adam would be alright with Hunter’s skills and nobody else was seriously injured, but none of the words seemed to register in her mind. How could she have been so stupid? Even before they learned the truth about Mirza she’d been suspicious; why did it always take a near-death crisis before she finally grasped the truth?

Another hand reached out, this time brushing her tears away and she finally looked up, Adam’s piercing green eyes staring back at her with a concerned gaze. “Oy, Sio, I’m alright. Don’t you go getting yourself worked up over somethin’ like this...you know it’ll take more than that bastard to bring me down.”

“I-I...I know...b-b-but it’s just...I’m sorry...I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you the first time, back when we were at the Orphanage; y-you, you were right, Adam. We should’ve just dealt with him right there and then...b-but I, I...” She choked back another wave of tears as Adam gently stroked her hair. “It’s all my fault you’re injured like this...and I put everyone else in unnecessary danger, too; getting us trapped here in this Nightmare...”

“Oh Sio; there’s no use in beating yourself up.” He let out a half-sigh before it morphed into a grunt of pain. “Yeh, I’m not gonna lie, that hurt like hell; but trust me, it’s not your fault,” he emphasized as he gripped her shoulder. “There’s no way we could’ve predicted any of this, even from back then. An’ remember, I was the one who ultimately let him tag along back in the woods. We could’ve just abandoned him to his devices—but well, sometimes we make mistakes. What’s important is that we didn’t let it get the better of us.”

He rubbed her shoulder soothingly, which seemed to help. Her sobs quieted down to a few hiccups here and there now, as she wiped up the remaining tears with a handkerchief. “Th, thank you, Adam...I can always count on you...”

“...I’m glad to hear that.” Despite everything, his own inner turmoil and all the bullshit they’d slogged through so far, hearing her gratitude made Adam forget about all that. Those feelings had to be real...because if he couldn’t believe in them, then what was the point in continuing on? “Anyway, I already vowed to cut that bastard’s head off the next time he showed his face—and it seems we’re now all on the same page about that.”

The archer cleared his throat, and all eyes turned towards Tell. “About that; as much as I hate to be a pessimist, I suspect that’s not the last we’ve seen of that man.” He nodded towards the bloody remains of Mahesh’s arm bands. 

Sio felt a chill go down her spine as Tell also confirmed her fears. “Yeah...I don’t know about you, but that fight didn’t feel...right. For one thing, how did he sneak up on us without anyone noticing? And also, he never said a single word; yet each time we’ve encountered him, he’s always taunting me.”

“Ye think it wasnae him, then? What else could it be, an illusion o’ sorts?” asked Hunter. “I ken this place doesnae follow the usual rules, but that mace felt real enough to me.”

“No, I think he...or whatever it was, was real. But maybe it wasn’t the actual Mirza; not an illusion, but some kind of projection or double,” Sio murmured, as she replayed the battle in her head. “I don’t know what he’s trying to get at, but Adam’s right; next time he appears, or one of his doppelgängers—or whatever—I won’t hesitate.” Her maroons glowed with a fierce gleam as she gripped Rakuyo’s hilt. “I’m done being his fool.”

“Let’s get a move on then; I don’t know if he’s gonna come back or what, but staying here is no safer than pressing forward.” Adam took a deep breath, before slowly pushing himself up—he glanced in surprise as the huntress wound an arm over her shoulders to support him. “Sio?”

“Are you going to be okay? Those wounds...maybe we should rest a bit more,” her maroons now furrowed with worry as she gently traced a finger along the bandages; Adam couldn’t help but twitch slightly. The blood vials and Hunter’s handiwork had patched up the worst of it, but there was no denying that he’d taken a fair amount of damage during that fight. “It still hurts, doesn’t it?”

“...I’ll be fine. But,” and this time he gently wound her fingers with his, “I appreciate your concern, Sio.”

Slowly the group descended the steps down through the lighthouse, Tell volunteering to take point while Sio helped Adam along, and Hunter brought up the rear. A winding path awaited them, and as they followed it deeper through the hamlet, Sio couldn’t help but jump at the slightest movement or noise. She half-expected to get ambushed again by Mirza, but the only thing that stood in their path were more fishermen, and then...

“Wh, what are they? Snails? No, they look human...ish.” Sio felt the familiar tingle in her head, and for a second she feared the Frenzy. “A-Are these Kin?”

Adam grew alarmed as the huntress shrank back, clutching her head. “Sio! Do you need a sedative?” 

“N, No...I think I’m alright, actually,” Sio let a shaky breath, her eyes wide but so far she didn’t seem to be losing control. “I think they’re related, but the feeling isn’t that strong; it’s just a little bit...” The cave before them was filled with these creatures, half-women and half-mollusk. Some had shells, while others simply writhed about on a slug-like body, but all seemed to prostrate towards something greater. Their heads were bowed and hands locked in prayer almost, as the group gingerly picked their way through this bizarre minefield. Though she was sure the creatures were human at one point, Sio found herself searching her memory for another one that looked very much like these forms...

As much as he didn’t like it, Adam had no choice but to trust the huntress’ words. “...Very well, if you say so. But the second something doesn’t feel right, you let us know, yeh?” 

‘Kosm... The Great One, I saw her in my dream; she washed up on the shore, and her body looked a lot like...these. Because the villagers, they were influenced by her power—so using the power of Insight, they became more like her, they were turning into a Great One...’

A hand clapped her shoulder and she looked up into Adam’s concerned glance. “Sio? You good?”

“Y, Yeah...sorry, but I was just thinking about m-my...dream,” she gulped, and the hand gripped a little tighter, “these snail women, they remind me of that Great One, K...Kos...and these are the villagers that, that...!”

“The outcome of when Kos washed up on the shore, and blessed the villagers...these are the remnants that survived the Church’s genocide.” said Tell. “It makes sense they would be similar to Kin...but, seeing as how you’re not having much of a reaction, perhaps they were not successful transcendences.”

Even though her head was still clear, Sio knew she had to be on guard as they made there way through the cave. The snail women did not seem all that interested in attacking the group outright, though if they were unfortunate enough to stray too close, or make themself seem like a threat, they certainly reacted. The huntress dodged to the side as one of the half-maidens sprang towards them on her slug-like body, shrieking an unearthly wail before Adam’s Stakedriver brought it into the ground. With each step Sio felt the hairs on the back of her neck get stiffer, even though there was nothing out of the ordinary—so far, anyway. 

Ahead of the last maidens, a faint glow pierced through a foggy veil into the cavern’s gloom. “This has to be the place,” Sio murmured under her breath, and the rest of the men readied their weapons. “Whatever’s dreaming this Nightmare, it’s beyond this point...I can feel it.”

“And that’s why you’ve been able to make it this far.” A sinister chuckle breathed right into her ear, and Sio spun around with Rakuyo at the ready. “Oh, my dear huntress Miss Ogura; you really are more than you seem, aren’t you?” The Bloodletter pulsed to life as the assassin dropped down from seemingly out of nowhere. “Your drive to find the truth is one thing, but to actually accomplish it...I admit it does seem like a shame to have to end this game so soon, but alas, duty calls.”

The bile rose in the huntress’ throat as she willed herself to remain calm. At this point it didn’t matter what was said or promised—nothing mattered except defeating the liar who stood before her. “Mirza; I swore I’d no longer be your toy, and I aim to make good on that promise.” 

The assassin threw back his head and laughed. “I can tell you’re serious! You finally stopped hesitating when you met my other self earlier...” A small chime rang from a Resonant Bell that Mirza held in his right hand, but its tone was ominous.

“A Sinister Resonant Bell...! That’s how he invaded us out of nowhere!” Adam cursed under his breath as he pushed Sio protectively behind him. This was no body double—and if Adam had it his way, soon there wouldn’t be anything left of the Church assassin at all.

“Ah, and the White Knight appears; tell me Muirhead, is the girl truly that important to you? Moreso than this hunt you vowed to end?”

“Shut up,” he growled, priming the Stakedriver. “I don’t give a fuck what you say or do at this point; just know that your head is mine.”

Mahesh Mirza’s eyes narrowed into dark slits while his mouth split into a grin that almost sliced his face in half. 

“Do you hear this? Fear the bell's toll. For only death awaits prying eyes, and the Church assassins are never far behind.”

A single, silver chime echoed throughout the gloom as both men rushed towards each other.

[dudeandduchess]

Yakuza!Kyōjurō x F!S/O: Sugar and Spice (Mafia!AU, Modern AU, NSFW Series)[Chapter 8]

Summary: Kyōjurō and (Y/n) meet at a party, only to find out that their lives would change forever— since they had been arranged to be married.

Note: I have nothing against McDonald’s; I love some of their things (Nuggets!!!). It’s just that the contrast between what (Y/n)’s mother had always had, compared to something so normal makes me laugh.

Warnings: Smut, Making Out, Candy Swapping, Semi-Public Sex (Private Beach), Teasing, Champagne Blowjob, Cum Swallowing

||Sugar and Spice Masterlist||

***

It had been a couple of days since the pleasurable incident at the Rengoku clan’s mountain home and, for the life of her, (Y/n) couldn’t get it out of her head. Especially at night, when she begun fantasizing about having Kyōjurō’s hands all over her again, with his chest pressed flush against her back.

She would never admit it, but she was addicted— after only the barest taste of him.

And she would have devised a plan to wring the same pleasure from him again, had he not called her the following morning to say that something had come up in Osaka. That would have been find, if it only took a day to fix it. But, apparently, it was going to take a few days.

(Y/n) had tried not to let her disappointment show in her tone, but Kyōjurō must have picked up on it, since she had gotten the most beautiful bouquet of pink and white hydrangeas— as well as one of Kyōjurō’s button down shirts— a mere hour after they had said goodbye to each other.

The card had even held the sweetest inscription she had ever received, which she quickly used to cover her face— as she raced back up the stairs to get back to the privacy of her room.

At that present moment, with her already done getting herself ready for the day, she took a brief moment for herself and sat down on the edge of her bed; taking the card where she had left it on top of her nightstand, and biting back a smile as she read her fiancé’s writing.

‘You are much like hydrangeas; Beautiful, but selfish with your love. I hope that I can take a piece of your heart while I’m gone, And I hope that someday I’ll have your love, (Y/n).

P.S. I’m giving you my shirt, so that it will keep a little bit of me with you.

Forever Yours, Kyōjurō’

(Y/n) couldn’t help but bite down on her lower lip, if only to bite back the giggle that threatened to spill from her lips. She had been reading the card frequently, yet it still managed to elicit the same reaction from her; as if she were a lovesick teenager.

It was very unbecoming for her; especially over someone whom she was still getting to know.

Kyōjurō was going to become her husband, that was a fact, but there was a tiny voice in her head that always warned her to not get too close. Thankfully, it had been small enough to bury beneath all of her foremost thoughts; yet when she was alone— like at that moment— it gained enough momentum to make itself known.

And the smile on her face, which brightened up her features, turned down into a barely perceptible frown. It was dangerous for her to fall so easily for a man; especially a man that she knew was still keeping his cards close to his chest.

She knew that; after all, she wasn’t that far gone in her blossoming feelings for him.

It would have been so easy to keep herself in check, to guard her heart and keep herself sane… if only he didn’t make her feel like throwing all caution to the wind so she could jump and fall right into his arms.

Just like he had told her that she made him happy, Kyōjurō made her feel the same; along with feeling protected and appreciated.

Before (Y/n) could delve in deeper into her own thoughts however, she quickly shook herself from her reverie and placed the card back down on her nightstand. Then, she got up from her bed and straightened herself out; after all, Rin hadn’t been coming to her room to pester her about attending events in her parents’ stead.

Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t been tasked to attend any political functions ever since Kyōjurō had warned her mother to lessen her tasks. It gave her enough time to actually relax during her break, and it felt amazing.

She had to remember to give Kyōjurō a kiss once he returned. And if she were to be honest, she would say that she missed him.

“You’re too invested, (Y/n),” The young woman muttered to herself with a playful scoff, before shaking her head and making her way down to the dining room. It was time for breakfast, after all; her most dreaded part of the day, since she had to sit there and take all of her mother’s ill-concealed jabs.

Her tasks may have lessened, but her family life sure hasn’t improved.

With all her apprehension about going to see her mother, (Y/n) even dawdled a little bit during the walk downstairs; purposely taking her time to admire some of the paintings that caught her interest, until she arrived at the doorway she was trying to avoid the most.

And with a deep breath, she stepped through and expected her mother’s mildly displeased expression to greet her. Only, the first face that she saw had her immediately brightening up; especially when those lips that she missed tilted up at the corners to give her a handsome grin.

“Kyōjurō!” (Y/n) breathed out, just as a wide smile colored her expression. And before she could help it, she already found herself practically skipping over to where he now stood— only to freeze when she saw her mother’s narrow-eyed gaze boring right into her.

Immediately, the arms that wanted to wrap themselves around her lover froze at her sides; while Kyōjurō engulfed her in a tight embrace, before pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. “Did you miss me, princess?”

“I… I did.” She admitted, her smile almost faltering once, as she felt her mother’s glare boring right into her back. However, she was shielded by Kyōjurō’s face, so she allowed herself a little bit of rebellion and leaned in to peck his lips— all while her hands lifted themselves up and settled themselves at his sides in a pseudo hug.

As her mother had kept repeating to her while she was growing up: it was unbecoming of someone of her social status to show too much emotion to anyone, as it gave people a leverage over her. And it was obvious that it had stuck to her, since she could only act normally whenever she wasn’t around any people who gave a damn about who she was.

Thankfully, she was shaken from her reverie by Kyōjurō guiding her to sit down on the empty chair next to where he sat. “Go and eat, baby. You need your strength for today.”

Kyōjurō’s words were innocent enough, but they didn’t fail to make goosebumps raise across her skin. They were so laden with hidden meaning, at least in her mind, that she couldn’t shake the warmth that pooled at the pit of her stomach.

With those words hanging in the air, she turned her full attention to the food set out on the table— holding back a surprised expression when she saw that it was laden with carry-out boxes from McDonald’s. A laugh wanted to bubble free from the sight of the lavish table paired off with something so… common, yet (Y/n) could only purse her lips together as she grabbed the laid-out silverware to serve herself a pancake.

Breakfasts used to be such a droll agenda whenever she was at home, but Kyōjurō had managed to spin such a humorous twist on it that made her want to kiss him.

The best part? Rengoku Kyōjurō had practically forced her mother— the wife of the Prime Minister, and the prissiest woman to ever live— to eat an Egg McMuffin.

(Y/n) would never forget the undernoted look of disgust that she kept shooting the blond at her side; the very man whom, she was naught to admit, was starting to become such an essential part of her life.

“How’s your McMuffin… okaa-sama?” Kyōjurō asked quietly, looking so regal even with a paper cup of coffee in his right hand. And (Y/n) could only get swept into him even more, when he turned to her and gave her the most attractive wink; one that had her heart practically skipping in her chest.

***

When (Y/n) had heard that she should keep her strength up for the day, she had expected so much more than just going to the beach— which Kyōjurō’s family apparently bought a few years ago— and being told that her fiancé only wanted to relax.

If she were to be honest, she would say that she expected to get railed so hard on the blanket. After all, it was why she had worn the sundress that she was sure accented all of her curves; one that would entice Kyōjurō into doing just what she wanted him to.

There wasn’t anything wrong with hoping to get fucked by such a sexy man, but it had been a few days, and she was sure that he was trying to put on a show just to tease her. That was the problem: he wasn’t giving in to her.

He merely laid down next to her on their blanket— in all his shirtless glory— while he kept eating that goddamned hard candy that was in the glass bowl next to him. And to make things worse for her, he looked so attractive— especially with his abs out on display, and his sunglasses framing his face so perfectly.

She would have long straddled his hips and slipped his cock inside her, had she been that shameless of a woman.

It wasn’t much of a statement coming from her, based on how they had first met, but it was different because they were out in the open; where anyone could happen by and take pictures of them humping like rabbits on the beach.

That wasn’t a headline that she wanted the entirety of Japan to see, even if she knew that the property was as secluded and secure as it could be.

Still, Kyōjurō was making it so hard to resist him. And he knew just how badly he was affecting her.

“Do you want to eat something, baby? Maybe a drink?” Kyōjurō asked softly, raising his sunglasses to the top of his head while he turned to look at (Y/n)— whom was no longer scrolling through her phone, and was blatantly ogling his body.

He would be lying if he said that he didn’t like that, or if he said that that wasn’t turning him on.

In fact, he had wanted to push her down on the table at her house, had her mother not been there to keep giving him ill-concealed glares. But he had to keep it in his pants, since he wanted to see how she would react with a little bit of pushing from him.

After all, he could make her so needy for him that it would make for the hottest nights of their life; especially if he kept on teasing her bit by bit until their wedding night.

It was too little too late, after he had already had a taste of her tight pussy, but it only made things much more exciting for him. If only he wasn’t constantly close to asking her to fuck him.

“A glass of champagne would be nice…” (Y/n) answered softly, the flush on her face getting more evident in the shade, especially when her eyes flickered up to meet his own. They were so intense with need that Kyōjurō couldn’t help it…

He cupped her face with one hand and pulled her in to his face, as he sat upright to meet her halfway.

The first touch of his lips to hers had his entire body tingling with warmth, as if it was coming alive under her touch. And it was only made better when their slow and tentative kisses slowly escalated to open-mouthed ones; ones that had him feeling himself getting hard.

Especially when she reached down and cupped her hand over his hardening cock.

A smirk tugged at the corners of Kyōjurō’s lips then, as he got it in his mind to push the piece of candy in his mouth into hers.

(Y/n) was clearly surprised at first, tensing up the tiniest bit, before getting swept up in her fiancé’s pace. His tongue kept prodding at hers, trying to pull the candy back into his own mouth, which she complied to.

Gingerly, she allowed him to take the sweet from her mouth, instantly missing its sweetness, before it was gently pushed right back in— so warm and a little minty, with a hint of something that was uniquely Kyōjurō.

Or maybe that was her lust addled mind talking.

However, before things could escalate further, the blond pulled away with a grin— his candy back in his mouth. “I’ll be back with your champagne, princess.”

To say that she was shocked and feeling cross with him was a total understatement. She was feeling so irate that she wanted to get some sort of revenge on him— which had been fueled by her less-than-innocent searches while he was gone.

So, she stewed in her own impatience— even sitting up on her knees— just so she could take him by surprise when he came back.

Thankfully, Kyōjurō didn’t take too long with getting her drink; grinning right at her even if she could see the obvious bulge in his swim trunks. It provided the perfect opportunity for her to get back at him, at least even a little.

And when he got back on their blanket, giving her the glass of champagne before making a move to sit back down, (Y/n) got up on her knees and placed a hand on his right thigh— looking up at him and licking her lips, before sliding that hand up to cup his hard-on once more.

“You look uncomfortable,” The young woman whispered, as she slowly undid the tie to her fiancé’s shorts and gently pushed them down his hips; much like how she pushed her own trepidations aside, and threw all caution to the wind.

She was on private property. And she trusted, deep down, that Kyōjurō would protect her and her reputation if it came down to it.

So, she let go of her inhibitions— especially when she was greeted by her fiancé’s hard cock in front of her face. It was thick, and long, and a little bit curved— which had her pussy getting so wet already.

Remembering how amazing he felt inside her even had her squeezing her thighs together, if only to alleviate the lust that she felt bubbling within her.

Gingerly, she took his cock in her right hand, pumping it slowly, and using her thumb to spread the precum that beaded at his tip. A low groan was her reward for that, which only spurred her on even more— especially when she saw his eyes close in pleasure.

Just the faintest of touches and he was already like that. She couldn’t wait to see what his reaction was going to be when she set her plans into action.

And when she leaned forward to suck on the tip of his cock, she felt confidence flaring up within her when Kyōjurō moaned aloud— with his right hand making its way into her hair.

It was hot, but she was not going to get swept up in his pace again.

So, before he could try to give her a nudge to take more of him in her mouth, (Y/n) pulled the head of his cock out of her mouth and took a big sip from the champagne flute in her left hand. And with that, she set the drink down on the blanket— hoping that it wouldn’t topple over.

She kept the cool and bubbly drink in her mouth— looking up again at Kyōjurō, whom was watching her with such a lust-filled gaze— before taking his cock in her mouth once more.

That time, however, Kyōjurō actually cried out in pleasure; hips bucking involuntarily as he felt the champagne’s bubbles teasing his cock. Partnered with the coolness of the drink, and the warmth of (Y/n)’s mouth, the blond was on his slow descent to thinking that he was going crazy with pleasure.

His head was already spinning from the sensations, and she had barely even taking his cock.

But when she swallowed around his tip, before circling her cool tongue around the crown of his cock, he felt his fingers curling into her hair. Hell, he had barely even managed to look up at the security camera perched on a light pole, as a warning for whoever was watching to turn away at that moment.

Slowly, pleasurably, (Y/n) kept taking more and more of Kyōjurō’s cock in her mouth— until she was all the way down to the hilt, with her nose pressed against his trimmed pubes.

And he thought that it couldn’t get any better than that, until she took the hand that was on his thigh to cup his balls and start fondling them.

His eyes almost rolled back into his head at that moment, as he threw his head back and lost himself to the heady feeling of her sucking him off; trying to bring him to the most intense orgasm that he was ever going to get from a blowjob.

Instead of trying to prolong his pleasure though, Kyōjurō began to gently rock his hips into (Y/n)’s face; breathing heavily and moaning aloud as he felt his orgasm crawling up on him.

“I’m cumming,” The blond whispered breathlessly, close to outright fucking his fiancée’s face, when she pulled his cock out of her mouth— leaving just the tip inside— before jerking her off with one hand.

All while the other one kept fondling his balls.

It was so heady that Kyōjurō could only cry out “Fuck, baby! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” as he spurted thick ropes of cum right on her tongue. She was white hot pleasure personified, and he was sure of it at that very moment.

Maybe he really couldn’t wait until the wedding night to have her again.

Especially when she made a show of popping her cock out of her mouth, and sticking her tongue out to show him his cum— before closing her lips and swallowing his thick seed.

“How did I get so lucky, princess?”

[narrans]

Moving through Life | pt. 1

It was Shay’s first time out, and she couldn’t wait. She had glimpsed the human world from behind the walls for so many years and now she was finally going on her first borrowing trip. All of that practice of climbing lines and disguise, sprints and lifts, were finally going to pay off. After all, she could hardly call herself a Borrower if she didn’t borrow anything.

Shay’s three older brothers, however, were slightly less enthusiastic at bringing Shay along. They noticed some things changing in the human house they lived in, which made borrowing easy and unnerving at the same time. Things were the same and yet they weren’t. For one, there were boxes everywhere. Drawers were empty. Essentials were scattered all along the floor.

