#what you wanted and thirty more unasked-for ideas

[nottogetpoliticalbutwtfisoatmeal]

here ya go! as far as i can remember it was just a hide and seek game for the entire round. i added on some post-dream inferences based on what would make plot holes make sense, rules that would tie to the life series canon, and what i thought was cool.

anyways this happened in my dream and it was too important not to ignore. tango didnt actually tackle pearl but i like to think he bought gem some time

and of course our beloved canary

i had a dream that there was a new life series and it was hide-and-seek based

last and certainly not least: the winner

[johnnyraine]

Next to Me - Ch. 5

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 6

Words: 1,336

18th of January, 2023

A.N.: Sorry, it took so long. At first, it was general laziness; then there was a flood and I had to leave; then I was depressed; I got back and it was general laziness again & cleanup; I finished a fic, but no one cared for it, so depressed again; then I finally finished this chapter.

~~~~~

"We can do whatever we want he-"

You stop listening to your "partner." Apparently, there isn't really much that the Militia "does." The patrol you're currently on was your idea, and even then, you only mentioned it. As if it's what they do.

It's not. And your partner decided to continuously remind you.

"Why would you tell Aguni that? Why did he listen to you anyway?" He complains.

'I honestly don't know,' You think, regretting this.

You still remember Aguni's empty stare before he split you up into pairs. Luckily, Niragi was put with someone else.

'I might've just beat him if we were together.'

An hour passes with your partner complaining, taking swigs from a bottle, or just harassing fellow Beach members.

"Okay," You say.

After the latest, now uncomfortable, Beach members turn a corner, you grab "Ken-something," and throw him against the wall.

"He- Ack!" He chokes out, dropping his bottle and grabbing at the arm on his throat.

Pushing against his throat, you point directly in his face.

"If I hear another word, I will rip your fucking tongue out. Okay?" He nods, eyes wide. "If you touch, grab, or even say some shit to any other Beach members, I'll break your arm."

"Got it?"

He chokes out a yes and you let him go.

"Come on, we still have some time left."

The rest of your patrol passes in silence.

Your next partner, Daisuke, is much better. He took to your idea of patrols with some determination. There's no drinking, complaining, at least not about the patrol, or harassing others.

He seems like a fine person.

"Another one," He says, seeing another couple being "busy" down the hall.

"You'd hope they'd find a room instead," You say, moving on.

"Preferably Hatter's. See if he likes a free sex show."

You chuckle, "He probably would."

Back and forth your conversation goes, enjoying the other's company. You believe by the end of your patrol, Daisuke will likely be one of the few people you can tolerate here.

There's a pause in the conversation as you're in your last thirty minutes with him. As you believe it'll end in silence, Daisuke asks you something.

"Why did you hit Niragi?"

You should've known he'd say something about that, but it doesn't stop you from making a face anyway.

Coming to a stop, you face him, "Because he deserved it. Simple as that."

It's Daisuke's turn to make a face, though you can't tell if it's approval or not.

He motions to continue walking, "Do not get me wrong, I think Niragi deserved it. Many in the Militia do. But…"

He stops and turns to you.

"You could have died, W/l/n. You are fortunate that you know each other."

"Why's that?"

He raises an eyebrow, "How long have you been here?"

You think about it for a minute.

"Maybe a week or so."

"And you have not seen the Militia's more violent members or their violent tendencies?"

"No, I've been hiding," You answer, beginning to lose your patience.

"Niragi is known for being one of, if not, the most violent member. I have seen him beat a man with his gun for annoying him. With no hesitation, he killed an entire group of "traitors" who simply tried to leave."

You look like you ate a lemon, anger fills your entire being.

"Yet," He says. "When Aguni pulled a gun on you, Niragi tried to stop him. With him also calling out your name, it is evident you two know each other."

"Hatter stopped Aguni," You grit out.

"But Niragi tried to stop him before Hatter showed up."

You stare at him for a few moments, refusing to answer some unasked question. Daisuke gives in first and your patrol ends sometime later.

'Well, he left an impression,' You think.

"Y/n."

You startle and look at Aguni with some of the Militia.

'Even when he speaks normally, it sounds like barking.'

Or perhaps you were just distracted, thinking about the new information you have about your old friend.

"You two are together. Go."

He dismisses you and you look at your next partner.

"Why would I work with him?' He asks incredulously.

Your eyes catch your partner. Niragi sneers at you before looking at Aguni. The man simply blinks, looking at Niragi until he looks away.

And so it begins.

However long passes with you two in tense silence. Honestly, you expected Niragi to have said something by now. But, he's silent. You don't know why. For you, you haven't spoken because you think you might punch him.

'Calm yourself, Y/n. Calm yourself.' You take deep breaths.

"What's wrong with you?" Niragi asks with an attitude.

"What the fuck's wrong with you?"

'Fuck,' You think.

You just blurted it out, not even thinking.

"What?" 

He gets in your face and you grab his shirt.

"I said what the fuck's wrong with you, Niragi?!  I don't see you in years and the first thing I see, is you attempting to abduct someone for your fucking boss."

Throwing him for a second, he recovers in a rage. Shoving you into a wall, he didn't plan on your grip being so strong.

Your back hits the wall and Niragi is knocked off balance. You headbutt each other.

You curse, letting him go.

"Are you seriously still such an idiot?!" He yells, clutching his forehead.

You bristle at that. Just barely, you withhold your anger. Taking a moment to collect yourself, when you open your eyes, Niragi's gone.

"Fu-" You hiss, taking another deep breath.

Aguni later rips you a new one. Even though he didn't raise his voice, you feel cowed. You don't know if you can take him. You may not be that smart, but you certainly aren't that dumb.

The next time you see Niragi is on a car ride to a game. You are unfortunately in the same group.

It's an awkward ride.

The others must sense the tension because no one says anything. Leaving you all in a long silence. The driver glances at you in the mirror, but quickly looks away from your gaze.

'I'm making a face, aren't I?' You rub your face.

You arrive at the venue; it's diamonds.

You sigh, dropping your head.

~~~~~

Dragging yourself to your room, you disregard the thought of hiding and sleeping elsewhere.

The game wasn't nearly as hard as you believed it would be. That doesn't mean it was particularly easy.

There were six of you: two from the militia; two regular Beach members, and you and Niragi. By the end, there are four.

The only part you care about is that no one had to die. You are certain of it. The last Militia member even knows it.

"That fucker!" You growl.

Niragi was on some fucking high. Though only a suspicion, you believe he knew how to solve the game, but chose to say nothing. When one person died, it was an unfortunate incident.

You weren't paying attention to anyone in particular.

When a Militia member died, he was in hysteria. Apparently, he knew the previous person.

When he died, you saw Niragi smirk. As if enjoying it!

You paid attention when someone else was likely going to die. However long ago it was, you could still tell Niragi was hiding something.

It's only because it's still only a suspicion that you feel somewhat bad.

You "handled" him. Hitting and shaking him to and fro, screaming at him to "fucking help, damn it!"

If the timer wasn't running low, you know he would have fought back harder. He reluctantly helped to win the game, after which he simmered in the car ride back "home."

You know it wasn't just because of what you did, but because others saw.

But you can't care much more about it. Two people are unnecessarily dead.

Collapsing into your bed, you don't even block the door.

"I wish, he'd try something," You mumble into the sheets, just hoping he'd give you a reason to beat his ass.

In no time, you fall asleep, awaiting the next day and its problems.

← Chapter 4 - Chapter 6 →

[katierosefun]

well, december’s flown by, so this means...another unasked for list of things i’ve watched, recommendations, etc. one day, i might stop doing these, but i seem to have no shame, so here’s stuff i’ve consumed in the final month (!) of 2021.

kdrama: 

hotel del luna

you know. ....i went into this kdrama not having very high expectations? i watched the first episode in 2019 back when it was airing, but i couldn’t find myself wanting to continue it, even though i adored iu’s acting in my mister. well, nearly two years later, i decided to give this kdrama another shot because i mostly missed yeo jin goo’s face, and i also wanted to see him in what i thought would be a lighter role.

basically...i fell in love with this show. yes, i still think ep 1 was kinda slow, but ep 2 onwards? i was in love with the general themes in healing, letting go of past pains, finding new love, etc...there were just so many of those overlapping themes that made me cry a little. basically, this show is about man wol (iu), a thousands of years old woman who owns a hotel for ghosts. when she  brings in a new hotel manager gu chan seong (yeo jin goo), everything becomes much more complicated.

this show was just. as i’ve mentioned, so lovely? it really delivered on visual aesthetics, the plot, the characters...all of whom i absolutely fell in love with. this show also really reminded me why i loved kdramas that kinda bordered on fantasy in the first place (like w: two worlds, while you were sleeping...things are just nice with a touch of magic). it also just came at the right time for me--and i think after watching mostly dark kdramas in the last few months, watching a show that was mostly healing really made me feel :’))

because this is my first life

you know when you watch like. the first 10 minutes of a show and already know you’re going to love it? that’s what i felt when i started watching because this is my first life. 

this is a story about two strangers ji ho (jung so min) and sae hee (lee min ki), who get married for the sake of affordable housing. don’t be fooled by the pastel palette and the softly detailed camerawork--there’s quite a lot of hard-hitting moments in this show, and it definitely goes into heavier themes, particularly regarding the way misogyny affects women in present day. there’s also a lot of discussion about what it means to have a dream for a young woman in the 21st century...and what it means to be in your thirties or entering your thirties, as well as what it really means to be married (because...what does marriage really mean?). 

i didn’t really expect myself to cry and laugh as much as i did watching this show. i found myself getting quickly sucked into the show after the ending of the first episode, and then each episode just kept leaving me with lovely life lessons and phrases that i’ve decided to carry around with me. this truly is a special show, and i’m very glad i watched it, and i think if you really need something to quietly brighten your day, then you should give this a watch.

tv: 

the haunting of bly manor 

okay...so i watched this i think relatively soon after it came out, but i gave this another watch on my first day of break, and . .. ..you know when you already know how something bad is going to happen, but you’re wierdly pulled into it because you want to see people fight against whatever fate they have in store for them? that was kind of my experience rewatching haunting, although i suppose i can say that for most things i’ve rewatched. it hit me especially hard this time around though. 

i feel like most people know about this show, but on the off-chance someone doesn’t: an american woman named dani moves to england and becomes an au pair for the wingrave children in the manor of bly. 

i won’t go much more into that, but. . .come for the ghosts + the spooky feelings, but stay for the found family, the lovely (canon!) wlw relationship, and also . . . the idea that love stories and ghost stories are the same thing. truly a magnificent show, so much to unpack about loss and love and healing and breaking years and years of hurt. a gem of a show. 

arcane 

so...i’ve never played nor will i ever play league of legends, but i gave this show a watch mostly because during the last leg of midterms season, my friend wouldn’t stop making distressed noises while watching this show. despite not really being excited for this show (i’ve had secondhand experience in witnessing the notorious toxicity of the league community), i was incredibly sucked into this series after the second episode. i still know nothing about league, but the world in this show is pretty interesting + very comprehensive + easy to follow along, even without any background knowledge of the game. 

but anyways: this show mostly follows the two sisters vi and powder/jinx, who, after a tragic rescue mission gone wrong, are forced to go in separate paths. but the bigger picture of the show is this incredible tension between the “topsiders” (well-off people, high tech, etc) and the undercity, run by crime lord silco. there’s a classic in-world political struggle as well as personal sibling struggles, and it all balances itself out neatly into a very compelling series. for a second, i was even tempted to play league...although no worries, i still won’t touch that video game within a ten foot pole. 

ofc, this show isn’t entirely perfect: there were some parts of the show that made me pause and kinda wish they went about certain things in a better way, but overall! i super enjoyed it, and i can’t wait for a second season because there is no way the show ends like that. 

movies: 

empire of lust 

y’know, i heard mixed reviews of this movie, and i think after watching this movie, i can mostly agree that it is very much...a mixed review kind of movie. that said, the entire cast was incredibly strong, and i felt for our leads immediately (i mean. it’s shin ha kyun. you know he’s going to bring his a-game. and also kang ha na. i’m not familiar with her other works but i just knew from the first minute she was on screen that she was going to get everyone’s attention). basically, this movie’s about this esteemed commander kim min jae (shin ha kyun) who’s kinda known as this important lord’s right hand man/a favorite of the king. he’s kinda miserable tbh, because even despite the honors and titles, he’s still basically under the thumb of those in power. 

then he meets ga hee (kang ha na), whom he very quickly falls in love with. she becomes his consort, only, unbeknownst to min jae, she has some plans of her own. what follows is a pretty interesting revenge story, and while i really adored her character, i kinda wish the development was more. . .thorough? again, this is mostly a pacing issue. 

that said though, i overall enjoyed the movie! i think this is a film i could see myself maybe watching again one day if i just want to watch a movie with nice aesthetic shots of joseon korea. . .but that said, um. this movie is rated r, so content warnings for sex, rape, and a bit of blood. 

big match 

don’t be fooled by the dark screencap i used: this was actually one of the silliest movies i’ve watched in a good long while, but silly in a good way! basically, this movie follows a pro wrestler choi ik ho (lee jung jae), who is suddenly forced to take part in some kind of game in order to save his older brother (lee sung min). the mastermind? an eccentric dude named ace (shin ha kyun), who gleefully makes the game harder and harder for ik ho. 

tbh. . .i don’t know what to say except it was fun! i don’t think i’ll watch it again unless i want to see shin ha kyun play something much more lighthearted (because. this was probably one of his most lighthearted roles it’s so weird to think this man can play a character like ace and also a character like min jae or dong sik or joo sang this man really knows how to act). i found some of the scenes rather funny, but overall it felt pretty fresh! lots of action too, very interesting camerawork + outrageous stunts if that’s your cup of tea. overall, i didn’t dislike it--i guess action comedy isn’t exactly my favorite genre, but i enjoyed the acting and the laughs, because i was in a funny sad mood when i started watching this (and then started laughing a lot once the movie started).

the lovely bones

this is one of those movies that i really wish was better than it was pitched to me. or at least, i wish people warned me of how i might dislike some parts of it, because i really disliked some parts of it. that said though, i did overall like the majority of this movie, which is about a 14 year old girl who gets murdered + tries to put together the pieces from the “in between”.

this is a really…beautifully crafted movie in that the visuals and the movie were all fantastic. acting was also fantastic! i wasn’t the biggest fan of the heavy voiceovers, but that’s a me thing. i also wasn’t the biggest fan of a lot of other elements, all of which i’ll leave vague because i feel like this is a movie you really don’t want to be spoiled about…but like. anyways. overall, do i recommend it? mm…maybe. maybe. i think it’s a fantastic example of healing + visual storytelling, but i feel like i might hesitate in suggesting this to anyone. if anything, i feel like i would be quicker to recommend shows like hotel del luna or beyond evil if anyone wants a “murder + closure” related story (hotel del luna if you want something supernatural, beyond evil for something more about the effects of murder on a family)…but that’s just me.

little forest

what a genuinely sweet movie! like, genuinely…a sweet slice-of-life movie about coming back home to get some sense of yourself. this movie is based off the japanese manga of the same title, and i believe it was also turned into a japanese movie as well—this is the korean adaptation. i haven’t watched the japanese film yet, but i want to now, just because this film was so good.

but anyways, about this movie…it follows a young woman named hae won (kim tae ri) coming back home to the countryside where she grew up. she just. farms and makes food and tries to gain some sense of self again, and it’s such a good movie. she’s such a lovely character, and the story is really simple but sweet, and the camerawork is fantastic, and the food in this movie is so. . .(well. don’t watch this movie at 1 am, otherwise your stomach will wake up before the rest of you.)

anyways…i adore this movie, and i think it might be one of my favorites watched this year! highly recommend—it’s available on viki and tubi for free!

inseperable bros

i was at first hesitant to watch this movie, mostly because i’m always hesitant about movies that discuss disability issues, but i found this movie actually much better than i thought it would? granted, shin ha kyun and lee kwang soo aren’t disabled themselves (as is the case with so many movies about disabilities), but it seems like both actors were incredibly self-conscious about not wanting to cross a line in their own portrayal of their characters. (especially so because this is based on a true story.) 

but anyways--this movie definitely had bright moments, as well as incredibly heavy moments. it follows the story of two disabled men--se ha (shin ha kyun), who’s been paralyzed since the age of 2, and dong gu (lee kwang soo), who’s developmentally disabled and so has the mental age of 5. they’ve been close friends since very young, as they grew up in the same charity home--and now as adults, they’re trying to live as independents (as the government can no longer fund for their care). 

i think something i really loved about this movie was just like. themes about found family. your family isn’t necessarily who you’re born with, but instead the people who care and love you through thick and thin. it’s an old story, but it’s still a good one, and that jumps out so hard in this movie in particular. as such, i enjoyed that aspect of the movie--and while i agree the representation probably isn’t 100% perfect, i do think it’s been much more thoughtfully made + adds a lot more nuance and understanding to the problems disabled people face, particularly in south korea. 

mr. perfect 

i cried like 3 times watching this movie. three times. towards the end, i cried so hard that my brother literally came into my room thinking that something was wrong--but no! it was just me! and this movie! making me bawl! like! a! baby! like! when i tell you i was literally clutching my chest and sobbing  . . . besties this movie made me clutch my chest like a fuckign drama queen--

but anyways. i still recommend this movie, even if it made me cry so many tears. (seriously. watch it. i need someone to understand why i’m bawling in my room. i’ll even dm you a link.)

essentially, this movie is about baek se jin (yoon shi yoon), a pro golfer who, after a pretty horrific accident, winds up moving to an island as a teacher. due to the accident, he no longer speaks (trauma~), and he’s, as you would expect, pretty resistant to becoming a teacher at first. but as one does, he winds up getting attached to the kids in this run-down school, and the movie takes off from there. he forms specially a bond with byung joo (yeo jin goo), the quiet kid with an alcoholic dad. and it’s just. . .this whole movie. man. them. i could write a whole essay about byung joo and se jin’s relationship because they were the ones who made me sob the most-- 

i sobbed like a little baby. i have mixed feelings about the ending, but overall, i’m very happy i watched it. it’s such a lovely film with so many little details that i could ramble on about (literally this movie said, let me pack so many fucking parallels and make the audience cry their little eyes out). it’s sweet, it’s warm, and it’ll break your heart, but just. . .everyone’s performance was so moving and anyways i think this was perhaps my favorite movie i watched this month, and i haven’t quite felt this much about a movie since watching hwayi last month, and hwayi made me feel so many things for so long. so!!! if you have like.. . . 2 hours to kill, i def. rec you watch this!!!! (then come find me. we can cry about it together.)

[piratewithvigor]

Stars

Chapter 4: 2013

In which our hero goes camping again

“Come on, we should be there soon, shouldn’t we?”

“Can’t you stop griping and just enjoy the walk?”

“How can I? You spent the three months before we moved here telling me about how dangerous this place is. Quizzing me on how to defend myself against 400 different species.”

“Aww, are you scared?”

“No!”

Kane couldn’t help but laugh. Daniel was terrified out of his wits. It was almost painfully obvious. Every time he thought Kane couldn’t see him, his eyes kept darting around the trees surrounding them. Inspecting the trees for things that might want to kill them. Which was fairly useless; everything in the Valley wanted to kill them, but nothing would dare. They knew they were under protection of the Undertaker and the creatures of the Valley respected such protection.

Even still, it just took one rogue beast to end both of them and turn them into dinner. They wouldn’t hesitate if they were hungry; the only vegan in the Valley was Daniel.

He took Daniel’s hand gently, doing his best to soothe his husband. Having had hardly any touches that weren’t meant to hurt him for decades, sometimes the gentler touches took Kane a little longer to get used to. Daniel was still the only one he could bear to touch for an extended length of time and certainly the only one he could bring himself to initiate such a touch with.

The gesture didn’t go unnoticed. Daniel exhaled softly as he squeezed a little.

He’d been excited for this trip. Hiking, camping; they were some of his favorite hobbies outside the ring. It was usually like pulling teeth to get Kane to want to come along. But he’d suggested this trip. The trip he used to take with his family on the first weekend of autumn. Spending the night in the woods of the Valley together, bonding. Kane didn’t talk about his family from before the fire too often, so Daniel was certainly not going to question why he brought it up then. Of course, at the time, the excitement had overridden the recollection that camping in the Valley was about equally dangerous as camping on a cliff face in the Grand Canyon. Except the danger was only held at bay by an unspoken supernatural promise.

So many questions from the Valley were better left unasked and just accepted.

“You’re gonna like it,” Kane promised. “It’s pretty. A lot of really soft grass.”

“I trust you.” Daniel wasn’t going to add that for as long as he’d lived there, he’d hardly seen any living grass, let alone really soft grass. Kane was excited, so he was going to keep his worries at bay. “You’re sure you remember the way, right?”

“Spent a night here every year for six years. I could find the clearing in my sleep.”

“Maybe, but that was thirty years ago.”

“Are you calling me old?”

“A little.”

“Take it back, or no s’mores for you.”

“That’s blackmail!”

“That’s life.”

“Okay, okay, I take it back.”

“Not good enough.”

Daniel exhaled in exasperation. “I’m sorry I called you old.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry I called you a goat.”

“You didn’t call me a goat.”

“I know. Now I’ve got one apology saved up for next time I do,” Kane grinned and avoided Daniel attempting a swat to the back of his head.

“You’re damn lucky you’re cute.”

“I know.”

Kane wasn’t exactly sure how he’d tricked Daniel into liking him. When they first met, they had some of the most awful fights Kane had ever been a part of. Both physically and emotionally. He hated Daniel at first. They would scream at each other until Kane was as hoarse as he’d been when he was re-learning how to talk. They were the tag team champions together and a formidable duo, but nothing like any other tag team Kane had been a part of. Everything felt wrong and off working with Daniel and it wasn’t because he felt like beating him more than their opponents. They just… had nothing in common. Except that they were both fueled with enough rage to be sent to anger management therapy together.

Kane had been gritting his teeth and hardly keeping himself from throwing Daniel through a wall every week. Until one week. The week of the trust falls.

“Daniel, just fall backwards, and Kane will catch you.”

“I will?”