It didn’t feel right.

Still, the thought of easy borrowing was too good to pass up and so their parents just warned them to be careful. Borrowing was a bit of a sore spot for their father, who had been injured some time ago because of a fall. Traditionally, it was their parents who took them out on their first borrowing trip; however, the injury was severe. Still, they thought it would be alright. After all, what could go wrong with all three brothers keeping an eye on their young and only sister.

So, they set out into the labyrinth of walls. The whole way, each brother drilled Shay on the safety measures in place. What to do if she heard something. What to do if she thought she was seen. Where best to hide. Most importantly, the rules of a Borrower.

Don’t be seen.

Don’t speak with the humans.

Don’t get caught.

Move if any of these things happened.

Shay’s nerves could not be more charged with excitement as they reached the trim corner door. Her oldest brother, Beau, listened first before calling Shay up to him. Her heart pounded in her chest, creating a slight hum in her ears. The pre-teen Borrower had to take several calming breaths before checking for sounds in the room.

“Hear anything?” asked Slate, the second oldest. Shay focused her energy on listening and heard nothing other than the air kicking on.

“No,” Shay responded firmly, wanting to sounds confident to her doubting brothers.

“You sure?” prompted Icon, the youngest of her brothers. Shay shot all three of them a look.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she affirmed. Beau smiled and nodded.

“Alright, then let’s get going. Stay close to me.” Beau cracked open their secret doorway and stepped out, Shay close on his side. They abandoned the safety of the walls, relying on the dresser they exited under for cover. Shay stared at the woodgrain and the legs of the low set dresser. It was immense as were the floor and bed and shelf set. Her brothers were right – everything in the human world was huge. She had seen it before, but that was at a distance. Being next to it was different altogether.

Another thing her brothers were right about – something didn’t seem completely right about the way the room looked.

Rooms usually had furniture and swept floors or carpet. This room was filled with boxes which covered the floor. Clothes were scattered on the furniture and hanging out of these boxes. There were large strips of plastic with trapped bubbles in them and, more pressing, were a few smaller boxes of snacks and food items.

The Borrower siblings listened and, sensing nothing, set their plan into action. Slate went first, darting across the floor and keeping to the shadows of the boxes, until he reached the base of the box. He propped himself against the cardboard like he was sitting in an imaginary chair as Icon began followed his lead and darted from shadow to shadow. When he reached his brother, he placed one foot onto Slate’s knee and one onto his shoulder. They used Icon’s momentum and Slate stood just at the right moment to vault Icon to the edge of the box. Within a moment, Icon was perched up on the edge of the box ready to reach down or use his line.

Beau motioned to Shay to go next, and suddenly her heart leapt into her throat. No. I prepped for this. I trained for this. Let’s do this! Shay checked left and right before darting across the floor from one box to the next just as two of her older brothers had done. Slate motioned for her to keep going, and she went for it. She darted toward her brother, leaping to land delicately on Slate’s leg, up to his shoulder, and up into the air to catch Icon’s hand. The routine was performed expertly.

Shay didn’t need to see all of her brothers’ expressions to know they were smiling proudly as she straddled the top of the cardboard box. In no time, Beau and Slate joined them and together they slid into the snack box. Slate stayed up top to watch while the other three maneuvered through the boxes and taped bags. Knowing the natural dangers of being a Borrower, they knew better than to open untouched bags of food unless absolutely desperate.

Thankfully, there were plenty of partial bags to choose from, and that’s just what they did. The siblings took turns pealing away the tape and keeping the bag open while the others slipped in and took the fragments needed to take home.

Shay, having never done this before, was excited to get into the bag and borrow some chips until she realized that the crumbs and powder coating the chips got everywhere and smudged some of her clothes. When she came out to her brothers snickering, orange dust in her hair, she had to stomp her foot and take a fistful of powder to chuck at the nearest one, which happened to be Beau.

The oldest took it in stride, ruffling his sister’s hair, before rounding up the siblings and preparing them to find any final essentials before leaving. Thankfully, they didn’t have to go far. They each needed new pins for their hammocks, razors for the kitchen, and paper clips for pot grabbers. All of these things compiled into a list of school supplies – and Beau knew exactly where to get them. Unfortunately, it was a bit of a climb to the top of the desk in the corner of the room. After pointing it out to his siblings, he began unlatching his hook from his hip.

“Stay put, I’ll be right back,” he directed as he made his way to the towering construction.

“Oh no you don’t!” retorted Icon. “You always pick out the easiest things and then they break. You need the quality stuff, which happens to be my forte. I’ll go.”

“Hey! What about me? I stayed watch. I should get to go,” argued Slate. The brothers didn’t have any time to say more as they looked around to see their sister, Shay, was already sprinting for the desk, hook in hand.

“Hey!” the boys shouted simultaneously after a fractional moment of stunned silence before sprinting after her. Shay, giggling and out of breath, reached the leg of the table and threw her line as hard as she could. The silver ring flew through the air in a magnificent arc before scraping a proper hold into the desk.

“You have to be quick to be a Borrower. Isn’t that what you told me?” she called over her shoulder as she began inching her way up the line. She was already halfway up the desk by the time her brothers were throwing their lines.

“Not fair!” hissed Slate as he was the first of the brothers to begin climbing.

“Shay! You have to be careful! This isn’t a joke!” Beau scolded as he began making good progress up the line in pursuit of his sister. Icon was partially out of breath but keeping up with his older brothers. He also knew he wouldn’t live it down if his sister managed to beat him to the top.

Shay made it to the top, rolling onto the surface, and shoving herself onto her feet, legs pumping as hard as they could to the edge of the school supplies box. She used her hook and swung, acing the hook once again before pulling herself up the edge and slipping into the box. Shay wasn’t prepared for the drop as she slid down the stack of notebooks which were propped up on a massive clamp like device. Shay could hear her brothers calling out, but she didn’t quite care at the moment. She had beaten them to the punch, and that was enough to please her.

Shay carefully maneuvered herself around the massive pair of scissors, slipped over the pencils, and found what she was looking for – a small box with an assortment of paperclips and safety pins. The pre-teen Borrower had just pulled the lid off of the contained and began selecting the paperclips with the rubber coating when she heard her brothers, but they weren’t laughing. She stopped and listened, picking up just in time the sound of deep thuds against the ground of something very large heading their way.

Shay’s heart suddenly tripled in pace, breath catching in her throat. Her lungs felt constricted. Mind began racing. Relying purely on instinct, she vaulted over the scissors and under the propped-up notebook – and just in time too.

The sound of the human’s voice raised, calling back over his shoulder, pierced Shay’s ears. Though she couldn’t see where he was, she knew he was near as she listened to the sound of shuffling boxes.

“Yes mom, I have it right here,” he called over his shoulder. He was much closer than she thought and, to keep from yelping in surprise at the sound of his voice, threw her hands up and clasped them over her nose and mouth.

Shay had heard him before, but his voice was always muted and muffled by the walls and floorboards. If her panicking mind remembered correctly, his name was Odd or Ted. Something like that. The pre-teen Borrower had more pressing matters than to remember the name of the young adult male who was most likely a few feet away. There was a massive shuffle and a grunt before the sound of retreating footsteps left the room. Shay knew she didn’t have a lot of time.

Hands shaking, she began fiddling with her line which had become slightly tangled at the end. She could hear her brothers now hissing her name from outside of the cardboard at the opposite corner from where she was.

“Shay? Shay? Are you in there?” It was Beau.

“Yes,” she whisper-shouted back. Her voice had a tremble to it she didn’t anticipate.

“Sit tight. We’re coming up. Get ready to run,” called Beau, still keeping his calls to just under a shout. Shay listened as her brothers spot checked one another and the sound of a scraping hook against the cardboard. She heard a brief huff as they lifted Beau to the top.

“We’re clear. Hurry! We don’t…” Beau was cut short by the sound of approaching footsteps. Shay’s heart stopped. If she was going to go, she needed to go now. The young Borrower darted out from under the notebook and leapt over the miscellaneous supplies, her foot nearly catching and making her stumble. Her brother’s hand was right there and, with a running leap, she caught hold of his fingers; but she didn’t hold on tight enough.

Just as Slate and Icon tugged on the line to help Beau lift Shay out, her nervous fingers slipped against her brother’s grip. Shay landed flat on her back and watched her brother’s legs vanish over the edge and the sharp, impacting thud of his brothers catching the eldest sibling. They would have tried again if the footsteps weren’t creating such a thunderous rumble in the ground, making each of the Borrower siblings shiver.

They had run out of time.

Shay, thinking fast, stumbled back towards her original hiding place while her brothers scurried back behind a few remaining pencil holders and cups on the desk. Shay tried to breathe calmly. She tried keeping herself from losing her mind as she heard the young man call back to his mother over his shoulder.

“I’m almost done. I want to get my car packed and moved so we can get the truck closer for the big boxes,” he called. Shay watched with horror as an eclipsing shadow engulfed part of the box. The cardboard shuddered as the box lids closed one at a time. Shay was left in darkness with only a sliver of light where the box didn’t quite fit together perfectly. The ground shook and jostled as it was lifted into the air, tossing the contents rhythmically as the human walked. Shay threw herself into the corner to stabilize herself and tried to ignore the lump rising in her throat.

What was going on? What was happening? Most importantly, how was she going to get out?

~*^*^*^*^*^*~

The three brothers watched in horror as the box their sister was in was closed and carried away by the human boy who lived in the house. It took all of their will to not charge out and reveal themselves to save her. As much as it pained them, they couldn’t do anything at the moment. Their hope was the box would be left by the door, leaving them just enough time to dart out and rescue her.

They descended at a worrisome speed and hit the ground running, their legs carrying them in and out of the shadows until they reached the front room. With horror, they watched the human carry the box through the front door and down the sidewalk. Their hearts sank, a tightness to their core and a swirling in their gut.

What were they going to do? What could they do? A fateful glance back revealed the other boxes were already sealed and shoved by the door to presumably be taken away. Even if they made it to the boxes, it was too out in the open and the chances of them being seen were astronomical. They couldn’t hitch a ride in a bag. They didn’t know where the human was going. They didn’t even know where their sister’s box was now.

Defeated and feeling utterly useless, they realized there was nothing they could do.

The brothers had to simply watch as the final boxes were loaded out with an unholy speed they could never hope to match. They dropped to their knees and beat their fists into clutched fists. Their only hope was that Shay would stay hidden while they came up with a proper rescue plan.

Continue 

~~~~~

Apologies for the delay. Life has turned upside down and backwards for me, though that is hardly an excuse. A recent move and the chaos in my life inspired this few piece one shot. I hope you enjoy. Remember you’re all beautiful and amazing. Stay awesome!

~Narrans

[platoniclokiimagines]

Loki and reader decide to have a duel and everyone at the compound talks about it and gets so hyped for it that it’s almost as if they are waiting for infinity war to come out. Loki and reader also get super serious about it and they train for weeks and everything. If u can, include both the time coming up to the duel and the duel itself and the aftermath.

——————————————————————————

W/C: 1219

Rating: G

TW: none

A/N: I spent so long staring at this prompt every time I opened my inbox, trying to figure out how best to write it, and I really hope that it lives up to your expectations. Enjoy~

“You almost had me, that time.”

“You cheated with your clone, that’s not fair!”

“It isn’t cheating if it’s literally something I can do with my magic.”

You scowled, crossing your arms over your chest as Loki grinned smugly. You’d spent the last two hours sparring with them, and while the both of you were pretty evenly matched when it came to the extent of your powers, they had ultimately won your last match. And you were nothing if not a sore loser.

“Why don’t you have a duel? You know, settle once and for all which one of you is the best,” Wanda offered innocently from where she stood in her own corner of the training room.

“Yeah, that could be fun. Give us all a show. Something to look forward to.” Natasha shrugged a bit as she reloaded the handgun she was using to shoot at a dummy across the room.

You fell silent for a long moment, considering the idea. It could be fun. And you couldn’t lie, it would be nice to rub Loki’s face in your victory, if you managed to win.

As you looked back over at Loki, you saw a smirk similar to the one you could feel spreading across your own face.

“What do you say, Y/N? A little duel. Winner gets bragging rights for the rest of all time.”

“When?”

“Shall we say… a month from now? Give us both some time to prepare?”

You grinned and nodded, sticking your hand out to shake on it. “Deal.”

Loki shook your hand once firmly, still smirking far too smugly for your liking. “Then may the best sorcerer win.”

~~~~~

Over the course of the next month, you spent almost every single day training whenever you could. Your powers were strong, and you’d been at the Compound long enough that you’d had time to really hone them, and take them to even higher levels than you already had. But in your eyes, there was no such thing as too much training, so you were in a training room as often as your schedule allowed it.

You’d caught Loki watching you several times, and while it didn’t bother you at all to be watched while you trained, you knew Loki well enough to not be at least a little suspicious of them trying to spy on you to see how you would fight during the duel.

“You know I can see you, right?” You didn’t even look away from the spell you were doing to send several dummies crashing into the wall.

“Oh, I counted on it. Am I making you nervous?” You could practically hear the playful snarkiness dripping from their voice.

“No, but you’re making me annoyed. I don’t spy on you training,” you pointed out, using another spell to enchant a staff to swing at the wave of automated dummies you’d asked F.R.I.D.A.Y to program for you.

“We could just call the duel off, if you’re that worried.”

You huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, and listen to you brag about it for as long as we know each other? Fat chance. We’re having the duel.”

“Fine, fine.” You heard Loki take a few steps, and then stop.  “Your posture could use some training, too.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

~~~~~

It seemed you and Loki were not the only ones preparing for the duel. It was a hot topic of debate among everyone else in the compound, and they were all placing their bets on which one of you was going to win. It was rather amusing, to hear them speculate and plan who was going to win, and it was interesting to hear their reasoning.

“Loki’s been alive for, what, a thousand years? Clearly more time to practice and do better.”

“Yeah, but Y/N’s training is fresh. No room to be rusty when you’ve only been training for a couple of years.”

“I think they’ll be evenly matched. They always have been, you’ve watched them train, Nat.”

The conversation went on for the weeks leading up to the duel, and when it finally came down to it, everyone was ready to finally watch it go down, complete with popcorn and snacks in hand.

Always happy to entertain, you and Loki made a show of shaking hands before separating to go to opposite sides of the training room that had been cleared out for the duel.

“Ready when you are, Y/N.”

You grinned, and immediately waved a hand to summon a wall of magic and the duel began.

For the better part of a half hour, you sparred. Every attack you sent Loki’s way was deflected, and every spell that Loki cast, you waved away without so much as breaking a sweat.

You were almost ready to settle on a stalemate, and then Loki, just as you expected, tried to turn the tables by switching to using two daggers instead of magic.

Lucky for you, you’d been prepared for this, and whipped out your own set, the gesture met by applause and whoops from everyone watching.

Hand to hand combat was something you’d been working on much more recently, as it was a completely different skill set from your own powers, and so you didn’t have the luxury of just knowing what to do with them or how to use them.

Whatever you’d learned appeared to be working, though, as Loki seemed genuinely impressed by your skills.

“You didn’t tell me you were good with knives, too, Y/N. I’m disappointed in you.”

You rolled your eyes as you blocked one of their swipes. “What, and spoil the fun?” You made another jab, and Loki only just managed to move out of the way, and you grinned as you went to back to your playful banter. “What’s the matter? The God of Mischief doesn’t like tricks?”

“Oh, you don’t want to start with that.” Loki smirked, taking a step back from you only to step forward again, bringing both knives down toward you.

Seeing your escape, you ducked out of the way and, using Loki’s momentum, and taking the chance to play just a little bit dirty, you swept their feet out from under them, effectively knocking them over, and by the time they managed to turn around and face you, you had both daggers pointed at their throat, smug smile on your face.

“Checkmate.”

Loki seemed truly stunned for a long moment, and then nodded, accepting their defeat. “A little dirty, but a win’s a win.”

You smiled, and held a hand out so they could pull themselves up as everyone swarmed around you, congratulating you and excitedly talking about how proud they were of you and how surprised they were that you’d actually won against them.

You couldn’t lie, it felt nice to have everyone singing your praises, but mostly you were just proud of yourself, and glad that the both of you had had fun while doing it. Slinging an arm around Loki’s shoulder, you smiled, and waved a hand dismissively.

“I haven’t even told you all the best part of all this.” You glanced at Loki with a sly grin. “Celebratory drinks are on Loki tonight.”

“Hey, that was never a part of the deal! Y/N, get back here!”

But you’d already bolted halfway across the room, laughing all the while.

[tinysidestrashcaptain]

It's Only Logical - Chapter 23

Chapter 23: Confrontations and Justice

First Chapter Previous Chapter

Pairings: Logicality/Prinxiety

Warnings: TW for Jason Bryce, Violence, and swearing!

His flowers, he thought. Plants that he’d raised from seeds, bulbs, babied along their whole lives, now lying ruined on the ground. Twisted, trampled and ripped. Innocent, and he took a silent moment to grieve before racing around the corner of the building.

He skidded to a stop as he saw Jason Bryce swing a baseball bat, shattering a window. “You son of a bitch!”

He saw the surprise on Jason’s face as he whirled around, followed by rage. “Heard you were busy today. Figured I’d be done and gone before you showed up.”

“Well, you figured wrong.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He swung the bat again, shattering another window in a hail of jagged glass. “You think you can get away from me? Humiliate me, sick the police on me?” Another crash, another window gone. “Someone needs to put you in your place.”

“You humiliated yourself, and if you don’t put that down and get the hell off my property, I’m going to do a lot more than sick the cops on you.” Logan raised his chin, clenching his fists at his sides.

“Is that so? Just you and me now, isn’t it?” Jason slapped the bat against his palm, glaring at him. “Do you have any idea what you cost me?”

“I have a general idea, and it’s going to be a lot more soon. Trespassing, destruction of property.”

Jason didn’t use the bat on him, but he could see the look in his eyes when he considered it before tossing it away. He lashed out, slapping Logan across the cheek with that familiar, brutal force that snapped his head to the side.

Logan felt like his heart was about to beat out of his chest as he faced Jason down, ignoring the throbbing of his face. “That the best you’ve got? Seems like your dick isn’t the only thing that’s soft anymore.”

“You mouthy little bitch!” Jason snarled, throwing himself at Logan. “That fucking nobody ruined you, that stupid clod with his little brat! You’re mine, you’ll always be mine!”

Logan caught Jason and used his own momentum to throw him against the wall, lashing out with his fists, which clearly caught Jason by surprise. “I don’t belong to anybody but myself, you arrogant piece of shit!”

Jason grunted as he took the lighter blows before pinning Logan’s arms down and tossing him to the ground. He was bigger, and stronger, and he used his own body to force Logan down in the dirt. “Maybe you just need to be reminded. Isn’t that right, pet?” He gripped the back of Logan’s neck in a familiar hold that had his stomach churning with fear and disgust.

“Get your goddamn hands off of me!” Logan snapped, kicking up and out until he connected hard enough to make Jason wheeze and loosen his grip.

He heard shouts and running feet, and Logan scrambled away to slowly stand on rubbery legs as Virgil tore around the corner two steps ahead of Patton.

“I’m fine. I’m okay.” Logan said calmly, although his head was spinning like a carousel. “This bastard might need medical attention, though.”

“Fuck him!” Virgil snarled, reaching out to Logan. His hands feathered over Logan’s face as he checked for injury, scowling. “He HIT you? Jesus fucking Christ, he hit you?!”

“I got him worse, believe me. And we’re going to press all sorts of charges.” Logan gave a wan smile and patted Virgil’s shoulder as he slowly took stock of himself. He scowled as he spotted the tear on the knee of his pants. “Goddammit! I got this suit especially for today. All sorts of charges.”

“The police are on their way. Barbara called on her cell on her way back to Roman’s to get us.” Patton’s voice shook, and Logan could tell from the look on his face it was a combination of fear and rage.

“Good. That’s good.” Logan sagged a bit, the adrenaline draining out of him. “Virgil, can you do me a favor? Bring this piece of shit around front. I don’t want to see him any longer or I might grab that bat and do something that’ll land me in jail.”

“Let me stand him up first.” Patton reached down and hauled Jason up on his feet with one hand. He turned and looked at Logan, all steely blue eyes. “Sorry.” And plowed his fist into Jason’s face, sending him sprawling to the ground again.

“I don’t mind a bit.” Logan could feel a wide grin spreading across his face as his knees wobbled dangerously. “Not one damn bit.”

Virgil hauled Jason up by the back of his collar and started marching him away, grinning meanly as he kicked the bastard’s feet out from under him as they walked. “Oops, you’ve got to watch where you’re going, Brycey.” He looked back at Logan with a grin. “You sure kicked ass today, Lo.”

“Thanks. And if he so much as twitches wrong, you go ahead and hit him as hard as you want. No complaints from me.” Logan gave a tremulous smile as he leaned against the wall of the shop building. “But I think all this ass kicking has left me out of sorts, so if you don’t mind, I’ll sit right here and catch my breath?”

“Here.” Patton took off his suit jacket and laid it on the ground. “No need to mess up your suit any more than it already is.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Logan sank gratefully down, leaning against Patton to take in the warmth and support he offered. He sat quietly until his heart rate slowed to normal, until the tangle of nerves, rage and disgust in his belly had eased a bit. Broken glass glittered in the sunlight, scattered on the ground around them. Glass could be replaced, he reminded himself. He’d mourn his flowers, but he’d save some of the wounded, and he’d grow more. An abundance of more.

“How’s your hand?” he asked Patton.

“Fine. Good.” Patton all but spat it out. “He’s got a chin like a marshmallow.”

“Big strong man.” Logan turned to wrap his arms around him, and didn’t mention Patton’s raw scraped knuckles. Patton gently helped him to his feet, and he leaned in close, refusing to let him go just yet.

“He must have been crazy to think he could get away with this,” Patton muttered, glaring in the direction Virgil had dragged Jason off to.

“A little, I guess. I imagine he planned to be done wrecking my place before the wedding was over. He’d figure we’d blame it on kids -- or the police would. And all I’d have was a mess on my hands. A man like that has no respect for others. He doesn’t believe anyone can best him.” Logan replied softly, resting his head on Patton’s shoulder.

“One did.” Patton shot him a look, clearly indicating he wasn’t referring to himself. Logan rubbed his arms, then clutched gratefully at the lapels of Patton's jacket as he picked it up and draped it over his shoulders, wrapping an arm around him. Logan burrowed into his warmth, unsure if his bones would ever be warm again.

“I can hardly believe this happened. If you hadn’t come when you had--” Logan cut himself off, refusing to entertain that line of thinking.

“We could hear you shouting.” Patton said quietly. “You cost Virgil and I several years off our lives. So I’m going to say this once.”

He turned, taking the lapels of his jacket into his hands and holding Logan steady so he was facing him. “And you are damn well going to hear it. I respect and admire your steely will, Logan, and appreciate your temper and capability. But the next time you so much as think about taking on some lunatic with a bat all on your own, I’m going to be doing some ass kicking. And it’s going to be your ass with the bullseye painted on it.”

Logan angled his head, studied his face, and saw he meant every word he’d said. Son of a gun. “You know, if I hadn’t already decided on this thing I’m about to ask you, that would have done it. How can I resist a man who lets me fight my own battles, then when the time is right steps in and cleans house? After the dust is clear, he gives me a good piece of his mind for being an idiot. Which I was, no question, no argument.”

“Glad to hear we’re agreed on that.” Patton replied dryly.

Logan took a step closer, and wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling his boyfriend closer. “I really love you.”

“I really love you back.”

“Then you won’t mind marrying me.” Logan felt his body jerk, just a little, just once, then settle in against his own, warm and true.

“I don’t see a problem with that. Are you sure?” Patton murmured, gently sliding his hands around Logan’s waist, holding him close.

“If you had asked me that a few months ago, I’d say no, but I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life. I’m a logical person, a person who thinks things through, and then over-thinks them, and then thinks about them some more, and some more still – and yet I don’t know that I can define love. Yet the cliche about love, of course, is that you’ll know it when you’re in it, right?” Logan asked, looking up at him. Patton lifted a hand to gently cup his face, smiling softly at him. “I used to think it happened explosively. That love was something astronomically powerful that not only swept you off your feet, but knocked you down on your ass and soaked through your skin and became an overarching force that was impossible to ignore. But, what if that’s not it? What if love is quiet and soft? What if love is gradual and delicate? What if love isn’t an explosion, but is instead this calm feeling you get when you wake up one golden Sunday morning and realize that there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than next to this person whose quirks make you laugh until you can’t breathe? Lately, I think I’ve stopped trying to define it and have started to believe that being in love is about more than just explosive emotion. And yet, it’s also about more than just finding someone to coexist with in the same space at the same time. Love is about finding someone who lights even the tiniest parts of your soul on fire. It’s about finding someone who makes you more you, who will even surprise you every now and then by knowing you better than you know yourself.” Logan leaned into Patton’s touch, feeling his heart leap even now.

“Am I that person to you, Lo?” Patton’s voice was thick with emotion, his blue eyes shimmering with tears.

“I believe I have found that person in you, and no one else will suffice.” Logan’s hands fisted in his boyfriend’s hair, his face intense. He didn’t talk about emotions, didn’t do this very often, so he wanted to take the opportunity to pour out all the words he’d probably never say again while he still could. “I want a safe place to rest my lips, and a soft place to land. I want someone who will keep me in his heart because that’s where I’ll be warm and safe. I want someone who will look at me when I’m at my messiest and kiss me on the forehead, someone who thinks I’m lovely in the morning, and at night, and during all the in between times. Someone who knows how much I like to be whispered to and who isn’t scared off when I’m crying, rare though that may be. Someone who can sense when I’m overwhelmed, who just knows when life is too much and who will, in those moments, stand close enough to me to block everything else out. Most importantly, I want someone who will stand beside me and face my battles with me, rather than standing in front of me. I want you, for the rest of our lives. I want Thomas and Parker and messy pizza nights and and everything that goes--”

Patton cut him off with a fierce kiss, swallowing whatever words Logan may have said. Logan made a soft sighing sound and melted into him, happily yielding in that moment. He leaned on him, knew without a doubt that he could lean on him--and trust him to step back when he needed to stand on his own.

Everything inside of Logan calmed, even when they broke the kiss and he snuggled against Patton’s chest, looking out at the destruction of what was his. He would fix it, save what could be saved and accept what couldn’t. He would live his life, plant his gardens, and walking hand-in-hand with the man he loved, he would watch both bloom. It wasn’t how he’d planned to do this, not by a long shot, but it was still the happiest moment of his life. “Do you think Thomas will be okay with it?”

“Are you kidding? He’d been pestering me for weeks now, asking when I was going to marry you and when we’d get to come live with you forever. Pretty sure he’d already decided you’re his stepfather.” Patton grinned, rolling his eyes fondly at the thought of his energetic son. “Now come on, slugger. I think we’ve got a police statement to give.”

“Mmm. But let’s hold off on announcing our engagement for a few days. I want Roman and Virgil to have their moment. Even if Jason put a dark cloud on it.”

“Are you serious? Virgil got to see him get his ass kicked. He’ll probably thank you for the wedding present.”

Logan threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing in the sunlit air around them. No matter what else came next, he knew he had faced his demons and won. And he would never have to face it alone.

A/N: And that's it! We're done! Welcome to the end of It's Only Logical. I cannot believe I started this fic in 2017. Or that I finished it. I'll probably do some one shots or drabbles from this universe, little stories and bits of things that couldn't fit into the main fic, but the bulk of it is here. And all done at last! Apologies again to my former tag list. I lost it, and I feel terrible that for the end I couldn't tag you all. This chapter won't be any different on Ao3 or Wattpad. For those who weren't aware, Ao3 has the Explicit version of this fic, and Wattpad has this non-explicit version, possibly in an easier format. I've linked both, so if you feel like going back and re-reading all over again, you can. I love you all so, SO much and I appreciate all the support and patience you have given me. <3 Also? Roman stayed behind to keep the wedding guests calm, but he's going to be overjoyed when he hears what happened. And I like to think Virgil finally got to punch Jason Bryce right in his stupid, stupid face.

[jonsa101]

Yes, There’s Only 14 Episodes in Season 3 But Sharpwin is On Track and Progressing How They’re Supposed To.

There has been so much talk about this season’s writing and the lack of Sharpwin scenes that I thought I would just address everything in this post.

First, the writing this season is NOT BAD! In my honest opinion I actually think this season has some of the best writing in the series. Compared to season two, the writing is head and shoulders above what we got last year. More than ever before we are diving into these characters stories, seeing friendships form, getting a better look into their home life and seeing secondary characters shine! This is a good thing! These were the things that were so desperately needed in season 2 but we didn’t see this play out. I’ve said this before in my infamous season 2 rant and I’ll say it again, a show can’t solely depend on a ship! It has to have great storytelling and good character development for all of it’s main characters. This is what New Amsterdam failed to do in season two and they’re now making it up for it in season 3. The only area I would say the storyline suffered was the Cassian, Helen and Max “love triangle.” There was definitely more intent with that plot before the pandemic. Cassian was not only supposed to be a catalyst for Jealous Max and Sharpwin but he was also supposed to come in and challenge the way Max did things. Cassian’s whole thing was self care first=great patient care which was the complete opposite of Max and the two of them were supposed to clash. Obviously this completely changed due to the pandemic. You can’t have a storyline about a doctor prioritizing himself first for “better patient care”in the midst of thousands of doctors globally throwing themselves on the frontlines and even loosing their lives to COVID-19. It would have been a terrible look to have that storyline so they clearly scrapped it! What we saw was probably them trying to salvage whatever was left from the original plot while they still had Daniel Dae Kim in the limited amount of episodes for season 3.

Apart from that, I think the writers are doing a fantastic job in terms of character development this season. Arguably I would say that Iggy probably has the best storyline so far and that’s incredible for his character. Tyler Labine is acting his ass off and Iggy’s scenes with Lauren, Vijay and Martin were top tier!!! We are finally getting a Max and Reynolds bromance that was teased in season one but literally know where to be found in season two! It’s great seeing them bond on screen and I hope we get more moments with these two. We’re also seeing Reynold’s “life plan” blow up in his face and we finally have some closure with Bloom. They kept us in limbo for so long! We didn’t know if him and Bloom were truly over but now we finally know. Also, it seems like he and Evie are officially done as well and he might have a new love interest on the horizon. For Lauren, she’s clearly seems to be having a coming out story which is something I didn’t see coming at all. I’m really curious how they’re going to play this out for her and can’t wait to see it unfold. Last but not least, for Max and Helen they are both going through massive character development phases which leads me to my second point.

I love a good Max and Helen scene as much as the next person. To me they’re the ultimate ship and I want to see them thrive and flourish but just because we don’t see Max and Helen interact doesn’t mean that the show isn’t properly developing or investing in their relationship!!!!!!!!The relationship between Max and Helen is so nuanced that their relationship doesn’t hang in the balance because they don’t have more witty, flirtatious, or emotional dialogue. Don’t get me wrong, I adore those moments. Those scenes between them make us the passionate sharwpin shippers we are. At the same time though, we have to truly take a look at why the state of their relationship is where its at now and why from a narrative perspective their current interactions make sense. In order to do this, we have to take a look at where Max and Helen left off last year.

At the end of season 2, Max made a move on Helen and almost kissed her in her office. After this moment occurred he never addressed it and at the time he was still dating Alice. There’s no doubt in my mind that this was the catalyst for why Helen started dating Cassian in the first place. She had practically laid her feelings out there and told Max he was the reason she gave up half of her department. After this revelation and the massive, intimate moment he initiated in her office, he didn’t even have the decency to address it. He swept it under the rug and wanted to keep the same relationship that he had with her like nothing ever happened. Even though Helen was aware about Alice, we now know from season 3 that Helen felt a type away that Max never “officially” told Helen that he was dating her. This is IMPORTANT!!! Max and Helen did not end on a high note in season 2. In fact, the very last scenes we see of season 2 is Helen blowing off Max to go on a date with Cassian and Max breaking off things with Alice. I know this wasn’t intentional due to the season being cut short but it definitely contributes to where they are now. 

Fast forward a year later, and not only do we still have a massive almost kissed elephant in the room between Max and Helen but also the trauma of being on the frontlines of a pandemic and going through the biggest social justice movement the world has seen. This is something I’ve said many times over but I’m not sure the fandom recognizes how much these events have permanently altered these characters and changed the dynamics of this show. COVID-19 changed everything. The Black Live Matter Movement for the first time grabbed the attention of the world and changed everything too! Max and Helen are in the process of trying to heal and rebuild their lives the best they can as individuals after such a tumultuous year. At the same time, they are acutely aware of the feelings they have for each other and the UST between them and are carrying the weight of that as well. Naturally guys, the combination of all this is going to change most dynamics in a relationship. Things are awkward and distant  because Max and Helen are awkward and distant!! They have a lot of shit that they’re going through as individuals and subconsciously as a “couple.” They are clearly not in a healthy place to be as vulnerable as they once were to each other. And how can they be when their feelings have literally been eating at them for over year?! It’s hard to ignore that and try to force yourself to go back to the way things were. Especially when their feelings have “technically”  been out in the open since the end of season 2. They both know what it is! They were steps away from unleashing years of built up sexual tension between them and they went on with their lives like it never even happened. Max walking in on her and Cassian kissing in HER OFFICE and subsequently having that convo with Helen was not for shits and giggles. It triggered the BEAST of his feelings that he had fought so hard to suppress. There is no doubt in my mind that when he saw them in her office kissing, he was having some serious dejavu to their almost kissing affair last year. He‘s in love with her and she’s in love with him but this what happens when you continuously try and run away from those feelings and let it fester instead of trying to deal with it head on. The dynamic  were seeing between them now is a result of their unresolved issues and it absolutely plays into Sharpwin’s story. It doesn’t take away from it. It makes sense for where they are NOW! 

If we look at season three holistically, you’ll realize that a momentum for something significant happening for Sharpwin has been set through the acting and writing. I got to give it to Ryan Eggold. He has that fire and desire, Mr. Darcy type level acting down to a tee so far. It is so satisfying seeing Max so overcome with his feelings that you can tangibly see it in his body language and hear it in his voice. We have seen Max taken aback by Helen before but we have NEVER seen him like this. I keep on saying it but this is different guys. Something has shifted and it seems like Max is on the verge of exploding. His feeling are burning hot right underneath the surface and it’s a beautiful thing to behold. Last night’s episode was ripe with this type of content and Ryan was in his acting bag! It wasn’t an overtly “Sharpwin” episode but the writing and the acting is so clever and methodical, it will have you thinking otherwise. At the beginning of season 3 Max told Helen that he wants to build something better for Luna and something better for her. Was last night not a beautiful reflection of that? One question asking Max if he has ever loved a black woman put him in the shoes of his patient’s husband and had Max advocating for his wife like he would advocate for Helen if it was her! If that’s not fucking romantic I don’t know what it is and if the alarm bells aren’t going off that there is something deeper at play here with a huge payoff around the corner I don’t know what to tell you! Another moment that sticks out to me like a sore thumb is when Helen was telling Cassian that her brother died. I wrote about this in a previous meta of mind but Helen at her most vulnerable telling Cassian that she feels like she’s running out of time is SO SIGNIFICANT guys!!! It’s not only tell us that she fears that she’s missing out on the windows of opportunities for the wants and needs in her life but it literally sets the pacing of how quickly Sharpwin is going to progress. It is the beautiful freudian slip that tells us exactly where things are headed for these two. To me this is equivalent to Max telling Helen “I love my doctor” and “what if I want you?” in season 1. This episode had no interaction between Max and Helen but it was a MASSIVE Sharpwin indicator through and through! These are just a couple of examples but even their respective journeys in parenting is so Sharpwin driven. So in all I’m not mad in the direction the show has taken to showcase their relationship this season because Sharpwin is deeply interwoven in the storyline this year even if it’s not overtly obvious through emotional dialogue/ interactions. 

Also, one thing you have to realize is this, season three is wrapping up a lot of loose ends from season 2 and when it comes to Max and Helen these two points will be/ have to be addressed in the next six episodes.

The Almost Kiss

Whether or Not They Want To Be Together