He didn’t want to catch Daniel. Daniel didn’t want to be caught by Kane. Dr. Shelby was insistent. If they did this exercise, they might have a real breakthrough. Breakthroughs meant they could stop coming to these damn therapy sessions. Whether it was the promise of a breakthrough or the threat of having to do the exercise the next week, Kane wasn’t sure, but Daniel turned around.

“Kane, I trust you.”

He’d been stunned silent for a moment. Almost forgot to catch Daniel. But he didn’t. He caught Daniel’s shoulders easily and kept him from hitting the deceptively hard floor. The weight of a man who trusted him so completely so quickly was in his hands. He’d shoved Daniel upright to avoid letting him know his hands were shaking from getting so quickly overwhelmed with emotion. Dr. Shelby had been so proud of them. Moved them right on to the next phase of the exercise: working together. They were both instructed to catch some loser from the group. Even though they both put out their arms to catch him, he hit the floor hard as they pulled their arms back.

“Did you know that I wasn’t going to catch him?” Daniel had asked.

“Did you know that I wasn’t going to catch him?” Kane replied. A quiet smile had spread over Daniel’s lips.

“I think I finally understand you, Kane.”

They’d kissed for the first time that night. Still fought like cats and dogs, but in moments alone in the hotel rooms, they kissed. Sometimes they went further, sometimes they didn’t.

“We’re almost there,” Kane broke the silence, pointing with the hand that wasn’t interwoven with Daniel’s.

“Where? I don’t see any grass anywhe- holy shit…” The sight of the little clearing filled with lush, green grass seemed to take Daniel’s breath away.

“What do you think? Worth the hike?”

Daniel didn’t answer. Almost like he was dumbfounded such a soft place could exist within the harshness of the Valley.

“Daniel?”

“Very worth it.”

“You good setting up the tent while I gather the firewood?”

“Kane, I fucking swear, if you leave me alone in these woods, I will shit in your sleeping bag.”

One argument about proper firewood, one argument about tent raising techniques and three arguments about setting fires later, both of them were lying in the grass, watching the smoke from the dying fire rise into the night air.

“You shouldn’t be able to start a fire by hugging a log,” Daniel mumbled, snuggling up to Kane’s chest.

“I know.”

“How do you do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s weird.”

“Can we change the subject?”

“Sure. To what?”

“Dunno. Know any good camping stories?”

“Well, there was one time I went camping with AJ and she needed to pee, but the bush under her was poison ivy and-”

“A different story!” Kane groaned, shuddering at the idea. Either because he didn’t want to know what happened with the poison ivy or because he didn’t want to know anything more about AJ than he already did. She was responsible for sending Daniel to anger management, so Kane owed her for that, but he didn’t want to know anything else.

“Okay, there was a time my family had a reunion at a campground and my aunt chopped up apples and tossed them in apple pie spices, then wrapped them in tin foil and stuck them in the coals of the campfire. Smoky apple pie filling.”

“Sounds tasty.”

“Should’ve told that story before so we could have done the same.”

“Maybe next time.”

He could promise a next time. He could swear that a year from then, he would still love Daniel. They would still be together. They could lie down in the grass and look up at the stars. They could marvel at how big the universe was and how miraculous it was that they found each other.

Far up in the night sky, a red star and one a little bigger seemed a little closer together.

[taeyongtime]

silver cufflinks

genre: escape artist!taeyong | circus!au

featuring: NCT’s Taeyong

word count: 7,467 words

a/n: an idea of old that i finally managed to execute after 3 years and a culmination of 14 handwritten pages :) 

“Have you heard? Neon Lights is in town!”

You shake your head, never heard the name before.

“You’ve never heard of the Neon Lights Circus?” Your friend’s jaw drops in awe, unbelieving of such a thing. “It’s only the best circus in all of Asia!

“Surely your father has heard of them? Didn't you say he used to perform with a circus?”

“That was a long time ago,” you ponder, recalling all the wild stories from your father’s travels with a wandering circus. “Isn’t this Neon Lights relatively new?”

“Twenty years is hardly new.”

Urged to ask about Neon Lights, you give in and promise to ask your father once you return home. However, the question goes unasked when you see the circle of family surrounding the door to your parents’ bedroom, the upcoming announcement completely unexpected.

“Your father… he’s gone, dear.”

—

You clutch the locked leather-bound volume in hand, following the person in front closely as the line moves slowly towards the ticket booth of the Neon Lights circus. The hype not to be underestimated, what looked to be fifty people are already lined up once the circus’ nighttime hours had been announced one hour prior. Some were new faces who wanted to get a taste of what the acclaimed circus had to offer, others familiar patrons who couldn’t wait to see what was new in store compared to previous shows. All in all, the anticipation for entry is palpable, tingling excitement dancing in the air while the line inched its way up.

Finally, you make it to the booth, handing over the correct amount of money in exchange for an admissions ticket. Green-and-black striped tents greet you once you pass the iron gates, neon lights fitting of the circus’ name dotting the main path. Elaborate signs boasting of acts and other surprises do little to catch your attention, only one goal in mind today as you pass each tent that isn’t the one you wanted. However, you can’t seem to find the tent in question, opting to pop into the next one you see to ask for directions.

“Oh, sorry,” you mumble, bumping paths with the figure dressed in black before the fire breathers’ tent. “I didn’t see you there.”

“No problem,” he dismisses, brushing the sleeves of his black blazer, “You’re good.”

“By the way, do you know where I can find the escape artist?”

He arches an eyebrow. “The escape artist?”

“…Never mind.”

Lifting the curtains, you pass him and enter the tent. Three fire breathers are still in uniform, skipping around the stage with flaming torches in their hands.

“Hey,” you yell at the top of your lungs. “Do any of you know where the escape artist is?”

“Can’t hear you,” hollers the one juggling three torches at once. “Come closer!”

You climb over the rope separating the audience seats from the performers, already halfway up the stage until you feel yourself pulled back down.

“You could’ve died standing so close to the fire breather,” hisses the man you’d bumped into outside, “Follow me.”

“Why should I?”

“I didn’t know you were so desperate to meet me that you’d stick your face into blazing fire to ask my whereabouts.”

“Wait, you’re the escape artist?”

◇

The escape artist’s tent is smaller than expected, a ring of thirty chairs circling the performing space that provides no covers for any sleight of hand. He gestures for you to sit in any of the open chairs and you let out a cry of surprise at hearing the shrill caw overhead.

“My raven won’t bite,” he reassures, reaching a hand to pet the bird that lands on his left arm. “Henry is quite friendly.”

You take a seat and remember the locked journal, extending it to him.

“My father left this for you.”

“Who’s your father?”

“Have you heard of the magician Eriol Kim? That’s my father’s stage name.”

He must know, the downcast glance and dipped head obvious signs that he was familiar with your father.

“Can you open the journal?” you ask, offering the locked volume again. “No one in the family’s been able to open it even though we were left with the key.”

“Let me see.”

He takes the journal and studies the lock, turning the book in his hands before reaching behind his ear and pulling out a bobby pin. Twisting the pin, he sticks the gadget into the lock, fiddling with it a few times before hearing the satisfactory click.

“Old man probably left you guys with a fake key,” he reasons, flipping through the pages. “Had to quench your thirst for answers but still keep his secrets a secret.”

“What kind of secrets?”

The escape artist smiles, placing the lock back in place.

“Secrets.”

Unsatisfied with his answer, you pester him some more but he zips his lips.

“If you’ll excuse me, I must prepare for tonight’s show.”

“Hey, you can’t just kick me out, you weirdo!”

“The name’s Taeyong,” he drawls, waving his fingers in a cheery goodbye. “Maybe we can talk more when you come by again tomorrow.”

—

You end up going back to the circus tomorrow and the day after, each night determined to convince Taeyong to let you see your father’s journal. Not once does the escape artist comply, even giggling playfully when he decides he wants your assistance in a performance. Under the pressure of the audience, you find yourself obliging, soon earning yourself an assistant title to the regulars that stop by every night to watch him perform.

“And now my lovely assistant will set fire to the barrel!”

You get up at hearing the cue and extract the lighter from your pocket, eyeing the barrel warily. The speakers overhead crackle, Taeyong assuring the audience he is unable to push open the barrel’s lid.

“If my assistant can prepare—”

Caught off guard by the utterance, you drop the lighter before he can finish, a quick flame growing at the base of the barrel. The prepared sticks of firewood and gasoline catches almost immediately, fear and excitement mixed into the audience’s response.

“Fire, fire…”

Hushed murmurs of fire echo across the circle, and the only thing on your mind is the fire extinguisher—which you run towards and focus the nozzle on the flaming barrel. Puffs of white envelop the on looking audience, your heart thumping erratically as the flames die out. Timing key in pulling off a successful act, you knew full well one mishap like that can shift the entire performance towards failure and ultimately an untimely death.

Please don’t be in there, please tell me you freed yourself before…before…

“Well, that was a close one.”

Taeyong steps out from the cloud, hair tinged white as he brushes his blazer and pants dry with his hands. Everyone cheers, already forgetting the impending risk of his death from the barrel that had been set aflame earlier than arranged.

“Thank you,” he bows, shooting a quick smirk at the crowd. “It is my honor to perform for you tonight!”

Once tonight’s audience leaves his tent, you run towards him and grab him by the shoulders, checking to see if he is still in one piece.

Taeyong laughs at your antics. “What are you doing?”

“You… You’re not dead.”

He scoffs. “Of course not.”

“…Thank goodness, I...” 

Slumping to the ground, you shake your head as you process the prior events once more. Thankfully nothing had gone awry and Taeyong had made it out before the barrel burned to bits and pieces, your mistake passed off as an added measure of suspense for his escape. 

“I have something for you.”

Looking up, your eyes land on the slip of green paper in his hands, bordered in metallic ebony with emerald lettering at the center.

“What is this?”

“Unlimited access pass,” he explains, “So you don’t have to pay to get in.”

“Bold of you to assume I’ll come back after nearly killing you tonight.”

He grins, cheekiness rolling off his shoulders. “You’re not going to leave when you still don’t know what your father wrote in his journal.”

You let out a chuckle. “I don’t care about that anymore.”

Now it is his turn to sit down, crossing his legs as he rocks to and fro. 

“You don’t want to know your father’s secrets?”

“Secrets are called secrets for a reason,” you begin, still holding tight to the unlimited access pass. “These things weren’t mine to begin with and I should respect that.”

Taeyong nods, silver earrings glistening in the lamp light. “I respect you for it, Y/N.”

You startle, staring at him wide-eyed. “How do you know my name?”

“Did some research of my own after you told me Eriol was your father. He said he’ll introduce me to you someday when I first started studying under him.”

“Really? He’s never mentioned you to me before.”

A dry laugh tickles his throat. “Probably didn’t bother anymore after I left without telling him.”

You sense there is a deeper story behind the relationship Taeyong had with your father, but don’t bother to ask.

“That’s enough for tonight,” he concludes, extending a hand to help you up after hopping back on his feet. “Come on, I’ll show you around the rest of the circus.”

You take the offered hand and pull yourself up, scowling. “I don’t need you when I’ve been around the rest of the circus before.”

“Have you seen the white tigers in the Wild Cats tent?”

“There’s a separate tent for tigers?”

The disgusted look on his face says it all. “Clearly you still haven’t been to the best tents around here.”

—

The call at 4pm is unexpected, much less the name that appears on caller ID.

Not sure when Taeyong had inputted his phone number into your device or when he had gotten hold of your contact information, you ignore the ringtone and return to enjoying the fresh cup of oolong tea and just baked sugar cookies for the midday snack. Barely having two sips of tea, you grumble when the phone rings again, this time answering and ready to tell him off for interrupting your teatime.

“What do you want, weirdo?”

“Hello, is this Y/N? Mister Lee Taeyong is currently at the police station; he said this is a good number to reach you, his friend?”

“Excuse me?”

You arrive at the police station thirty minutes later, eyes widened at seeing the limp figure slumped over the table.

“Taeyong?”

Taeyong lifts his head up at hearing his name, the officers standing next to him following closely behind.

“What the…”

He giggles, face flushed as he proudly holds up his hands, an officer cuffed to each wrist.

“Mister Lee claims he misplaced the key,” the office on the right begins calmly, “He gave us your name and contact information when we asked if there is anyone else who may know how to unlock his handcuffs.”

“Um… I can try.”

You kneel to meet Taeyong at eye level, doing your best to not get distracted by the puppy-dog eyes and giggly expression on his face. You smell a faint hint of alcohol; how much had he drank to reach such a wasted state that he had managed to handcuff two well-trained police officers to him?

“Weirdo, how much did you drink? Where is your key?”

“Dunno,” he slurs, letting out a hiccup. “Had one bottle, two?”

“Not even that much,” you mutter, reaching your hands into his jacket pockets and coming up empty. “Lightweight.”

“I cuffed two officers, Y/N. You’re under arrest, officers!”

Ignoring the grumbles and displeasure at being cuffed by a mere civilian, you suddenly remember his bobby pin trick. Reaching by his ear, your fingers grab hold of the pin tucked in his hair, easing it out and fiddling it into each cuff.

The officers wring out their hands once freed, and you quickly help a dizzy Taeyong up.

“Sorry for all the trouble,” you apologize on his behalf, “It won’t happen again.”

◇

Taeyong opens his eyes to find himself in a home that isn’t his tent, the surroundings completely unfamiliar until he sees the photo frame on the nightstand by the bed. 

A family photo. He spots his mentor immediately, as stoic as ever posing tight-lipped before the camera.

“I’m sorry for running away, Teacher.”

Sitting up, he eases off the bed and makes a lap around the apartment, taking note of where your things are placed. Not too shabby for someone raised by a magician, although his mentor had also been one to keep a messy desk once he sees the haphazardly scattered papers and uncapped pens on your work table. He starts to reorganize, but pauses midway when he spots the clipped newspaper article.

Impossible. How could he have not realized that was why you’d suddenly appeared in his life?

“Hey, you’re awake.”

He turns at hearing your voice, staring you down.

“Why didn’t you tell me Eriol is dead?”

You manage a soft smile, taking off your sneakers and easing into a pair of purple slippers. “I thought you already knew the moment I gave you his journal.”

“How could I…”

He slams a hand on the table, ignoring the shrill screech at his fingers crushing the small porcelain cup just below his fist. Blood starts to trickle from the shards embedded in his skin, and you hurriedly sit him down before rushing to grab the first-aid kit.

“Idiot... This might hurt, can you withstand it?”

“It’s fine,” he insists, the wince at the first pluck betraying him already. “Don’t… Don’t bother.”

“You owe me a new tea set,” you mutter, plucking out a second and third shard of porcelain. “I’m going to make you buy me an expensive one to make up for it.”

The ramble about tea sets does its job to distract him from the pain. Soon, his hand is porcelain-free and bandaged all the way around, much to his dismay as he twists his wrist and scowls at seeing the mummified right hand.

“This is my good hand you bandaged up.”

“Then don’t perform tonight,” you point out, “You should be resting if you sustained an injury.”

—

He surprisingly follows your lead, not returning to the circus later in the evening. Social media explodes with posts regarding his no-show, but he is not bothered at all. It is rare for him to have a chance to spend time away from the circus, let alone do things other than perform escape tricks.

Tonight, he can live as Lee Taeyong the regular civilian, not Taeyong the escape artist of the Neon Lights circus.

“What is this?”

“A claw machine,” you explain, pointing at the assortment of plush toys kept contained in the red box. “You’ve never played one before?”

“…No.”

Without another word, you pull him inside the arcade. Bright lights and jingling game music greets your ears, the splash of colors across the perimeters enough to send your head spinning with indecision on which machine to play. Not many people besides you and Taeyong, luckily no one recognizes him as a member of the circus.

“Can you get me that one?” you ask, pointing at a pink bunny tucked in the back corner.

“You actually want a toy from here?” he quips, arching an eyebrow. “And me to get it for you?”

“Please,” you pout, batting your eyelashes. “You’re so good with your hands!”

He holds up the bandaged right hand and you gulp.

“I forgot about that.”

“Hmm,” he grumbles, “Step aside and I’ll see what I can do.”

You insert a coin into the slot and he grabs hold of the joystick, angling the claws directly above the bunny. Pushing the button to lower the claw, the prongs are dropped low, opening and closing into empty air before makings its way up again.

“Another one,” Taeyong mutters, eyes fixed on the toy. “We’re not leaving until I get you that bunny.”

It takes him a good two hours and an entire basket of coins to become familiar with the machine, finally maneuvering the claws deftly to pick up the bunny and drop it out. Your excited squeal brings a rare smile to his face, the first of the night. Refusing to take a stab at a different machine, Taeyong pulls you after him to play a shooting game, proving his skill once again when he secures the most kills in all three rounds of killing zombies. Darts, basketball hoops, even a coin toss is easy.

You raise the white flag after he changes his mind about the claw machine, securing almost five more stuffed plush toys under his belt before calling it quits.

“I didn’t think I’d have so much fun,” he admits after stepping out of the arcade under close watch from arcade staff. “The claw is actually not that hard to operate.”

“They were ready to pull you aside for questioning,” you laugh, swinging your stuffed bunny by its ear. “It took you only twenty minutes to get even their bigger toys out of the machines.”

“I gave all those back,” Taeyong drawls, rolling up the cuffs of his sleeves. “I was only trying hard for the bunny.”

“Thank you,” you grin, waving the bunny’s left paw in thanks. “Bunny is happy to go to her new home.”

“Sure.”

He makes an extra point to escort you home at such a late hour, his mere presence reassuring while you turn the corner and spot your apartment complex amid the single alit streetlight.

“This is it,” you begin, turning to him with a soft smile. “Thank you again for tonight.”

Taeyong returns the smile with an even rarer toothy grin. “I should be thanking you for showing me how fun claw machines are.”

“You must have had a lot on your mind tonight. Drinking and not wanting to perform.”

Your words catch him off guard, hitting a little too close to home. 

“Yeah.”

Conversation quickly slows, neither knowing what to say until he breaks the silence.

“Good night, Y/N. I’d better go before it gets too late.”

“Wait,” you blurt out, “When can I see you again?”

He replies immediately. “Tomorrow morning. You don’t want to miss tomorrow morning’s show.”

The anticipation already has you excited for tomorrow, so much so that you end up taking a quick shower and turning into bed early for the so-called surprise.

—

You wait until the rest of the crowd is gone, running towards Taeyong and cupping his face in your hands.

“Is your mouth okay?”

“Never better,” Taeyong answers, opening and closing his mouth to prove it. “Why?”

“The threaded needles… how did you swallow all of that with just a drink of water?”

His eyes twinkle with a knowing glint that he knew more than he was letting on.

“Practice.”

Not satisfied with his answer, you proceed to snake your hands into his blazer, empty-handed and needle-less once you finish the pat down.

“Where are the needles?”

“I knew you’d search me, so I already put them away.”

The cheeky smile on his face said it all; you punch him lightly in teasing and he pretends to wince from pain. The gesture is feigned, but you stop, concern replacing the playfulness in your eyes.

“Did I hurt you?” you blubber, unable to stop the tremble in your voice. “I… I didn’t mean…”

“I’m fine,” he laughs, tilting his head in confusion. “Just playing with you.”

“O…Oh.”

He picks up on your sudden retreat, taking a step forward and intertwining his fingers with yours.

“Sorry,” he whispers, the soft murmur so unlike the playful and confident persona he possessed on stage. “I won’t do that again.”

Unsure how to react, you quickly look away and wiggle out of his grip. His hand lingers midair before dropping against his sides, equally as awkward after the intimate touch.

“So… amazing show as usual,” you speak up, easing into a new topic. “There’s always something new every night.”

“Thanks.” The response is a heavy one, loaded with more weight than called for. “I appreciate it.”

“You don’t sound happy at the compliment.”  

He sighs, taking a seat on the ground. “Can I tell you something?”

“Sure.”

“I… I’ve been wanting to leave the circus.”

“Leave?” you echo. “And go where?”

“I don’t know. I’ve wanted to leave for a long time now; I feel that there’s more to the world than these green-and-black striped tents.”

“Then go.”

“There’s no way I can leave this circus. There’s a special clause in the contract I signed with the ringmaster:

“Undying loyalty is the price you must pay

“for Death to take a step back on your few remaining days.”

You frown at the cryptic words. “I don’t understand, Taeyong.”

He proceeds to take off his blazer, bare torso and chest decked with scars of multiple lengths. Varying in depth as well, you can see where fatality may have struck if the wound had sunk just a little deeper, been inflicted a few centimeters in one direction or the next. Multiple close calls with Death’s door right in front of your face.

“Don’t cry,” Taeyong groans, tremors underlying the toughness in his tone as he puts the garment back on. “Don’t… Don’t make me feel like shit for making you cry.”

The sniffles and tears are unstoppable. “Did they do that to you? For wanting to leave?”

“No. These were all from natural causes that happened to me after I made clear I wanted to leave.”

He gestures to the left collarbone area, just short of the neck. “I have two here from the knife thrower’s misses, even though their knives never miss.” The guiding finger moves down to the right side of his waist. “Burns from the fire breathers, bites from the wild cats that are usually so docile in front of their trainers, the list goes on.”

You don’t want to hear any more. “I… I can try to put in a good word. Maybe I can use my father’s name to—”

Taeyong shakes his head. “It’s no use. The contract is binding.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“It is what it is.” He reaches a hand forward. “Come on, I’ll show you the tents you haven’t been to yet.”  

You slap his hand away. “Don’t try to shift the conversation.”

Any remaining excuses cease, the morning soiled. Without waiting for a response, you exit his tent and start to inquire about the ringmaster and each performer’s contract with the circus, determined to help him gain his freedom from the circus that kept him bound to its paper chains.

—

The impending mention of Neon Lights’ departure to America brings little to be disappointed about, especially when you hadn’t gotten anywhere in discovering how to nullify Taeyong’s contract with the circus. 

No form of records existed besides old articles praising the astounding performances. The lineup hadn’t changed since the founding of the circus: acrobats, magicians, clowns, wild cat tamers, knife throwers, fire breathers, and the escape artist. Your head spun in circles during those weeks of research, frustrated at the inability to find the link that connected these broken pieces of Taeyong’s vague narrative.

“Have you packed all your things?”