The showrunners know without a shadow of doubt that the resolution for these two points is owed! If Sharpwin is talking about their almost kiss, there is no way that they aren’t talking about what they mean to each other and what their future looks like together. Both solutions literally go hand in hand and I promise you they are not delaying the resolution for that till season 4. It’s not happening fam. We will see this play out within the next six episodes. So in hindsight, more Sharpwin interaction are on the horizon. 

When I was making predictions about this season I wasn’t aware that this season would only be 14 episodes. I’m sad that season 3 is so short but that still doesn’t change my mind for where I think the story is going. Call me crazy but I’m sticking to my guns. There is something about how Ryan is portraying Max that is signaling something huge. Also I just trust the context clues that i believe the show is giving. I trust it! Anyway y’all! If you have any sharpwin question just DM here or message me on Twitter! my username is @oyindaodewale. 

Love you guys! ❤️

[trekscribbles]

Triple Threat: A Stones Triplet Fic

Fandoms: Leverage/Leverage Redemption, Librarians, and Almost Paradise Cross-Posted: Ao3 and FF Summary: So I shared some ideas about this fic here, not intending to actually write it. And then people asked for it and I have zero self control, so here you go!

A simple smuggling case. That was all this was supposed to be—just a smuggler looking to set up shop on the island, some place where he'd be able to store and ferry goods to the United States without attracting too much attention. Kai expected to wrap up the case in a couple of days, without Alex's help.

Of course it never works out that way.

She's used to Alex interfering with her cases, but she didn't even tell him about this one. So how did he end up with the smuggler she was supposed to be meeting, and why doesn't the seem to know her?

Or: Eliot and Jake are both in the Philippines for separate jobs that turn out to be related. Kai takes the existence of Alex's brothers as a personal attack on her mental health. Ernesto happily goes along for the ride.

Chapter One: Déjà Vu

A simple smuggling case. That was all this was supposed to be—just a smuggler looking to set up shop on the island, some place where he'd be able to store and ferry goods to the United States without attracting too much attention. Ocampo hadn't even asked Alex for help, even though they suspected drugs were involved. "We need more information," Ocampo told Kai. "Just meet with him and see what you can find out." No need to involve the most annoying man on the island.

Kai didn't tell Alex about any of it. It was only the third time Ocampo trusted her to go undercover, and though she wasn't above using Alex's help when it was necessary, this was something she could handle on her own. Ernesto would be monitoring the meeting from nearby, ready to come to her aid, but she was confident in her skills. It was a simple case. She could handle it.

She made contact with the smuggler, telling him she could get a cargo plane for his use and ensure the attention of the authorities was elsewhere when he was ready to load it. The meeting had gone well, well enough that he asked her to join him in his hotel room the following day to hash out the details. Ocampo had been thrilled, and she'd gotten the proud grin from Ernesto that always made her feel like she could take on the world. "Wrap this up, Detective," Ocampo said, already planning the press release for the end of the case. One more meeting, and it would all be over. A swift ending to a simple case.

The next morning she found the hotel fifteen minutes before their appointed time and knocked on door 211, letting herself in when a voice yelled, "We're on the balcony." The we made her nervous, but she told herself it didn't matter. Once she found out what the cargo was, she'd have enough to arrest him.

But then she walked onto the balcony and found her contact raising a toast to Alex Walker, and it took all of her self-control not to break character and strangle him right there.

The smuggler stood up with a grin. "Ah, Ms. Navarro," he said, motioning for her to be seated next to Alex. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"No," she choked out. "Thank you."

He shrugged and swept his hand toward Alex. "This is my American contact, Marc Rosen. Mr. Rosen, my associate Nicole Navarro."

Alex gave her a polite smile, and his eyes seemed to laugh at her.

"Mr. Flores," she said tersely. "I thought we'd agreed to keep this meeting between us."

Robert Flores shrugged and again gestured to the chair beside Alex. "I assure you, Mr. Rosen is essential to this operation. He has already arranged a buyer in the United States. All we need from you, Ms. Navarro, is to follow through on your promise with the planes."

Kai sat, forcing her tensed shoulders to relax. "The flight is already secured," she said. "But I need to know what it is I'll be transporting."

Flores smiled. "All in good time."

"Time is the problem," Kai said. "We only have three days before the plane is scheduled to depart, with or without your cargo. I can't prepare properly until I know what we'll be loading."

"I will take care of that. Three days is plenty of time."

"Then... once you've made your payment, I will tell you where to bring your cargo." She managed this with only a single glance (not a glare) at Alex, who had returned his attention to Flores. A sand-colored fedora was pulled low over Alex's eyes, shading a face that seemed paler than usual. In an instant her irritation turned to worry. Did he know Flores from his time as a DEA agent? Had he arranged the meeting, or had Flores contacted him?

Why couldn't he just tell her before he did stupid things like this?

"I am glad to hear it," Flores said. He was still standing, and Kai bristled at the imbalance—he towered over them in a position of power while they literally sat in his shadow. "Mr. Rosen was just telling me that his buyer is anxious to get his hands on this shipment."

Alex huffed a nervous laugh. "Well, you know how it is when the guy in the big office wants something. Patience ain't exactly a virtue for my boss."

"Luckily for you, I have what he needs," Flores said, lifting his glass with a chuckle.

"Is that Alex?" Ernesto asked through her earbud. "What's he doing there?"

Kai chanced another glance at him, wishing she could reach over and wring the answer from his throat. His body language was all wrong. His shoulders were drawn in, the fingers of his left hand fidgeting against his palm. His voice had been different too—almost hesitant, self-depreciating. Usually Alex played a loud character, brash and confident, always pushing to keep his mark off-balance. This... this was just another pencil-pusher running an errand for his boss. Insignificant. Overlookable.

And it was working. A hard, greedy glint flashed in Flores's eye as he swallowed the rest of his drink, his gaze lingering on the trembling glass in Alex's hand. "Well," he grinned. "There is much to be done. Wait here. Your payment is in my adjoining room." He set his glass down on the balcony railing and strode into the hotel room. Kai watched him go, but as soon as the door closed she rounded on Alex.

"I'm going to give you ten seconds to explain yourself."

He blinked at her. "What?"

"Why are you here? Did Ocampo tell you about the case? Did Flores contact you?"

"Did—what? Why would—?"

"Or do you just like messing with my life? Because I swear, Alex, when this is over I'm—"

The hallway door opened before she could finish, and two men in black jackets entered the room. Neither of them was Flores. "Your payment," one said, holding out an envelope.

"Oh... thank you." She stood and entered the room, aware of Alex trailing behind her. He stepped to her left, covering her weak side as she reached out for the payment.

But the second her fingers brushed the envelope, Alex flashed past her to strike the back of the man's outstretched elbow. He screamed, staggering, and Alex pulled him away from Kai and hurled him toward the wall. The other man lunged into the room, but Alex met him with a neat punch to the jaw. He dodged a swing and caught the man's wrist, bashing his elbow into the side of his face. The first man had regained his balance by then, steadying himself against the wall before squaring himself to the fight.

That was when Kai reached him. His attention was on Alex, so it was easy for her to get close and grab his forearm. She drove her knee into the man's stomach, using the momentum of his fall to throw him to the ground. She turned as Alex ducked another jab and slammed his fist into his opponent's cheek. The man dropped, sprawling at Alex's feet and lying motionless.

"What the hell was that?" Kai demanded, stomping down on her man's back to keep him on the floor.

"Kai?" Ernesto said in her ear. "Everything okay?"

Alex knelt to pick up the envelope. "They were gonna kill us."

"He was handing over the payment!"

He tilted his hand so she could see inside the empty envelope. "Flores knew you were coming," he said, running his hands over his fallen opponent's waist and producing a long serrated knife. "He should have had the payment ready."

Damn it—she hated when he was right.

"He must have guessed you're a cop," Alex went on, taking off his hat and dragging a hand through his hair. "Probably one of your first undercover assignments? You know what you're doing, I'll give you that, but you pushed too hard for the cargo. You have to let the mark think he's in control."

"What are you...?" Kai started, but she trailed off when Alex put his hand down. Freed from the hat, his hair fell over his forehead and down around his ears, long enough to brush his shoulders. "Are you wearing a wig?"

"Am—am I—?" he sputtered. "Look, I don't know who you think I am, but—" He broke off, eyes widening. "Wait, you called me Alex before. Alex Stone?"

All at once, her vision seemed to shift. The man before her had Alex's face, but now that she looked closer, she could see a handful of inconsistencies. A scar over his eyebrow that hadn't been there before, a leanness about his jaw, a shadow she'd never seen in his eyes. Ernesto kept talking through the earbud, but she was only half-listening.

She stared into the face of her friend, and a stranger looked back.

The door burst open, breaking the tension that had paralyzed the room and tearing Not Alex's attention from her. Ernesto came in with his gun drawn, not quite pointing at the imposter, but not aimed at the men who'd attacked them either.

"Your partner?" asked Not Alex. His voice was calm, but so gruff she could barely understand it. She motioned for Ernesto to put his gun away. He swept a shrewd look over her, checking for injuries, and then knelt beside her man on the floor and pulled a pair of handcuffs off his belt.

The imposter cleared his throat. "Do you know Alex Stone?"

For a moment Kai considered lying, but the sharpness in Not Alex's eyes had softened. The look he gave her wasn't quite pleading, but it was clearly a request. She heard the please in his eyes as clearly as if he'd said it out loud.

So, in a voice that sounded more confident than she felt, she answered, "Alex Walker."

A snort of laughter blew through the imposter's nose. "Walker? He could have picked anything, and he went with Walker? At least I used a family name."

"No," Ernesto said to himself, shooting Kai with a look that somehow contained astonishment, delight, and trepidation all at once.

Kai echoed the denial in her head. This couldn't be happening.

"My name is Eliot," the other man said.

Don't say it. Don't—

"I'm Alex's brother."

No. No no no no no.

There were two of them.

[tallstars-rewrite]

Chapter 46

chapter list / previous / next

The Thunderpath was the last barrier between Talltail and home. It was dark, and there were no monsters in sight, but the steps across were the longest and most nerve wracking of his life. At last, with a nudge from Jake when he hesitated on the last tail-length of stone, his toes touched heather wet with dew from the late greenleaf rain. He stopped and breathed in, his jaws open to drink in the taste of the moor. The gorse, the bracken, the soil. Home. Relief and a sudden unexpected giddiness hit him all at once and Talltail found himself bounding forward, streaking across the grass as fast as he could just to remember what it felt like. He knew exactly where he was, coming down the farthest edge of Swift-Step Hills, the downward momentum letting him remember that feeling of flying. He remembered this trail, and the bramble patches and scattered stones he passed. After so long of unknown land, bewilderment, at last… He felt right. Whatever part of him had worried that maybe he would be too changed to ever feel as he once had so long ago was quickly swept up and blown away in an instant. He wanted to let out an excited yowl, and might have if he didn’t suddenly remember that he had no idea how a WindClan patrol would receive him if he accidentally barreled into one. In his mad dash, he’d also nearly forgotten that he needed to circle back so as to not leave Jake in the dirt. Jake was waiting with a fond gleam in his eyes as he trotted, a little more clumsy on the steeper slopes, down the hill after Talltail.

“I was worried you’d just take off entirely,” Jake said.

“Sorry. I just needed to...needed to...you know?” Jake headbutted his shoulder gently. “Yeah, I know.”

Talltail shook himself. He did need to get his head on straight. Tonight could go very badly, but he needed to allow himself that brief moment of joy before the intense fur prickling anxiety set back in. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping for. A patrol? That would surely be better than waltzing into camp, but...how much better would depend heavily on who was on the patrol.

What he wasn’t expecting was a lone cat scouting the moor with no other patrol in sight. Whatever he’d been hoping for...it certainly was not what he saw.

Talltail froze mid step as he was suddenly aware of a shocked pair of sharp yellow eyes meeting his from within the heath, before the cat they belonged to slowly rose up. Shrewclaw stood alone half way down the hill, staring up at Talltail and seemingly just as frozen to the spot. 

The stars clearly weren’t ready to forgive him just yet. 

Talltail wasn’t sure how he expected Shrewclaw to react. Shrewclaw, who out of every living cat in the clan, he would have been the most certain unabashedly hated him. A warning snarl perhaps, or a taunting ‘so you think you can come crawling back, huh?’

What he didn’t expect was the expression on Shrewclaw’s face to shift from stunned shock to something that might have resembled...relief. Seeing a positive emotion on Shrewclaw’s face was odd enough on the best of days, but now, Talltail didn’t know what to make of it. 

His old rival took several careful steps towards him. “Talltail? Is that...you?”

Talltail wasn’t sure how to reply, and then Shrewclaw was right in front of him.

“You’re alive,” Shrewclaw said stiffly. Talltail couldn’t make out what the tone of his voice meant. It was not quite aggressive, but not quite welcoming either. “We all thought...at least, most of us thought for sure you were dead, w-what--? Why--?”

“I, um,” Talltail stuttered. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how this must look to you, but I-I need to speak with the clan.”

To his further surprise, Shrewclaw stepped forward and touched his nose, hesitantly. Talltail realized with a start Shrewclaw had to lean up to do so. Have I really grown since I left? Or maybe he got shorter... 

Shrewclaw took an awkward step back. “I thought you might be a ghost, just...checking.”

“You thought what?”

“I don’t know. I just can’t believe you’re here again I'm--I’m sorry.”

“Y...you’re sorry?”

“Yeah, I mean-- It wasn’t fair--I didn’t mean anything I said--Well...no, maybe I meant some of it, but not the worst stuff, you know? I thought it was my fault. It’s been such a mess since you left, and I thought I’d never get to...just...I’m sorry, ok?”

Talltail just stared. What was he looking at? Who was this cat and what had they done with Shrewclaw? Where was the unstable angry tom who would sooner drop dead than apologize for anything? What else has changed while I was gone? 

Before he could ask Shrewclaw to elaborate, the tom perked up. “By StarClan! You need to get your stupid tail back to camp right now, everyone won’t believe it...Dawnstripe, and Woollycloud and--Ugh you have the worst possible timing, with everyone riled up about ShadowClan!”

“Weren’t we already riled up about ShadowClan?”

“Yes, but it got better for a bit, and then it got way way worse!” Shrewclaw growled. “And now you have the nerve to just pop back up!? We need to go, it’s not safe in this part of the territory without a full patrol right now.”

Talltail narrowed his eyes. “You’re out here without a full patrol?”

Shrewclaw glared. “Yeah, well, mind your own business.”

Well that sounded a bit more like the Shrewclaw he remembered.

Talltail looked over his shoulder at Jake, not far behind him, and gulped. This is what he got for not making a clear plan for this moment. “R-right, you’re right we should go, but I have uh. I have a... friend? He’s the reason I could come back, and I want him to stay with me.”

Shrewclaw looked behind him and his fur bristled a bit on sight at the orange kittypet, who gave him an awkward wave of the tail.

“Hello!” Jake called and promptly let out a huge sneeze when the grass he was hiding in went up his nose.

Shrewclaw blinked. “I… really don’t have time to argue with you about this. Whatever, fine, let's just go! I have to tell Briar.” 

Talltail looked back at Jake and nodded, though he couldn’t hide his uncertainty about this situation. But no matter what, there was no going back now. He was being brought right back into camp...and he would have a lot of explaining to do. Jake stayed close beside as they ran at a steady pace through the eastern fields, up towards Outlook Hill overlooking WindClan’s camp. Talltail’s heart thudded louder than ever in his ears with each step closer to home.

They hadn’t run long when he spotted Briarpaw, bounding across the heather toward them. Had they already been seen? Shrewclaw scooted by him and said “I’ll let everyone know,” and kept going. The nervous bird fluttering in Talltail’s chest was now having a full-blown panicked fit, but his eyes were brought back to Briarpaw’s too quickly to think as the medicine cat reached him and headbutted into Talltail’s chest so hard he was almost knocked backward. Talltail was stunned for a moment while Briarpaw pressed his muzzle against his chin.

“Talltail! Talltail, you came home! You’re ok!” 

Talltail, hesitantly at first, leaned into his old friend, and for a few moments just remained there remembering his familiar scent and gentle purr. 

“You're really home…” Briarpaw breathed.

 “Briarpaw I...I’m sorry I left so fast. I’ve missed you.”

There wasn’t a trace of anger on his face, he simply corrected. “Briarface.”

Talltail blinked in surprise “R-really? You already got your medicine cat name?”

Briarface ducked his head almost bashfully “I’ve had a lot of time to focus on honing my skills. It kept me busy. I only got it a quarter moon ago, actually.”

“That’s...great! Congratulations, really.” Talltail couldn’t help but feel the moment was bittersweet. Briarface had been so nervous about getting his name, afraid he wouldn’t get it at all at one point, unsure of his talent. I wanted to be there when he did… he thought sadly. He and Shrewclaw had planned a celebration for it once. It was one of the only things they agreed on. But then, that was before everything had gone so wrong. He shook the pangs of regret from his head. He couldn’t change what he’d done, he could only do better now. Briarface pressed his nose to Talltail’s.

“I’m glad you're here now,” he mewed, as if he knew Talltail’s worries. He probably did. Briarface’s golden eyes drifted past Talltail to rest on the bright ginger tabby sitting half crouched among the moor grass. Jake looked as if he couldn’t decide if he should hide, come forward, or simply wait, and was stuck in the middle of all three, awkwardly shuffling his paws as Talltail greeted his oldest friend. Talltail waved him forward with his tail and immediately Jake perked up at the invitation and trotted forward in the usually warm manner. He stopped short a tail length away and hastily dipped his head, clearly barely remembering the clan's custom greeting.

“Uh, ‘evening!” he mewed.

“You must be Jake?” Briarface purred. Talltail wondered briefly if he had told Briarface Jake’s name, but then, he had apparently seen Talltail with him moons ago when they were young. He felt a rush of relief at Briarface’s lack of suspicion. Jake surely still carried traces of twoleg scent, but Briarface didn’t recoil or comment on who this strange outsider Talltail traveled with was at all.

Talltail turned to Jake, “this is Briarface. He’s been a dear friend of mine since I was a kitten.” If only I had always treated him as such… he added silently.

Briarface dipped his head politely to the orange tom “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Jake lifted his head and blinked at the medicine cat. “You’re Briarface?” he mewed seeming in thought for a moment  “Huh...Well, you are pretty.”

Briarface blinked. “Uhm...Thank you?”

Talltail cleared his throat loudly. “Anyway...Jake is my close...friend. A lot more than that really--er. W-We’ve been through a lot together and...”

“Yes, I can tell. Well any friend of yours will be welcome, I’m sure.” Briarface purred with amusement. “I’m sure you’ve come a long way, but I'm afraid there isn’t much time for rest. Come on, let's not keep anyone waiting.”

Briarface seemed so confident about the idea. Even so, Talltail expected some kind of anger when he got back, after the way he left. The more he thought about it, the more deeply ashamed he was for it. If they were furious, they had a right to be. He heard loud voices from over the crest of the camp's border, and Talltail followed Briarface down achingly familiar paths, his paws falling so naturally into pawprints he’d walked for so long. Like he’d never left at all. But I did, he reminded himself And I have no idea what will happen now.

Then they were there, cresting the slope leading into camp and there was no more time left to worry. Within a heartbeat, Dawnstripe had tackled him to the ground even harder than Briarface had, with Woollycloud at her heels. He saw the familiar forms of the siblings Fallowspring, Ryewhisker and Fawnleap. Shrewclaw followed behind, and Talltail was surrounded. He could hardly think through their purrs and questions as everyone tried to touch noses with him at once, some a little too hard in their haste.

“You’re alive!” Woollycloud sobbed 

“Where have you been?” Dawnstripe cried, 

“Are you hurt?” Ryewhisker asked

“I-I’m sorry,” was all Talltail could choke out. “I’ll try to explain as...as best I can.” Where would he start? 

Fawnleap paused, his eyes narrowed slightly. “Hey...are you taller than me now?” he cried, almost sounding offended.

“What? I uh--? Don’t know?” Talltail stuttered. He couldn’t think of what else to say amidst all the chaos.

“You do look different. Your journey has changed you,” Briarface added with a glint in his eye.

“O shut up Fawnleap, you flea-brain,” Fallowspring said, “There are way more important matters here. Like who in StarClan is that?” She gestured over at Jake, who grinned sheepishly in return.

“He’s my er--companion, he helped me back home,” Talltail said quickly. He hardly knew what to do with himself or where to start. It was hard to imagine he’d gone so long alone, forgetting the feeling of having so many others around him. He didn’t realize how much he had missed the security, the feeling of surety of being surrounded with so many trusted cats. He wanted to answer everyone’s questions, they certainly had plenty, but his voice was failing him.

 Dawnstripe was pressing her forehead into his. “I’m extremely cross with you, Talltail,” she said, although she didn’t sound particularly cross. 

There really had been no way to know what he would find upon returning. He feared that he would be met with scorn, with the others turning their backs on him for his actions. And there certainly were a couple cats that looked genuinely cross, but... not necessarily hostile. Mostly, there were looks of amazement and relief--even joy. He could have toppled over in relief having that sudden fear swept away. Maybe they really did want him home as much as he wanted to be here.

“Everyone,” Talltail started, trying, and failing, to keep his voice from cracking. “I really wish could explain now, b-but I think I should speak to Heatherstar--”

“Yes, I think you should.” Heatherstar’s sharp commanding voice cutting through the crowd had everyone awkwardly shuffling back, parting for their leader as she strode towards Talltail with narrowed stormy eyes. Talltail dipped his head low at her approach.

“A convenient time for you to appear in our midst again,” Heatherstar said coldly. “You have very poor timing--or perhaps it’s lucky timing for you, considering we have no time to properly sort out what should be done about the desertion act you pulled.”

“You have every right to be angry with me Heatherstar,” Talltail began, still struggling to look her in the eye.

“I know I do. Your clan thought you were dead. I sent patrols out past the borders looking for you, only to find you’d simply left.” Then her voice softened, ever so slightly, to his surprise as she added, “but I am glad to see you are alive.”

Talltail stiffened as her eyes drifted behind him, surely resting on the strange orange kittypet sitting politely back a couple fox-lengths. Her face instantly hardened again, shifting her questioning glare back at Talltail. He cleared his throat and stumbled through the briefest, least awkward, explanation he could manage about meeting the kittypet, and how Jake helped him get home, and that he was very...important. She was still glaring when he finished, and Talltail felt flushing heat under his pelt while he went back to avoiding her gaze. 

Eventually she let out a very slow, very exasperated sigh. “Talltail, for StarClan’s sake...” Talltail winced at how transparent he was being. Someone in the crowd snickered. Heatherstar closed her eyes in frustration, seemingly talking half to herself. “You are making your case harder by the second. You had to bring an outsider home with you now of all times?”

“He’s not just--I wouldn’t have made it home at all without him. He wanted to make sure I was ok. I-I promise we were very careful to give ShadowClan territory a wide berth.” Talltail stuttered.

“I almost wonder if you’ve planned this out. I wouldn’t feel comfortable kicking you out now when there's a chance you could be seen by them, even if I wanted to. We do not need to be seen with a kittypet on our land after all the ridiculous accusations we’ve been faced with these past moons!”

“T-that wasn’t my intent--” Talltail started.

She swished her tail dismissively. “What was your intent then? You disappeared for nearly two moons. Why have you returned now?

“I came because I was worried. And I...I am ashamed of how I left. I want to make it up to you. If you will let me. I heard trouble was coming and I couldn’t stand to be away any longer.”

She gave a curt nod. “Yes, well, I certainly wouldn’t say it’s been peaceful. We've dealt with multiple border skirmishes and a lot of unpleasant arguments and gatherings. I can’t understand how all of this lying and turmoil is worth a small spot of land for ShadowClan.” 

“It's possible they aren't making up lies exactly,” Talltail said. “I think we’ve been set up. There’s a lot I learned that you might want to hear.”

After a long pause of consideration, Heatherstar waved the clan away. “You may speak to me privately. But your companion is going to remain under watch”

Talltail wanted to protest. Jake had never been in a place like this, surrounded by so many strange cats who were giving him sideways glances or wrinkling their noses at his collar. 

Luckily, Briarface quickly stepped forward and whispered to him, “I’ll look after Jake, don’t worry, he’ll be fine.”

Talltail gave one last look behind him before he followed Heatherstar, but Jake just blinked back at him with a small shrug before following Briarface away from the center of the staring crowd. Thank the stars Jake was so resilient.

Once in her den, Talltail told Heatherstar all he could of what he had found, that ShadowClan had discovered their abandoned tunneling project and saw it as a threat, and that since then a lone bunch of young ShadowClan cats had enlisted the help of a rogue through threats to purposely cause trouble between them. She seemed reluctant when he mentioned Sparrow, but something in his eyes must have convinced her he was not making wild accusations out of grief or anger this time.

“I spoke to Sparrow, and to ShadowClan’s medicine cat. Sparrow and the rest of his family are free from them now, and I doubt he intends to return to clan territory ever again. ShadowClan may intend to retaliate...soon, but only because they have been fed so much false information.”

He hesitated to say ShadowClan was possibly planning an attack on the new moon, two days from then. He desperately didn’t want Heatherstar to react by saying ‘then we must immediately launch an attack first’. There was a chance that Ratfang would succeed in talking her leader down from the idea. She wanted to prevent a battle, and she must have been desperate to put so much trust in a potential enemy. Talltail wanted to at least try making good on that trust. There could still be time.

Heatherstar furrowed her brow slightly. “I admit that would explain where the accusations came from. But even if what you say is true, that certain cats acting alone wanted to set our clans at each other...knowing that may not be enough to fix anything. I know at least one ShadowClan warrior has died from infected battle wounds as a result of these skirmishes, and the lot of them have been even more hostile since. Meanwhile, our clan has still been insulted and harassed on our border for moons, that is very real, and Brackenwing’s death is fresh in our minds. Even if these deaths were accidental casualties of battle, they happened all the same...Not to mention, if what you say is true, then ShadowClan was likely indirectly responsible for Sandstone’s death as well--and that particular invasion was under Cedarstar’s orders. Knowing that, you still want to see if we can resolve this?”

Talltail swallowed. “I do. If I thought retaliation would bring us peace, I would feel different. But I cannot in good conscience chase that drive for vengeance against them, especially when the cause will be playing into a treacherous cat's desires. You know this could spiral into an endless on and off war, and we are approaching the cold seasons. I just...I don’t want to lose anyone else. I will help defend us at all costs if we are left with no choice, but if we have a choice...”

Heatherstar regarded him quietly for a moment. “I would prefer to avoid seasons long hostilities as well. I will send a messenger and request a meeting, since there is reason to believe peace will not wait until the next gathering. But keep in mind, since this is happening on a night when the full moon doesn’t protect us, it may end in a battle if ShadowClan does not believe us, and especially if they refuse to give up their push to expand the borders. They may wish to protect the honor of their own, even if their own have broken the code, at any cost. If they agree to a meeting, I suspect Cedarstar will bring his warriors, and so will we. If it comes to violence despite our efforts, your first step in proving yourself to your clan again, if that is your goal, will be to fight beside us.”

“I will. Always.” Talltail hoped she heard the conviction in his voice. A meeting with a battle patrol worth of warriors wasn’t the most hopeful scenario. But it was the best he could do. 

***

Heatherstar announced to the clan her intentions to mixed mutterings and confusion. WindClan would send their messenger, and knowing ShadowClan, they would have patrols waiting nearby the border. They would make one last attempt at peace, but go in prepared for a fight.

“Why are we talking at all?” Shrewclaw hissed, casting a fierce glare at Talltail. Talltail stubbornly flattened his ears. There was the old angry tom he remembered. Whatever may have changed about Shrewclaw, this topic made it clear that old resentment built seasons ago when Brackenwing died was still there, burning away hot as ever. “You haven’t been here to see what they’ve been doing. This is a waste of time, violence is the only language ShadowClan understands. We have to make them regret ever setting paws under the Thunderpath tunnel to ensure they won’t dare try again!”

“I just think if one decisive battle was enough to fix things, the clans would have stopped fighting ages ago.” Talltail said evenly.

It was torment waiting around to hear back from the messenger. More than anything, Talltail wanted to sit with his old friends and hear about their lives, what had changed, if they were doing well. But there wasn’t time for that yet. Additionally, many cats were still looking at Talltail and Jake curiously, some a bit suspiciously. Perhaps they thought Heatherstar was letting him back in too easily. Honestly, Talltail wondered that as well. Heatherstar had been vague about what she planned to do with him, and about the outsider he had brought back. It seemed she wanted to deal with one big problem at a time, and any cat could see Jake wasn’t the most important threat around at the moment. 

Talltail was arguing with himself over whether it was a mistake to allow Jake to come into this mess. He didn’t think anyone would hurt Jake, but it was true that coming back with a kittypet really wasn't helping his case to be smoothly accepted back. Strong relationships with any outsider was frowned upon, and kittypets even more so than the average rogue. But Jake was worth that risk. Talltail wasn’t ashamed of him. Imagine how furious Sandstone would be if he were here to see it, some petty part of him whispered. The thought, surprisingly, was almost funny now. 

Maybe bringing Jake here was for selfish reasons, as having him nearby made Talltail feel braver, and he needed all the bravery he could get right now. To Talltail’s relief, Jake was still just sitting around amiably, clearly not frightened at all. He didn’t let himself get ruffled, even by the occasional hostile glance. He grinned and nodded a greeting to everyone he saw.

 “I know you care about these cats, so I may as well try to make a good impression,” he said to Talltail. A cat could get used to anything, Jake had said once. Even all this. 

Eventually Cloudrunner returned with the message, and ShadowClan, to everyone’s surprise, accepted the meeting immediately. Talltail thought they might at least wait a while, he’d been hoping for more time to settle his nerves and just get used to being back in WindClan’s camp again after so long. But he couldn’t relax until this matter was solved. Many cats were suspicious, and they had a right to be. Heatherstar was clearly prepared for an ambush. He just hoped she was also prepared  to sort this out without claws. If they could.

“Our medicine cats will be on standby in case.” Heatherstar announced, not even bothering to call a meeting as everyone was already anxiously gathered. “Reedfeather will put together the patrol. Only a select few will meet, while the rest of you will wait nearby and listen for the signal if things go wrong.”

 As those chosen for the patrol were preparing to leave, Briarface nudged Talltail gently. “It will be alright. And no one will harm your friend here, he’ll be safe.” Although his words were reassuring, that old cloud of worry marred his expression. Perhaps the medicine cat was trying to convince himself. “Be careful tonight, Talltail. I hope you can help us. Whatever happens...have faith in yourself.” 

Before Talltail could leave camp, Jake was running up behind him. “B-But...Are you really telling me to stay behind again?” he demanded.

“I know you don’t want to,” Talltail whispered to him, “But I have to insist this time. I can’t afford to disobey orders right now. Heatherstar is not happy as it is and you haven’t been trained to fight clan warriors in the event something happens with ShadowClan! If an outsider is seen in battle, the accusations could start all over again.”

“I’ll watch over your friend,” Fallowspring offered “I have to stay in camp. I’ll at least make sure Whitetooth doesn’t bite his nose off.”

“But--!” Jake protested.

Talltail pressed his nose to Jake’s cheek. “I’ll be back soon, I promise. Fallowspring’s a good cat, don’t worry.”

Fallowspring nodded, but she looked weary. Talltail could see she had remnants of cobweb on her hindleg covering a wound, probably from a more recent border skirmish that looked painful to walk on. Of course, there was nothing else that would keep her from joining the battle patrol. She looked after the patrol with some frustration, and worry. It wasn’t hard to guess she was probably looking after Shrewclaw, who was already about to run on ahead.

Fallowspring gave Talltail a long look, and said quietly, “as thanks...Try to make sure some cat keeps Shrewclaw from doing something mouse-brained. If you can.”

Talltail nodded slowly “I will but...I would have thought you’d be on board with him?”

“I don’t know...I might have been once. But now my siblings and mate are all on a battle patrol without me, and I can’t do anything to help. I just don’t want any more blood to be spilled on that border. I care so much about him, but I can’t make him listen.”

“I’ll do what I can.” Talltail said, before leaving to catch up to Heatherstar, feeling Jake and Fallowspring’s anxious eyes on his back as he went.

Talltail sent a silent prayer up to the stars peeking out in the pitch dark sky. He could only hope for the best and prepare for the worst.

chapter list / previous / next

[pretchatta]

I Saw Her Tomorrow

the authors of the MayThe4th fic exchange have been revealed! I've been dying to share my gift for @ambiguityisnoonesfriend ever since I finished it, so here it is.

a huge thank you to @skitter-kitteruwu for beta reading!!

rating: general; kanan jarrus/hera syndulla; 7.8k words (4 chapters, complete)

link to full work

---

Hera, 0BBY

The wind whistled in her ears and whipped her lekku as Hera wrestled with the glider. Her exhilaration at flying was tempered by her awareness of the imminent danger. They were losing altitude fast, but their forward velocity was enough that the roof of the fuel station was getting bigger with every passing second.

"This is gonna be close!" she yelled to Kanan.

"It always is!" he called back. She knew he couldn’t see the precariousness of their situation, and yet he trusted her completely to fly them through it.

The glider skimmed over the lip of the building, barely clearing it. The durasteel frame screeched as it skidded over the roof, but didn’t crumple. She just about managed to hold on. The rush of another successful landing almost made her giddy.

Kanan was no longer beside her; he hadn’t been able to brace in time and had lost his grip on impact. His momentum had carried him over the glider’s nose to roll onto the roof. 

He pushed himself up with a groan. "That was one of your better crashes."

Hera gave him a scandalised look as she dismounted and wagged a finger at him. "Kanan Jarrus, you know I never crash. I have very-"

"Very exciting landings," he finished for her with a smile, grabbing the admonishing hand. "Thanks for reminding me. Come on!" He pulled her towards the middle of the roof and away from the pursuing Imperials. 

After a few steps she had to stop him from running over the edge; the Empire hadn't yet finished covering the station. She was about to tell him off for not seeing it, but then she stopped herself with a giggle. He was blind; he couldn’t see anything.

His head jerked as though he suddenly sensed what was in front of them. He made an impatient noise in the back of his throat, clearly displeased with how exposed they were, and grabbed his commlink.

"Spectre-5, do you read? How are you coming with that ship?"

"Kanan! Did you get her?" Sabine's tinny voice came through from the other end. Hera hadn’t even realised she’d been worried, but she felt something unclench slightly from around her heart at the sound.

"Of course he did," she replied, leaning into Kanan slightly to reach the small device. She immediately lost her balance, but he caught her without missing a beat and nudged her back upright. Maybe those interrogation drugs weren’t out of her system quite yet. 

"There’s been a change of plans," Kanan was saying into the comm. "We need a pickup–"

"At the fuel station," Sabine cut in, "I know. The Empire does too."

He grimaced. She found herself fascinated by how naked his mouth looked without his beard surrounding it. "Well, let’s hope you get to us fi–"

"Hold on, there are new orders coming through." She paused. "All ships are being ordered to maintain high altitude to allow a bombing run on the fuel station."

"What?" Kanan yelped. "They’ll blow up the whole factory if they do that!"

Sabine sounded like she was still listening to the Imperial orders. "Apparently the roof is reinforced, and can take a hit."

"The roof is unfinished! There’s a giant hole in it!" Kanan gestured towards it even though there was no visual link on the comm.

"I guess Pryce really doesn’t want us getting away," Hera muttered.

"Kanan, it doesn’t matter." There was a definite note of panic in Sabine’s voice now, and it was mirrored by a rising fear in Hera. "I’m not gonna be able to get down to you before the bomber arrives without blowing our cover and getting shot to pieces!"

"That’s not a problem. Just get directly overhead, as quickly as you can. Tell Ezra to be ready to catch us – just like we practised."

Hera heard Sabine’s shaky breath over the comm. "I’ll let you know when I’m in position."

The light blinked off.

This was bad. Adrenaline returned to Hera’s body, chasing away the drug-induced fog that had started clouding her brain since they’d landed. What was Kanan up to?

"What do you have planned?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"When they get here, I’ll jump," he said simply. "I can get pretty high, and Ezra can pull us the rest of the way from above."

Her mind conjured the image of him cradling her in his arms as they soared upwards, just like in every ridiculous superhero holo they’d watched together.

Except this one isn’t ridiculous, because he would do that.

He would always come to save her. Whatever it took, he would always be there. He’d fly into the middle of a maximum security Imperial complex on a few pieces of scrap metal and junk, cut her free of her bonds, fight off a nightmarish assassin and escape an impossible dead-end situation by calling on his supernatural powers. 

She felt a wave of emotion rise within her, a surge of warmth that threatened to spill into tears. Did he even know how incredibly important he was to her? They’d been so focused on fighting for so long, they’d had to actively find time to be alone together before she’d left. She’d figure out how to break the other news later, but right now there was one thing Hera needed to say to him.

"Kanan," she started. His attention immediately focused on her; there was something in her voice, something soft and vulnerable, yet serious. "I know it’s been a while since I’ve said it, and I know this isn’t really the moment, but… I love you." 

Her ungloved fingers stroked the exposed skin of his cheek. He turned his head slightly in response so that his lips brushed her palm.

"I know," he said simply. It was the best thing he could have said. "And I love you too."

Her mouth curved into a smile as she pushed herself up onto her toes to kiss him. He returned the kiss, the press of his lips against hers achingly familiar, like coming home. Less familiar was the scratch of stubble; after years of having a beard, she’d forgotten what it was like to kiss Kanan without one.

They were interrupted by the familiar scream of twin ion engines approaching.

"Sabine!" Kanan shouted frantically into the comm. "Where are you? The bomber’s here!"

Her response was drowned out by the TIE bomber. 

It swept overhead, blotting out the light from both moons. Hera wrapped her arms tightly around Kanan’s torso. Throughout her capture and subsequent torture she’d never once lost faith that he would come and rescue her, but now, faced with their current situation, that hope finally flickered. Their last moments were upon them. 

At least they were together.

The bomber passed, the whine of the engines deepening as it retreated, but the shadow remained. Hera looked up and saw, suspended in the air above them, the unmistakable silhouette of a baradium missile. 

She relaxed her grip on Kanan and realised he had thrust his arms out towards the sky, eyes closed, brow furrowed in concentration. He’d caught the missile! Her brave, brilliant Jedi.

"Kanan?" she asked tentatively. "Can you... put that down? We've got to get off this roof before they make another pass."

"I'm holding the proton charge detonator," he said through gritted teeth. She felt her stomach drop through her feet; he couldn’t let go without activating the missile. The whole station would go up with it. "Can’t jump without letting go. Or sending it up to the kids. But I can still throw you."

"But – what about you?" She knew the answer even as she asked, but her brain was refusing to accept it.

His sightless eyes locked on to her face. His expression was an unreadable mask. "I'm not making it out of this one."

No. 

No, no no.

She was shaking her head, even though he couldn’t see it. "I’m not leaving without you."

"Yes, you are," he insisted. "And you’re going to be okay. Don’t ask me how I know this, but you’re going to move on, and you will be happy again. I’m certain of it. And that’s all I ever wanted."

"Kanan–"

The comm beeped again.

"We’re in position! Kanan, now!"

Sabine’s words had barely sunk in when she felt herself gripped by an unseen hand, and then she was flying through the air. She caught a glimpse of the whole station below her – the square roof framing the round hole that in turn framed gleaming stacks of construction material, the bomb hovering off-center and ruining the symmetry – before her vision went dark. 

She felt the wind from the TIE bomber as it raced below her at the same time as a second invisible force grabbed her. It twisted her in midair, and now she was rushing towards an Imperial patrol transport. A single figure in a fighter pilot’s uniform stood in the troop bay with arms outstretched. 

By the time Ezra had pulled her into the transport beside him and she was able to turn back around, the fuel station was an expanding ball of fire. 

Kanan was gone.

---

Chapter 2 (AO3) ->

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Can I request a Viv Tang fic or hc?

It's angst, where The Poppy leaves MC to take the blame on one of their heists, promising that they would break her out, but never did. Yet despite that she never sold them out.

Then Nadia was the one who broke her out, manipulating her and plotting lies in her head to make her join Flashpoint.

The Poppy did do their everything to break MC out but everytime Nadia intercepts them. So when they finally tracked down where MC and Nadia is, on the location of their latest operation, they tried to reason to her. But MC's loyalty was too deep for Nadia maybe because Nadia also made MC think that she loves her or something.

And maybe the last words could be:

"Next time I won't hesitate to tell them to pull the trigger, maybe I'll be the one to pull the trigger myself."

Make it as angsty as possible please and thank you in advance!

Warning: Mentions of murder.

...

Prison life was hell. Try as she might, MC couldn’t endure it as well as she thought she could. There was an enemy in every shadow, in every corner. There was no one to lean against, no support.

The days dragged on and on, virtually endless, no help in sight.

MC remembered the warmth of the Poppy, their joyous celebrations, the life in their eyes as they planned a heist that would ultimately unveil in failure. No one had known then that it would go wrong, and MC couldn’t help but wonder if they would have cared. If they would have changed anything in the plan.

There wasn’t a moment in this damn place where people didn’t shove it in her face—no doubt it was on purpose, why the heck would they want to drag a failure like you around? —and scoffed at her when they saw her, not believing for a second that this scared little kid could belong to such a famous group.

Two weeks in, MC had abandoned any hope that she would be rescued. She was stuck for fifteen years in this place. Investigators would come in periodically, their eyes stone cold as they probed her for answers, but MC kept her mouth shut and looked away. They would get physical sometimes, intent on getting answers, but MC say nothing.

The memory of a place she truly belonged in was still fresh in her mind. She had always been an emotional person… it was no surprise she had no desire to sell them out. At least not yet. Give her a couple of months, and maybe she’d be bitter enough to do it.

Three weeks in, a blast had knocked the whole prison into chaos. The sheer relief that flooded her was only slightly evaporated by the spark of anger and indignation in her chest, but she still hurried out, thirsty for freedom.

She expected to see Vivienne’s impish smirk, hand extended in her direction, no remorse in her eyes, but was surprised by golden hair and a tight, crisp suit that had once been white, now marred by dirt and smoke and blood.

“Oh good, I was wondering how much target practice I would have before you showed up,” the woman said, her grin as sharp as a knife’s edge even though she was standing so casually, as if they weren’t standing at the edge of a broken prison wall but in a café.

MC froze, caught off guard. Someone—another inmate—ran behind her, intent on reaching freedom, and the woman whipped a gun in his direction so fast he didn’t even have time to react. His body joined the pile of bodies by the side, momentum making it flop like a sad, broken doll. The woman hums to herself as she reloads the gun.

“Hurry up, MC, I don’t have all day.”

“Wha—? But you just shot—”

She shrugs, nonchalant. “Yeah, well, since they are no use to me… I might as well practice my aim, no?”

“…I—”

“Hurry up and come here, MC,” the woman says, impatience making her voice firmer and deadlier. Her arm snaps up, the sound of a gunshot making the air vibrate, and MC covers her ears and flinches. Someone lets out a pained gurgle and the thump right behind her makes MC shiver. A swift glance reveals it’s a guard. “The cavalry has arrived—next shot is at your feet if you don’t move. Right. Now.”

MC has never run so fast in her entire life. The woman’s grin returns, pleased, and after one last shot, she guides MC out into a waiting helicopter. They are out of the prison without much trouble. Still a bit anxious, MC takes one of the seats, stiffly. In contrast, the woman lets herself drop in the seat in front of her and all but beams at her.

“Sorry about that—I like to make things dramatic. Name’s Nadia.”

“That was… a tad more dramatic than I would have liked…”

“You’ll get used to it in no time,” she replies, waving her hand as if it’s no big deal. She smirks and lets the gun drop on MC’s lap, who goes very still, staring at the device in horror. “Safety’s on, chill. I’d never do anything to you, MC.”

“You literally threatened me like three seconds ago.”

“Because we were going to get caught otherwise! I wouldn’t have acted on it, promise.”

MC chances a look at her eyes—there’s a dangerous amusement dancing in them, like the light blue of a river that doesn’t seem to have a very strong current until you are swept off into a certain death. There are no second chances with this woman, no false appearances. MC doesn’t realize how reliving this raw honesty is until it washes over her, and she wonders if right now she’s at the edge of the river. One wrong move…

“Thank you for getting me out of there.”

“No big deal. I heard what happened with the Poppy—figures they aren’t as noble as they make everyone believe.”

Those words cut into MC like a frosty knife.

“I… I thought they sent you to break me out…”

Nadia scoffs. “Me, working with stuck-ups like them? Now that’s a good laugh.”

“Why did you bail me out, then?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” She leans forward. “The Poppy threw away some very valuable talent. As any proper thief would do, I claimed it for myself.”

“…threw away, huh?”

“They were quite satisfied with themselves, too. Imagine the fit they’ll have when they know you’re with Flashpoint now.”

It’s hard to believe her words. The image of a joyous Poppy is still fresh in MC’s mind, but Nadia’s words tint it a dull reddish-brown, just like a faded photograph. She thinks about Vivienne’s words, about her promise to break her out, and frowns.

“You speak as though I’ve already joined your little group.”

“There’s no other option, MC. I’m not letting a talent like you slip away… plus, don’t you want to get back at them? Show them what a horrible mistake they did?”

“…”

“Or just let them seethe silently in rage, sure. Can’t say I love your approach, but eh.”

Her fingers curl around the grip of the gun. “What happens if I don’t want to work for you?”

Nadia looks at her with keen interest, still with a lazy smirk. “Then you’d be volunteering for target practice.”

“I thought you say you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“I don’t hurt my coworkers, no, but if you cross me—whoever you are—then you seal your fate.”

MC hums, looking at the firearm in her lap, moving her thumb over the safety. After a small pause, in which she glances over at the pilot, she moves her hand away.

“Fine. I’ll join.”

“Great!”

Flashpoint, true to its name, prefers more flashy heists.

MC wasn’t too comfortable with their modus operandi at first, but got used to it soon enough.

Nadia was a strict leader. Every conversation with her was intense and dangerous, especially when she was in a bad mood, but she was thorough.

She didn’t mince her words. She was as honest as could be, and after months caught in Vivienne’s game, Nadia was a breath of fresh air. MC couldn’t be really blamed for falling in love with her, right? In the end, Nadia was the only one willing to support her.

That’s why it had been such a surprise when, in the middle of their latest heist, the Poppy had intervened.

They had been as organized as always—Flashpoint was completely caught off guard, the communication lost. MC could deal with not knowing what happened to the rest, so long as she had Nadia with her.

Nadia had been strangely amused when the Poppy crashed their heist, not worried at all, gripping her knife without a care in the world. That was reassuring… at least during this forced encounter, MC would have her by her side.

And it was comforting to see that Nadia hadn’t taken out her gun yet.

Vivienne is the one who speaks, voice as demanding as firewood smoke, and MC goes deadly still when the seductress goes straight to the point instead of dancing around the subject as she usually does. “Nadia prevented us from breaking you out.”

Her words ring hollow. Now that MC has been out of her influence long enough, it’s easy to ignore her words. They are fake, anyway. They must be.

Nadia scoffs, wolfish grin still in place. “Blaming me now, huh? That’s low. I thought you would have come up with a better excuse.”

Remy instantly starts to explain the foiled attempts, and their most recent efforts to find Flashpoint now that MC was with them, but MC can’t look at him without remembering her time in prison—dark, dark, not an ally in sight, contempt in every corner—and it’s enough to make her bristle.

How dare they? How dare they spill these lies after leaving her to rot in jail? After lying to her for months, making her believe she was one of them?

The fact that they had left her to take the fall was insulting. If it had been Nadia, she would have stayed with her. They would have gone down together, guns blazing. Nadia was the type of person that gave everything or nothing at all.

Vivienne tries to speak again, a desperation in her eyes MC had never seen before, but the sight is oddly satisfying.

Nadia catches it, because of course she does, her smirk softening as she reaches for her gun and aims casually. “Better beg for your lives now.”

And Nadia’s also a very dramatic person, that’s for sure. MC almost wants to laugh at their faces, eyes trained on the gun, expression tainted with disbelief, but MC sees no point in killing them. Not like this, at least.

“What? You still don’t want to get back at them?” But even then, even with how much she’s itching to pull the trigger, Nadia lowers the weapon and scowls. “Fine.”