Your turn at the sound of your mother’s voice, shaking your head. “Not quite.”

She steps over the opened suitcase on the floor and takes a seat on the bed.

“Are you sure you want to go with me to Hong Kong?”

“Yup. I just need to decide what remaining clothes I want to bring over.”

Not convinced, she takes your hand and squeezes, the touch simultaneously comforting and freezing you in place. You open your mouth, but fail to form words into a cohesive sentence. How were you supposed to tell her about Taeyong? How were you supposed to tell her the reason you readily accepted to leave was to avoid a man who had somehow snaked his way into your heart without you knowing it? 

“If there’s someone you want to stay here for, you can.”

“Mom, I…”

“You’ve been leafing through your father’s things,” she interjects, “I see the name ‘Taeyong’ in your notes often and found that name in one of your father’s pictures with his students.”

“Do you know him?” you ask curiously. 

“Not well,” she admits with a sigh, “Your father was always very excited whenever he mentioned that boy. Said he had finally found an appropriate successor to his work, but then…”

“But then?”

“Taeyong disappeared one day. No note, just gone. Your father was so shocked he wouldn’t leave his study for an entire month.”

“Oh.”

“Have you seen him lately?”

You nod. “Taeyong’s a member of the Neon Lights circus that’s currently in town.”

“That’s wonderful.”

Biting back a snappy retort, you return to packing and soon fill in the remaining space in your suitcase.

“Do you need to say goodbye?” she asks, getting up from the bed and zipping shut the suitcase. “We won’t be back for quite some time.”

“The circus is leaving for America next,” you mumble, “I haven’t spoken to him since he told me they were leaving.”

She doesn’t pry further, excusing herself and leaving to your own devices. The lingering thought of Taeyong is stifling, plaguing both your head and heart about the indecision between letting him know of your departure or not.

“Damn it, that idiot is getting in my head.”

◇

Taeyong sits before the mirror with a scowl on his face, thoughts muddled on why you haven’t shown up since he told you about tonight’s final show in the city before leaving for America. The grand finale performance already halfway in session, it will not be long before it is his turn to go on.

“Taeyong, you’re up!”

Gritting his teeth, he abandons his spot backstage and makes his way onto the main stage, basking in the spotlight and roaring applause at his entrance. One low bow and he frowns, feigning surprise at his already cuffed hands. Two fire breathers juggle torches around him, eventually escorting the escape artist as planned off to the side and into a large box. He listens for the cue to start once another lock is inserted into the hatch, preventing an escape from a mere push from the inside. The handcuff key already extracted from the secret pocket sewn into his blazer, his thoughts return to you and he begins to ponder on why you haven’t answered any of his calls or messages. Had he offended you the night he told you about his contract with the circus?

“Presenting now, the tank!”

The box suddenly lifts into the air, shifting him off balance at the abrupt movement. His fingers lose hold of the key; it is too narrow of a space to kneel to try and retrieve it.

Fuck, there better not be—

His ears pick up the sound of gushing water, confirming his fears once he is set down on a flat surface, presumably the springboard directly above the open tank. Prior rehearsals hadn’t consisted of a filled water tank, much less being encased in a box when the original execution of the trick only required locks by the feet.

“Can Taeyong escape from the locked box while cuffed and submerged in water?” the announce asks the audience.

“Yes!”

No. No, I can’t.

“Do you believe in him?”

No! This wasn’t in the original trick that I had practiced for!

“Yes!!”

The box is pushed off the platform, and Taeyong’s mind goes blank upon spotting the water that starts to seep in while his hands are still locked in cuffs.

—

[four months later, Hong Kong]

Fate catches you off guard when you least expect it, the subway ads for the Neon Lights circus a sight for sore eyes. Not even six months into the stay in Hong Kong and the circus is already snaking its way back into your life, bringing along memories of the escape artist who’d had such close ties to you even before your initial meeting. You had ultimately decided not to tell Taeyong about leaving for Hong Kong, flight of departure coincidentally on the same day as the circus’ finale show before leaving for America. Now, upon seeing the ad, you wonder if you should stop to say hello for old time’s sake. 

Of course, that is assuming he is still performing with them and not…

You hand rummage through your bag, taking out the black wallet and the green slip is still inside as expected. One unlimited access pass granting free admission into the Neon Lights circus with no mention of an expiration date.

“Opening night at 6pm… Surprises galore…”

—

The line outside the circus is twists around two entire blocks, popular no matter where it goes. Clutching the access pass in hand, you take a step forward but pause in your tracks. Were you ready to see Taeyong again? Would he be mad at seeing you here when he’d taken extra care to inform you about the last show in your city? 

What was he to you, even? A friend? Or perhaps something more?

“You’re not going in?”

The masked figure tilts his head in confusion, a gesture you recognize immediately upon hearing his voice.

“Isn’t that the unlimited access pass I gave you? Did it expire?”

“No… It still works, Taeyong.”

He quickly grabs your hand and pulls you aside, away from the turning heads that had heard the escape artist’s name.

“I didn’t tell anyone I’m skipping opening night,” he hisses, “Don’t be so loud next time.”

“Me, loud?” you echo, shaking his head away. “You’re the one who snuck out!”

“Why didn’t you show up during the finale show?”

As expected, he gets straight to the point.

“Family emergency,” you answer. “I had a flight to catch.”

He narrows his eyes. “Uh-huh.”

“Relative on my mom’s side. She’s getting better, but we're staying longer just to make sure.

“Did America treat you well?”

“I was recuperating during the American portion of our travels.”

Concern flickers in your eyes. “H-How did you get hurt?”

He spits bitterly at recalling the incident. “Unexpected variables during one of my escapes. Nearly drowned to death if one of the clowns hadn’t noticed things were too still up on stage.”  

“But you never slip up, not even during the most pressuring circumstances.”

“I was preoccupied in my thoughts.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“…You.”

His answer is not one you’d predicted; you laugh it off and wave a hand over your face in dismissal.

“I’m serious, Y/N.”

“...Oh.”

“Are you going in?” he asks again. “I can get us to the front of the line in a matter of seconds.”

“Do you… Do you actually have some time to grab dinner?”

“Sure.”

An hour of catching up at a local diner later, you exit the establishment with a cup of hot milk tea in hand, Taeyong holding open the door for you since your hands were full. Outside, the night is still young, streets teeming with people and signs brightly alit from cafes, boutiques, and more.

“Can I escort you home?” he asks, rubbing his hands together in the chilly air. “I don’t want to go back to the circus just yet.”

You take in the thin blazer and ripped jeans adorned on his lithe body. “Care for a coffee at my place to warm up before you go?”

“I’d love that.”

Upon arriving at your apartment, you note the blue slippers by the shoe cabinet, your mother still out as scheduled with her friends.

“Take a seat. Coffee will be ready in a bit.”

He follows you to the kitchen instead and snorts at seeing the stick of instant coffee powder in the black mug.

“What,” you grumble, “We don’t have an espresso machine or anything fancy like that here.”

“Instant coffee is fast,” he smiles, holding back a snicker. “I look forward to it.”

It doesn’t even take two minutes to prepare the coffee, but Taeyong takes his time with the drink, so slow that you wonder if he’s stalling to not leave so early.

“Is the coffee not to your liking?” you speak up. “You barely touched it.”

“Oh, it’s great.” He takes a larger sip, giving you thumbs up. “I just wanted to savor it.”

“There’s two more packs in the pantry if you want it.”

“Yes, please.”

You hear the door open by the time you hand off the second cup of coffee, your mother surprised at seeing Taeyong by the sofa.

“You are…?”

He bows low, careful to not drop the mug. “Hello, Ma’am.”

“Mom, this is Taeyong,” you begin, hurrying over to help her with her bags. “Taeyong, this is my mother.”

He nods again when she greets him and you pick to sit next to him, leaving a space for your mother on the other side.

“Have you had dinner?” she asks, addressing both of you.

“Yes,” he speaks up, beating you to it. “Y/N was kind enough to offer coffee since it’s so cold outside.”

“I wonder why,” you mutter under your breath, eyeing the large rips on his black jeans.

You tune out the small talk between your mother and Taeyong, not once taking your eyes off the latter. He seemingly notices, subtly shifting closer until the gap is closed and your shoulders are touching ever so slightly.

“Have you shown him your father’s things, dear? He’d probably like to see them.”

You stand up, shaking your head. “Want to see?”

Taeyong nods, following closely as you show him the way to your father’s study. Once inside, you step back and he approaches the desk first, leafing through the ample notebooks and eyes shifting to and fro at all the new information. None of it had made sense to you, but maybe it was more appropriate to have the right person see it, notably one who also followed the school of magic tricks and the escape arts.

“This is what I was practicing,” he gushes excitedly, beckoning you over. “I didn’t practice with water, but if I start to practice holding my breath...”

You peek over his shoulder, lips turned to a frown. “That looks dangerous.”

“Not if you have the proper equipment.” He continues to scroll past each page, eyes glowing like a child who’s been told Christmas had come early this year. The excitement palpable to grasp, you find your lips widening to a grin each time he makes a noise of delight on a new page, just as happy as he is about your father’s old notes.

The bubble of joy pops, however, with the sound of rain pitter-pattering against the windows, quickly growing into steady sheets of rainwater that pound hard on the glass.

“Have him stay for the night,” your mother’s voice echoes down the hall. “It’s late and raining too hard.”

“You heard her,” you begin, turning to Taeyong with your hands thrown up in defeat. “You’re staying the night.”

A mischievous smirk dances across his lips, briefly before he turns his back on you. “I’m good in here.”

“Are you sure? It’s more comfortable for you to sleep on the couch outside.”

“Who says I’ll be sleeping tonight?”

—

Thunder roars into the night, startling you awake. The clock on the nightstand reads 3am, hardly an hour for a sane person to be alert. You let out a yawn and shuffle out of bed, heading to the kitchen for a drink of water before turning in again.

On your way, you pass your father’s study and notice the slight crack in the door. Pushing it open, you feel your eyes widening at the sight of the empty desk. All your father’s notes and papers recording his life’s work in the escape arts gone, what hits the nail on the head is the absence of the man who had been so excited to see his teacher’s remaining research, gone without a trace.

“Taeyong?”

No words. The only sounds you hear are the rain and the clink of metal against the floorboards, the fallen handcuffs sending chills down your tired back.

—

You wonder why Taeyong is always on your mind, the man nothing more than one of your father’s former students.

Since his uncanny disappearance that one rainy night, you’d been unconsciously keeping an extra eye out whenever you pass by the circus. Fans of the escape artist were just as worried, not hearing any news of him for almost two full weeks now. Circus staff also had surprisingly nothing to say on the matter, sparking outrage at the supposed negligence for the performer’s health and wellbeing. All this hubbub over a man who had simply gone off the grid entirely… a small part of you had considered the possibility that he had planned this all along to hype up whatever trick he had tucked up his sleeves.

“Any news on Taeyong?”

The staff running the ticket booth shakes her head. “We’re trying our best to get more information from the administrators as well.”

Nodding in thanks, you cast an eye to the crowd waiting anxiously on the side and shake your head. Collective sighs echo across the group, but are soon replaced by curious murmurs at the string of ringtones and vibrations simultaneously emitted from everyone’s mobile devices. Your own included, you open the notification and find yourself automatically redirected to what looked to be a stage. The curtains part, revealing a dark-haired Taeyong in his signature fitted black blazer and ripped jeans.

“It’s Taeyong!”

“He’s alive, that’s really him!”

“Welcome!” the escape artist says warmly to the camera, “Thank you for tuning in to my broadcast!”

Why is this idiot livestreaming when he has an entire stage at the circus?

“Today I have a very special trick prepared,” he continues, “So special that I decided to broadcast my performance for everyone in the world to see!”

You immediately rush towards the ticket booth, the other twenty people thinking the same as bodies clamor to reach the entryway and get in to view the escape in person.

◇

The raven perched atop the wooden barrel lets out a shrill caw at seeing its master lock himself in a pair of handcuffs. Spooked by the abrupt noise, the young clown acting as Taeyong’s assistant shuffles backwards, nearly knocking over the stack of books on the table.

“Why are you so scared, little clown? Henry is a very nice bird.”

“A-Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks, checking that the camera isn’t recording before continuing. “I-I don’t want to get in trouble if… if…”

Taeyong lets out a laugh, the raven flapping its wings in unison. “You don’t believe I’ll succeed?”

“It’s not that,” the clown replies hastily, “It’s just—”

“I did not spend all this time preparing away from prying eyes for nothing.” He smiles; it is a dangerous gesture that strikes fear in the youth. “This is my ticket to freedom from the shackles that is this stupid circus, you see.”

“Y-Yes.”

“Plus, you know what to do if you think something’s gone wrong.” 

He casts a glance at the sealed envelope at the center of the notes he took from your father’s study, a trace of longing flickering in his dark eyes. “Make sure you deliver that envelope to who it’s addressed for should anything happen to me.”

◇

Taeyong’s tent is empty once you enter the circus, leaving you stumped on his location when you see the water tank entering the frame. The setup for his trick resembled the diagram in your father’s notes: the stick figure hanging upside down into a tank of water, feet locked while in suspension. Not even your father could perform such a trick to an audience, the skill necessary to pull it off beyond his aptitude at his prime.

You’d always known Taeyong loved to push his performances to the limit, but this time it felt like a direct knock on Death’s door rather than a test of his skill in the art of escape.

Not finding him anywhere in the circus, you take a seat on the bench by the acrobats’ tent and reopen the online broadcast, your only link to Taeyong’s whereabouts. The camera pans out on the water tank placed center stage, filled to the brim and Taeyong already handing upside down above it.

You idiot…

“My assistants will begin to count down the seconds before I start,” he announces, grinning while inverted. “10!”

The two clowns below count down the remaining ten seconds, letting go after lowering him into the filled tank. Air bubbles already start to float to the surface, the footage rendering you immobile while gripping the phone with all your strength.

He’ll succeed. He… He has to succeed.

Handcuffs unlocked at last, he shows his freed hands to the front and the curtains draw together, obscuring the view of the tank. Everything is still and seemingly on the projected track for success—at least it is until your ears pick up the faint sound of a strangled cry behind the curtains.

The two clowns pick up on the mishap, rushing to check in on Taeyong. You scoot forward on the bench, heart in your hands while waiting for something—anything—to happen behind the screen. Comments start pouring in, everyone tuned in demanding to see what had happened and if the escape had been successful.

Finally, the curtains pull back, and you nearly faint from shock at seeing the broken tank. Puddles of water and broken shards of glass litter the stage, the clowns slumped unconscious off the side. They come to in the next thirty seconds, shaking their heads and equally as shocked once they spot the remains of the water tank. None of them knew what had happened, the single black feather in the middle of the stage sending a more ominous warning to the audience than cheers for unprecedented success.

“Taeyong, he… he’s gone.”

—

“Are you Y/N?”

You look up, greeted by the darkened sky and curious gaze of a clown half in makeup, a black raven perched on his left shoulder.

“Y..Yes, that's me.”

“Taeyong said to give this to you if anything happens to him.”

He hands over a sealed envelope, bulky in size. The raven takes off from its perch, briefly circling overhead before flying away into the night. Unsure on the purpose behind the delivery, you thank the clown and he bids a quick goodbye, leaving you on your own within the circus.

Taking a deep breath, you tear through the seal and a pair of handcuffs fall out of the envelope, followed by two slips of paper. The first piece is another unlimited access pass to the circus, while the second is ink-stained with scribbles scrawled messily along the lines. You set the handcuffs aside and pick up the second piece of paper, unable to stop the tears flowing down your face upon reading the handwritten letter from the escape artist himself.

◇

If you’re reading this letter, it means I either succeeded in my water chamber escape or died trying. I’m not going to tell you which because a magician never reveals his secrets.

Please forgive me for disappearing without letting you know what I’ve been doing. I wanted to do something no escape artist has ever done before, and I knew this was the greatest challenge yet when I saw the blueprint in your father’s notes. You’ll understand, right? Even if you don’t, even if you hate me for pushing myself to the limit for an escape trick, I’m content that I could perform and leave behind my name as one of the greatest escape artists in the renowned Neon Lights circus.

Are you angry at me for leaving things so messy like this? Don’t be. It’s not pretty when your eyes darken and lips purse into that familiar scowl of yours. I want you to remember me as someone who was very happy to have met you, even during all the times I annoyed you and used your father’s name to get you to come back to the circus to see me.

Now that I’m free, I’ll even tell you something else you’ll likely hate me for—I think I started to like you when I saw you worry about me after the fire extinguisher incident. I should’ve been mad at you for dropping the lighter early, but I couldn’t find it in me to do that. My apologies for not telling you sooner.

Yours, Taeyong.

◇

“Idiot,” you hiss, biting your lips hard enough to draw blood, “You’re an absolute idiot.”

[writingqueen456]

I've been thinking about @cpshit 's AU where they don't last and I had a deliciously upsetting and unasked for AU of the AU lol.

When Laurent goes back to Arles and Damen goes after him, Damen does all in his power to let Laurent know the limitlessness of his love for him, but Laurent is adamant that this has to be the end. Confused, Damen begs Laurent to explain and he does, saying that if he goes back to Damen their cycle of happiness and destruction will repeat until they are old and miserable with each other...that they will look back on the relationship and feel nothing but hurt and regret. Laurent doesn't want to feel those feelings, not about Damen. And all Damen wants is to hold him at least one more time. When asked if Laurent still loves him, he says, "Of course I do. That's why it has to stop now before I don't."

He tells Damen to go back to Ios and to leave him alone. With a heavy heart and kiss on the cheek, he leaves.

4 weeks later Nikandros comes storming into the castle demanding to know where Damen is. Laurent, affronted and confused, admits he has no idea what Nik is talking about. Apparently, Damen never went back to the joint kingdom or Ios. Laurent explains that Damen left the palace after Laurent told him to and that he left with a small convoy.

A whole search party goes into effect on both sides, anxious to find the Exalted since it is dead of winter and a storm is approaching Vere that has already begun in the Vaskian mountains. A few days later, the convoy is found with only two of the thirteen men surviving close to said mountains. Damen was not with them at all.

Horrified, Laurent requests aid in the hunt from the Vaskian Women, praying that he made it to them and that Damen had visited the children he had with them. When asked, they offered their help, but said Damen had never come through.

After another week of searching, as the storm passed through, they found Damen in Charcy in the woods, frozen to death. How he managed to get so far from the convoy is beyond all of them.

Laurent, when presented the ice-cold snow-frosted king, does not believe it is him. It's a manifestation of his shock that Damen is gone. He stares at the body laid out by the hearth in an attempt to thaw him and shakes his head furiously. That's not Damen. That's not Damen. Damen is warm. Damen is life incarnate, happy and sweet, sassy and a warrior. A good king. A good man. The love of his life.

As the ice melts, Laurent kneels by him and starts to rub his body hoping to heat him up, to wake him. It's not working. He's crying. Angrily. Wiping his eyes with harsh movements and shaking until he just collapses onto the body and screams until his lungs give out and his eyes are swollen and sore.

The regret and sorrow he talked about is not when he is old. It is now, in his thirties, grieving for yet another time, mad at himself, mad at the world, mad at Damen for listening to him. Come back. Come back. I still love you. I'm sorry. I should have known better than to send you away.

Eventually arms come around him. It's Nik, who so wanted to light into the king. To yell and maybe even fight him. He can't. Not after seeing how he reacted to the death. He hugs him and Laurent is limp in his arms, wishing the body was his beloveds instead.

[hot-wiings]

Wanna be tagged in future ‘Confine’ chapters? Leave a comment, ask, or re-blog asking to be added. 

Warning: Abuse, borderline stockholm syndrome. 

Edited: 4-4-20

You dropped your hands from the silk ties of your dress and lowered your head towards the ground as you saw Kai come up behind you in the mirror. Your body tensed up as you felt his hands graze your waist before he grabbed the silk ties himself.

"I told you I would tie your dress for you, yet you still tried to do it yourself."

"I forgot. I'm sorry."

Kai grabbed the thick silk strings that hung off your dress and started to tie them together behind your back for you. He looped them in an x and pulled tightly, making your head snap up and gasp in pain as the silky linen was strongly pulled against your abdomen.

Tying your dress? This was a cute thing that a lover would do. This was a domestic thing a man would do for a woman, a way of helping her so she wouldn't have to reach. This was no nice loving gesture. This wasn't him cutely helping you, the look Kai gave you through the mirror's reflection said it all.

"Too tight?"

You bit your lip as you nodded your head up and down in response to Kai’s question. Truthfully it hurt to breathe, but you were too scared to tell him that. Scared out of fear that he would laugh and pull tighter. You tried to relieve the pain by sucking your gut in. 

Kai finished of the tie by double knotting it. There would be no getting that tie off without tearing the silk tie off the dress entirely. He ran his hands over your waist and hips, smoothing out any wrinkles you might have had. Completely ignoring your obvious pain and discomfort, he grabbed your hand and roughly tugged you towards the door 

"Let's go, I have an important meeting. You’re lucky I'm even letting you leave the bedroom."

You balled your palms into fists and dug the balls of your heel into the ground, stopping you from moving far. Irritated with the pain you thought over whether you should ask Kai to retie your dress. This would be your first time leaving the bedroom since he had separated you and Eri from each other. You had been stuck there for so long you lost count of the days. What if he got upset and made you stay there longer?

“We don’t have time to waste, we have guests coming.” 

You took a few steps closer towards Kai but the pain as you walked was too heavy and made you grimace.

"W-Will you retie my dress? It hurts."

"If you want it retied, you’ll have to undo that knot and retie it yourself. Let it serve as a lesson. Remember that the next time you forget something I say."

It wasn't a sweet gesture, it was a reminder. A reminder that if you defied him in even the smallest way he would have to teach you a lesson. Everything with Kai was a lesson, but that was your fault. It was always your fault.

Kai was trying to do something nice for you, but you didn't listen. It was your fault that you would be stuck all day in a tight dress. Kai had said he would tie your dress for you, yet you tried to do it yourself anyway, you defied him. It was your fault that Kai's heart had teeth, maybe if you listened more than he could love you better.

You force a small smile on your face as you look up at Kai. If you made loving you easier than maybe he wouldn't have to hurt you as much. This was your fault, not his. Your pain was your fault, not his.