“Don’t come back to me with this bullshit. Next time I won’t hesitate to tell Nadia to pull the trigger. Maybe I’ll even pull the trigger myself.”

Vivienne sets her jaw and stands still, and MC gives her a small, triumphant smile before she follows Nadia out of the museum.

[veorlian]

spinning blades

for @kanejweek day 1: mythology (gods & saints).

read it on ao3 here!

pairing: Kaz Brekker x Inej Ghafa

rated t for stabbing and past abuse mention

Inej hadn’t known how to fight when she’d joined the Dregs — Kaz had taught her. First it was throwing a punch, before they moved onto blades. Training knives at first. I don't want you ruining my suit, he’d said. You can have a proper knife when I know you won’t trip and fall on it. She'd wanted to hit them, then. She suspected that that was why he'd said it. 

He was a strange boy, Kaz Brekker. She didn't trust him. She’d told him so, and he'd only said: Good, you're a quick learner.

They practiced in an alley behind the Slat. The others largely left them alone, save for the boy named Jesper’s occasional visits to offer encouragement. But mostly it was just her, Kaz, and whatever crows and stray cats wandered by.

"I heard once that there was an honour code for fighting," she said during their second makeshift lesson. She shifted the unfamiliar weight of the knife in her hand and lunged forward. Kaz stepped back, deftly avoiding her attack. She turned around to face him just a fraction too late.

Before she fully registered it, Kaz swept his cane forward, hooking it behind her legs and knocking her off balance. But she was most at home in the air and she easily flipped around, using the momentum to push herself back up on her feet.

"Rules are for the merchers and the aristocracy. Barrel gangs fight dirty," he replied. 

"I'm not that," she said. Kaz shrugged nonchalantly.

"If you want to fight fair, it's your funeral," he said. 

"Or maybe yours." 

Inej nimbly launched herself forward, feet first. Her intention was to hit Kaz square in the chest, but he stepped to the side a second before she would've connected. She landed neatly, rolling into a somersault and back onto her feet in an instant. They circled one another warily.

"Better," he said. "But too slow. Don't waste time talking. You'd be dead before you landed."

"Most people don’t see me coming," she pointed out.

"Surprise is good, but it won’t save you if you're cornered by a dozen thugs with rifles."

Inej raised an eyebrow. "If I have to fight that many, then it can only mean one of your plans has gone wrong."

It didn't provoke the reaction she'd wanted. His expression didn't change, still that infuriatingly bored look.

"There are dozens of spiders in the Barrel that could take that many," he said. The rest of the sentence was left hanging in the air between them. If you can't, then I don't need you.

The world slowed around her. Sudden panic clawed at her throat, white-hot, at the thought that she might be sent back to the Menagerie. Brekker wouldn’t do that, would he? 

She looked at his eyes, so dark they were almost black in the growing shadows. She knew his reputation. Greed was his god, it was said, and cruelty was his creed. He wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of her if she didn’t make herself useful. 

Alright, Kaz Brekker, she thought bitterly, it’s your funeral.

She held herself very still, in the way that she used to before putting her first foot on the wire. She could feel his eyes on her. Good. She was at her best with an audience.

Watch closely, ladies and gentlemen. 

Inej turned her gaze to Kaz. Looked at him the way she assumed he looked at the world — checking for weaknesses. Not the leg; she’d tried that before. Her wrist was still sore from where his cane had hit her. She’d had cause to learn that there was a knife up both of his sleeves, and another in his shoe. Best to go for the face. It felt as though she was seeing herself from a long way away, as though she wasn't in her body anymore.

Prepare yourself for a sight unlike any you've seen before.

She launched into a handstand, grabbing dirt from the ground as she went. Like at home, covering her hands in chalk before sailing from rung to rung. She vaulted over Kaz's head, spraying the dirt into his eyes. He raised a hand to block it, but she'd already landed behind him, the flat of her knife against his throat.

There was a wild, dizzying moment where she considered stabbing him. She’d only been in the Dregs a few weeks, she hadn’t seriously hurt anyone before. But her blood was still roaring in her ears, the acrid tang of copper lingering on her tongue. 

I’m not this, she thought. She forced herself to relax and step back. She needed space to think. She needed to pray.

"It's a start," Brekker said, entirely unruffled.

Inej stayed on the roof of the Slat that night, her eyes fixed on the harbour. She thought of what she was working towards. Leaving Ketterdam. Finding her family. Just this once, she thought, the ends justified the means. She stayed up on the roof till the sun rose, glinting pale pink along the horizon.

She'd fallen into the habit of visiting Kaz’s office first thing in the morning. She'd always been up with the sun, and she didn’t allow herself to sleep in. Not anymore. Her first week at the Slat she’d tried going down to the main room, but it was generally filled with snoring teenagers sprawled along the tables and floor. So, she went to Kaz’s office to get her daily assignments. From what she could tell, Brekker didn’t sleep at all. He was certainly always awake when she arrived, drinking his horrible bitter coffee. This morning was no exception.

“Hello, Wraith,” he said when she entered. She was certain she hadn’t made a sound. On her first visit to the office she’d made a note of which floorboards creaked, which hinges squeaked. That didn’t seem to matter to Brekker. 

He didn’t look up at her, only motioned to the knife on the desk. It gleamed in the morning sun, refracting light across the room. She reached for it, wrapping her hand around the handle. It felt unnervingly right, in a way that the training knives hadn’t. The metal was cool against her palms — like the rungs of the ladder leading to the wire.

“Maybe I’ll use it on you,” she said, turning it over in her hands.

He sighed. “If only you were that bloodthirsty.”

Sankt Petyr, she called the blade. She prayed her Saints would understand the things she did to stay alive.

Inej had never learned how to fight with knives. But she had, on slow afternoons, learned to throw them. It was part of the act; throwing the blades at a moving target, deftly avoiding the person tied to the board.

"I'm nervous," Inej had admitted, before her first time assisting. Her aunt had offered to show her how it was done, to help her feel more safe. Inej had accepted. She’d learned to throw knives from the very best. She could hit a target at 80 paces on a rainy day. And it was always rainy in Ketterdam.

She hadn't mentioned this to Kaz.

He pulled a dagger from his sleeve and demonstrated how to hold it, how to use its weight to throw it. Inej could imagine her aunt kindly critiquing his shoddy technique. There was no showmanship to Kaz’s throw, only grim determination.

Inej nodded and stepped forward. One moment, Sankt Petyr was in her hand, and the next it was embedded in the wooden pole Kaz had set up, immediately next to where his own knife had landed.

"Like that?" she asked politely. The change in his face was almost imperceptible. She might've missed it. She didn't.

"If you're expecting applause you're going to be sorely disappointed, Wraith," was all he said. She still wasn't used to the name. It felt like stepping into dark water; one wrong move and it would drown her.

Inej retrieved her knife, and threw it again. And again. And again. The pole was entirely intact, save for one specific spot, slowly whittled away. The same spot every time. She could almost imagine that she was back at home, practicing with her family. The worn-down alley behind the Slat, the look in Kaz’s eyes, everything seemed to just fall away. There was just Inej, and her dagger, and her Saints. It was as though Sankt Petyr was guiding her hand, reminding her of who she had been. Of who she was.

"Warn me next time before you plan to waste my time," Kaz said after the sixth throw.

“Would you have trusted me if I told you I could throw a blade?” she asked, wiping wood shavings from her knife.

“What information is relevant is up to me to decide,” he said. Everything sounded like a threat, in his voice like scraping stone. “Are we understood?”

“Fine,” she said, after a moment. The ends justified the means. “I’m going to need more knives.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” He turned on his heel and left.

She stole her second knife, the one she called Sankta Lizabeta. Too recognizable to fence, but right at home strapped to her thigh. Her third was a gift from Jesper, on one of the very rare occasions that he had cash. The rest were stolen and given and earned, one by one.

She collected her blades and wrapped them around herself like you might wrap a blanket. Each night she cleaned and sharpened them until they were shining. A ritual, of sorts, something familiar amidst the chaotic mess that her life had become. She listed their names as she raced across the rooftops. Her Saints, protecting her.

Kaz had taught her how to fight, but she'd made it her own. She was light on her feet from years in the air, and deceptively strong. Ketterdam was just another wire, and she walked it with ease.

Barrel gangs fight dirty, Kaz had said, and that was true. The gangs of the Barrel were unscrupulous and ruthless, taking any opportunity to rig a fight. But they lacked imagination. There was no finesse, no art to their combat. They could never anticipate her moves. Surprise, Inej learned, goes a very long way in a fight. She’d always been a fast learner.

She didn't fight Kaz again. At least, not with blades.

[penrose-quinn]

Musubi [Preview] | Suguru Geto/F!Reader

posted: 04.02.21 | full: [Ao3]

word count: 2.2K 

content tags: pre-hidden inventory arc. can be read as an excerpt.

tw: slight mentions of blood.

a/n: i haven’t written a fight scene in such a long time so apologies for the rusty writing. as for the full one-shot itself, i can’t give a date yet but i hope ya’ll can settle for this. enjoy the laughs for now! *cries in the corner*  

First impressions were always drawn by an encounter, and tied tautly between bravado and cutthroat competition in the annual Kyoto Goodwill Event, the curious color of the string tugged out of Geto running into you was one of interest.

Strategically speaking, it made sense in any fight.

However, a downside to this was that they were inevitably a precursor for nasty introductions when names were traded like bruises and conversations for combat tactics. 

Openings made for a good invitation for a counter, but Geto was quick to parry them with a looming many-limbed pillar of a curse that walled between the both of you with a screech; jolting back the memory and taste of sickness. A spirit of obsession.

Deformed hands, riddled with watchful eyes, reached for you, fixating in your every movement to resist them. You were fast, he’d give you that, but you were paired against a curse that was built from vile adamance. In short, a pain in the ass. Capturing it was, undoubtedly, and now, offered leverage to him when it made things a little simpler and interesting to watch from afar.  

Attention to stances and a razor-sharp interest in the opponent; they were all inevitable, after all.

The moment your strings began to unravel from the pads of your fingers.

They were something to look out for when seemingly anything with cursed energy were bound to be entangled by the subtle manipulation of your hands, and in a span of a minute, the curse was left dangling and viciously writhing in suspension, held fast on the tough bark of oak trees like a fly to an intricate web.

“A Grade Two.” You gawked at it, giving in to a low whistle. “Cool.”

“Can’t believe you ate it up, though,” you said, hinting on that you already knew about his cursed technique. “Did you have to hack it up to pieces?”

Then you made a hand sign – two fingers pressed together – and with a smooth motion, your wrist rotating in an arc, the strings tied to the curse tightened, almost twisting its body for good measure. Or to flaunt. The two never seemed to be far from each other from what Geto observed from you. Typical senior behavior.

“It doesn’t work like that,” Geto said anyway, but unwilling to elaborate further.

From your distance, you peered back at him. “Not the chatty type like Six Eyes, eh?”

But he had a feeling you were.

“I’m afraid not.”

“You’re not gonna show your cards then?” you asked, perhaps alluding to a binding vow.

Geto was uncertain with what you’re trying to get out of this. Cautious as he was, he knew better than to play along, though something about your blatant drawl made him realize how he’d been curious enough to take the risk, mirroring that lazy confidence that curled up your peach-stained lips.

“Not going to show yours, senpai?”

There was a flicker of challenge in your eyes that appeared to make them brighter, like a glint of a knife. However, for whatever reason, you downplay it with a halfhearted shrug. “I’ll be honest,” and in a low amused voice, humoring him, “kouhai.”

The corners of his mouth bent into a slight smirk.

“I’m not really in the mood to help out anyone. Hell, I don’t even care if your school wins,” you admitted, pausing for a moment to listen in to the devastation of some uncharted area of the school grounds. Satoru. “See? We’re on the receiving end anyway.”

“Fair point,” Geto said with a nod. Though he kept the sentiment to himself, he would argue that you should have at least made an effort to appear concerned for your team.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m going to back out from this fight either. That’d be no fun. So how about it?” you offered. “Want to try something?”

Geto did contemplate on it—you. What your whole angle was about, why you went about it in such a roundabout way. Perhaps, the Kansai dialect had a hand in it when your manner of talking turned your inflections more offhanded and overfamiliar. Though he couldn’t deny that he caught on that you sounded more cryptic in comparison to his friend’s open, rather crude bluntness.

Something about your exchanges were like that, full of traps and layers, and as tired and eye-rolling as they were on another person, Geto wasn’t annoyed of you. Rather, he was keen in pursuing answers himself. What kind, he wasn’t sure yet. You had a way of making things interesting, and drawn by the pang of something like inquisitiveness and hunger, he arrived to a decision. “What do you have in mind?”

“Great! That settles it then,” you grinned, clapping your hands together. Another hand sign. “I’m setting your curse free.”

Once the strings began unwinding from the many-limbed curse, Geto felt a tremor from his gut; body apprehensive and prepared to strike.  

Then it all came crashing down with a wink and a red and gold knot forming between your fingers, untwisting it with one decisive pull.

“Unbind.”

It was a sharp breathless feeling.

A sudden relief, followed by a sense of loss. A kind of detachment, brief but deeply harrowing like losing a limb to a cleave, losing the weight of it all at once, where the curse tethered to him had been released, his control slipping, senses disoriented. Severed. It wasn’t bound to his will anymore.  

Resentful in its newfound freedom, the many-limbed curse lunged at him to attack, hands spread out and reaching, eyes crimson and pulsing wide when it set its sights on him.

Snapping out of his stupor, Geto was quick to react with a bolt. Shadow and silhouette bloomed under the ground by a summon, and what stretched forth was his massive hookworm curse, mouth gaping open to devour the Grade Two, and now, snapping shut for the kill before disappearing entirely from his bidding.

Geto would have rather reserved the curse for later, but he won’t gamble losing another one to your technique.

“Personally, I think we’re a bad match,” you mused aloud.

Then your strings whipped at him in a lightning second. Evading them, Geto leapt back and landed aptly on his feet.  

“Especially when I can bind and unbind things with my inherited technique. Seals, shikigami, curses … hm, I suppose yours is an interesting case,” you stared at him thoughtfully before shrugging. “But it’s a kind of attachment either way.”

“Now you’re showing your cards,” Geto hissed out a breath, running through a new game plan.

“Sure, why not.” Your mouth broke into an easy grin. “Keeps the ball rolling, you know?”

There was a cool refinedness in your stance, feet anchored to the ground while your hands were doing all the fighting: flexed out, full of precise flourishes albeit strained, with strings unspooling from your deft fingers. The distance worked to your advantage, though closing it between the both of you was jumping headfirst into a trap in itself.

Geto surmised. But—

“I’d rather end this sooner.”

Mind set and carried by a surge of adrenaline, Geto sprinted towards you, dodging each assault for a closer range, until your strings finally coiled around his wrist, and in reaction, he tugged at it in a vice-grip with a strong pull; drawing out a look of shock from you, and then an eager anticipation. Your body shifted into a steady position, ready and waiting, arms posed for a counterattack.

Geto kept on his pace, charging at you with a wave of his free hand; darkness unfurling and taking shape of a half-formed spirit. Eyes wary of another summoned curse, you took the bait when you made another motion with your other hand, and he took it as a sign of withdrawing the curse back and kicking dust on your face, temporarily blinding you. The strings loosened on him. You recoiled.

When your guard was lowered, Geto seized the chance to swing his foot up at you; a swift kick to your forearm, minutely braced into a block to offset the full brunt of it, but it was powerful enough to send you skidding back your heels.

“Cheat,” you spat, cracking one vigilant eye on him.

Stubborn and quick to recover, you pulled at your strings to reel him in for a mean right hook, knuckles meeting his face. He was able to buffer the blow with his cursed energy, though the hit still landed, hard and fast.

“We’re even.” Geto winced from the bruise on his jaw. Your fist was imbued with cursed energy too, and now, was hurtling back at him with a ferocious amount of force. He side-stepped, dodging the hit that smashed against the tough bark of a tree, splintering it from the impact, and as you were about yank your arm back, he finally found his opening.  

All it took was a faulty step; a split-second of being swept by the heel, knocking you off your momentum as you fell back to the tree, ensuring his victory through a newly summoned amorphous curse restraining your hands and feet.

Geto lunged forward. His fist hurtled down at you, mere inches from your face, until he felt something taut restrain his wrist and his wide eyes followed the cord curled around your two fingers, protruding out of the oozing wound of the curse grappling your hands.

Leaning back, you let out a sigh of relief.

“Okay, kouhai! I forfeit.”

Geto stopped to think for a moment, and testing the string latched onto him with a careful tug, he cocked his head at you to ask. Just in case. “You sure?”

“Yes.” You rolled your eyes at him, blowing a strand of hair from your cheek. A faint waft of mint. “Unlike you, I can’t get my face bruised.”

It was only a fraction, but the insouciance of your smile cracked a little from the edges. More brittle and thinner, from whatever sentiment you hid between your lips. Regardless, he sensed no insincerity from your words.

It was his turn to sigh.

“All right.”

Once the string disentangled from his wrist, Geto stepped back from you, drawing in a raspy breath, as he held himself upright, still tense and arduous from the heat of the fight. He felt heavy from the sweat, dull ache, and spent adrenaline straining on his shoulders, the backs of his legs, everything. He wouldn’t have to undergo through this ordeal if he could only use his cursed technique against you.

“You’re right,” he admitted, tugging at his collar. “We’re really a bad match.”

“Told you,” you crooned.

A set-up? Geto considered it, recalling how they were separated in the fray with the other team; Gojo getting sidetracked at some point and you luring him here with your strings. “Was that intentional?”

“Everyone was counting on it,” you answered, wrenching out your hands from the curse in a violent splatter. “But honestly? The whole plan doesn’t matter in the end. We’re still worse off. And I’m no one’s backup either.”

Noticing his stunned reaction, you amusedly held out your open bloody palm at him. A gesture of reassurance. “Don’t sweat it. This is still your win.”

While Geto was still wary around you, he eased a little from your words. He nodded.

“If that’s the case, why did you go along with the plan?”

“Didn’t want to pass up something,” you said vaguely, looking back at him before tearing off the other curse clinging on your feet, cringing at the sight of gore on your shoes once it was split open by your fingers. “These things aren’t cute at all.”

“You could’ve been more careful with them,” Geto pointed out.

“Gotta get back at you somehow. They have teeth, you know.”

Which you nonchalantly ripped apart with your bare hands.

Before you could wipe off the blood on your hand to your skirt, Geto still went out of his way to give you his handkerchief for the mess, which you stared at for five agonizing seconds before accepting it with a mutter of thanks.

You began to clean your knuckles, bunching up the fabric on your palm. “Well, this is ruined.”

“Not really planning on getting it back,” said Geto, flipping up his phone. He received a photo of Gojo with some members of the other team, ragged and beaten shitless, followed by a text that went somewhere along the lines of everyone being so weak and a demand as to why he was taking so long.

“Geto-san.”

Geto snuck a glance back at you from his phone.

“You’re pretty strong for a first year.“ You hummed in thought and he listened more intently. "Ah, but that’s expected. Judging from the rumors circling around, I suspected you lot from Tokyo Tech were either a piece of work or something else.”

“Something.” Geto smiled.

“Cheeky.”

“Speak for yourself.”

Geto was going to reply back to Gojo until you chuckled, light and airy, drawing his attention back at you.

“Oh, and another thing,” you said, and for a moment, beneath the long spidery lashes, there was a quiet profoundness to your eyes that made a glance blur between an appraisal and a clarity one could find from a thin thread of interest, tugged up by a wry tilt of your lips.

“What kind of woman is your type?”

a/n: . . . that last line is so cursed. i wish todou was the one who asked. for context, reader is one of yuki’s students.

↣ side note: i thought satosugu were already both classified as special grades upon their enrolment like yuuta, but i didn’t realize later on that they were only promoted as special grades after the spv mission. i won't be rewriting this and will be keeping it as it is, but apologies for getting those details wrong!

↣ side note: nvm. i caved. [revised: 04/17/21]

[acefeather2002]

Valentine's Day Special: A Delicate Kiss (Moxiety)

I totally forgot that I wrote a Valentine’s Day story on Wattpad! Would’ve been nice if I remembered and posted on that day...anywho, here it is (like a week late). Hope you like it.

Human AU

💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩

Virgil woke up early around four in the morning. He glanced to his left to find his boyfriend of two years sleeping comfortably with his back facing him. He then looked at the time and realized he had about two and a half hours to prepare everything for the day. With that thought in mind, he got up quietly so as to not disturb his snoozing lover, and he headed downstairs to put his plan into action.

~Saut de temps: deux heures (time skip: two hours)~

The sound of the alarm shouted in his ear as Patton reached over to turn it off. Patton rolled over and smiled in the direction of his beau but found the space empty. He shot up somewhat worried but was quick to calm down as he heard running water in their shared bathroom. He stepped inside in his baggy baby blue t-shirt and shorts to find Virgil brushing his teeth, and he wrapped his arms around his waist while kissing the back of his neck. Virgil shuddered at the touch before spitting out the excess toothpaste and turn in his lover's hold and pecking his forehead. "Good morning, babe," Virgil said softly. "Good morning,"Patton replied, "Happy Valentine's day, hun."

Virgil leaned down and kissed his Valentine, admiring the softness of his lips. They pulled away, and Virgil let Patton get ready for the day. Once he was ready, Virgil led him down the stairs, and his eyes widened at what they saw. Heart-shaped pancakes stood in a tower on both plates on the table. Red, heart balloons populated the ceiling. Red and pink roses in a baby blue vase decorated the center of the table. The kitchen was cleaned and swept; the living and dining rooms we're vacuumed, and Winnie the Pooh was ready to be played on the TV in the living room.

Virgil led Patton to the table, and they devoured the perfect pancakes that he made while enjoying a happy conversation. After eating they moved to the couch to cuddle and watch Patton's favorite movie. Virgil sat with his arm around Patton as he leaned into his hold. He blushed a little as Patton snuggled into his shoulder.

As the movie went on, Patton looked up at Virgil and stared for a small while. Virgil, suddenly disconcerted asked, "What? Is something wrong?" Patton just smiled and lightly pecked Virgil's neck, causing a shudder and deeper blush to take place. He responded happily, "Nothing's wrong. You just make me happy." Virgil smirked as he rolled his eyes fondly, "C'mon, no need for the mushy stuff."

Patton gave a small giggle as he kissed the same spot again, earning the same but slightly harsher reaction. "But I love you," he said he planted another kiss on another spot of his neck, "because you're sweet." He left another kiss, "and kind." And another, "and loving." And another, "and caring." Virgil half-heartedly pushed at his lover to end the kisses while trying to stifle his chuckles, "Patton, stohop. That tihickles."

Patton gave another giggle and replied, "That's another thing: you're adorable!" He then tackled his boyfriend down and started kissing all over his neck. Virgil could do nothing but laugh from the sensations. "Haha Pahahat, cut it ouhouhout!" Virgil yelped through his giggles. Patton just laughed with him, "I can't help it. You're so cute that I wanna eat you up!" He then blew multiple raspberries against his boyfriend's neck, earning him squeals and squeaky giggles.

By now, Virgil was getting tired of defending (even though he wasn't really trying that much anyway), so he decided to fight fire with fire. He reached down and scratched at Patton's sides, hearing a squeal with chuckles to follow instantly after. "Eehehehe nohoho!" Patton squeaked happily, recoiling from his attack and curling in at the ticklish touch.

"Hehehe stahahap!" Patton giggled as he tried to grasp Virgil's skilled fingers. Virgil snickered at his boyfriend's giggly state, "You started it. I thought you should at least get a taste of your own medicine." Virgil slipped Patton's shirt up and pinched and scratched at the soft and plump tummy skin. Patton couldn't contain his squealish laughter, "AHAHAHAHAHAHA! NAHAHAHAHA!" "And guess what flavor your medicine is, Pattycake," Virgil grabbed his attention again, but he couldn't respond due to his continuous cackles. He just shook his head violently because he knew exactly where this was going.

Virgil wrapped his arms around Patton's waist while still squiggling circle into his side to leave him in stitches. He leaned in to Patton's ear and whispered the one word that he was dreading, "Raspberries." With that, Virgil dropped down and blew a long and teasing one right in the middle of his tummy. Patton all but screamed in hysterics at the vibrating feeling. "AAAAAHAHAHAHA! OKAY OKAHAHAY! UNCLE! UNCLE!" Patton cried, and Virgil stopped his attack, rubbing away the ghostly tickles left on his lover's skin. He then left a kiss on his forehead and another, more gentle kiss on his lips full of love for the bubbly character in his arms.