"I'm sorry, let’s go." 

"Let’s go...?"

"Let’s go, love."

With a yank on your arm, Kai pulled you down next to him as he took his seat on the black leather couch. You scooted over closer to him knowing he would get mad if you distanced yourself from him. Warily, you watched the man he was meeting with as he took his seat across from you. 

The man had light blue hair and red eyes, they instantly reminded you of Eri. The more you observed him you saw how the man’s hair and eyes were the only similarities that tied him to your sweet little Eri. His lips looked incredibly cracked and he had lots of hands placed on his body. He looked dirty or rather unkempt.  

The man with light blue hair had an accomplice with him, however, instead of sitting with his friend, the blue-haired man’s friend stood off to the side of the room. Your eyes drifted over to the second man and you observed him just as warily as you were of the first man.   

The second man had black hair and scars all over his body. All over. Under his eyes, on his arms, his legs, and they even peeked out from his chest. The black-haired man also had staples attached to his scars, like Frankenstein. For a minute you wondered if it had something to do with his quirk. 

The black-haired man looked different than the blue-haired man. Whereas the first man looked dirty, his friend looked clean. The black-haired man didn’t necessarily look like he moisturized, but he wasn't chapped like his friend. Their eyes were very different too, the first man had red eyes like Eri, the black-haired one had icy blue eyes. 

His eyes were the most mesmerizing shade of blue. You would have called them pretty if he weren't a villain, and you weren't taken. The man notices you staring at his eyes and he raises his eyebrows at you. You stared into each others’ eyes for a split second before you diverted your eyes to the ground. You were both embarrassed that you got caught looking and scared Kai would notice you did it in the first place.

"I was made to walk in circles underground for thirty minutes. I feel like I've become an ant. What's up with Yakuza's house anyway?"

“We don't know who’s watching or from where, nor do we know what our guests are thinking. A number of underground routes lead here. We've been able to survive until now because of small details like this.”

You weren't sure why Kai was even sitting in a meeting today. Kai had always talked with dislike towards the League of Villains. Kai said the league was unorganized and had poor leadership. The leagues lack of attention to the small details like this was exactly what Kai didn't like about them. 

“Anyway, what you said the other day on the phone, you meant it right? That you'd join us along as certain conditions were met.”

Mimic answers the unasked question that you had been wondering. So that was what he wanted the meeting for. He wanted the league’s name for their newfound fame from kidnapping a student. 

"We want a joint partnership. If that's what this is, then we'll help."

"So those are the conditions?"

"Don't interpret it in your favor. You guys want the name of the league of villains, we want to increase our strength. Our needs coincide."

The blue-haired man placed his foot on the glass table in front of you. You saw Kai’s fist flex and you were sure he would have beat the man for simply having done it in the first place, but Kai wouldn't do that. 

"Put your foot down, it'll get dirty." 

"‘Will you put your foot down, please?’ That's what you should be saying, young head. You should really be bowing to me."

If he hadn't wanted to earlier than he must have really wanted to bash the man’s head in now. But Kai was in the middle of making a business deal, he knew better than to lose his cool like that in the middle of a meeting. 

Your lips quipped up into a smile at the prospect of Kai getting irritated over such a minor thing and having no choice but to let it go, but the fear of him seeing you’re joy over his stress brought your lips back down. 

“First we won't put ourselves under you, we'll move however we want. In other words, a joint partnership. One more thing, that plan you said you had? Tell me what it is, that's a reasonable condition. I want to consider whether or not there’s merit in lending you our name–”

"Who do you think you are punk.”

Kurono places his Glock against the blue-haired man’s head while Mimic had an outburst. They were so quick to resort to violence. 

Again, you find your eyes wandering over to the black-haired man’s icy eyes. You were shocked that he hadn't activated his quirk in defense as his friend had a Glock to his head. Of course, you didn't know what his quirk was, so how were you to know if he activated his. Then again, he is a villain. Who are you to say they were friends and not just accomplices.

“Who do you think you are? One of your disposable small fry versus our Hikiishi. Those lives are not worth the same. Plus the worth of one of compress arms. If we don’t get some concessions from you, it won’t be worth it for us.”

“Stay back, Kurono, Mimic. He came all this way with his offer. Let’s hear him out to the end. You weren't finished.”

“Tell me the details of your plan. Well, I have some idea of what it is anyway. It has something to do with this, right?”

The blue-haired man pulled out a tiny red pellet and Kai looked over to you. He dipped his head down to your ear and whispered, his voice full of authority. 

“Stay here.” 

Mimic and the blue-haired man got up and followed Kurono and Kai into a separate room to talk. Whatever the red pellet was, Kai obviously didn't want you to know about it. You suspected it had something to do with Eri.  

The black-haired man walked over to you and sat on the glass table in front of you. You wanted to smile. Kai would just hate the fact that someone sat on his table, and Kai wasn't there to see or do anything about it. You wanted to smile but the presence of the tall villain towering over you prevented your lips from moving up. 

Kai wasn’t in the room, so you did something bold. Something that might be normal for somebody else, but would strike fear in your whole body. You looked the man in the eyes. 

“Do I have something on my face?” 

You would have replied to the man verbally, but the pain from your dress was still there. You were sure if you spoke out loud he would hear the pain in your voice so you did what you were becoming accustomed to, you hid your pain. With a simple shake of your head, you answer the man with no. 

“Cause’ you kept staring at me.” 

Ignoring the man’s smirk, you looked down as your cheeks heated up. He had caught you observing him and his friend. He had caught you staring at his eyes. You hoped he didn't mention any of this to Kai, but something in the way he looked at you told you that he wasn't no’ snitch. 

“Hmm.” 

You looked back up at the man only for him to put his hand on your shoulder and his other hand on the side of your waist. He was close to you, so close you could smell the mint on his breath, and the smell of ash on his clothes. As he tugged on your dress slightly you worried that maybe he got the wrong idea with your staring. 

The feared that Kai would walk in and catch you both in such a compromising position crept up in your mind. You were about to push the man away when he slid his arm that was on your waist towards your back. As quick as he was there he was gone. 

“I don’t wear dresses, but I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to tie them so tight you can’t breathe.” 

Of all people, this villain noticed you were in pain. He noticed you were in pain and fixed it. He fixed it when your own boyfriend was the one who caused it. 

For the first time in a long time you didn't care if Kai could walk in and see. You didn’t care about the repercussions or punishments you might receive. You smiled up at the man without the fear that anyone would see. You smiled freely.

“I– I accidentally tied it too tight. Thank you...?”

“Dabi.” 

“Thank you, Dabi.”

[cicada-bones]

The Warrior and the Embers

Chapter 15: The Healers

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Days passed, and the rhythm of them was strange, off-kilter. But not unwelcome.

Rowan and the princess no longer sat in silence on the ridge each day. While they didn’t fill entire afternoons with conversation, speech flowed much more freely between them now. Something had changed. Something imperceptible, but vital.

Yet still, her shifting remained elusive.

Those iron bars remained rigid, locked tight. Fear either had no effect or shut her down completely, anger just made her impossible to deal with, and if these weeks had accomplished nothing else, they had shown that she was completely unable to find any peace within herself. She still couldn’t accept her own identity, and Rowan had run out of ways to try to force her to.

The three times she had managed to make the shift had been when Rowan bit her, when they faced the skinwalkers, and her complete loss of control when faced with the dark creature. The only time she’d even gotten close to control had been with the skinwalkers, but as Rowan had no interest in putting either of them in mortal danger again, that wasn’t a particularly helpful insight.

However, there was one more thing he thought he could try. The girl was the heir to two mighty bloodlines, descendant to Brannon and Mab. She wasn’t only blessed with fire magic, but also water. Perhaps there was someone else close by who could help him.

It was a fifteen mile walk to the healers’ compound. Fifteen there, and fifteen back. Thirty miles, all at a mortal pace. This had better be worth it.

Rowan had visited the compound nearly as often as Mistward, checking in with the Head Healer and the soldiers stationed there, picking up reports, and distributing orders from Maeve. The camp lay on the border of Maeve’s lands and the mortal kingdom to the north, where both human and Fae peoples could reach them. As a result, while it was mostly populated by Fae or demi-Fae, humans could often be seen within the keep, both gifted and mortal alike.

It was where Malakai and Emrys sent those who were injured but could still travel, where anyone within several dozen miles would try to go if they were sick or hurt. Therefore, Rowan didn’t only want to ask after the princess – he also needed to find out if any other demi-Fae had escaped the clutches of the dark creature, and come here for treatment. Or if the healers here had found any bodies of their own. Perhaps Rowan could solve both of his problems at once.

The Head Healer at this particular camp was an old female named Namonora. He’d met her numerous times over the years, had even been treated by her, though that had been long ago, and wasn’t a time he recalled with much grace. Though he knew that she was kind, ancient and wise. A good female, who didn’t use her power or influence to manipulate, the way so many immortals did. She was not one to waste time playing games – not when lives could be on the line. It was quality Rowan appreciated. Particularly considering what he was about to ask of her.

While it was a hospital, the fort also served as a school, and a home to the many Fae who lived, worked, and taught here. So all kinds of people bustled about, carrying books and papers, cloths and bandages, stringing children along at their heels or crying quietly in out-of-the-way corners. It was a place filled with life and death and noise, and so while the wild princess’ eyes immediately lit up upon their arrival, Rowan was somewhat uncomfortable in the chaos.

He soon left the girl to wander the grounds and went off to find the Head Healer. It didn’t take long. Namonora was in the thick of things, instructing a pupil on the correct way to set a broken limb while watching over another as they applied a poultice to a daunting gash, then began to stitch the gruesome wound closed.

He quietly approached, not wanting to disturb any of the healers, but Namonora’s clever eyes soon took notice of him. She pulled aside another senior healer to fill her place and walked over to meet him.

“Prince Whitethorn. Greetings.”

Rowan inclined his head, “May we speak, somewhere out the way?”

She nodded, striding quickly into the hall and towards a small, empty office. As they entered, Rowan quickly shut the door with a gust of wind. Namonora turned her sharp gaze back on him, raising her eyebrows in a silent inquiry.

Rowan answered her unasked question, with only a slight hesitation. “I’m currently stationed at Mistward, and recently four dead demi-Fae have been found near the fortress. Has word of this reached you?” His voice felt colder than usual, icy at the inconvenience of having to ask for the old healer’s help.

Namonora’s wrinkled face fell, her lily-and-mint-and-rain flavored scent darkening with sorrow. “Yes, Malakai sent word, a few weeks past. I had not heard that the numbers had gotten so high, however.”

“Did he mention the circumstances of their deaths?”

“No – I didn’t realize there was anything to mention.” Her clever eyes glanced over him as she spoke, efficiently assessing. But not in the way of a warrior – in the way of a healer. Her gaze didn’t pierce, only searched. Evaluating a patient. Rowan wasn’t sure he wanted to know what she saw in his hard features.

His jaw tightened. “All four were drained of life, and left as withered husks. There were no marks on them, besides dried blood around their mouths and ears.”

“The skinwalkers? I heard they are beginning to leave their mountain haunts.”

“No this is something different.”

The healer slipped into some hidden, calculating part of herself. “You said ‘withered.’ What does that mean, exactly?”

“Their skin was dried and wrinkled, far beyond the reach of their age. It was almost as though they had been left in the desert sun for weeks on end – only none had decomposed beyond a few days. Both scavengers and bugs avoided them, which was inconspicuous in itself. And there was this…smell. That covers them. Not only death, but the scent of the creature that killed them.”

“So you are sure that they were killed – and did not die of disease or another health problem? Sometimes, overuse of magic can cause victims to contort in strange ways.”

Rowan shook his head, saying, “I am sure that it wasn’t a series of burnouts, I could recognize that easily. And I doubt a disease – ”

“Would be able to kill people in such a strange grouping,” the healer interrupted, nodding at him, “All demi-Fae, all scattered throughout the wild, no other cases outside these four, and a very quick onset – death would have been almost immediate. And for a health problem, such as a new kind of blood infection or tumor, to take four completely separate individuals, all under such strange circumstances, is so unlikely as to be functionally impossible.”

Rowan nodded in agreement. Those were the conclusions he had drawn as well.

“Still…” the healer mused, “It is hard to be sure. Would it perhaps be possible for a victim to be brought to us for examination, should another be found? We can investigate the body and discover beyond doubt what the cause of death actually was.”

“Of course.” Rowan’s voice was dark as he mentally kicked himself, he should have thought of that weeks ago.

Namonora nodded, her lips tightening. “Still, I hope that we do not hear from each other again. I would rather this remain a mystery forever than for another Fae to suffer this fate.”

Rowan dipped his head.

“Do you have any ideas about the culprit, Prince? Is it perhaps some new immortal foe, or just another powerful Fae who has lost their way?”

Rowan hesitated, unsure. “I think…there is a chance that I saw the creature. The scent was similar. I never got a close look at it, but the female I was traveling with did. She described it as looking like a man, with eyes that were completely black. It created this cloud of darkness, so deep that I couldn’t see her within it. When she finally escaped, she was different. Pale, and sickly. Afterwards, she said that the creature made her relive her worst memories. All the bodies died with expressions of pure terror on their faces as well. It’s almost as though the creature kills through fear itself.”

Namonora’s frown deepened. “I have never heard of such a thing.”

“And no one has come to the fortress bearing a similar story?”

“None. I would remember. Anyone who met this dark creature either did not come here, or did not survive their encounter.”

Rowan nodded gruffly, his jaw tightening.

The ancient healer’s face turned towards the window, looking out over the grounds where Rowan could just barely see the princess. She was walking among an arrangement of tents, following a group of pupils as they made their rounds through the sick. Namonora’s brow furrowed, her scent filling up with fear and anxiety as she looked over all these people who were now in danger, people who she was responsible for.

Who he was responsible for.

Namonora turned back to look at him, her old eyes shrewd and thoughtful. “I have heard tales from long ago, ancient stories of creatures from the deep dark. Beings that fled from the wars of other worlds, and slipped past the watchful eyes of Mala and Deanna and all the other gods of this realm.” Her voice was soft, as if she called the words up from deep within. “They are darkness made flesh – said not to bleed, not to hurt, not to die. They are evil, and Maeve protects us from them with her own dark magics.”

Rowan almost shook his head at the old healer. He had heard many such stories – they were fireside tales, fabricated from encounters with much more ordinary foes like the barrow wights and skinwalkers, and then stretched beyond reality and into that nebulous range of myth and legend. Maeve may even have even invented them in order to solidify her standing among the Fae, where the peoples’ fear of her could easily turn from respectful into hateful.

But then Namonora continued. “More and more often, we receive patients from the west, and they bear news of things stirring there. Old things. Perhaps now they have come east.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Where have you heard this.”

“A few weeks past, a traveler from the Red Desert. She would not tell us any specifics, but she spoke of things, dark things, rising in the south. And then another, from the Dead Islands, bearing the same news.”

“Adarlan?”

“Perhaps. And yet, perhaps not.”

Rowan shook his head slowly. It was hearsay, nothing else. “Regardless, the creature is here, whether it came from the west or down from the mountains or from deep within the eastern caves.”

Namonora nodded, spooling herself back into the confident leader she had been only a few moments before. “I wish you luck on your search, Prince. I will let you know if any come bearing news of the creature, though I am sorry that I cannot be of much more help.”

She turned to leave, thinking the matter settled. But Rowan held out his hand for her to stop, forced to halt her retreat. He was not done.

���There’s something else. This isn’t the real reason I was stationed at Mistward.” The healer cocked her head, Rowan’s stomach sank. “Maeve has asked me to train a demi-Fae female in her power, and I’ve been having some…difficulty…in helping her access her shifting.” Rowan tried to hide his reluctance to ask for help, but doubted he succeeded. This ancient healer had been teaching for far too long not to see right past his defenses.

“Are you asking after my medical or educational expertise?” Namonora’s sharp gaze roved over him once again, reassessing, her eyes glinting with the gathered knowledge.

“Perhaps both. The girl is stubborn, and has some kind of…block. Between her and her power.”

“Hmm.” The corners of the healer’s lips curved into a small frown as she considered his words. She turned to look out the window once again, only this time her eyes sought out the princess. The girl was now speaking with a woman who was sitting on a cot, her arm in a sling. The woman laughed at something, while the princess responded with a small smile, the warmest Rowan had yet seen her give, though her eyes were still dark. Seeing her there, among others of her like, made Rowan feel more alone than he had in weeks.

“Are you asking on her behalf, or yours, Prince?” The healer’s question startled him, and Rowan turned to face her, only just now realizing that Namonora had been observing him watching the princess. “It is possible that the girl isn’t trying, that she doesn’t want to make the shift at all. Doesn’t want to train, to become a warrior. Perhaps this life,” she looked pointedly at Rowan, “is not what she wants for herself.”

His voice was tight, “The girl is already a warrior, so she has no other life to choose from, and she’s not unwise enough to drag this out on purpose – she knows that she’s entered into an agreement that she cannot break.”

Namonora’s lips tightened, and she nodded. While she lived in the outskirts of Maeve’s kingdom, away from her court, the healer was not oblivious to her ways. Though she respected Maeve, she did not love her.

So instead of pressing, she just said, “Shifting involves the piercing of the veil that separates the two forms of the soul, Fae and animal. To shift, one needs to find the peace within themselves, to fully inhabit the one form, and so, travel into the other. I am sure that you know this.”

Rowan nodded, a quick jerk of his head.

“There are some physical maladies that can prevent the shift, but they are very, very rare. It’s much more likely that the girl has some kind of emotional imbalance, or residual trauma, that is making it difficult for her to access her other form. All work through such things in their own way, and at their own pace. There is a chance that the female will never be able to overcome this barrier, and will always feel its effects.” Namonora’s eyes found Rowan’s. “There is not much one can do to help, besides provide support, and attempt not to add to their burden.”

Rowan almost snorted – he didn’t think he’d met anyone less in need of coddling than that girl. She could handle her ego all by herself. But the healer’s gaze did not leave his, seeking to communicate something further, something without words. And it set his teeth on edge.

There were precious few Fae that did not know Rowan’s history, and Namonora was not one of them. She had been the one who healed him after Maeve pulled him from his years of aimless wandering. Had helped restore his body from the weak, half-starved mess he had been. She knew very well what had caused him to become the cold, hard male that sat before her. Perhaps that was why she found it easier to deal with him than so many others.

Rowan could feel his muscles tense as the silence lengthened, but the wise female did not pursue the matter. “May I pass on some good, general advice?” she asked softly.

Rowan nodded slowly, while the healer’s minty scent enveloped him, her green eyes still on his.

“People tend to learn better when you align their own motivations with that which you are trying to instill in them. Discover what emotions drive this female, discover what she wants. And use that to help guide her shift.”

Rowan’s lips tightened as he nodded once again.

“Blocks in magic are mental, and therefore emotional. The female will not truly be able to overcome this challenge until she overcomes whatever created it. But still, if you find what drives her, what spurs her to action, you may find her a path over, or around the block.” Namonora seemed to look right through him, pushing aside his barriers and digging right into the truth. “But it will not go away on its own. She must face it, and only then will she be able to find the peace.”

Rowan absolutely could not escape the impression that the healer wasn’t only talking about the princess anymore. An impression that was solidified with the female’s parting words.

“And Prince?” She seemed to hesitate momentarily, then said, “You cannot atone forever. Do not let your grief destroy what remains of your life – there is hope still, hope for a brighter future. Do not let that spark go out.”

Rowan’s jaw clenched tight, and he left the office without another word, the force of the healer’s gaze burrowing a hole into his retreating back.

She was wrong. There was no hope for him. He had been left completely alone, to fill the aching chasm in his chest with a feeble oath to a dark queen. But as Rowan rounded a corner, and the princess came into view, he couldn’t help but think that perhaps he wasn’t as alone as he used to be. That perhaps the spark the healer had spoken of did not belong to him, but to her.

And it was his responsibility that it did not go out. That instead, it flourished.

···

Rowan arrived back at the fortress that evening to the news that another body had been found. The girl had already returned to her room when Rowan met Malakai in the kitchens, where the two males were speaking quietly before the hearth.

Rowan barely caught the words, “I’m so worried, Emrys – ” before the males took notice of him, and they broke apart. Malakai’s face was grave as he relayed the information, his scent filled with sorrow and anger. Emrys stood by quietly, supporting his mate while stirring something fragrant on the fire.

This report was no different than all the others – an unknown demi-Fae male was found dumped in the wilderness – only this time the intelligence came from a scout stationed at another fortress almost forty miles to the southwest. The body was emaciated, near water, and only a few miles from the sea. The neighboring fortress then sent a missive to Malakai, having received his warning, with the location of the body and a promise to continue to apprise Mistward of any further discoveries.

Rowan then informed Malakai of the news he had gathered from the healer’s compound, and of Namonora’s request to see one of the bodies. Luckily, the healers’ fort was closer to the new body site than Mistward, meaning that whoever moved the body of the demi-Fae would only have to ferry it three or so miles through the wilderness, instead of nearly twenty or thirty – a much more manageable task. Malakai promised he would dispatch a pair of sentries, with orders to purchase a wagon in a nearby town, after Rowan had a chance to visit the site.

Even so, Malakai’s scent was permeated with sorrow and anger and shame – just as Rowan did, Malakai felt responsible for every day that passed while they failed to capture the creature, and to protect the fortress and its neighboring lands. That was their purpose – and the more weeks that passed, the higher the death count grew, the greater their shame.

And so, before he departed the kitchen and left the two males alone to comfort each other, Rowan said, “Malakai, I – ” He paused, and huffed a sigh, then shook his head. The words were dead things in his mouth.

Rowan wanted…not to thank the male, but to say that he understood. That he also would fight for the fortress, and the people within it. But the words would not come, and so instead he just said, “We will visit the body tomorrow, if you send the sentries around midafternoon you should miss us.”

“So Elentiya will go as well, Prince?” Emrys asked.

Rowan nodded and left the kitchens without another word.

But then he reconsidered – the site was over twenty miles to the southwest, much too far to travel on foot with the princess. Even if she miraculously managed to shift, the distance was a lot for a young demi-Fae. Forty miles in a single day would take up nearly half their time, and that was if she was in her Fae form. Which was far from assured.