"Patton," Virgil started, "I have something to ask you." The atmosphere seemed to have dropped from happy and adorable to more serious, leaving Patton to worry. He asked, "What is it, hun?" Virgil then pulled out a small, navy blue velvet box and got down on one knee in front of him, and Patton sat up instantly. Virgil then began his speech.

"Patton, these past three years have been the best years of my life. I've never gotten a chance to get to know someone as well as I know you. It had been a long while since the last time I opened my heart to someone. This time, it's as if you barged in and laid claim on your territory, and I'm so glad you did. Thank you for showing me how to love and the happiness you've given me. But something that would make me happier is if you answer my question: Patton Morale Hart, will you marry me?" Virgil opened the box to reveal a beautiful silver band with a baby blue aquamarine stone in the middle.

Patton stared speechlessly in shock at the ring. Virgil got nervous from his silence and asked, "Patton?" Patton shook out of his trance and said with a nervous chuckle, "I guess it's my turn to say something, isn't it?" Virgil gave a small nod but froze when he saw him pull out a small black velvet box. Patton started his speech.

"Virgil, I love you so much. I've always been the one to help make people happy, but I've never experienced true happiness until we started dating. You've given me that chance to actually be truly happy. I love the idea of waking up next to you. I enjoy the time we spend together. I treasure the happy memories that we share, and I want to make more with you. I can't imagine my life without you. So, Virgil Angus Black, if you please. Will you marry me?" Patton opened up his box and displayed a black band with an amethyst teardrop.

Both stared at each other with wide eyes but enormous grins grew to split their faces in two. They looked into each others eyes and simultaneously answered, "Yes." Patton launched himself into Virgil's arms, and they rolled a little on the floor from the momentum while laughing with such glee. When they sat up properly, they each picked up their purchased rings and slipped them on the respective fingers. A tender kiss overflowing with love, adoration, admiration, and affection was shared between the two, excited for the bright and happy future that they were going to have together.

💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩

I was making myself happy as I was writing this. I was practically fangirling to myself...is that weird? That's probably weird. Oh well. I'm kinda proud with how this one came out. I hope you liked this fic.

I'll see you later Kings, Queens, and Non-Binary Nobles. And spread the love!❤

[awkwardpenguinproductions]

Rebellion

Part 8 of Dragon of the Yuyan

Read on AO3 | Series Masterpost

The prisoner is tiny.

That’s the first thing Zuko notices, when Banli Squad returns triumphant from their mission with a figure wrapped in heavy iron netting like a landed fish. Tiny, and young. Zuko would be damned if the kid was a day older than eleven. The top of their bald, tattooed head barely comes up to the middle of Zuko’s chest.

White hot rage shoots through him as Zheng shoves the Avatar down the corridor ahead of him, radiating smugness like a fucking peacock. He wants to rip that netting off and carry the kid away from here, away from Zhao who acts like the entire Stronghold and everyone in it is his to do whatever the fuck he wants with.

The plan, dum dum, remember the plan, he chants to himself, and holds onto his control with both hands and every ounce of stubbornness in his body.

+

Do you think it’s true? The Avatar’s returned? Zuko had demanded, barely waiting for the Commander’s office door to close behind him. The announcement had been made twenty minutes ago, and Zuko had immediately followed the older man to his office when he’d left the mess hall.

Commander Toshiaki hadn’t replied immediately, but had reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of rotgut. He’d poured two cups, knocked one back, and pushed the other toward Zuko, who sipped at it warily, grimacing at the taste.

The Commander had dropped into his desk chair and tilted his head back for a moment before beginning to sign. I can’t imagine the Fire Lord making an announcement like that unless there was some truth to it. Either way, it changes things.

No kidding! Zuko had snapped. The Commander shot him a Look, and Zuko had winced and signed a quick Sorry, sir.

The Commander had sighed silently. If anything, all it does is move the timeline up rather a lot. It shouldn’t take the Avatar very long to gather followers and allies, and as the main aggressor in the war, the Fire Lord will be their main focus.

Instead of waiting for Azula to come of age and then to get impatient, we just cut her out of the line completely, Zuko had realized. Instead of the war dragging on for another four years or more, the Avatar can help us end it sooner. Within the year, even!

The Commander had nodded. We need to stay alert for opportunities slip away and rendezvous with the Avatar and their followers. I have a list of Troop members who are willing to defect. When the opportunity presents itself, you will give the signal, and the Yuyan Archers will disappear.

+

Zuko meets the Commander’s eyes, and blinks. The Commander blinks back.

Zuko slips down a service corridor, and races back to the Yuyan dorm. He grabs the bag he’d kept prepared for this exact scenario and his dao, and shimmies up into the ventilation shaft. With his most recent growth spurt, it’s a bit of a snug fit, and Zuko suddenly has to wrestle back the panicked thought of oh Agni what if I get stuck. He pauses, breathes a few deep breaths, and continues on to the bathroom, where he gets his Blue Spirit uniform on as fast as he can. His hair gets tied back into a braid, the length of which is tucked under his tunic and hood. His dao go on his back, every single throwing knife he owns is strapped somewhere on his body, and he carefully burns the clothes he was wearing in the brazier that heats the water for the ofuro. The bag his Blue Spirit materials were in gets folded up as small as Zuko can possibly make it and tucked into the back of his belt. Could be useful later.

He fastens his mask as securely as he possibly can, and Cadet Zuko of the Yuyan Archers disappears. In his place stands the Blue Spirit, ready for war.

By now the Avatar will have been secured in one of the cells at the top of the Central Tower, where the most powerful benders are kept for holding. Zuko ensures that he has left no trace of his presence in the bathroom, and makes his way upstairs as fast as he can, employing every shadow-walking technique he knows to avoid detection.

It’s caution well spent, because the upper detention level is crawling with Stronghold guards. At least a dozen of them. Zhao may be a pompous ass and a creep to rival Koh themself, but he’s not completely stupid. These guys must be new, though, or they came with the Admiral, because they are not nearly as wary of dark corners and high shadowed ceilings as they should be.

It’s quick work knocking the idiots out and looping lengths of chain around their ankles to hang them from the rafters like freshly hunted game. If this were a training exercise, he would’ve just left them where they had fallen, but Zuko can’t afford the possibility that they’d wake up and be able to come after him and the Avatar. Getting out of the Stronghold is going to be hard enough, no need to alert anyone to the breakout any earlier than necessary.

Only one of the cells has a guard at the door, who is reaching for the signaling horn as Zuko peeks around the corner. Zuko grabs a bucket of water kept for the guards to drink on duty in one hand, and throws one of his knives with the other. The horn is knocked out of the guard's hand, and as Zuko rushes him the man shoots a rather paltry plume of flame at him. Zuko doesn't miss a beat as he throws the water into the strike, then whips the bucket into the man's leading foot to break his root.

Thank Agni for Mika's "learn-to-fight-with-any-kind-of-random-shit" lessons, he thinks a bit hysterically as the man goes crashing to the floor. He binds the man with his own handcuffs, borrowing a second set that had fallen from another guard's belt to bind his ankles, and ties a length of cloth he finds in the last guard's pocket into a gag.

He takes a minute to retrieve his throwing knife and to breathe, and he can very distantly hear Zhao's ridiculous speech echoing up from the main courtyard.

+

Zhao had arrived about two weeks after the Winter Solstice, just in time for the Fire Nation Armed Forces' rumor mill to have built up a full head of steam. He had swept into the Stronghold like he'd owned the place, towering over Colonel Shinu in a ridiculous attempt to intimidate the much shorter man, but he had still been a Commander at the time and the Colonel had quickly put him in his place. The complete 180° turn the man's personality had taken at that point had completely creeped Zuko out, had reminded him uncomfortably of Azula, and he'd done his absolute best not to be caught alone with him.

A few days after Zhao's arrival, Commander Toshiaki had indicated that he'd wanted a meeting, and Zuko had met him in his office.

Zhao has been trying to convince Colonel Shinu to allow him to use the Archers in his hunt for the Avatar, the Commander had signed as soon as the door was closed behind Zuko. The tension in the older man's body had been obvious, his signs rigidly composed.

There's no way the Colonel will go for that, Zuko had replied, trying to decipher the Commander's body language. Disapproval, maybe? Or anger? Either were rarely seen from the stern but kind officer, and therefore hard to recognize.

He may no longer have a choice. The Commander's jaw clenched. Anger, then, and Zuko had felt proud of himself that he'd felt no unease at all around the Commander as he'd struggled to hold his temper. A messenger hawk arrived last night. Zhao has been promoted to Admiral by the Fire Lord.

Fuck, Zuko had stated into the whirling chaos of his mind. With that wonderful piece of news, it was only a matter of time before the Avatar was captured.

My Prince, I also have reason to believe that your safety could be compromised should Zhao discover your identity, the Commander continued. He has been overheard making… comments… about your performance in the Agni Kai against the Fire Lord, as well as voicing theories as to your current location and opinions of how you should be treated when returned to royal custody. A small, distant part of Zuko had mused that if the Commander had been a bender, he would’ve seared the top of his desk black in his rage.

I believe, Prince Zuko, that it would be prudent of you to consider vacating the Stronghold sooner rather than later. The Commander had looked  like every sign he’d made had been physically painful, which had eased the pain in Zuko’s own heart of being ousted from his home again. This time was not for someone else’s gain or convenience, but for Zuko’s own safety. And it wasn’t going to be forever, like his abandonment. No matter what ended up happening, Zuko knew he would see his Troop, his family, again. Kai would hunt him down, to say nothing of the rest of Chihese Squad and the Commander himself.

I understand, Commander, Zuko had replied, smiling at his commanding officer. Depending on how quickly the Avatar is apprehended, the Blue Spirit should be able to escort them away without too much effort.

+

Famous last words, Zuko growls silently to himself as he picks the lock on the cell. It’s a new model, something Zhao had installed in the last couple of weeks as he prepared to imprison the Avatar, and Zuko hasn’t had enough opportunity to practice picking it between avoiding Zhao and smuggling supplies and his belongings out of the Stronghold with his squad under the guise of “wilderness training”.

It takes forty-seven seconds more than Zuko really cares to admit, but he does finally get the cell door open, and he slips inside and shuts the door behind him.

The Avatar is chained hand and foot in the center of the cavernous cell, arms held out and fastened to the two huge torches that provide the only light in the room. Their odd yellow, orange, and brown clothes are tattered and splashed with mud, and their skin is ghostly pale. Their stormy gray eyes are huge in their face as they stare at Zuko.

Zuko draws his dao, and rushes forward in a form meant to build momentum. The Avatar screams and cringes back, squeezing their eyes shut. Zuko’s blades slice cleanly through the chains holding their arms, and it takes the Avatar a moment to realize that they aren’t hurt and to stop screaming and open their eyes. They stare in bafflement at the manacles on their wrists, which Zuko also slices off. He finishes with the cuffs on their feet, and strides back to the cell door.

“Who are you? What’s going on?” The Avatar’s voice calls out, high with prepubescence and stress. “Are you here to rescue me?”

Duh, Zuko thinks, opening the door and making sure the coast is clear before turning back and making a vague come on gesture.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” the Avatar mumbles, warily following him. Their footsteps are barely audible against the steel-clad floors, and Zuko has to listen extra hard to make sure they’re still with him.

“My frogs!” The Avatar gasps, and Zuko has just enough time to think what? before those nearly silent footsteps go pattering off in another direction. He clenches his teeth behind the mask and follows, catching up as the Avatar is kneeling on the floor trying to catch a bunch of half-frozen wood frogs. He grabs the kid by the collar of their weird tunic and hauls them away, and cringes when the little idiot hollers for the entire Stronghold to hear, “But my friends need to suck on those frogs!”

Zuko switches his grip on this absolute moron of an Avatar from their collar to the front of their tunic, (gently) pushes them against the closest wall, and flicks them between the eyes hard with his free hand. Then he puts his finger against the grinning mouth of his mask for quiet.

The Avatar has the grace to be chagrined, at least. “I’m sorry,” they whisper. “It’s just— I got captured ‘cause I was gathering those frogs ‘cause my friends are sick and the crazy old lady on the top of the mountain said that they needed to suck on the frozen frogs to get better and I’m really worried about them— my friends, not the frogs— but I know I gotta be quiet so we can get out of here, right?”

Great Agni and all the stars, how is this kid the spirits-damned Avatar? Zuko bites back a sigh, nods sharply, and makes a note that the Avatar has ill companions that need treatment. The Avatar nods back, eyes huge in their pale face.

Zuko leads the way to the main sewer line, which the pair of them follow out of the Central Tower and to the back courtyard. A quick peek through the bars above their heads reveals that the coast is clear, and Zuko points upward to indicate to the Avatar that they need to pull themselves up through the bars. The Avatar follows without a word, and they break for the rope that hangs from the top of the Stronghold’s innermost wall, left there by one of the Archers on Commander Toshiaki’s orders.

They’re halfway up the rope when the alarm sounds. Zuko can hear Zhao shouting that “the Avatar has escaped!”, and some bootlicker responds with “There! On the wall!”. Zuko has five seconds to curse his fucking luck before the rope in his hands goes slack and they start to fall.

The Avatar does something, and with a roar of wind Zuko feels himself slowing down in midair, and they both land gently on their feet. Zuko draws his dao and points with one to the gates starting to close. As one he and the Avatar start running for the gates as Zhao shouts "Close all the gates immediately!" like the gatemen don't know how to do their freaking jobs.

"Stay close to me!" The Avatar tells him, and all Zuko can do is nod and try to keep up as the Avatar zooms towards the gate, faster than a normal human can run. Zuko's no slouch, racing against Jiyoti will ensure that, but after airbending a line of guards out of the way, the Avatar seems to forget that Zuko can't run as fast, because they book it for the gate and leave Zuko in the dust.

He gets cornered, surrounded by guards with spears, and it takes everything he has to keep from bending, because if even the slightest spark slips from his blades he’s done for. Abruptly the guards disappear, blown away by the Avatar’s airbending, and Zuko has a moment to wonder why they don’t bend any of the other elements before the Avatar swings a broken spear like a trebuchet and Zuko goes flying.

He lands on top of the innermost wall and immediately tucks into a roll to bleed off the momentum. He hears the clomping steps of the guards approaching and snaps to his feet, swords out and held at the ready, and then something slams into his upper back and a steel band wraps around his chest under his arms, and with a jerk he’s flying again.

They land with a crash on the intermediate wall, and Zuko’s blades clatter away. He doesn’t have time to grab them, though, because the Avatar’s been cornered by a guard at least twice their size. Their makeshift staff has been knocked away, and Zuko doesn’t think before he grabs the guard around the middle and throws him off the wall.

They reach the other side of the wall just as more guards come up the bamboo emergency ladders. The Avatar blows the first two ladders clear with their airbending, and Zuko just finishes clearing the third and barely has time to sheath his blades before the Avatar is handing him one of the ladders with a hurried "hold this!". They have the second ladder in their arms, and they jump onto the parapet of the wall and step onto the third ladder, pushing it away from the wall.

"Jump on my back!" The absolutely wolf-bat fucking crazy Avatar calls at him, and Zuko can do nothing but obey. His momentum and weight are what tip the ladder over fully away from the wall, and the Avatar maneuvers the ladder in his arms so that the pair of them stilt-walk across the no-man's land between the intermediate and outer walls. However, some really intelligent person decides to set fire to the last ladder. Zuko and the Avatar are forced to jump for the outer wall, but Zuko can't keep his grip, and they tumble to the ground just in front of the outer gate.

Dazedly shaking his head, Zuko struggles to his feet and draws his blades as the guards converge upon them. Four firebending guards (I trained with you! a tiny part of Zuko sobs upon seeing them, I sparred with you and you laughed when I beat you!) blast at them in unison, and Zuko is ready to deflect the flames with his blades when the Avatar spins them around and defends them with airbending.

"HOLD YOUR FIRE!"

The flames die away as Admiral Zhao himself strides forward, hands clasped behind his back as calm as can be. "The Avatar must be captured alive," he orders, scowling, but there's a triumphant light in his cold bronze eyes that Zuko immediately hates. Then his words hit, and Zuko immediately knows what to do.

Sorry, kid, just trying to get us out of here alive, he apologizes silently to the Avatar, as he crosses his blades under their chin, razor-sharp edges each a hairsbreadth from the delicate pale skin of their neck. The Avatar makes a strangled "ulp!" sound, and Zuko presses himself against their back and stares Zhao in the eye.

A vein throbs in the man's temple as he grits his teeth in frustration. "Open the gate," he grits out, after a moment of attempting to glare Zuko into submission. Compared to Mika without her morning black tea, the guy's a rank amateur.

"Admiral, what are you doing?" Colonel Shinu hisses from his position at Zhao's shoulder.

"Let them out," Zhao snaps. "NOW."

The gate creaks open behind them, and Zuko carefully walks backward, keeping his blades rock steady at the Avatar's neck. He doesn't take a single eye off of Zhao.

They're in the middle of the last crossroads before the forest when something zings through the air and everything abruptly goes dark.

+

Zuko had reported to the medbay at Dr. Atsuko's order, and the Chief Medical Officer of the Stronghold had ushered him into her office at the back of the ward.

"Zhao's just sent out Banli Squad to retrieve the Avatar," she'd said brusquely. "Are you ready? Do you have all of the supplies you need, all of the things you're going to take?"

I'm as ready as I'll ever be, Zuko had replied. The Commander gave the signal for everyone who's leaving to be ready to disappear after Banli gets back. I'll be meeting up with Kai at noon the day after the Avatar and I escape to get my bow and quiver from him, since I can't exactly carry them with me as the Blue Spirit. Are you leaving too?

Dr. Atsuko had nodded. "It's time," she'd said, and for once the steel had melted from her expression and she'd actually looked sad. "I've done all I can here, but it's time to go where I can do some real good."

Where will you go? Zuko had asked.

"Here and there," Dr. Atsuko had shrugged. "I've got options. A doctor, especially one with my skills, is always in demand. Before you take off, though, I've got something to teach you," and she'd handed him a Pai Sho tile, the Lotus.

Five hours later, Zuko had been leaving the mess hall after dinner when Banli Squad had paraded the Avatar through the Stronghold.

+

Zuko wakes up to early morning light filtering through tall trees, a full range of vision due to his mask being gone, and the Avatar sitting curled up in a little ball on top of a huge tree root. He also wakes up to a splitting headache, and bites back a groan that's half pain and half frustration. He doesn't have time for this, the Avatar's a fucking kid, and probably doesn't know any bending besides their native element, and Zuko somehow has to get them ready to… what, overthrow the Fire Lord? Get Zuko's throne back for him?

His temple throbs, and Zuko can't quite bite back the hiss that he makes as he sits up, rubbing his forehead.

"Oh, you're awake!" The Avatar exclaims, voice piercing in the stillness of the surrounding forest. Zuko winces, and thankfully the Avatar seems to notice, because their voice drops several levels of volume until they're almost but not quite whispering. "I never got to thank you last night for getting me out of there. That Zhao guy was kinda creepy. What's your name? I'm Aang."

My name's Zuko, Zuko signs, slow and sluggish with pain and the stiffness that comes with not cooling down properly after excessive exercise. What're your preferred pronouns? I don't want to assume anything.

The Avatar is watching him with huge gray eyes, and Zuko knows without them even opening their mouth that they have no idea what he just said.

Oh damn me to Koh's lair, he thinks, heart sinking. Not only does the spirits-damned Avatar not know any of the other elements, they don't know hand-language. Honestly, Zuko doesn't know why he'd assumed that they would, the Yuyan guard their language with the same ferocity that they hunt their quarries.

"Is that… talking? With your hands?" The Avatar asks, eyebrows sliding up the blue arrow tattoo to the sky. Their voice is hushed and full of wonder. "Can you teach me that?"

Ah, a yes or no question. Zuko nods, then gingerly gets up, glancing around for his mask and picking it up where it lies next to the bed of green leaves that he'd been resting on. His blades are there too, and Zuko huffs slightly in relief as he slings them across his back. He looks at the mask, noting the large scratch in the lacquer on the left side of the forehead. That must've been some shot, he reflects, and kind of wishes he'd been able to see it.

"Uh, so I gotta get some frozen wood frogs for my friends, 'cause they're really sick," the Avatar, Aang, says awkwardly. "You want to come along? Do you have anywhere else to go? Katara could probably give you something for your head, if it's hurting you."

Zuko tugs his braid out of his shirt, cracks his neck, and gestures for Aang to lead the way.

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[the-sympathetic-villain]

You Belong With Me - Chapter 27

AO3 | First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

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

Word Count: 5645

Chapter Warnings are at the end of the post to avoid spoilers. Jump to the end to check them out if you need to!

-

    Logan nearly barreled into Virgil as he stopped abruptly outside the room.

    “Shit—” Virgil swore, turning to bolt down the hallway at a full sprint, not giving Logan a chance to react.

    “Wait, Virgil!” Logan hesitated before chasing after him.

    He barely managed to keep pace with Virgil, catching up only as Virgil paused at the intersection of two corridors. Virgil had paused, running both of his hands anxiously through his hair and swearing under his breath as he paced back and forth anxiously. He glanced down the empty hallways, plagued with indecision.

    “What’s going on, Virgil?” Logan asked, breathing hard as he caught up.

    “Where are the guards, Logan?” Virgil yelled, gesturing down the empty halls. He swore angrily under his breath before taking off down another one of the halls without giving Logan a second glance.. “No. No. NO. Where are you, princey—"

    Chills swept over Logan as he realized Virgil was right. They hadn’t passed another person since they’d left Roman’s suite. Logan took a pained breath and bolted after Virgil, barely keeping him in sight as he turned through the empty halls. “Virgil—”

    “They had to have gone down if they wanted to get him out of the castle, L .” Virgil turned the corner to the stairwell before Logan could even react.

     Logan picked up his pace, desperately fighting to catch up with Virgil as he took the stairs two at a time. He had just watched Virgil disappear around the corner, when he a loud crash shattered the silence around him. He  flinched, turning the corner to see Virgil pinned against the wall by an unfamiliar man dressed in black. Bits of metal armor littered the floor from the decorative display that had been destroyed as Virgil struggled with his attacker.

    “Vee!”

    Logan rushed towards him as adrenaline shot through his system. He'd barely taken a full step by the time Virgil twisted the man’s wrist, pulling himself out of the man’s grip with ease. Logan barely had time to blink by the time Virgil had the stranger on the ground. Logan nearly stopped in his tracks, shocked at how quickly Virgil had disposed of his assailant, but Virgil took a quick step towards him. He gripped Logan's shoulders as he leveraged Logan’s momentum to send him flying down the corridor ahead of Virgil. Out of the corner of his eyes, Logan finally caught sight of at least three other men creeping out of the empty space next to the stairwell as Virgil backed slowly down the open corridor. Logan's blood ran cold as. realization hit him. They'd been waiting for them.

    An ambush—

    “Logan, run!” Virgil cast a look over his shoulder and gave Logan a quick nod before he turned back to face the men, who were narrowing in on him.

    Logan hesitated, stepping backwards as he moved away from Virgil down the hall. He couldn't leave his friend—

    Virgil’s eyes flicked over his shoulder once more as he braced himself for a fight. “Go, L! I can handle these guys! Just get out of here! Run to Patton!”

    “Vee—” Logan’s call was cut short as his ankle struck something solid behind him, toppling him to the ground. His heart seized as as hands grabbed his collar, forcing him roughly to his feet. He struggled against his attacker’s grip for only a moment before he felt cold, metal on his throat. His body went rigid, not wanting to antagonize the sharp blade pressing into the skin on his neck.

    “I think it’s time to stop resisting.” Logan froze, blood draining from his face as he recognized Remus’ voice in his ear. "Don't you, pest?"

    Virgil spun around at the voice and Logan’s heart sank as Virgil’s expression darkened. His gaze flicked over his shoulder briefly, but the other men had stopped in their tracks apparently waiting for Remus’ command. Tension hung over them as Virgil locked eyes with Remus. “You sick son of a—”

    Logan whimpered weakly as he felt the blade dig into his neck. Remus giggled in his ear as Virgil's eyes widened in terror. “I think it’s time to play nice, my loyal, little pet. Roman always gets upset when I break his toys.”