But the body was very close to a seaside village, and the girl was right – there was a high probability that the townspeople knew something. It was hard to believe that creature could travel so widely without being spotted, especially since they had already seen it, and escaped once, and at the time they hadn’t even been looking for it. Such a strange being would surely be a source of gossip in a slow, sleepy village so far from the capital.

But it was very unlikely that they would talk to Rowan. The humans of Wendlyn tolerated Fae, mostly out of necessity. They would not trust him, or deign to speak with him except for under the direst circumstance. For too long, malicious Fae had taken advantage of the mortals of Wendlyn, using their superior strength to take what they wanted with little to no consequences. While Rowan, and others among Maeve’s court, had taken it among themselves to punish such rogues, their effort had on the whole been too little, too late. It would take many more centuries for trust and camaraderie to return between the two peoples, if then.

And Rowan was hardly a mild or approachable example of his race. He was just too powerful; the mortals would likely run in the other direction if he arrived asking questions about a strange creature that was killing demi-Fae down the western coast. So he needed the girl. A mortal asking questions would be easier for them to bear, even if she was unlikely to be particularly courteous. Though she had done well with the people in the healer’s fort – perhaps a new wave of politeness and contrition would overtake the girl. Though he doubted it.

He would have to take the girl. They could camp overnight, giving her a chance to rest between journeys, but there was no way that the girl could make it without shifting. Tomorrow, Rowan would have to see if the healer’s advice had any merit.

···

Rowan didn’t bother going to the kitchens to wait for the girl that morning, instead he went straight for her rooms, carrying a small pack with overnight supplies. The princess was already gone, but she soon reappeared, still chewing her breakfast. Her eyes were brighter than usual, their golden core molten and swirling.

He held the pack open for her, “Clothes.” She grabbed an extra shirt and some underclothes from her bed and stuffed them into the pack, and Rowan shouldered it. She looked surprised at the move – perhaps she had assumed that she was to be pack mule for their journey. But Rowan wanted her in the best possible mood this morning if he was going to try to convince her to shift.

They left the fortress in silence, heading through the misty trees towards the west and out through the ward-gate. Once they passed through the invisible barrier, the magic softly pulsing over his skin, Rowan stopped. He turned to the princess, pulling off his hood and saying, “Shift, and let’s go.”

The dancing in her eyes grew even more playful, though she still did not smile. “And here I was, thinking we’d become friends.”

Rowan raised his eyebrows, friends? But instead of questioning the princess, he just gestured at her to shift and said, “It’s twenty miles.” Her eyes widened ever so slightly, and he gave her a wicked grin in response. “We’re running. Each way.”

Although that now-familiar trepidation coursed through her scent, she didn’t give it one inch, instead saying, “And where are we going?” with exactly the usual level of insolence.

His jaw clenched involuntarily, but not at the girl’s rudeness – at the news he had to deliver. “There was another body – a demi-Fae from a neighboring fortress. Dumped in the same area, same patterns. I want to go to the nearby town to question the citizens, but …” his mouth tightened at having to admit this. “But I need your help. It’ll be easier for the mortals to talk to you.”

“Is that a compliment?”

He just rolled his eyes. Rowan understood the arrogance, though he didn’t have to like it. The girl was all ego. “Shift, or it’ll take us twice as long.”

“I can’t. You know it doesn’t work like that.”

“Don’t you want to see how fast you can run?” Rowan certainly did. The princess was small, but her muscles were lithe and strong. In her Fae form, she could even prove as powerful as any within Maeve’s warrior-court. And Namonora had said to motivate her to shift by aligning it with her own desires – perhaps her arrogance would prove helpful.

But instead of rising to the challenge, or even feeling some level of curiosity, the girl’s scent filled with despondence. “I can’t use my other form in Adarlan anyway, so what’s the point?”

He frowned at her. “The point is that you’re here now, and you haven’t properly tested your limits. The point is, another husk of a body was found, and I consider that to be unacceptable.”

Her scent shifted into a coppery mix of sorrow, and anger. She wasn’t heartless, surely she understood the necessity of finding the creature – perhaps he could work with that instead. Before, she had shifted to protect him from danger, to prevent his death. Maybe she could shift for the same reasons now, only without an imminent threat pressing upon them.

Rowan knew that she wasn’t scared, but still he said, “Unless you’re still frightened,” and pulled on the end of her braids. As he had suspected, the gesture pulled her anger to the surface, her nostrils flaring.

She snarled, “The only thing that frightens me is how very much I want to throttle you.”  

But her anger at him had never been helpful, had only distracted her. He needed to take that anger and push it into something more productive – an anger on behalf of others instead of on behalf of herself. That could be the key.

So as that fury continued to roil and twist in her scent, Rowan said, “Hone it – the anger.” The scent of ashes and burning jasmine grew stronger by the second. “Let it be a blade, Aelin. If you cannot find the peace, then at least hone the anger that guides you to the shift. Embrace and control it – It is not your enemy.”

“This will not end well,” she breathed.

Fear began to eat away at the fury in her, but he did not let up. She was so close. “See what you want, Aelin, and seize it. Don’t ask for it; don’t wish for it. Take it.”

“I’m certain the average magic instructor would not recommend this to most people.” Her mouth was set, protesting to the last. But he could tell that she was beginning to relent – somewhere, she knew that she had to accept this part of herself, that she had no choice but to concede.

“You are not most people, and I think you like it that way. If it’s a darker set of emotions that will help you shift on command, then that’s what we’ll use. There might come a day when you find that anger doesn’t work, or when it is a crutch, but for now…” he paused. “It was the common denominator those times you shifted – anger of varying kinds. So own it.”

She looked at him for a moment, then took a long breath. And another. And another. Aelin turned deep within, anchoring herself, searching, hunting –  

Then, discovery: she brushed against that shimmering veil and this time she didn’t hesitate before punching through the barrier and into her other form. Canines shot out, points grew from her ears, and a bright light flashed as she completed the shift.

Rowan couldn’t help but grin as Aelin’s scent washed over him, stronger and more familiar in this form. Jasmine and lemon verbena and dancing flames, so much more potent now than even a few moments ago.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and Rowan moved, darting to her side and pulling her braid again. She whirled, but he was already gone, pinching her other side. She yelped, “Stop – ” and he was back in front of her, a wild invitation in his eyes.

He wanted to see her move, wanted to see her run – loose and free. He could still sense the cage; it was like she’d temporarily picked a lock, the bars were still waiting for her to return into their clutches. But for now, Aelin Galathynius stared back at him, completely free for the first time since he had met her. And he wanted to play.

Rowan shot left, but before he could pinch her other side she moved, faster than ever before, and slammed down on his arm with an elbow and whacking him upside the head with her other hand.

The hit didn’t hurt, but it surprised him so much that he stopped dead, blinking in shock. Aelin’s scent filled up with satisfaction as she smirked up at him, her new fangs glinting. He bared his teeth right back at her. “Oh, you’d better run now.” And he lunged, but before he could reach her, she turned and shot through the trees to the southwest.

He followed, slow and steady, waiting for her to find her pace as she leaped over fallen logs and ducked beneath low-hanging branches. Her anger simmered away, giving over to a wild abandon as she bounded through the underbrush, her body lithe and capable and as wild as the flames that pulsed from her, barely contained by her small form.  

It was so similar to exercises he had done countless times, training faceless thousands, and yet it was completely different. Before, the run had been a necessity – a way to develop strength and stamina, or a method to maintain them. Now, the run was almost…enjoyable.

The pleasure of her freedom leaked over into his own body, and he could feel the absence of Aelin’s cage almost as acutely as she could. Her newfound liberty was intoxicating, and he could feel his own walls melting, the ice leaking from his limbs as he embraced her wildness. Rowan couldn’t remember the last time he had allowed himself to feel such freedom, the last time he smiled from enjoyment. Now he found he couldn’t turn away from it.

Quickly, too quickly, she began to speed up, getting faster and faster until they were hurtling together through the trees. Every time Rowan drew close – either to poke her or pull her braids or tackle her, he did not know – Aelin would veer away, a golden streak among the oaken boughs.

After a few minutes, they hit a plateau, the ground flattening and hardening and becoming easy beneath their feet, a welcoming carpet rolled out to greet them. And suddenly, Aelin was flying. Her hair whipped out behind her in a golden ribbon, her simple, bright clothing a streak of light and color as she sprinted over the grasses.

Gods, she was fast. Fast as any of them in their Fae forms. Rowan no longer had to alter his pace, and his limbs began to stretch, his stride lengthening until the pair of them were running together, both free and unrestrained.

Aelin dodged a tree, throwing herself between two hanging branches, and she let out a whoop of delight. Her scent began to overwhelm him, each note burning with a happiness he had never sensed in her before. It was so vibrant, so different from her usual scent, that it startled him. He hadn’t understood how angry she had always been until he finally caught a glimpse of her scent that was completely pure.

And it bit at him, ate at him, poked and prodded and stirred him until he couldn’t stop himself shooting after her, lunging with a snap of his teeth. She dodged, and he lunged again, this time moving to run at her side.

Her face was open, her eyes shining with that same feral contentment he could feel pulsing through his own veins. And it was like seeing her for the first time. He had known she was good-looking, had understood that objectively, her sharp, clear features were pretty and striking. But he had not noticed how truly attractive she was until that moment.

Aelin was beautiful.

And together they flew, silver and gold streaks piercing through the lonely mists.

···

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

[starlightsearches]

Office Romance: Ch. 18 Wanting

General Hux and Kylo Ren have found themselves competing for the affection of a lieutenant aboard the Finalizer.

Series Warnings: Language, some violence, near-death experiences.

Masterlist

AN: This chapter is much shorter than the others but . . . a lot happens? No warnings! Let me know how we’re all feeling!

The sun was just barely peeking over the horizon in Irriade, but General Hux could already feel the rays of heat beating against his back as he laid on his stomach on the edge of the building. The plan had gone well so far; it had been easy to climb out of the window of your hotel room, and from there to the roof. Buildings in Bellarian were tightly packed, and you were able to move from building to building, passing the wrapped blaster rifle between you while avoiding the possibility of being seen.

The information he had received from the Order had been spot on; Marcross Pawdy was right where he was supposed to be, hosting a late dinner party for his constituents in a large hotel room thirty yards from where you had stopped. Now Hux just had to wait for the right moment.

“I’m not seeing a clear shot,” you said, laying next to him, staring into the open window through your binoculars. The room was crowded—packed wall to wall with people—and Marcross was at the center of it all. Hux had barely seen a sliver of him in the hour that you’d been looking, but he wasn’t bothered. This, he knew, was a waiting game, and he could be very patient.

You dropped the binoculars, wiping the sweat away from your forehead and reaching for the canteen resting between you before taking a long drink. Hux relied on feeling more than sight, his eyes trained on the party, listening to your movements as you shifted, a little restless.

“Do you want any?” you asked, shaking the canteen in his direction, but he refused with a slight nod of the head, keeping his eye on the sight of his rifle. He didn’t want to sacrifice a golden opportunity. You resumed your position, watching with him, waiting for the perfect moment. The silence was absolute, but comfortable. He was glad that you were here with him.

“Can I ask you a question, General?” you said in a whisper, glancing at him out of the corner of your eyes, looking a little shy. General Hux was already sweating from the heat, but those words sent him into a spiraling panic. He shifted his finger away from the trigger to avoid any accidental shots, but kept his eyes on the target.

"A question about the mission?"he asked, his mouth suddenly bone-dry. He should have taken that drink when you offered.

"It's actually a little more personal," you responded, and apparently Hux didn't respond quickly enough for your liking, because you continued, "you can say no, I won't be offended."

“What did you want to know?” he said, his curiosity overwhelming his fear. He needed to learn to trust you, even though trust for him was sparing, and now was a good time as any to start.

“What do you think you’d be doing, if you weren’t here? If you weren’t a member of the Order?” Hux didn't know what he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't that. How was he supposed to respond?

“I always wanted to be a soldier.” The answer came without much thought, but the words felt wrong in his mouth. Ascension in the Order had never been a simple want. It had always been necessary—for protection, for his survival. He wanted to be a soldier in the same way he wanted to be able to breathe.

Apparently, you sensed the nuances in his answer, because you pressed him further, "always?"

“I didn’t have much of a choice.” It wasn't easy to admit, to you or to himself, but it's the truth, even if there is more to the statement. Being the general—being in charge, having subordinates who looked up to him, who turned to him to solve problems and make decisions—it made him feel powerful. And he was good at it. Why would he choose anything else?

“I don’t think I ever had a choice,” you said, unaware of Hux's internal stewing, “when I first got to the Academy, I felt so brave. I had finally escaped from Pryde, and I was doing something I was good at. Now I realize that I didn’t really escape from him at all. I’m only here because he let me be. I wonder what choices I’ve actually made. I wonder if I’ve decided anything for myself at all.”

It’s a heavy statement, and Hux forced himself to ponder it for a moment. Would he have chosen something else, if the option had been presented? It’s hard to say. So much of his life had been swallowed up in the rise of the Order, and he was a soldier whether he wanted to be or not. It was the way he was raised, programmed, really. His mouth curled into a sneer of frustration, the way it always did when he thought about his childhood, or lack thereof.

"What would you want, if you could choose?" Hux asked, waving away the desire for you to say that you wanted him; this was about much more than him and his petty crush. Still, if you had asked him the same question, would he not say you? He couldn't remember the last time he's wanted anything this much.

"I don't know," you said, shifting your weight from elbow to elbow, trying to get some blood flow in your arms. "I thought I wanted this promotion, but I know Snoke didn't give it to me because I earned it. When I first learned about the force sensitivity, I wanted to train, but now it feels like I'm playing right into Pryde's hands." Your tone has shifted, suddenly you're angry.

“I’m just tired of feeling like a pawn,” you say quietly but vehemently, with hard feeling behind it, “for my father, for Snoke, for the Order. I want to make a choice. I want to want something, independent of others, and then take it.” Your determination was frightening, but it scared him more how much he finds himself agreeing with you. The idea is incredibly appealing. To have something, something he really wanted, apart from the Order and his title and all the responsibility that came with it.

You sighed, low and deep, having spoken your mind, signaling the end of the conversation. “I don’t think we’re going to get a good shot today, General,” you said, a little defeated, "maybe we should-”

You were cut off by the sound of the blaster, the kickback of the rifle hitting Hux in the shoulder hard and sending an ache through the side of his body, even though he had anticipated it. He kept the site steady, watching as the bolt made its impact, hitting Marcross directly between the eyes. The perfect opportunity had finally arrived, and he had been ready for it. The faint sound of screaming reached his ears, even from this distance. Only once he had heard the reactions of the guests at Pawdry’s party did he begin to disassemble his blaster, working quickly so that the both of you could make your escape.

“That was an impossible shot,” Hux broke from his work to look at you, and what he saw made him pause. You were watching him with an expression that could only be described as awe, your jaw slack, the binoculars falling from your hands.

"What?" Hux continued disassembling the rifle in order to avoid your eyes, the intensity of your stare making him blush.

"That shot. General, how did you even see an opening?" you picked up the binoculars again, trying to see through the windows, past the chaos in the room, trying to figure out how he had managed it. "I knew you were good, General, but I didn't know you were that good."

Hux's hand fumbled as he unscrewed the last piece of the blaster, unsure how to react to your praise, choosing to ignore it instead, but he couldn't ignore the look you gave him when he met your eyes again. It reminded him of what you said about choices. About wanting. And where he might fit in with that.

Ren was already waiting for you when you disembarked, standing at the edge of the hangar with his arms crossed over his chest.

"He wants to speak with me," you said, turning to Hux who watched you through careful eyes, "I should probably go."

"You could stop this," he responded in a whisper, even though there was no point; you both knew that Ren was listening in, "you don’t have to train with him." It was nice to hear someone say it, even if you knew better. Nice to think that you could just quit, move on, do something you were good at, but quitting was not in your nature.

"I want to train, General, and I should speak to him."You looked down, hoping to avoid seeing the disappointment on his face. You did still want to train, even if it was difficult, even when you felt unsuccessful. It wasn't just something you could run away from. "Thank you, though. It's nice to be reminded that I have a choice. And thank you for this," you reached out, brushing his arm so that he would look at you, see your sincerity, but when his eyes met yours, you had to look away.

You left the ship, moving to the place along the wall where Ren stood. He walked away without speaking, but you knew to follow. It was nerve-wracking being with him again, memories of your last conversation rooted in your brain. You reached out gently through the force, trying to see behind the mask, wondering just how angry he is at you, but there was nothing for you to pick up; he was blocking you out.

He led you to the training room, and your heart sank, your body already protesting the pain that was about to come. You moved into a fighting stance, waiting for one of the Knights to attack, bracing yourself for the first hit. None came. You searched the room, looking for the Knights, but you and Ren were alone.

You looked back to Ren and watched as he removed his helmet, setting it down on the ground along with his gloves. You didn't relax out of your stance, but watch him carefully, waiting.

"The Knights are attending to other matters," he said in response to the question you left unasked, "I wanted to speak with you in private." You dropped your stance, a little embarrassed and very nervous. It hadn't gone very well the last time you had spoken. Would this conversation be any different?

"I'm sorry I left without telling you," you said, hoping to get it out of the way. Something about the way he was acting—avoiding your eyes, shifting from side to side, moving so slowly—made you restless.

"I don't want to talk about that," he stalked closer, eyes on the floor, and you watched him, your stomach rolling with unfamiliar emotion. He seemed nervous, and it made you nervous.

"What is this about, Ren?" You breathed through the words, trying to remain calm, but your mind returned to the moment in Bellarian, to the priestess and her strange eyes, strange words. A choice. Is this what she had meant? You’re not sure if you want to find out. 

He reached for you, one ungloved hand finding its way into yours, and your fingers shook in his, a well of emotion, thoughts, memories flooding over your skin at the contact. The words were spoken and unspoken, echoing through the room and in your mind, the low timbre of his voice cutting through the clutter in your head.

"I want you."

Tags: @acunningstargazer​, @itsa-pseudonym, @ddaeing, @dark-night-sky-99, @i-jus-wanna-writehappy​, @fresa-luna, @leiadelreyy, @averillian, @sunbanna

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 17

This one makes me smile. Hope it does you too.

~*~Sebastian~*~

After books came picture hanging. Mom led the way and picked precisely where everything went. Emma handed me picture hangers, kept up with the level, and took the hammer while I placed pictures. I wasn't at all subtle with the way my fingers ran over hers as I took a nail. She wasn't exactly subtle with how close she stood to me. If I wasn't acutely aware of her, I would have bumped into her several more times than I intentionally did. And strangely enough when I did accidentally on purpose brush against her, she was there to greet me with a hand on my back so I didn't step on her or on my arm so I didn't turn into her. Hard to know which I liked best. Probably the hand on my back because she was closer and I could brush against her in ways that pleased me. Back at the linen closet I thought I'd done good hiding my reaction when she drug her hand across my back. Her fingers trailed around my side, barely crossing over to my stomach before drifting away. Innocent enough in a maddening way. I mean how could she know the patch of skin on my left side right on the curve where side meets stomach and even with my navel is in my top three erogenous zones. Right now, with her targeting that spot its zoomed up to number one. I'm left with the conclusion that Emma knows, or at least suspects, exactly what she's doing to me.

While Emma and I succeeded in an exercise in subtle physical flirting mom wanted to talk. Most of the conversation was about food. Part of this was mom checking out if there was anything Emma didn't like so she could adjust dinner. Apparently, mom had stocked up at the grocery yesterday. The same one I'd been lost in. Or maybe I'd been found.

Mom asked if Emma could cook. Emma looked embarrassed, "Yes, but a lot of southern food."

I heard "just a teacher." I couldn't leave at alone. "The food we were getting in Atlanta was amazing. Muss and Turners was amazing a we all loved the Varsity. Not exactly southern, but in the south. What's your favorite home cooked meal?"

Emma licked her lips like she was tasting her thoughts. I wanted to taste them too. Her lips, not her thoughts. "Chicken fried steaks with biscuits and gravy, green beans, and potatoes. Breakfast was often fresh biscuits with homemade jelly. Apple, raspberry, or blackberry. Catfish with hash browns and roast vegetables.

I heard my stomach growl and put my hand on my stomach, "You're making me hungry. All sounds so good."

Mom smiled at me, but talked to Emma, "You'll have to cook for him."

I glared at mom then laughed. "She worries about me."

Emma poked my stomach, "That's what mom's do. You can't cook, can you?"

I grabbed the poking finger, holding onto her hand. "Enough to survive."

"New York has a lot of take out."

"Thank you!" I stuck my tongue out at my mom like the child I was.

We finished in the master bedroom upstairs and at the other end of the house from the family room. We headed back downstairs and Anthony yelled for me. He wanted help in the office. Mom and Emma went on without me.

When we were done, I could hear mom in the kitchen and assumed Emma was with her. I walked into the room to find I was wrong. I spun in a circle looking for her. "Where'd Emma go?"

"Out on the deck." Mom motioned to the backyard. "Dinner will be a while yet. Go enjoy the view."

I kissed her cheek and went out the door.

Emma was standing with her hands on the deck railing. She'd pulled her hair out of the pony tail. There was just enough of a breeze where I could see a few strands move. I wanted my fingers there. I also wanted to put my hands on her shoulders, run them over the curve of her waist, and wrap my arms around her stomach. Then I could bury my face in her hair and move it aside to kiss along her neck.

Not that I've been thinking about it. At all.

I made enough noise to not scare her again. I ran my hands from her elbows to her hands and laced my fingers with hers.

Emma leaned back against my chest, "Hey there."

This was going well. I turned my head to bury my nose in her hair, "I thought I'd lost you."

She shook her head slightly, “I walked by the window and saw the deck and the view.” She nodded out toward where there was a split in the tree line. The sun was setting perfectly in the gap behind a line of mountains in the distance.

Not paying attention to the sky I mumbled, “Beautiful.”

“You can’t see the sky.”

“What I see is beautiful.” I pulled her a little to the side and looked at her profile with a smile.