    “Let him go.” Virgil hissed, not moving a muscle.

    His response only seemed to make Remus cackle louder. “Or what?”

    Virgil was quiet, glaring at Remus.

    “That’s what I thought. You may have a fancy title now, but you've never stopped being any more than Roman’s faithful little pet. You’ll do as you’re told,” Remus smiled, leaning into Logan’s ear. “or pretty boy here will pay the price.”

    Logan shuddered as Remus breathed down his neck, but he forced himself to speak. “He’s bluffing, Vee. He needs me.”

    Remus giggled. “Oh, our brave, little knight here knows me better than that. Dee wants you, but honestly, if slitting your throat sounds like more fun, he knows I'll do it.” Remus hummed cheerily in Logan's ear as Virgil clenched his jaw. “Dee will be mad, but he'll get over it.”

    “I do know better.” Virgil growled bitterly, glancing around to keep Remus’ men in his line of sight. “If you’re willing to kill your own brother for whatever your master plan is, I can’t imagine you’d hold back on Logan to get what you want.”

    “Oh, you silly boy. That has nothing to do with what’s going on. Roman's irrelevant at this point. Everything that's happening now is all about pretty boy here.” Remus giggled again, pulling Logan into his chest. A mocking sneer formed on Remus’ face. “I tried to kill my dear brother because I got bored.”

    Virgil stilled, glaring at Remus. For a moment, Logan thought he might snap spoke through gritted teeth. “What?”

   “You heard me right, pet. I got bored. I needed to shake things up and the death of a beloved prince seemed like a good way to spark some chaos in the kingdom. Dee was actually really upset to learn that I'd acted of my own accord but—” Remus paused, raising an eyebrow at Virgil's shocked expression. “What now? Did you actually think I’d do it for power?”

    Virgil snarled at him and Logan could nearly feel the rage radiating off him. He glanced over the Remus' face. Logan chest tightened at the clear, sadistic smile lingered on Remus' face as he leered at Virgil.

    Remus snorted. “Not a chance. This may come as a surprise to you, but I don’t want to become king. I'm not exactly the going to meeting after meeting, duties and caring-about-people type like my dear brother. I'd be happy to see it all burn to the ground.”

    “You did it for fun?” The edge in Virgil’s voice sounded sharp enough to cut glass.

    “Give me a break.” Remus mocked him as he nuzzled his face into Logan’s neck until he squirmed uncomfortably. He looked up at the look of disgust on Virgil's face and sneered happily. “Dee left me alone for too long. I need things to keep me occupied or I get destructive—

    “You piece of—” Virgil interrupted angrily and he stepped forward like he might lunge at Remus, but a sharp gasp from Logan stopped him in his tracks. Logan froze, trying not even to tremble as the sharp blade pressed into his throat. He watched sadly as Virgil retreated a step  submissively, regretful as he held his hands up. Logan's heart sank as Virgil's voice trembled. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry—You’re in control here, Remus. Please, don't hurt him.”

    “That's better, pet.” Remus smirked at Virgil before turning his head back to Logan. He could feel Remus' breath catch in excitement as Logan shuddered from his touch. His voice fell to a whisper, just loud enough for Virgil to hear, as he leaned into Logan’s ear. “You know, killing Roman was almost too easy to be fun. It wasn't fair. Every step fell into place too easily. I mean, not that money was ever really a deterrent, but our dear apothecary didn’t even bother to demand a high price when he sold you to me.”

    Logan's breath caught in his throat. "S-sold?"

    “Oh yes, pretty boy. You didn’t think you ended up in that hallway by accident. Did you?” Remus giggled as Logan went limp in his grip. “It would seem even in your previous life, you were unwanted. All it took was a little capital to get them to send you to your death under the guise of a harmless errand. Honestly, I would have paid more, but they were all too willing to comply.”

    Logan started to quiver in Remus arms, biting his lip as Remus pulled him closer. He whispered into Logan’s ear, grinning as Logan tensed as he breathed down Logan’s neck. “Think about it. If they hadn’t given you to me, we never would have had the chance to have such a good time with you in the dungeons. We never would have realized how special you are—”

    Logan gasped a breath, whimpering as Remus growled into his neck.

    “Leave him alone!” Virgil shouted, rage building in his voice.

    Remus looked up to him and sneered. “Or what?”

    Virgil snarled. He tore his gaze from Logan and locked onto Remus. “Tell me what you want.”

    Remus paused, leaning away from Logan as he raised an eyebrow at Virgil, feigning innocence. “What if I don’t want anything?”

    “You do.” Virgil hissed bitterly.

    “Fine.” Remus drawled dramatically before eyeing Virgil with a dangerous smile. His eyes flicked up to the men behind Virgil. “Let them take you and I’ll let him go.”

    Virgil bit his lip, shifting his feet as the men around him straightened up. “How do I know you’ll actually let him go?”

    “You don’t,” Remus giggled softly, leaning his head into Logan with a dangerous smile. “but you don't have a choice.”

    “Virgil, don’t—” His words were cut off as the blade pressed deeper into his throat. He closed his eyes, holding his breath as he felt a thin line of blood drip down his neck.

    “Shit. Stop. I'll do it.” Virgil held a hand out, gaze linger on Logan as his shoulders slumped. “Please, I’ll do it. Just don’t hurt him.”

    Logan’s heart sank as he watched Virgil stand up straight, holding his hands in the air in surrender. The men behind him moved quickly. Within seconds, they had Virgil’s hands shackled behind his back, holding him tightly. Virgil didn’t struggle, holding his gaze trained on Remus.

    “You’ve got me.” Virgil hissed. “Now, let him go.”

    “Patience, pet. I’m getting there.” Remus nodded at one of them men behind Virgil.

    Logan watched as one of the men behind Virgil reached in his pocket. His eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of the small, dart the man was trying to obscure from Virgil’s view. He leaned forward in Remus’ grip, ignoring the pain in his neck as he called out. “Vee! Look out—"

     He flinched as Virgil turned his head, just in time to catch sight of the man as he plunged the into his neck. Rage boiled in Logan as Virgil staggered and hit the ground. Remus dropped the blade from his throat as Logan struggled and kicked in his grip. He growled, clenching his teeth in anger as the air around shifted. His hair stood on end and a blinding, blue light filled the room as a charge of electricity released from him. He heard Remus groan, loosening his grip enough to allow Logan to pull free. Logan rushed forward, dropping to his knees by Virgil with a gasp. Gently, he leaned over Virgil, resting a hand on his cheek in an attempt to comfort his friend as he murmured quietly beneath him.

    Remus groaned behind him. Logan shot a glare over his shoulder, expecting to him to make a move to grab him again. “Touch him again and I'll kill y—"    

    “And we’re finally getting somewhere—”

    Logan flinched as Remus yelled, sounding almost exhilarated by the jolt of lightning. Remus sauntered over lazily, smiling as Logan glared at him and held his arm out to shield Virgil as he approached. A few feet from Logan, he stopped and sneered down at him before looking up at his men with a quick. The men behind Logan suddenly moved and he glared angrily at them as they passed. Small arcs of lightning traveled up his arm as Logan leaned defensively over Virgil and his eyes glowed a bright, blue as he watched them cross around him to stand behind Remus.

    Once the men had crossed to stand behind him, Remus stepped forward with a wide grin and Logan snarled, bright lightning  flashing as he approached. Anger burned in his chest as Remus crept forward and small flashes of lightning arced to the ground as he leaned defensively over Virgil. He could feel a dangerous charge of power building inside him as Remus approached. The power inside him had grown to nearly unbearable when a soft moan from behind him suddenly pulled his attention. The lightning flickered and faded as he turned down to look at Virgil.

    When he lifted his head again, Remus was kneeled, inches from his face. Logan jumped, lightning flared up around him as Remus grabbed his collar with both hands. Logan released the small charge as he tried to pull away, but the small flare of lightning barely affected Remus."

    "Yeah, yeah. I get it. Kitten's got claws now. Too bad you don't know how to use them." Remus sneered and his pupils glowed green for a moment before he dropped one of his hands and slowly reached into his pocket as Logan watched suspiciously. He pulled out a dart, similar to the one used on Virgil, sneering as he dropped it at Logan’s feet. “Let’s see if you’re more than just a one-trick pony, pretty boy.”

    Remus released him and Logan glanced down at the dart suspiciously as Remus stood up and backed away. His mustache twitched into a demented smile and he chuckled as he signaled for his men to leave, following closely behind them.

    Silence suddenly surged in on Logan as Remus dashed away. Logan quickly picked up the dart and shoved it into his pocket. Shaking, Logan turned back down to Virgil. He watched his friends chest rise and fall and he took a quick breath. Virgil was breathing. That was hardly a high enough standard to warrant ease but Logan was grateful all the same. He turned down to look at Virgil—

    They’re too tight.

    His eyes fell on the shackles behind Virgil’s back. Realistically, he knew moving him without hurting him would be difficult if he didn’t remove them first. He hesitated, watching Virgil’s face as he dug into Virgil’s pockets until his fingers closed in around his lockpick set. He pulled them out, moving to kneel behind Virgil. His hand shook as he finally slipped the pick into the lock.

    The first attempt went poorly. The pins barely moved as the fumbled with the simple lock. His cheeks burned with embarrassment as his numb hands clumsily attempted to manipulate the pins. A sudden bend in the lockpick gave him pause as he nearly snapped broke the tip of the tool in the lock.

    Stop—

    I have to focus.

    I can’t afford to jam the lock.

    With slow breath, he counted in his head until his hands felt steady once more. The second attempt was more successful. He held his breath as the fifth pin slipped into place, gasping with relief as he turned the first lock and it clicked open. Gently, he lifted Virgil’s arm and rolled him onto his back. Watching his friend’s breath, he held two fingers to Virgil’s neck as he checked his vitals. Feeling a steady pulse, Logan took a quick relieved breath as he moved to the next cuff. Feeling more confident, he quickly worked the pins, sighing with relief as the binding popped free. He cast aside the shackles aside, flinching at the loud clang as the metal hit the stone floor.

     A soft groan pulled Logan’s attention back to his friend. With an uneasy glance, he raised a hand to Virgil's face, watching his friend’s eyes flutter on the edge of consciousness. “Vee?”

    Vee moaned quietly in response. His head turned back and forth uncomfortably. His body seized as he nearly stirred awake.

    “Vee, you have to wake up.” Logan lightly touched his shoulder, feeling himself become frantic as he pleaded. “Please, wake up, Virgil.”

    A moment later, Virgil cracked open his eyes, flinching at the light as he mumbled quietly. “Logan? What happened? Is he—”

    “He’s gone, Vee. Don’t worry.” Logan frowned, brushing Virgil’s hair out of his face. “How are you feeling?”

    “It hurts, L.” He whispered. “It really hurts.”

    “It’s going to be okay, Virgil. Let me help you up.” Logan reached under Virgil’s shoulders, starting to pull him to his feet. “I'll take you to Patton.”

    Virgil groaned in pain as Logan helped him to his feet. He spoke through gritted teeth. “No. Not to Patton.”

   “Virgil, you have to get help—” Logan started until Virgil interrupted him.

    “No, L. He’s got princey…” Virgil stumbled but Logan held him steady.

    Logan swallowed a lump in his throat at the thought of leaving Roman with Dee. “I know, Vee. We’ll get Roman but you need help first. You can barely stand—"

    "They ambushed us... to make sure that that bastard got away with princey." Virgil shook his head, speaking between gasping breathes as he leaned his head into Logan’s shoulder. "They could have killed me...and taken you and they didn't." Virgil groaned. "Princey was their target...can’t wait…take me to the king, L.”

    “What?” Logan watched as Virgil slowly pulled his head up to look at him. Logan nearly gasped at the sight of Virgil's exhausted eyes and he could feel Virgil's body radiating heat like he was burning up.

    “We have to raise an alarm…get him home.” Virgil gasped, head drooping. “Can’t wait…might be too late.”

    “If we wait, it might be too late for you too, Vee.” Logan’s chest ached with indecision.

    “I’m fine. No—no poison works that fast. Got time before it does any real damage.” Virgil gasped, clenching his jaw in pain. “Princey, first."

    “Virg—” Logan protested.

    “I swore an oath, L.” Virgil’s voice was quaking but firm. “Have to go to the king—” Virgil exhaled sharply. “—I promised him.”

    Logan’s heart ached, but he nodded. He wrapped his arm underneath Virgil’s shoulder and started to help him down the empty hallway. “Okay, Vee. Let’s bring Roman home.”

-

    Virgil hung off Logan’s shoulder, dragging his feet as they made their way through the corridors. Occasionally, he grunted directions at Logan as he pulled him along. As they walked, the halls gradually filled with people as they approached the bottom of the tower and towards the main court. As Logan's eyes darted around them, he could see that Virgil’s haggard appearance was turning heads. He chewed his lips, tensing as he turned his gaze to the ground, but fortunately, despite the obvious discomfort their appearance caused the crowd, no one seemed willing to stop them.

    The hairs on the back of Logan’s neck raised as he caught sight of the guards posted in the halls ahead of them. Logan dropped his head to his chest, heart pounding in his chest as he avoided the guard’s gaze as he dragged Virgil passed. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the guard straighten up at the sight of Virgil, staring ominously at them as they passed. Virgil didn't seem to notice but Logan watched the guard cautiously as they made their way down the hall, all the same. The guard made no move to stop them as they passed, yet as they turned the corner out of sight, Logan let out a long breath of relief.

    “We’re here.”

    Logan turned back forward and lifted his head to the entrance of the court. In front of them stood a massive set of dark, red mahogany double doors. The doors themselves stood nearly twice his own height and Logan hesitated, swallowing nervously at the idea of where he stood. Meeting the king suddenly seemed an intimidating prospect and his chest tightened at the mere idea of being in the crosshairs of yet another member of the royal family. His reservations were destined to go unheard however, because at that moment, Virgil pushed off him. He stumbled the door, basically falling in the room as the doors flew open.

    Dozens of scrutinizing eyes turned towards them as they crashed into the middle of the court proceedings. Virgil only managed to stand on his own for a moment before his balance faltered. He swayed dangerously and Logan lunged forward only barely managed to catch his waist before he hit the ground.

    “What’s the meaning of this interruption?”

    Logan flinched and froze as an authoritative voice echoed down the chambers around them. He cautiously lifted his head, pulling Virgil up to support him in his shoulder as he traced the source of the sound to the throne at the end of the room. The ornate, golden seat sat raised a few steps above the rest of the room. A wall of windows brightly illuminated the space around them from behind the throne. Desperately trying to avoid the gaze of the dozens of nobles around him as he looked up at the man on the throne. A red, flowing cape cascaded over the king's shoulders and a large golden crown balanced on top of his golden, brown hair. He leaned his elbow lazily on the arm of the throne, head resting in his hand until he caught sight of Virgil. His eyes filled with concern as he turned his eyes down to Virgil. The king's head raised out of his hand and he straightened upright, looking down at them.

    “Forgive me, your highness.” Virgil dropped his head, breathing heavily as he forced the words out. “I would kneel, but I don’t think I’d be able to get back up again.”

    “It is of no consequence.” The king’s eyes were now focused solely on them. Logan’s skin prickled at the attention and his gaze dropped to the floor uncomfortably. “Why are you here, Virgil?”

    Logan’s ears perked up and he looked up the man in confusion, surprised to hear him address Virgil in such an informal manner.

    “Permission to speak to you alone, sir.” Virgil’s tone was steady as he met the king’s eyes.

    “This is unacceptable! You can’t just interrupt the proceedings of the court. You—" Logan flinched, shrinking close to Virgil as one of the nobles stepped forward and started to yell. He tucked his head deeper to his chest as he braced himself, holding Virgil steady.

    “Granted.” The room immediately fell silent at the king’s response and Logan looked up, blinking in confusion. There was a moment of pause before the nobles began filtering out of the room. He watched as the guards at the king’s sides hesitated, only moving when the king nodded for them to go. Logan’s grip tightened on Virgil’s waist as the crowd filtered around them.

    Virgil seemed to notice his discomfort and he smiled tiredly up at him. “It's okay, L. Don't worry.”

    Logan’s eyes flicked behind them to the door as it closed behind them. The room fell silent and he nodded, heart still pounding in his chest as he turned forward once more.

    “Explain yourself.” The king commanded, leaning forward in his seat.

    “Your highness—"

    “Virgil,” The king interrupted. His expression softened as he smiled gently down at Virgil. “We’ve talked about this. There is no need for you to address me by my title when we are alone.”

    The man's focus on Virgil was so intense that Logan couldn’t help but wonder if he even realized that Logan was still here. Regardless, he let his head drop down and avoided his gaze, still wary of drawing the king’s attention to himself.

    “I'm sorry, Thomas,” Virgil paused, wheezing heavily as he struggled to force the words out. “Roman is in danger. I’m here to ask that you put out an alarm to have him located immediately.”

    The king—Thomas—rose to his feet and slowly stepped down the stairs at the base of the throne as the thought seemed to process in his mind. Logan's knees went weak at the sound of the man approaching, but the man continued to ignore hi, focused solely on Virgil. “What do you know?”

    “The foreign prince that Roman met with today is a powerful fae in disguise.” Virgil groaned in pain, leaning into Logan’s shoulder. “I have reason to believe he was involved in the recent attempt to poison Roman.”

    Thomas was quiet. He stared down at Virgil for a moment before speaking. “Wait here.”

    Logan watched out of the corner of his eye as the king swept around them to the exit. He finally exhaled as the door closed behind Thomas, relieved to be alone with Virgil once more.

    “You don’t have to fear him, Logan.” There isn’t a trace of cruelty in Thomas’ body.”

    Logan shrugged, looking away. “You can hardly blame me for being cautious after meeting Remus.”

    Virgil leaned his head into Logan’s shoulder. “You’ve also met Roman.”

    Logan sighed, looking down at him. “I suppose. How are you feeling, Vee?”

    “Worse.” Virgil muttered bitterly.

    Logan frowned at Virgil, squeezing him tighter. “We need to get you to Patton so you can receive proper treatment soon.”

    Virgil grunted noncommittally into Logan's shoulder as he closed his eyes.

    Logan jumped at the sound of the door opening behind them. He turned his head just as the king swept up behind them. He couldn’t help tensing Thomas reached for Virgil, but the king simply ducked under Virgil’s other arm to help Logan lift him up.

   “Come sit.” Thomas gently started to move him forward. “I want you to tell me everything.”

   A long moment passed before Logan realized Thomas intended to set Virgil down in the throne. He swallowed nervously as he followed the king’s lead. Virgil grunted, as they gently made their way up the few steps and then lowered him on the soft cushions of the throne. Logan took a step back, crossing his arms and watching curiously as Thomas kneeled in front of Virgil.

   “What’s going on, Virgil?” Thomas persisted.

   “I tried to go after him. I swear I did, Thomas.” Virgil’s eyes were barely cracked open as he leaned back into the corner of the throne, mouth hanging open. “but they ambushed us in the bottom of one of the stairwells. They were waiting for us and—and they got away with princey.”

   Logan jolted uncomfortably as Virgil tiredly used his nickname for the prince, unsure of how the king would react to Virgil's perceived lack of respect. Thomas’ eyes merely drifted over to Logan as he moved. He blinked confused as his gaze lingered on Logan shifting uncomfortably before turning back to Virgil. “I have no doubt you did everything you could, Virgil. You were injured?”

   Virgil shook his head. “No, they injected me with something.”

   Thomas’ eyes narrowed in on him. “Have you received medical treatment?”

   Virgil was silent, his eyes closed with exhaustion.

   “He—um, he refused to seek treatment until he spoke with you.” Logan spoke hesitantly when Virgil didn't respond

   The king looked up at him before returning his gaze to Virgil. “Go get treated immediately. This conversation can wait until you feel better." He paused, catching Virgil's gaze. "That is an order, Virgil.”

    “I don’t answer to you.” Virgil muttered quietly.

    Logan tensed, but Thomas merely smirked at him. “I have no qualms ordering the guards to escort you if you’re feeling so inclined to ignore a direct order.”

    Virgil groaned, glaring at him. “Princey needs me, Thomas. I have to—”

    “Let me worry about Roman. I’ll bring him home safe, Virgil.” Thomas paused, looking up at him seriously. “Besides, my son would never forgive me, if I allowed you to harm yourself on his behalf.”

    Virgil gave a dissatisfied grunt.

    “You’ve done your job, Virgil.” Thomas gently grasped his shoulder. “Now take care of yourself and allow me to do mine. I promise you I will bring him home.”

    Virgil sighed.

    Thomas seemed to take that as affirmation that Virgil would do as he asked. “I’ll send a courier the second we find him. Am I to assume you’ll be skipping the infirmary for your friend in the greenhouses?”

    Virgil nodded.

    “I’ll send a messenger there when I have news, Virgil.” Thomas paused. “Do you need an escort to make it down there?”

    “No, I have Logan.” Virgil muttered leaning forward in the seat and holding his face in his hands.

    “Logan?” Thomas looked up at him.

    Logan nodded sheepishly. “I’m Roman’s—”

    “New advisor.” Thomas nodded as he rose to his feet. “Yes, I know. Roman has been keeping me informed of your progress over the last few weeks.”

     Logan bowed awkwardly, unsure of how to address the king in this situation. “Pleasure to meet you, your highness.”

     “Please, you don't have to bow, Logan.”

     The king smiled at him and Logan straightened up nervously with a quick nod.

     “If anything, I should bow to you." Logan's mouth fell open as the king bowed to him with a dramatic gesture before looking up at him earnestly. "I am in your debt, Logan. It would seem it was only by your bravery that my son recovered from the attempt on his life.”

    Logan hung his head as he felt his face flush red. He nodded, unsure of how to process the king's praise. A short moment passed before Logan jumped at a light touch on his shoulder. He glanced over to see Thomas' hand on his shoulder and looked up at the king.

    Thomas’ eye flicked down at Virgil. “Not to mention, it would seem that you are responsible for bringing Virgil to me. I greatly appreciate you keeping both of my boys safe.”

    Logan crossed his arms with a faint, proud smile as he looked up Thomas. “My efforts are a minuscule repayment for what they have done for me.”

    “I am glad they have treated you well, but regardless, I appreciate you looking out for them.” Thomas’ smile was so genuine, Logan couldn’t help but relax. “I do hope you’re enjoying your new position as well.”

    “I am—um, I am quite content in my new position. Working with Prince Roman—” Logan dropped his gaze to hide the blush dusting his cheeks. “—is a pleasure.”

    “Good. Roman has seemed perfectly overjoyed with your appointment. I daresay I've never seen him so happy. He's truly had a new energy since—” Logan looked away nervously as the king paused and a serious expression spread across his face. “—since you began working with him, Logan.”

    A long awkward silence hung over them and Logan could feel the king’s eyes burning into him as he avoided meeting his gaze.

    “Logan?”

    “Yes, your highness?” Logan’s arms tensed across his chest as he lifted his head.

    “Roman didn’t mention you were injured.” Thomas gestured to his face, watching him carefully. “I can't help but feel he may have left out some details.”

    Logan forced himself to remain neutral, but his heart dropped and he shifted in discomfort as the man stared down at him. He looked down at Virgil to avoid the king's kind eyes. “I cannot speak to Roman’s intentions, but I am receiving proper treatment for my injuries, your majesty.”

    “Please, just Thomas is fine." Thomas paused, speechless as Logan avoided his gaze. "Logan, I do believe we have more to discuss regarding your situation to include a proper apology for how poorly your situation was handled,” Thomas sucked in a breath as as Logan finally looked up at him curiously. “I want you to know that that has not slipped my mind and I hope to rectified how you were wronged. You did an amazing thing in saving Roman. I intend to spend the proper time understanding what happened, and fixing what I can, but for now, Virgil has neglected himself for far too long already and I would prefer you take your leave immediately. You are certain you feel comfortable escorting Virgil?”

    Logan stared at him blankly for a moment, processing the king's gentle reassurances, before nodding.

    “I can have the guards escort you, if you would feel safer—" Thomas started to offer.

    “No, please—” Logan stopped, realizing his response had come a bit too quick. He looked up to Thomas' concerned eyes and forced a smile. “Virgil and I will be fine. An escort is not necessary.”

     Thomas hesitated a moment before nodding. He reached down to help Logan lift Virgil off the throne, and once Logan had Virgil wrapped around his shoulder, Thomas spoke again looking down at him with a sweet smile. “I look forward to speaking with you again, Logan.”

    “It would be my pleasure, your maj—um, Thomas.” Logan smiled, bowing his head.

     Thomas beamed down at him.

     “Thomas?” Virgil’s hoarse voice broke the silence.

     “Yes, Virgil?”

     “Save him.”

     Thomas stiffened, suddenly remembering the reason for their visit. “Of course. You have my word that I will bring Roman home safe. Go get yourself taken care of, Virgil.”

    Virgil grunted his affirmation as Logan walked him to the door. Logan nodded to Thomas as he opened the door for them to go, whispering as they slipped out the door.

    “Stay safe and take care of each other.”

-

Chapter warnings: Minor Violence, Knifes, Hostage Situation, Minor Blood but No Major Injuries, Mentions of selling/buying a human being, Manipulative/Degrading Language, Poisoning, Restraints

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