Emma turned her head to meet my eyes and squeezed my fingers. I watched her eyes shift from my eyes to my mouth and back again. Before the moment could become awkward, Emma let go of my hands and turned around. I took a step forward, backing her against the railing, and pressing impossibly close to her. I let go of the rail when her arms tightened around my waist. I folded around her and let out a breath.

This is what I'd been craving all day. It had been a good day for hugs, but this was different. Standing her holding her was .... I don't know. Lots of things. Warm. Calm. Exciting. I liked the feel of her this close to me. Her body pressed against mine where I could feel her breathe. Her breathing wasn't normal. Neither was mine.

"Am I reading things wrong?"

I relaxed my hold and pulled my head back, "What?" I heard what she said, but wasn't sure what she meant. My eyebrows were knitted together.

She looked up at me, "We always touch. There's never a time we're not touching. But..." She was considering her words. "We've never kissed."

Her simple statement didn't blame me. "We've" never kissed. I took the responsibility on anyway. Standing here looking in her amazing green eyes I wasn't the least bit concerned about answering the unasked question. Why? Thinking back to our earlier conversation I realized she was being brave to ask and now it was my turn to be brave enough to answer. At least for right now we were ok with being vulnerable and scared together. That's a good start.

I smiled and pushed her hair behind her ear, letting my fingers pull through to the end. So silky. I took a strand between my fingers, twirling and pulling down the length as I talked. "You're not reading anything wrong."

I closed my eyes and took a breath to center myself. When I opened my eyes Emma was looking at me like she adored me. Wow. I shook my head and my shoulders dropped. "I told you I get anxious and overthink things." She nodded with a soft smile and rubbed her thumb on the skin right above my jeans. No idea how her hand got under my shirt. Also, don't give a fuck. "I wanted to kiss you at the grocery, but fifteen minutes in was to soon unless I wanted you to think I was just out to get laid." I crinkled up my face and shook my head a little, which made Emma smile. Good. Because this conversation is kind of ridiculous and easily ended if grabbed her right now and kissed her. Like I wanted to. But, she deserved an answer to her question.

"When I’m in character and kiss someone there’s a detachment. The characters are interacting, so while I am physically kissing there’s not the emotional part. My character feels it, not me. I want a good first kiss with you. I want that anticipation, the hit of adrenaline, the falling into it. The storm screwed up the good night kiss when I took you home. Then the overthinking started. I keep looking for the perfect moment. I only find it about thirty seconds after it's passed. I'm stuck in this endless loop of wanting to kiss you, wanting to find the perfect moment, and watching it go by." I hoped my voice didn't sound as frantic as I felt. Might as well lay it all out there. "And now I'm afraid I won't be able to stop."

She tilted her head, "Stop looking for the perfect moment?"

I shook my head very slowly, "Stop kissing you. Until we're naked and exhausted." Fuck, that hurt.

Without saying a word Emma let go of my waist and started to turn around. Shit. I’d read things wrong and gone too far, "Em’."

Emma looked at me over her shoulder as she turned. Her green eyes sparkled, "Shh."

Emma sushed me! I almost laughed. She turned back to watch the sunset, catching my hands, tangling our fingers, and wrapping our arms around her. My hands were on the inside, next her body. One of our joined hands went low, close to her hip. The other tucked up under her breast. I was now sure I hadn't gone too far. I relaxed and moved my thumb just enough to feel the weight of her breast then moved no more than an inch back and forth. I don’t know where she’s going with this, but I wanted to make sure she knew I was with her. The beat of my heart picked up and I felt her breath catch.

“I love sunsets. Love being on a west coast to watch the sun sink into the water. I could chase that forever. Everyone always talks about the bright yellow, orange, and red sinking below the horizon, but I love the pink purple sky that gets left behind. Like after something has taken your breath away. Releasing that breath and letting the moment sink in. Letting the emotions and beauty become part of you. The afterglow.” She laid her head back on my shoulder, where I sure she could hear my heart beating and feel the escalation in my breathing. “That is my favorite color and this is the perfect time of night.”

I used our joined hands on her hip to turn her to face me again. I let go of her other hand and brought it to her face, “Perfect." Emma’s face fit perfectly in my palm. I ran my thumb across her lip before moving closer.

The first touch was a gentle press of lips, parted a fraction to barely fit together. Soft and chaste. I felt the rush of adrenaline as it spiked my blood. Her lips were as soft as I'd imagined them. It was the third or fourth kiss before I ventured a taste. I licked her upper lip barely reaching between them. Before I left her mouth her tongue ran over mine.

I pulled back enough to see the glazed over look in her eyes, I knew mine were the same. I licked my lips, tasting her there.  I couldn’t remember anything ever tasting as sweet. My hand moved from her face to cup the back of her neck to pull her in closer. I felt Emma's fingers dig into my shoulders the second before our mouths met.

I could see her face behind my closed eyes. So beautiful. The moment intensified and I deepened the kiss.

I heard her make a quiet moan then thought it might have been me.

[gracelesslamb]

The CEO, the Professor, and Me (Victor x MC x Lucien OT3) part 8*small smut warning

“What was that expression you used earlier, Victor? ‘Going at it like a couple of rabbits,’ was it? Seems a bit hypocritical in hindsight, don’t you think?” 

“Shut up, Professor.” Victor says through clenched teeth. His grip on me tightens. 

Lucien laughs and shakes his head. “You know, Victor, it’s perfectly alright to call me by my first name instead of my title. We’ve been quite...intimate over the past few hours after all.”

“No thanks, Professor. I don’t plan on getting any more...intimate with you in the near future.” 

An awkward silence fills the air for several minutes. Finally Lucien clears his throat. 

“Why don’t all three of us get some rest, hm? You two put on your undergarments at the very least. Just in case we’re woken up unexpectedly tomorrow. We should also huddle together for body heat since we keep waking up.” 

My last few hours of captivity are spent in warmth as Victor and Lucien place me between their half naked bodies. Both boys steal a couple of gentle, sleepy kisses. Nothing is said, other than a quiet “Goodnight” before the three of us fall into unconsciousness. 

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

Someone’s phone alarm blares. 

I groan and bury myself deeper in Lucien’s chest.  Victor sits up and presses a button, silencing the irritating sound.

“What time is it?” I mumble.

“Five thirty.” Victor says. He pulls on his pants, and begins to rebutton his shirt. 

I groan and beckon him back to me and Lucien. “Come back here...we have time to snuggle.” 

“Yes, but we should get dressed just in case we fall asleep again. Don’t want to be found in a compromising position.” 

“He has a point.” Lucien murmurs softly. He lifts my chin with a finger and kisses my lips, before he disengages from our embrace to dress himself. 

My stomach growls. The moment I get out of here, I’m going to a nice breakfast place and spending the next couple of days at home alone with my cat. 

I pull on my skirt and blouse before laying down again, using my purse as a pillow. Eventually Lucien joins me on the floor, fully dressed, minus the tie, which he slung in preparation under his collar. He pulls me back into his chest and kisses my temple. 

Victor is fully dressed: tie and all and is scrolling through his phone with full attention. 

“Victor...come back to bed.” I whine sleepily. Victor looks up from his phone and gives me a soft smile. 

“You mean back to the floor?” 

I roll my eyes. “Whatever. Just come back here. Pleaaaaaaaaaaaaase.” 

Victor chuckles and taps his phone a few times. “Alright, alright. Just let me set another alarm for six forty-five. People start coming into the studio around seven, right?” 

“Mhm...Now come over here.” 

“My, my, aren’t you bossy this morning.” Victor lays down on his side and leans close to kiss my forehead, my nose, and then my lips. I blush. It’s still weird seeing this affectionate side of him. Though, judging by the things Victor said during our last time together, it’s highly possible Victor was going to distance himself from me and return to his normal sarcastic self after we’re rescued. 

The thought made me pull him even closer as he kisses me carefully while Lucien buries his face in my  neck. Victor breaks the kiss and presses his lips to my forehead as he pulls me into a forward embrace, while Lucien supports my back. I bury my face into Victor’s shirt and close my eyes. The unasked question hung silently in the air: What were the three of us? I’ve had some casual flings before but...there was nothing casual about the emotion that Victor displayed while he made love to me. There was genuine affection in his eyes and it made my knees weak. 

Lucien was harder to figure out. While he’s always been something of a flirt, I always thought that was just how he acted towards girls. Earlier Victor had claimed that Lucien was manipulating us and now that my head is clear, it made sense, from his perspective. At the same time...I could also see why Lucien suggested sex as a way to get our minds off being trapped, despite the now obvious emotional consequences with Victor. 

The tension between the three of us was thick even before Victor and Lucien started bickering. I probably would’ve gone crazy if I had to listen to that all night. 

My body aches all over. I roll my neck back and forth a little to alleviate the stiffness. 

“Your body  must be pretty sore.” Lucien softly murmurs in my ear. His hands move to my shoulders and his thumbs begin to expertly massage the muscles in my neck. I moan softly. 

“When we get out of here, it’s probably a good idea to get some rest in an actual bed.” Lucien murmurs. His voice lowers and softens. “Maybe...I can join you. Just to sleep, of course.” 

“I’m pretty sure she’d rather be alone after spending all night with us, Professor.” mutters Victor. 

“You could always join us, Victor. The more the merrier.” 

“I’ll pass. I have work to do.”

“Suit yourself.”

“I...would actually rather not have company over after this, Lucien.” I mutter quickly under my breath. “Maybe another time.” 

“Fair enough. I’ll be at home next door if you need anything.”

“Wait a second you live next door to ____!?”

“That’s right. We’re next door neighbors.”

Victor sighs heavily. “Perfect...that’s just perfect.”

“Alright that’s it.” I untangle myself from both Victor and Lucien and stand up. Both boys also stand up, with twin looks of confusion on their faces. 

“Lucien. Stop trying to piss Victor off. It may be funny to you, but it’s getting really really old. Victor. The jealous thing? You’re aware that I had just as much sex with you as I did with Lucien, right? Grow up. Both of you.” 

“You’re right. I’ve been acting childishly and I apologize.” says Lucien with a sheepish smile. 

Victor says nothing, but he rolls his eyes and avoids all eye contact with me. There’s a hint of a blush in his complexion.

I sigh in relief. It felt nice to get all of that off my chest.

“Now can both of you please stop goading each other and just cuddle me?”

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

The alarm blares at 6:45 and Lucien, Victor and I dust ourselves off from the floor. Lucien fixes his tie and Victor pulls on his suit jacket. Both boys look like they hadn’t spent the entire night trapped in an elevator while I looked like a haunted mess with bad hair. 

It doesn’t take long for us to hear people start coming into work. Lucien smirks at me and loosens his tie.

“_______. Come over here for a second.” Lucien grabs me by the arm and pulls me against the far corner of the elevator, smashing his lips against mine. 

Lucien presses me against the elevator and releases my lips. He kneels down in front of me and places his head under my skirt. I feel him push aside my panties with his fingers and suddenly his mouth is on me, hot, wet, and relentless. 

His tongue attacks my clit over and over again and it doesn’t take very long for Lucien to push me over the edge. I cover my mouth as my walls break. Victor is at the other end of the elevator staring at us, his mouth wide open in shock. 

Lucien fixes my panties, and retreats out from under my skirt. His hair is mussed and his facial expression can only be described as smug as he stands up and dusts himself off. 

The elevator lurches downward and my heart, which was still racing from the surprise oral sex session, began to race faster with anticipation. Finally, I was going to get out of here and see people who weren’t Victor or Lucien!

[too-many-baes]

Halves

Pairing: Fem!reader x Sam Winchester

Warning(s): Angst

Word Count: 1.4K

Original imagine: [x] & if you haven’t already you should check out @spn-imagines-nation

Summary: Y/N gets an unexpected call from her ex Sam Winchester

A/N: I changed the dialogue from the original imagine in this just slightly to make it work. My requests are open! I feel like all I have ideas for is angst all day everyday, so send in your requests so I can write about something different. 

                                                       ***********

You sat in a relatively quiet bar enjoying a drink and a catch up with your best friend. It was very rare in your hectic life as a hunter that you got to have these moments, so you relished in it while you could, enjoying the soft country music and catching each other up on your lives. You barely got to see Claire any more so when you had been passing by her town you decided to pay a visit and get to spend some uninterrupted time with her.

Well you had planned on it being uninterrupted, but your phone buzzing loudly on the bar for the third time in thirty minutes shattered those plans.

“Damn, someone really wants to get a hold of you. Who is it?” You had planned on ignoring it and letting the call ring out but Claire’s question prompted your curiosity to get the better of you. With Claire leaning over your shoulder you picked up the phone to see ‘Sam. W’ in bold letters on your screen.

“Sam? As in your ex Sam?” You nod bewildered. “You’re not going to answer it are you?” Claire accusatorily asks. You grimace knowing that he wouldn’t be calling unless it was important. You apologise to your friend before stepping outside away from prying ears.

“Hello?”

“Uh, hey Y/N, it’s Sam here…” he says before adding “Winchester that is”, awkwardly at the end of his sentence.

“I know Sam, caller ID and all.”

“Yeah yeah of course.”

“So, why are you calling, I assume there’s a reason?” Your sentence came out far ruder than you intended after waiting for him to speak for far too long. Sam audibly took a large breath before explaining that they were tracking a werewolf that he was certain you’d tried to hunt earlier in the year. He wanted you to come and look at the case as if it was the same werewolf, he and Dean could really use your help dealing with it.

“You know I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t urgent,” he said in conclusion. You huffed before speaking.

“I’ll come have a look, no promises I’ll stick around. How soon do you need me?”

“How soon can you get to Salem?”

Much to Claire’s chagrin, you were forced to cut your evening short so you could hit the road. If this was that same werewolf that evaded you all those months ago then you didn’t want to waste any time. Luckily for all parties involved Claire didn’t live unreasonably far from Salem so you managed to get to the dingy motel they were staying at by morning, allowing yourself to get a couple of hours sleep in your car halfway through the night.

You knocked on door 176 and when it opened you were greeted by the other Winchester.

“Heya Dean”, you offered as a greeting.

“It’s good to see ya kid”, he said with a smile, stepping aside and letting you enter the otherwise vacant room. Your quizzical gaze didn’t go unnoticed.

“He’s gone to get breakfast”, his words answering your unasked question. You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. You hadn’t known how anxious you were to see Sam after the way you had left things until that moment.

Dean took the opportunity to fill you in on the case, leaving no doubt that it was the all too familiar werewolf.

The door suddenly opened and Sam rather unceremoniously staggered in, juggling a tray of drinks and bags of diner food.

“Sorry, they were pretty busy. Also they were totally out of pie so I got you- Y/N.” He cut his sentence short when he looked up and saw you were there.

“Hey Sam”, you reply. Looking up at his face you find his eyes stuck on you. Those tranquil orbs take you back, the goods times you’d shared swimming through your mind. Stolen kisses, inside jokes and times you felt invincible with him by your side all invaded your head. You almost smiled at the memories, instead you forced the urge away. No matter all the soft touches and ‘I love you’s’ that lay before you in his eyes, you forcibly recall the reasons your year-long relationship had ended. You make yourself remember the arguments and tears, the yelling and nights spent with nothing but you and an empty bed.

Sam is a great guy, you wouldn’t have fallen in love with him if he wasn’t. Your relationship had started like any other, the honeymoon period feeling as though it would never end. Of course it did, and when it had it felt like you were only getting halves. It didn’t feel like he was fully in your relationship, his mind and attention always drifting. Drifting to his latest case, to how to help his brother or Cas, even to his research. Eventually you’d had enough of nights with a cold side of the bed and feeling as though you were only getting half a person and half a relationship.

The night you broke up you told him you needed wholes, not halves. There was yelling from him, an inability to listen to your words meaning and then a slammed door and tear-filled eyes accompanied by white knuckles on a steering wheel signified the end.

That was months ago, yet somehow standing before him and looking into his eyes it felt as though you had lived through that year all over again.

“Okay, well I’m going to find somewhere that does have pie.” Neither you nor Sam had noticed how stifling the silence had been before Dean had spoken. You had just a moment to regain some composure as Dean grabbed his keys and exited the room. The suffocating silence once more settled over the two of you. Both of you were reluctant to meet each other’s gaze again, afraid of what other memories could be revealed within them. You gathered your nerve and cleared your throat.

“So it’s definitely the same one”, you said, inclining your head towards the research on the table. He hummed in response, placing the food on the kitchen bench before heading over to where you sat so he could peer over your shoulder.

“I thought so. Same targets, same M.O. It was too much of a coincidence.” The words you were exchanging felt so arbitrary and useless. So many other words sat unsaid on your tongue. What words could you even say to the man leaning over your shoulder? That you missed him? That you couldn’t stop thinking about him? That you still hadn’t forgiven him? Most of all, say you wished he’d been able to apologise? No. It was better for you both to swallow those words so only you knew they had been dancing on your vocal cords.

You stood up abruptly, wiping your hands on your legs to try and dispel how clammy they had become.

“Thank you Y/N, for coming to have a look”, Sam said to fill the awkward silence. You lightly snorted in response.

“Don’t thank me yet, we still have to find this thing.”

“Are you saying you’ll stay to help me deal with it?” He looked hopeful, the glimmer in his eyes doing nothing to help keep happy memories from resurfacing. You were forced to once again remind yourself that the bad had outweighed the good.

“That’s what I’m saying”, you say getting more irritated as your sentence continues, “what kind of person do you think I am? I don’t do things by halves.” You opened the door but you turned around to see if your words had their desired effect, seeing an almost guilty expression on his face.

“I deserved that one”, he said with a small nod. You bit your tongue nervously before letting out a drawn-out sigh.

“Damn right you did.” You shut the door without looking behind you, somehow maintaining a normal heartbeat before unpacking your car into one of the dingy rooms at the same motel.

Sam seemed different, you couldn’t help but think as you flopped down onto the double bed. The man you had broken up with was stubborn and unable to accept responsibility for his part in the breakdown of your relationship. The man in front of you moments ago though? He seemed regretful, guilty. Is it possible he’d changed? And if he had, was there another chance for you two? You shook your head. That is not why you drove through the night to get to this shitty motel. You had to stay focused on one thing; finally killing that son of a bitch of a werewolf. You told yourself this over and over.

Yes, that was your sole purpose in coming. A stray thought betrayed your mantra, because you knew it wasn’t true. It wasn’t the only reason you were here, not truly.

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

Hello darlin' i just wanted to tell you how much I adore your writing! Today is my birthday and I was wondering if I can request some bday smut with the modern!reader and Arthur, it's totally okay if you don't want to 😅

Ooooh nonny, happy birthday! I spent a couple of hours on this to make it good for you. Enjoy your special day!

Your birthday wasn’t usually that special, at least notsince you were a kid. Usually you took the day off for work to curl up on yourcouch to watch your favorite movies and treat yourself to some Chinese food.

Arthur decidedly took it upon himself to break thattradition. When you’d mentioned the upcoming date a week prior, you noticed thegleam in his eye.

He was always up before you, which was no surprise. What didtake you off guard was him carrying in a plate of a carefully craftedbreakfast. While he did cook for you, he’d never actually treated you tobreakfast in bed until now. Although still groggy, you sat up and began tomunch on it as he watched you, a proud smile on his face.

After you’d finished, he placed a tender kiss on yourforehead, and murmured that you should get dressed whilst whisking away theplate, leaving you alone. Naturally your curiosity piqued, wondering what hisplan was. There wasn’t much he could do in this world that didn’t involve youdriving or spending some money, but you decided to give him the benefit of thedoubt. You opted for a t-shirt, hoodie and comfortable jeans, finishing up justas he walked back in. He glanced at your outfit, giving a slight nod as inapproval before mentioning that you were going to head into the forest.

The confusion in you began to grow, wondering if his planwas to go hiking or something. There were trails nearby and you knew he’d goneexploring more than once, so it wasn’t a strange idea. Ten minutes later, thetwo of you got into your car and drove to the end of the neighborhood, thetreeline looming stark against the morning light.

You parked in a gravelly clearing, a usual spot for hikersand nature goers. You were the only ones there, probably too early for others.As you killed the engine and got out, you glanced over at Arthur, looking foran answer to your unasked question.

He breathed in deeply, looking up at the trees for a momentbefore turning his attention to you. “You ever actually explore up here, Y/N?”

You shrugged. “Maybe once or twice. Not enough to get a goodfeel of it, though.”

“Then that’s gonna change,” he rounded over to you, takingyour hand and tugging you toward the beginning of the trail. “Come on.”

Smiling, you followed him as he led you into the woods, thelight mostly disappearing as the sky was replaced by a dark green canopy. Youtwo walked quietly along the trail for a while, the ground steadily incliningto go up the mountain. You were glad to have brought your hoodie with you asthe chilly morning air still settled around you.

“Wish we had horses,” Arthur sighed. “Woulda been a lotshorter then.”

“A lot shorter?” you repeated, giving him a look. “Where areyou taking me?”

“You’ll see,” he responded with a smile. “Don’t worry. Notmuch longer.”

You weren’t sure ‘how much longer’ meant to Arthur, as itseemed like you were walking another thirty minutes. You were about to askagain when he suddenly veered off the path, surprising you entirely.

“Whoa, where are you taking me, Arthur?”

He didn’t answer, continuing to lead you, brushing pastbushes and shrubs, dodging low hanging branches. He was slowing down, allowingyou to keep your footing as you stumbled behind him. Your toe caught a root,and you yelped as your body fell forward. He caught you easily, a small chuckleescaping as you used him to stand upright.

“You okay?” he asked, his smile amusement still lurking.

You gave him a dry look for laughing. “Yes, I’m fine. So canyou tell me where you’re taking me?”

“It’s just ahead, sweetheart,” he gestured further. “Try notto trip again, okay?”

You snorted at that, looking toward where he pointed. Youcould see the thinning of the trees up ahead, sunlight pouring to what lookedlike a clearing. “Alright, let’s keep going.”

He took your hand again, going even slower for you. Thecloser the two of you got to the destination, you could see something shinybetween the trees. Water.

A short moment later, a sandy shore appeared, breaking atthe line of trees. A gorgeous blue lake stretched across the expanse of yourvision, the sun glistening against the surface. Off to the far left was a smallwaterfall, the distant roar gracing your ears.

You stepped out into the open, taking in the view in awe. Itwas beautiful; appearing as if from a painting or a book of photography. “Oh my…”you turned to Arthur, who had his hands casually in his pockets. “You’ve beenhere before?”

He nodded. “Found it the first time I wandered out here. It’sso peaceful, reminded me of…my world. So I wanted to share it with you.”

Pure emotion welled in your stomach, your heart flutteringwildly. It made sense now, Arthur wanted to share what reminded him of hisworld with you. You’d done so much to fit him into the modern world, butnothing could change who he was at heart. “You’re the sweetest man ever, Arthur.”

He gave a half smile, a small chuckle rumbling in histhroat. “If you say so.”

You’d spent the majority of the morning there, sitting inthe soft sand, leaning against Arthur’s shoulder peacefully. He told youstories; the glory days of the Van der Linde gang as well as escapades of hisown, things you hadn’t learned from the game. Admittedly, his life was probablymuch more exciting than yours would ever hope to be. Some part of you wishedyou could have experienced that life for yourself, even if it meant being indanger the majority of the time.

He’d quieted down after a while, wrapping his arm around youas you both gazed out into the lake. Letting your mind wander, you began toimagine yourself in the 19th century, living the life as an outlawalongside Arthur. Galloping on horseback with a pistol in hand, expertly firingat a rival gang as they chased after you. Marching into the home of a richcitizen of Saint Denis, dressed up in some fancy gown imported from Europe,sweet talking an oil tycoon about his bonds. Riding back to camp with a satchelfull of bundles of big bills, the rest of the gang whooping and congratulatingyou on a successful job. Arthur jumping off his white Arabian to wrap you inhis arms, giving you a deep kiss before whisking you away to his tent-

“Ya know,” his voice snapped you out of your reverie. “Ifyou were with me, in the gang, I would have taken you out too.”

You blinked, a slight blush forming on your face. It was asif he’d read your mind. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “Take you to Valentine n’ pay for the nicest mealthey had in the saloon, then to the hotel. Paid for a nice bath for the both ofus, and then rent out the nicest room they had available for the night. Treatyou like the princess you are.”

The blush deepened, and you pressed your face to hisshoulder. “You really are the sweetest, most caring man I ever met. And don’tyou dare disagree.”

His body rumbled as he laughed. “Alright, alright.”

Peering up at him, you began to wonder. “So…what else areyou planning to do for me?”

He met your gaze. “Well… there ain’t no hotel nearby, but Ican think of somethin’ else.”

“Yeah?” you sat up, your eyes not leaving him. “Like what?”

A smirk graced his lips, cupping your cheeks to place atender kiss on yours. Sweet at first, it deepened as he pressed for entrance.You knew immediately what he meant, and let him take over as he effortlesslypulled you into his lap without a break in the kiss.

His hand wandered, unzipping your jeans and sliding in. Hepressed against you through your underwear. You moaned quietly into his mouth,egging him on. Pushing away the thin barrier, his fingers danced circles onyour clit.

You pulled back, tilting your head in the air, your whineslost within the nature around you. “A-Arthur,” you stammered. “God…Arthur…”

“That feel good, princess?” he rumbled.

“Yes,” you sighed. “More, please.”

He silently slid a finger in you, causing a shudder toripple through your body. Your back arced, pressing your breasts to his chest,which he appreciated. His other hand snaked under your shirt, pushing thefabric up for his view. Easily freeing them from your bra, he squeezed andmassaged the soft skin within his calloused fingers. He ghosted over yournipples, tilting his head down to place kisses between them, his lips lightlybrushing over them.

You felt the familiar hardness make its presence from him,and you reached down automatically to do your part, only to have him give averbal refusal.

“It’s your birthday, sweetheart,” he whispered to you. “Letme please you.”

You let out a giggle. He’d done this once before, and thethought of him pampering you in this way once again ignited a fire in yourcore.

He unbuttoned his flannel and shrugged it off, motioning youto get up for a moment. You scooted off him, admiring his bare muscles as heleaned over to lay his shirt flat across the sand. “Lay down.”

You did so, and he wasted no time in pulling your jeans andpanties completely off. He took his place below, his arms locking your legs inplace as he buried his mouth against your center. Your body tensed as histongue worked up and down your slit. He found you bud next, languidly strokingwith such precise movement.

You shuddered in his grip, biting your lip as you moaned outloud, louder than you intended. Somehow doing it out in the open aroused youeven more. Your muscles twitched as he worked you to your peak, despite hisslow strokes, you could already feel it building quick, the familiar coil inyour belly ready to spring.

You moaned his name loudly, attempting to staunch yourorgasm from coming too quick. At the same time, you wanted to feel him entirely. He wanted you to cumfirst, he always did.

“Go on, sweetheart,” he murmured to you, feeling his hotbreath against your core. “Let me taste it.”

Tried you did, and failed. He sent you to your edge in whatfelt like record time, a low whine escaping your throat, ending in a slightpant as he placed a small kiss on your mound.

He crawled up to be eye level with you, his stubbleglistening with your slick. Words escaped you as he leaned down to kiss youonce again, your own flavor on his mouth. He began to unbuckle himself and youcouldn’t help to aid him, sliding his pants off to free him from hisconfinements.

Pulling back, he shifted to place a hand on your cheek. “Youready?”

Wordless still, you nodded.

Lining up with your entrance, he pushed his hips forward,prodding you once, twice, before completely burying himself within you. Grabbingfor his shoulders, he began to thrust. Slow and deep, his hips flush with yourswith each. His arms buckled underneath him, his breath shuddering. He wascareful not to put his weight on you.

“You feel amazin’ Y/N.” he groaned, dropping his head tokiss along your neck.

Your only answer was a moan, the sound carrying across thewater. You hoped no hikers were around to hear you, not that you were coherentenough to care at the moment. Your nails scoured his back, spurring him tothrust hard into you, eliciting a hiss of pain against your skin. He sworeunder his breath, though you knew he loved it.

You raised your legs, wrapping them around his hips, drivingyour own upward as he reached even further within you, the angle allowing himto access your sweet spot. Your moans and cries loud, much louder than insideyour own home. He nibbled at your skin, your body twitching as the sting of histeeth grazed your neck. He wasn’t shy with how rough he could be, although youcould tell he kept himself in check this time.

Your hips rolled together, his own body trembling in yourgrasp. He broke free from your skin, his breath causing goosebumps to erupt. Hegazed deeply into your eyes, his clouded with absolute love and lust.

Your face flushed again, restraining from tucking away inembarrassment. He loved to look at you, but damn if it didn’t send your heartinto a tizzy each time. He once told you he loved seeing your expressions too,the ones he was responsible for.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Oh, that did it. You turned your face away, letting go withone arm to drape across your eyes. “Arthuuuur.” You whined, overwhelmed withemotion and ecstasy.

“Aw…don’t do that,” despite how he continued to thrust intoyou, he tugged at your arm. “Look at me.”

Allowing him to pull your arm away, you shyly looked back upat him. A soft, warm smile crossed his lips. “You’re too cute.”

You couldn’t answer as he thrust deeply into you again,earning a loud moan. Damn that man, pushing your buttons the way he did. Hewon, he definitely won.

Reaching between you, he found your center again, beckoningfor your second release. Your entire body tingled with the stimulation, and youwanted it more than anything at the moment. Gripping his shoulders again, hisflesh already boring the marks you’d left earlier, you’d added more.

He watched you intently, his eyes never moving from yourface it contorted in pleasure. It was building too quickly like the first, butyou knew there was no chance in holding it off. He didn’t speak, but the lookon his face told you he wanted you to chase it.

And chase it you did. Almost as if your core exploded, anintense feeling that overtook you as you cried out his name. You clung to himtightly his he stroked your oversensitive bud a few more times before balancinghimself again, shoving himself to his root, giving you no chance to recover.

He buried his mouth to your shoulder, a clear sign that hewas close to his own. Biting into your flesh, his hips trembling. You gaspedout loud, the pain only adding to your own pleasure as you panted coming downfrom your high. He pounded himself deep one last time, letting himself spill, releasinga low groan muffled by your skin. He lifted his head up, his hips buckledweakly in one last shallow thrust before pulling out slowly, letting the mixturedrip onto the sand below.

Your eyes met, his gleaming brightly as he smiled at you.Wrapping his arms around your waist, he brought you up as he sat up, allowingyou to sit on his lap once again before he kissed you sweetly, lovingly,holding it for a moment before pulling back.

“Mmm, best birthday ever.” you sighed happily, the fatiguebeginning to settle in your muscles.

“It ain’t over yet, sweetheart,” he said, tracing your jawwith his thumb. “Let’s get you back home. I got more planned.”

“Oh? What else?” you asked, reaching to grab your discardedjeans, standing up to brush the sand off.

He stood up as well, giving you a moment to marvel his nakedform before he began to redress himself. “You’ll see, darlin’.”

[gellavonhamster]

all the unasked questions

gen || Lemony Snicket | Bertrand Baudelaire | pre-canon

ao3 link || originally posted in Russian

It was B’s idea to visit the graveyard together. He called me on the phone while I was staying at my sister’s place, where I moved to temporarily after my place was damaged by what had been, according to the official narrative, a gas tank explosion (that narrative was false). I asked him how he had found out where to look for me, and he gave me the very name I expected to hear. I felt an urge to drop something along the lines of “I see you and my bride have become quite close friends lately”, but I restrained myself. She was not yet officially my bride anyway, except for in my head which, as experience had shown, was not in consonance with reality on all matters.      

“I wasn’t at the funeral either,” B said. It took me some time to figure out what funeral he meant. “Came back from Montreal just two days ago.”

“I see,” I responded, feeling that it was my turn to say something.

“I was thinking… if you are planning to visit her grave, we could go together. I have a mind to go there tomorrow in the first half of the day. I mean, if you want to.”

“All right,” I said, and immediately got mad at myself. I have been trying to hate B more or less ever since we first met. It seemed appropriate to have little liking for the peer who has been held up as an example to you for a long time, and with clear hints that he shall succeed both as a volunteer and in life as such, unlike some others. Later some other reasons to dislike him emerged, but they all lost ground every time I found myself face to face with him. I didn’t know anyone more amiable and good-natured than him. On that score, he surpassed even my brother, who, for all his positive qualities, was somewhat prone to being a bore, and M, who was a most kind-hearted fellow, but occasionally, let his truly viperous tongue loose. Therefore, that time, like many times before, I did not have the slightest reason to be uncivil, especially since the latest loss our organization had suffered must have wounded him much deeper than me. Clearly, that didn’t mean I was bound to assent to his proposal. I could have refused, referring to some urgent matters, but I realized it only after I put down the phone, having agreed to meet B the next day at one o’clock by the graveyard gate.        

“Going on a date?” my sister inquired, her nose still in a book, and I, being an adult, and with no pillow at hand to throw at her, ignored that nonsense.  

When I arrived at the agreed place the following day, B was already waiting for me. A most abominable rain was pouring, having started already after I left the house, and as I was staring at the black umbrella above B’s head, I couldn’t help thinking: of course he hasn’t forgotten his umbrella. Unlike some others.    

The moment my associate saw me, he hurried forward to meet me halfway.

“Snicket.”

“Bertrand. Have you been waiting for long?”

“No, some five minutes at most. How about you get under the umbrella? I feel like it’s not going to clear up any time soon.”

“No, thank you,” I refused. That was very foolish on my part, and after several steps I admitted it and hid under the umbrella after all. I wasn’t going to take B by the arm on principle, so we just went on side by side, jostling each other with elbows now and then.  

As we wandered among tombstones and maimed stone angels, I kept thinking back to the moment I learned about the tragic development that brought us here. I had only just returned from Puerto Rico, bringing back with me a report on the successfully completed operation, a couple of notebooks filled with writing, and a light stab wound. My brother met me at the port. It was not until two hours later that I was to present myself at the headquarters, so on our way we dropped by a café to get root beer floats. At a certain point, my brother put his glass on the counter, wiped off his beer-foam moustache and said, “L, while you were away, something awfully sad happened. Your chaperone…”

It was a car accident. I had been convinced that Theodora was still driving the same old green roadster, but it turned out she already had another car, the same model but grey. My former chaperone lost control of the car while escaping the chase; the confidential documents she had stolen from her pursuers burned with her. It could be said that Theodora remained a volunteer till the last minutes of her life, and perhaps in these minutes she was a better volunteer than over all those previous years. Back in the day, she was ranked fifty-second on the list of chaperones that included fifty-two persons, and what I had heard about her later suggested that she never achieved any higher rank. However, I was still of an opinion that I had learned a thing or two under her tutelage: for example, that grownups are often unable to see beyond the ends of their noses, or that it is important to recognize at the right time that all the questions you have been asking were the wrong ones. In any case, she was part of my youth, and when we approached the gravestone that bore her name, dates of birth and death, and the motto of our organization – The world is quiet here – I felt as if I was twelve again and it was the first time I faced something actually frightening, merciless, and much more powerful than me.            

Death has circled near me and my associates since our early childhood. Memento mori: such was the motto of the school most of us had graduated from. We often talked about death, often half-jokingly, half-earnestly asked our comrades to make sure our funerals went a certain way; for instance, I remember us promising W to scatter his ashes over the sea. But seeing the grave, laying some already wilting flowers on it, rereading the dates inscribed on the stone over and over again, realizing that the person buried underneath it was not old and could have lived more or less happily for many more years – that was something else entirely.    

The last time I saw Theodora was about a year and a half ago; that said, when I tried to picture her face, I could only remember her the way she looked many years ago in Stain’d-by-the-Sea. Presently I knew that back then she was only thirty-five, which looked to me the beginning of old age then and my own foreseeable future now. I realized I was crying, and crying not so much for Theodora, however egocentric that might sound, as for my own youth and the times when I was less smart, less experienced, braver and bolder. I was crying for my past that could not be returned, for my friends from Stain’d-by-the-Sea who – I was certain about that – didn’t want to have anything to do with me anymore, for my first love who disappeared from my life for ever after I ruined her life, or so she thought I did (and if my sister knew anything about her, then she didn’t tell me, and I didn’t ask). I was crying for that young man who was undergoing his apprenticeship in a dying forsaken little town, and – for all that – for his chaperone the way I remembered her, with a huge thatch of hair and a cheek divided in two by a long ugly bruise that was painful for me to look at. On our way to the graveyard, I didn’t expect myself to cry, but that only proved how little I knew about death – and about life.          

I didn’t turn to face B. I have long become more accepting of tears than I used to be as a child, but he and I were not close enough for me to cry in his presence without experiencing a constant need to apologize for that. I didn’t turn to face him when I heard him inhale loudly, like many people do when they are trying not to sob, and I didn’t turn to face him when he put his palm on my arm just above the elbow and I didn’t turn to face him when I covered his palm with mine. At that moment, his hand was the only source of warmth near me and, as it seemed to me, in the whole universe, but I could not make myself look him in the eye.      

I thought I could ask him about something: after all, who knows when we would happen to be alone with each other again. For one thing, I could ask him if a certain person we both knew had ever talked to him about me. Or what exactly his feelings towards that person were. Or what he was crying for at the time himself – just for Theodora or, like me, for his own past that he just lost the last binding thread with. Instead, I asked him:    

“So what does S stand for?”

That question came out of nowhere – I didn’t fully understand myself why I asked it – and I expected B to answer it the way Theodora would have done it. “Something she would’ve preferred to remain a secret.” “Something she never told me.” “Seriously, Snicket? That’s what you want to ask about right now?”

“Sunny,” B replied. I looked out from under the umbrella to make sure that the clouds had really started to clear away, and then looked at him to make sure he was not delirious. “Sunny Theodora Markson,” he explained with a sad smile. “That was her name.”  

“An unusual name,” I observed. I could understand why she kept concealing it. For a moment I felt vexed – so she did tell him what S stood for – but I told myself off at once. When it came to B, I couldn’t even manage to be jealous of my beloved – I could do without trying to be jealous of our late chaperone.      

“An interesting one. I thought maybe one day…” he began but must have changed his mind. We stood in the rain for a little while, holding our tongues, each of us immersed in his own thoughts. Finally, B broke the silence.  

“We should go somewhere later to drink to her memory. If you want to.”

“All right,” I said again, and immediately got mad at myself again, though less than the day before.

[green-eyeddragonfanfiction]

War of Attrition: Chapter 18

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x Reader Summary: Best friends with Steve Rogers, renowned Howling Commando, and married to one James Buchanan Barnes, your life wasn’t perfect, but it was as close as it could possibly be in the middle of World War II. Then you fell from a train in the Alps, and everything changed. You spent nearly 70 years as a tool of Hydra alongside your beloved, though your past with him was more often than not forgotten. You visit an old, dangerous person, knowing full well that you might not come out of the confrontation alive. Warnings: Swearing (always), mentions of: past torture, death, blood, weapons. Allusions to PTSD. Word Count: ~4,704 A/N: Not dead, I promise. Finally out of school, though.

Masterlist // Book One // Book Two

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Bucky’s smile was melancholy, too, the destruction of the city a fresh horror in his mind, along with the fear of losing you. Again.

“That’s… that’s good,” he said finally, looking up at you with what could only be adoration.

Your smile turned a little lighter- a little more genuine- and you nodded. “Yeah. I think so, too.”

Bucky was quiet next to you as you walked down the street. He hadn’t talked since you got on the boat to Japan, having long since realized there wasn’t a point in trying to talk you out of your latest endeavor.

Not that you blamed him. Your idea would almost definitely end with you and Bucky being killed or heavily wounded. Still, your conscience didn’t let you sit still after what you’d remembered a few days ago.

A small clearing. Cherry trees blossoming, petals bright even in the gloom of early night. Blood seeping into cherry wood floors. Two smiling faces looking up at you in black and white. Flashing claws of bone. Bucky’s pained groan and steely gaze.

Between the tiny glimpses and uneasy feeling in your gut you’d long suspected you’d done something as the Soldiers, but then you’d woken up in a cold sweat a few weeks ago and told Bucky everything you could before your mind lost the memories again.

The next two weeks had been spent yelling and fighting and eventually you put your foot down, saying you were going to apologize to Logan face to face, regardless of the possible outcomes (most of which, if you were being honest with yourself, entailed ending up in a pool of your own blood).

Bucky twitched as someone turned onto the small street you were walking down, jarring you back into the present. The area was so low-tech that you hadn’t bothered with the nano skin, relying on clothes and sunglasses to keep your enhancements hidden. You had a sinking feeling that trying to hide your true identities would only incense Logan further, and you needed every advantage you could get if you wanted more than a snowball’s chance in hell of getting out.

You reached out for Bucky’s hand nearly without thinking, the action subconscious at this point.

“Why’s he gotta live in the middle of nowhere?” Bucky muttered as soon as the civilian was out of earshot. He was still as annoyed about the whole affair as he had been the entire last two days.

You glanced at Bucky for only a second then quickly returned to scanning the area for threats. “Can you really imagine Logan living in the middle of a busy city?” you asked quietly. Bucky only huffed out an annoyed sigh but all that did was make your lips quirk up in a smirk. “‘Sides, this works out better for us anyway.”

“We stick out like sore thumbs,” Bucky countered, annoyance clear as day in his tone.

You shrugged, gently jostling your intertwined hands. “Maybe. I figure an area as pretty as this gets tourists, even if it is a bit rural.”

Bucky’s steel blue eyes finally turned on you, disbelief barely noticeable in the set of his jaw and the lines around his eyes. “They don’t even have electricity out here, Doll.”

You bit back a smirk. “That’s why it took us so long to find ‘im, though. Maybe he’s got the right idea.”

“You’d go insane within the week,” Bucky said flatly, obviously guessing where you were going with that line of thought.

You fought the urge to pout and gently nudged him with your shoulder instead. “Not if I set up next to a river and made a hydro-electric dam for myself. Or finally finished my portable nuclear reactor.”

Bucky’s gaze turned worried and perhaps a shade frantic. “Please don’t do either of those things. I’m beggin’ ya.”

The Brooklyn accent slipped in whenever you caught him off guard and you couldn’t help but smile whenever it returned with a vengeance like that. “Fine, fine. This is our turn, anyhow. Gotta be on alert now.”

Bucky’s face turned stony again and you missed the light in his eyes that had been there just a moment ago as he stared down the narrow dirt road. He was nervous, but you knew his fear wasn’t for his own well being. It was reserved for you.

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze which he returned. In perfect synchronization you both stepped forward and began walking down the road.

The farther you walked, the jumpier you and Bucky became. Even with your backscatter vision and Bucky’s enhanced hearing you were loath to underestimate the short, angry man.

The cabin came into vision without incident, though, and a quick backscatter peek inside told you he wasn’t home.

You stopped at the edge of the clearing, skin prickling uncomfortably as your scattered memories overlaid with the present. The house that Logan had built was eerily similar to the one he’d shared with his wife (Itsu. Japanese. Married Logan in 1946. Skilled swordswoman. Pregnant. Clean kill; slash to the throat and stomach. Weapon: Katana.).

You shook the clinical thoughts from your head and tugged Bucky to a stop. He looked down at you warily. “Not here,” you said, answering his unasked question. He nodded, but didn’t relax at all.

“How long do we wait?” he asked eyes darting around the clearing.

You frowned and tried to ground yourself more firmly in the present by leaning against Bucky, who stilled marginally at the contact. “As long as it takes,” you whispered as the image of a happy, young Japanese woman in 40′s clothing flashed in your mind.

The first sign was Bucky tensing next to you, going so still he could be mistaken for a statue. You flicked your eyes to backscatter without hesitation, eyelids closed as you searched every direction, not that you had to look very hard.

Logan was frozen maybe two hundred feet down the path, nostrils flaring and brows drawing low over his eyes.

What surprised you, though, was the metal attached brutally to his skeleton. You’d heard the rumors and scavenged what information you could on the Weapon X program (only to shut it down if you found any traces of it, not that you’d been successful in either capacity). Still, seeing it in person- well, mostly in person- was something else entirely.

You tensed and stood slowly. Bucky was already on his feet and staring down the road at exactly where Logan was, though you knew vision of him would still be blocked by the trees. Any second now Logan would charge through the trees and rip you and Bucky to shreds with those wicked metal-covered claws.

Logan drew a deep breath and you knew if he was any harrier than he already was you’d be able to see his hair stand on end. As it was, he was even tenser than Bucky.

The two of you had barely been able to run away last time and that was before he’d been infused with adamantium. You’d both had a few upgrades between now and 1946, but you doubted that’d mean much in the end.

When he stepped forward calmly, almost serenely, you couldn’t help the surprise that leapt to your face. The sudden change in expression made Bucky glance down at you and, while he looked confused by your reaction, he didn’t relax at all.

In fact, his confused frown only turned into a glower once Logan walked into view.

He paused as soon as he laid eyes on the two of you, dark brown eyes assessing and less hostile than you’d expected. He was maybe a hundred feet/thirty meters away, so close you could reach him in a second if you used your cybernetics.

He looked you and Bucky up and down and you fought the urge to flinch under his stare. The last time you’d seen him he was trying to kill you, and you couldn’t even blame him. You’d just murdered his wife and unborn child, after all.

The silence stretched on for what felt like a small eternity. You’d had so many things you’d wanted to say the moment you saw him, but everything seemed inadequate now that you were looking at him, the weight of your sins bearing down on you like a physical weight.

Then, “Guess I owe Romanoff ten bucks.”

Your eyes widened in shock and even Bucky shifted next to you. You opened your mouth to ask... something, anything... but Logan was already turning away from you and walking towards the house. The old fashioned doors didn’t even have a lock; he merely slid the bamboo doors open and stepped inside, pausing only long enough to take his shoes off.

You and Bucky stared after him in stunned surprise, not expecting that sort of reaction in a hundred years.

“You comin’ in or what?” came a gruff, half-yelled question from inside the house.

Bucky looked at you, uncertainty narrowing his eyes and making that ever-present tension return twofold.

“I doubt you two came from god-knows-where just to sit out there and gawk at my house like a coupla idiots.” He sounded even more annoyed this time.

Your legs moved of their own accord, not having listen to any conscious command from your mind. The house loomed over you as you walked closer but you didn’t dare stop now, afraid you’d turn and run if you stopped to think for a moment.

Bucky was silent but you knew he was following you; he’d already agreed to do this with you, after all, no matter what came.

The house was traditional in nearly every sense of the word. The flats you’d been wearing came off instantly (you felt more comfortable without shoes on, anyway) and Bucky’s muddy, scuffed boots followed a half second later. You used backscatter to find Logan and tilted your head in the right direction so Bucky would know where to go.

You’d half expected to find a TV or refrigerator or microwave, but every modern appliance was missing. The sitting room Logan was in had a tatami mat floor with a single low, long table and a few pillows for sitting. The floor and table were nice, obviously hand-crafted with care, but the pillows were old and raggedy.

Logan was already sitting at the far end of the table, looking almost lazy as he leaned against it, though his eyes were sharply assessing as you and Bucky appeared in the doorway.

“So? Who am I talking to? The Barneses or the Winter Soldiers?” he asked, tone carefully neutral, almost disinterested.

You winced and opened your mouth to speak, but no sound came out. All of those hours spent agonizing over what you’d say, how you’d apologize, and now that you were finally here-

Logan scoffed and reached into a small box on the table. Bucky shuffled, obviously expecting a weapon, but your hand on his arm stilled him instantly.

“Guess that answers that,” he said flatly. Logan pulled out a long cigar and cut it with the tip of a metal-covered claw, which peeked out of the skin between his knuckles and flashed ominously in the low light. The sharp edge disappeared back into his skin, though, and you and Bucky both relaxed ever so slightly. “Sit down, assholes,” he said gruffly as he placed the cigar between his lips and lit it with a match from a book he pulled from his pocket.

You and Bucky exchanged a glance. You could tell from a split-second assessment that he was still unsure about how this would end. But... if Logan was going to attack he would have by now... right?

A second later you stepped forward, tugging a reluctant Bucky with you. You sat at the opposite end of the table from Logan, who was watching the two of you closely.

You settled down on a lumpy pillow and Bucky sat down next to you, forgoing a pillow in lieu of being as close to you as possible. You could tell he didn’t like having his back to a door, but the walls were made of paper and thin wood- it wasn’t like you couldn’t make an escape in any direction if the need arose.

The silence stretched on again, with neither you nor Bucky able to come up with a coherent sentence. Logan puffed quietly at his cigar, seemingly content to let the two of you stew in silence.

“Y’know, if I got cell service out here I woulda called Rogers and Romanoff by now.”

You and Bucky froze again, eyes widening slightly. It was Bucky who managed to talk first. “You’ve been- They contacted you?” he asked, not quite able to keep the fear out of his voice.

Logan let out a long exhale and you fought the urge to wrinkle your nose at the smoke. “They thought you two might come knockin’. Guess they know you better‘n ya think.” That made both you and Bucky clam up, unsure of what to say next. This wasn’t going how either of you thought it would. When it was clear neither of you would speak any time soon, Logan let out an annoyed huff. “I don’t have enough saké for this...” he muttered, running a rough hand down his face. When he looked at you again, his eyes were a bit harder. “And I don’t got all day, either. Speak up or I’m kickin’ you out.”

You frowned and reached for Bucky’s hand, needing the comfort it provided to get you through what you were about to say. He met you halfway and gave you a gentle squeeze that bolstered you enough that you were able to find the courage to speak, though your gaze was fixed on the table.

“How much do you know?” you asked, almost fearing the answer.

Logan puffed on his cigar and took his time responding. “Natasha and Rogers handed me a file. Told me everything they knew, which I’m guessing isn’t even the half of it. Still, there were enough damn nightmares in that folder that, for the first time in seventy years, I didn’t wanna kill ya.” Your and Bucky’s gazes flicked to him then, surprise lining your features. Logan took one look at you and scoffed. “Don’t go gettin’ all doe eyed, ya damn idiots. You’re way too old and badass to be lookin’ like that.”

Your mouth twitched up in a sort of aborted smile, but your frown returned with a vengeance. “We’re sorry. I know words can never make up for what we did... what I did-” Bucky made a distressed, angry noise beside you, but your gaze was glued to Logan. “-But we are.” You scooted away from Bucky and got on your knees, then slowly lowered your forehead to the ground, hands set on either side of your head. A second later you felt Bucky shift next to you and you could glimpse him mirroring your position out of the corner of your eye. Lowering his guard like this in front of Logan must have been killing him, but he stayed doggedly in place.

For a second, there was only the sound of Logan smoking his cigar, but you didn’t have long to wait. “Dogeza? Really? Get up, you fucking idiots,” he sounded irritated and conflicted.

You raised your head at the same time Bucky did and immediately gravitated back towards his side. His arm was around your waist a second later and you practically melted into his side.

Logan was glaring at the two of you and you fought the urge to grab Bucky and run. He seemed to take a moment to gather his thoughts before he spoke again. “I know what happened wasn’t your damn fault. That much was clear.” Another pause, then, “A lot of shit happened after that night. The kid lived, then tried to kill me at least a half dozen times. I got experimented on. Fell in love a few times. Got married to a woman who wanted to kill me. Joined the X-Men and dealt with their bullshit for a few decades...” he trailed off, annoyance obviously growing by the second. He blinked once or twice and seemed to refocus on you and Bucky. “Point is, between what’s happened to me and what Rogers and Natasha told me... I ain’t gonna hold it against you.”

You knew you were staring at Logan, slack-jawed, but you couldn’t help it. Never in a million years did you expect this response and- “But how, Logan? I killed her and she-”

Logan’s face turned thunderous. “If you could go back right now- to that night- would you do it again? Slit her throat with her own katana and leave her to die in a pool of her own blood?”

You flinched as if struck by a physical blow, memories flashing behind your eyes. “No-” your voice failed for a second and you had to swallow thickly. “No, I wouldn’t- I don’t want to-” Your words failed you again and you barely registered Bucky pulling you to his chest.

Logan’s face returned to something a little more neutral. If you weren’t mistaken, his deep brown eyes were a little sad. “Yeah, well, there’s the answer, right? Wasn’t you; wasn’t your choice.”

Bucky was running his hands gently over your arms, an obvious attempt to ground and comfort you. Your eyes, however, were fixed on Logan’s deceptively relaxed form. “But I did it,” you breathed. Now that Logan had all but forgiven you, you found yourself at a loss. Why didn’t he hate you? He should. You should have just stopped talking and taken what he gave you, but you almost needed his hate. You deserved it.

“Yeah, you did.” His voice was carefully neutral, not accusatory, just stating a fact.

“Then why?” Your voice was strained, your mind unable to process what was happening.

Logan sighed, wafting a large plume of smoke into the room. “Nah, we’re not gonna talk each other in circles all night. I’ve said my piece and you’ve said yours.” You stared at him, wanting to say more, but he continued speaking before you could. “How’d you find me? More of your tech mumbo jumbo?” 

The sudden change of subject had you reeling and Bucky recovered before you.

“Wade,” he said hoarsely.

Logan looked truly annoyed now. “Wade? As in Wade Wilson?” he growled.

Bucky’s smile was more of a grimace. “The one and only.”

“And how the hell does that bastard know where I am?” He looked peeved at the very prospect.

You shrugged. “Dunno. I asked if he’d seen you around lately and he said he’d- and I quote- ‘ask Tin Man to call in a favor with Wheels’.“

Logan groaned, took the cigar from his mouth with one hand, and ran his other hand down his face in exasperation. “I hate that kid. Doesn’t know when to shut up... S’pose he could be worse, though...” The look on Logan’s face was a little haunted and you wondered, momentarily, what Wade had done to him. When you’d talked to him a few weeks ago Wade had been polite to a fault, if not a bit weird. You’d had trouble keeping up with whatever he was talking about, but the moment you’d asked for help locating Logan he’d said “Whatever it takes to help move the plot along! You haven’t had a new chapter in weeks!” You’d stared at him as though he’d grown a second head, but he got on his cell phone and within ten minutes you had Logan’s location. One long drive and a nauseating boat ride later and you were in Japan.

Logan groaned and nearly bit his cigar in half. “Shit, I need to move. I just finished the damn tatami, too.” He ran a hand over the mats covering the floor, scowling at them as though it was somehow the floor’s fault.

You grimaced. “Sorry. I didn’t know how else to find you.“

Logan waved a hand, dismissing your apology. “It’s done now. Didn’t plan on stayin’ here forever anyway.” He reached the end of his cigar and snubbed the end against his palm, wincing only slightly before placing the small, gently-smoking end on the table.

You shifted nervously, unsure of what to do now that you’d more or less gotten your thoughts and feelings across to Logan. Bucky ended up deciding for you and stood, extending a hand to help you up once he was on his feet. You stared at the paper wall, trying your best to avoid Logan’s assessing gaze and Bucky’s concerned looks. “We’ll... be on our way, then. We don’t want to impose any more than we already have. Goodbye, Logan.” You turned to leave with Bucky following closely behind, but Logan’s gruff voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Wait.”

This was it. This was when he unsheathed those deadly sharp claws and tried to kill both of you. You tensed and turned around slowly, not wanting to startle Logan into attacking any sooner than necessary.

“I’m sorry.” Logan’s face was twisted into a grimace, as though the words hurt him to say.

Those two words shocked you so thoroughly that your arms dropped limply to your side and you felt your shoulders slump. You knew your mouth was open and your eyes were wide but you couldn’t do anything about that just then.

Logan’s dark eyes met yours and you could tell it was him that was having trouble keeping eye contact now. “I shoulda looked for you. Both of you.” He glanced up at Bucky, who shifted restlessly next to you, likely caught even more off guard by Logan’s declaration than you, as they’d never really gotten along. “By the time Dugan told me what happened, Rogers had already put the plane in the ice. I knew it was suspicious that we hadn’t found either of you, even if it was in the middle of nowhere. I was one’a the only people who probably coulda found ya, and I didn’t. Didn’t even try. I shoulda-” he growled, and reached into the cigar box, prepping his next cigar in a flash. Barely a few seconds later he had the fat cigar in his mouth, scowl lining his brow.

“Thanks for saying that, Logan, but it ain’t nobody’s fault but Hydra’s.” Bucky’s voice was the softest you’d ever heard it when speaking to Logan and the shorter man glared at him, probably feeling as awkward as Bucky had felt at Logan’s words.

“And Logan?” you said with a small frown.

“Mm?” Logan grunted, brown eyes flicking back to your face, brow quirked ever-so-slightly in question.

“If you ever want to talk- or need some backup- you got two people who understand and will be more than willing to help.” You tried to give him what you hoped was a kind smile, though happy expressions were hard to make unless it was Bucky eliciting them.

“Not that we’re exactly the picture of mental health,” Bucky added dryly.

That, at least, drew an amused snort from Logan. “You and me both, pal,” he said gruffly. “So, what? You gonna give me some piece of crap cellphone with your number in it, too?” When you raised an eyebrow Logan rummaged around in one of his jacket’s pockets, eventually managing to extricate an ancient flip phone. He held it in the air and waved it once before shoving it back in his pocket. “Rogers gave it to me in case I managed to get a lead on you two.”

That made you frown and you fought the urge to fry it to pieces; that would almost definitely lead to a fight between you and Logan. However, you had a hunch that you were eager to prove. “But you’re not gonna tell them anything.”

Logan sighed out a puff of smoke. “Nope.”

Bucky tilted his head to the side and regarded Logan with a quizzical expression. “Why not?”

It was only after he took another puff of his cigar and blew it into the air that he responded. “Because you don’t wanna be found.”

You and Bucky stared at him for a moment then exchanged disbelieving glances before returning your gazes to him. “Just like that?” you asked with a small frown. It was too good to be true. All of this was. Neither of you were that lucky. Hell, Logan wasn’t that lucky.

Logan’s gaze turned hard. “Guess there is one more part. If you two go off the rails again it’ll be my duty to stop you.”

You felt your blood run cold at the thought. As far as you knew, the number of people who could stop you and Bucky could be counted on your hands at this point. One of them was definitely Logan.

It made sense, though. He was honorable. By letting you go now he was at least partially responsible for anything you did from this point onward. If Hydra got a hold of you again or if both of you regressed... he’d hunt you down.

“That’s fair,” you said after a pregnant pause, mouth in a hard, grim line. Bucky shifted restlessly next to you, upset at the prospect but knowing that, ultimately, it was probably for the best. “I don’t think either of us would want-” you bit your lip, eyes once again falling to the mats.

“If we become the Soldiers again, that’s for the best,” Bucky said quietly. You glanced at him, but he was staring Logan dead in the eyes, jaw set grimly.

Logan nodded once to him before his eyes flicked to you, features softening a bit. “Go on, then. I’d offer you a room fro the night, but I know you’re itching to get outta here.” The words could have been harsh, but they were said with just a bit too much fondness for them to come off that way.

“Thank you, Logan,” you said earnestly. Bucky nodded his agreement, blue-grey eyes tumultuous.

He barked out a laugh. “That’s not my real name, y’know.”

You frowned, not in on the joke that had made him laugh. “I wasn’t aware ‘Logan’ was a false name.”

Logan’s grin turned a little smug. “Name’s James.”

That drew a startled laugh out of you and even a glance at Bucky revealed his lip shad turned up in a begrudging smile. “‘Course it is...” he muttered, not quite managing to sound annoyed.

Your laughs quieted after a moment, leaving an uncomfortable silence in their wake. Unspoken comments about how rare laughs came these days and how young you sounded when you did hung stale in the air between you, but you put on a small smile. “See you ‘round, Jimmy,” you said, tossing him a wink you hoped was playful and not flirty before turning and heading for the door.

Bucky snorted and you could hear Logan groan. The guys didn’t speak for a second (you were sure you’d be able to hear them through the paper-thin walls if they had), but after a pause, Logan grumbled a “See you, bub,” which was the closest you’d ever heard Logan get to sounding fond when it came to Bucky.

Another pause, then, “Be safe, old man.”

An annoyed grumble. “I only got thirty five years on ya, ya fucking shithead.”

You couldn’t help the smile that came to your face. That was so close to how you remembered their interactions being back in the day that it nearly shocked you back seventy years. The sarcastic response you were half expecting didn’t come, however, and Bucky was beside you a moment later, taking his time to lace up his boots carefully while you waited just outside the door, watching the area for any threats.

“Ready to go?” he asked a moment later as he stepped up beside you. His blue-grey eyes searched your face for any flicker of emotion that would set off warning bells, but for the first time in a long time, your head wasn’t a complete mess. Or, at least, you had one burden among hundreds taken from your shoulders.

“Yeah, Buck. Let’s go home.”

Next Chapter

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[igottoomuchwriting]

We’re Alright

The scene was domestic, more so than Race could fathom Spot being.

It was about ten when Race had come home to Spot cleaning.

It was ten-thirty when Race joined him, sweeping and singing whatever came up.

It was eleven when they met in the middle of the living room, tired hands soft to the touch. Spot had placed his head on Race’s shoulder, arms wrapped around his waist possessively. Race placed his head on Spot’s head, hands gently gripping his waist. They danced to Ed Sheeran, Sleeping with Sirens, whatever their combined playlist would turn on. Whispers of the outside world softly carried into the room, through their heads, but locked out of their hearts. Race embraces the whispers, listened to the ones in his head.

He spoke, gentle. Words that they have never spoke for as long as they have known each other.

“I love you.”

It should have let the night end how it was now- soft, gentle, quiet.

Race never would have guessed it would have set off a bomb.

Spot stopped and pushed Race away by his shoulders. Race stumbled back with a shocked look.

“What the hell, Spot?”

“Don’t say that!” Spot snapped. Race started at him with a look of hurt and anger.

“An’ why the hell not?”

“‘Cause ya fuckin’ don’t!”

“What’re ya going off ‘bout, Spot? I wouldn’t’ve never said it if I didn’!” Spot shook his head, balling his fists up.

“Just stop talkin’, Race, for once in yer goddamn life,” he growled, accent coming out thicker and thicker.

“Why are ya so against this?!” Race yelled, just short of screaming.

“‘Cause I know ya don’t!” Spot yelled back.

They stared at each other in anger, both heavily breathing. The music was still playing in the background, but the soft song had no place in that room. Race had no idea how long it had been before Spot turned and stormed out.

Race made no move to stop him, just angrily glared at the front door of their apartment.

This is not how he thought this night would go.

Race’s phone rang at one in the morning. When Spot left, Race had started pacing. He flipped over the coffee table and threw a pillow at a wall. He was never violent, but he had to let out some energy before spending an hour listening to the playlist that he and Spot made together.

It hurt, it really did, but he didn’t want to turn it off; it felt like the music stopping would be an end to everything they built together.

It took a few seconds for Race to pick up the phone. He held it out of the last second before reaching over to the other side of the couch and answering.

“What?” he snapped in a scratchy voice.

“Anthony Higgins,” he heard Jack growl on the other side. “Why the fuck is Spot Conlon, your boyfriend, sittin’ on my couch and glarin’ at anything that moves?”

Rich breathed a heavy sigh, running a hand over his face.

“We’se got in a fight.”

“I got that,” he retorted. “I wanna know ‘bout what?”

“I’se just… I told ‘im I love him, an’ he yelled at me, so I yelled back.” He heard jack sigh and could just picture how mad he must have been when his brother showed up on his doorstep, angry and heartbroken.

“Davey’s talkin’ to ‘im right now, tryin’ to get his-” he stopped short. Race heard a faint voice call Jack’s name. “Hang on, Racer,” he mumbled.

It was a few moments of Race listening to voices in the background, sometimes hearing “Spot”, “Race”, and “panic”.

“Alright.” Jack spoke into the phone, snapping Race out of his daze. “Here’s what’s gon’ happen. I’m gon’ ta hand the phone to Spot, and you two are gonna talk it out.”  Race snapped forward in his chair, panicked.

“What? No!”

“Yes,” Jack growled back.

“Jack, I ain’t gon’ do that. He-”

“Is just as hurt as you are, Race,” he heard Davey say. Race shook his head, even though they couldn’t see it.

“It’s okay, Racer,” Davey continued softly. “Spot has calmed down and is ready to talk, and he wants to explain his reaction.” Race pursed his lips before letting out a sigh.

“Put ‘im on,” he whispered.

He heard some shuffling and muffled voices. Before he could change his mind and hang up, his boyfriend’s voice came through the speaker.

“Hey.” Race frowned at the tired and pained voice he hear, suddenly more worried than nervous.

“Hey,” Race whispered back. It was a few moments before Spot spoke.

“I’m sorry.” Race opened to say his usual reply, it’s okay, when he stopped himself.

They needed to talk this out.

“Why did’ya keep on sayin’ I didn’ love ya? A simple ‘I’m not ready’ woulda done it,” he lazily joked, forcing a chuckle. He heard Spot take a sharp inhale of breath.

“I, uh… panicked.”

“Why?” Race pushed.

“Cause no one’s eveh’ said they love me.”

“Ya shoulda said that it scared ya, Spottie. I woulda understood.”

“Nobody fuckin’ panics when their boyfriend says they love ‘em. I ain’t about to admit that I’m terrified o’ three words.” Race took a deep breath, trying to keep his emotions under check. He was glad that Spot was trying to speak his mind, but it always upset him when he started talking bad about himself.  

When they had started dating, they kept the playful hitting and shoving in their relationship. About a month in, Spot had convinced himself that he was abusive because of it, and it took two months for Race to convince him that Race wasn’t actually being hurt, that he would playfully hit Spot as well.

“Spottie, a lotta people is scared of love. It’s a scary thing ta give ya whole heart to one single person.” Spot said nothing. There was a tense silence.

“Do I have’ta say it?” Spot finally whispered.

“No, of course not. I won’t say it again, I don’ wan-”

“No, fucking hell, I mean…” he paused. “Do I have ta verbally say it? Or is there…” Race answered his unasked question.

“I’se sure we can find a nonverbal way ta say it, if it makes ya uncomfortable.” Even though he couldn’t see him, Race just knew that Spot was smiling.

“Alright.” he whispered.

“Now hows ‘bout you come home? I think we’ve had a long night.”

“Please for the love of God, go home!” Race heard Jack yell in the background. Before he would ask how he heard Race, Spot was already cussing him out and threatening to ruin all his paint.

Race listened to the brothers bicker through the phone, chuckling to himself as Davey tried to quiet them down as “it’s two in the morning, Jack!”

They were gonna be alright.