Curious, Xan takes the parcel, turning it over in their hands before giving it a gentle shake to see if they can work out what’s inside, but – no such luck. They grin at Seb, who grins back (foiled again; he knows better than anyone how to keep a Moriarty on their toes), and slip their thumb under one of the edges of the paper, slowly peeling the sellotape back. Jojo, balanced on their hip, reaches out a tiny hand to help. Xan laughs, and together, they pull the string off and let the leaves of paper fall open.
“Thank you.” Xan is touched by the gift. Seb gets a one-armed hug, and the string is pressed back into his palm. “You keep this. For the cats. Saves throwing it away.”
@epiitaphs [CONTINUED] send 😡 for an angry text from my muse
[to - ak (ignore)]: next time maybe don’t look so fucking smug with a camera around and you won’t have to hear from me
[to - ak (ignore)]: would it have killed you to wait five more hours?
[to - ak (ignore)]: of course it would, you’re allergic to any sort of decency. you specifically, because i fucking know you’re the architect here.
[text: s. moran] Didn’t know there was press around, did I? What am I, fucking psychic?
[text: s. moran] Also quick reminder that you don’t get to tell me what to do
[text: s. moran] Can’t handle the pressure, don’t go into politics
[text: s. moran] I did my job, which is to make Fergus look good. Couldn’t care less about your lot.
James’s expression was closed as Sebastian lingered in the bathroom doorway. He nodded him on his way, reassuring him again that he wouldn’t be long, but then, as he was bundling the dirty bed linen into the laundry basket and changing the covers, a secret smile broke across his lips. Sebastian really had done very well, even better than he’d predicted. A pleasant surprise. The professor tucked the corners of the sheet beneath the mattress, smoothed down the duvet and the pillows, and stepped back. That was better. Running a hand through his tousled hair, he reached for his dressing gown, hanging up on the back of the bedroom door, and still knotting it ’round his waist, made his way through to the bathroom. Sebastian had earned a further reward.
The bathroom was full of steam, the mirror already fogging up while Sebastian continued to fiddle with the taps. The bath was only about half full, so James put a hand on Seb’s hip and leaned in to kiss the fading bruise on his neck. “In.” He spoke softly, even gently, but there was no mistaking the command in his voice. James sat down on the edge of the tub and took a cloth from the basket on the counter, unfolding it fussily in his lap. Slowly, he bent down to soak it in the warm, frothing water, rolling his sleeves up above his elbows so they did not get wet, and without a word, began to wash the back of Sebastian’s neck and shoulders, the last remaining area of tension. Under the guise of getting him clean, he worked patiently at the knots in his muscles and was pleased to see Seb’s shoulders drop a little every few minutes. “Good,” he said again, and gave him another kiss.
This process was repeated till all of Sebastian’s top half was clean. James wet the cloth, washed him off, paying a maddening amount of attention to even the smallest areas, and kissed his soapy skin when he was done. To wash from the tops of his arms to the tips of his fingers, he had to kneel down on the tiles, reversing the normal order of things, but he knew, after the last week, Sebastian needed this. Needed more from him. He reached Seb’s wrist, washed the back of his hand, his palm, and every finger individually, and kissed the place where his veins forked under the skin. “Now the other.” He started with his fingers this time and worked his way back up to a standing position. “And up. I’ll need you in the shower to do the rest.”
Left on the kitchen counter next to an expensive bottle of red wine and the keys to her fancy bike from Tony:
James,
Maybe, in some perfect miracle, you will get to read this. Somehow the last five years without you have been far heavier that the decades I lived alone. It was easier to forget about you than spend every moment wondering if there was a way to get you back. I know I’m not alone, I haven’t been alone for a long time now but you have no idea how empty the world can feel when your family is ripped from under you.
If you are reading this, then I’m sorry. I’m sorry to leave you without a goodbye. After everything though, I might have managed to do something good with my life. Also, please avoid space if you can? Not recommending a trip with the raccoon anytime soon.
Take care of yourself, but more importantly take care of Steve. It was a long five years without you down here, and I’m not sure I’ve seen him smile right since you left.
Do me a favour? There’s a small blonde Russian girl somewhere out in the Midwest who’s going to need a friend. She probably doesn’t understand yet the weight that can come with grief like ours, and that revenge will only make it worse. Help her to find a better life than the one we had, she’s earned a break from the pain and suffering. Maybe this could finally be the end of it all.
Be mean to Clint, he’ll miss being teased.
I love you, James. More than anything. More than the stupid cat. I told you once that any decent memories I had were merely lies… now I think that’s not accurate. Those times with you, they were real. It was real to me, to have someone to make it bearable. Thank you, for all of it.
@epiitaphs sent: [ groom ] sender tries to make receiver look more presentable (seb+jim /reversed/)
A few weeks into their little trysts and it’s still an ego trip to talk a politician so concerned about scandal into a mid-afternoon meetup at a fancy hotel. Even if Jim Moriarty is the last person on Earth in need of an ego boost, he’ll take it. Sprawled out on the king-sized bed, Jim can feel the pleasant ache of their antics sink in. It’s nice. Each twitch of muscle and tenderness of bruised skin ground him in his body. He stretches out like a lazy cat, tapping away on his phone, flipping between important emails and social media as Sebastian tries to put himself back together in the bathroom.
An amused grin spreads across Jim’s lips when Seb emerges, “Oh dear. You’re not going back to work like that, are you?”
He shifts up to kneel on the edge of the mattress, luxury sheets falling away, revealing a mural of tattoos interspersed with red scratches and marks left in Sebastian’s wake. The sheet pools around Jim’s waist. He knows his angles and knows how to play them up for the perfect pose, turning a disheveled mess into something controlled and tempting.
“Come here.” He purrs, reaching out to tug Sebastian closer by his waistband. Jim takes his time. He buttons up the last few buttons of Seb’s shirt, laying the collar perfectly to hide any signs of indecency, before setting about tying the tie with expert skill. It’s almost a sort of hypnotism, the beginnings of a ritual. Jim’s hand moves to Sebastian’s chin. “There. That’s better.” His touch slides across Seb’s shoulder, down his arm, smoothing out his shirt at the perfect, calculated pace to solidify the gravitational pull between them.
“You sure you don’t want to stay~?” Jim asks sweetly, even as his arched brow and smirk test Sebastian’s priorities.
five times kissed ( selectively accepting! ) / @epiitaphs said:
❝ Five times kissed. ❞ ( for KATE & SEB )
i.
Kate didn't taste like herself. Sugar and spice and all things nice. Or, sweetened coffee with just a hint of cinnamon. She smiled and leaned in again, and Sebastian got bubble gum?
“Who is she?” He sounded amused.
She reached up and undid the middle buttons on her shirt in between more short kisses. Receptionist at a law firm. Tight skirt. Texting instead of answering the partner’s phone. Making him think he stood a chance every time she bent over the photocopier, but only actually after the seven figure contract in his office.
Blue silk slipped to the carpet. She grabbed him by the hair and began to mouth at his neck and collar as he took off her skirt. “Whoever you want her to be as long as you hurry the fuck up.”
ii.
It wasn't the same, but it was all she had been able to manage when she arrived: a “😘 x” at the end of a text to let him know she'd touched down safely. When she turned her phone back on, she saw his response.
SMS ( Vastya ): Stay safe. See you soon.
No kiss, but she liked the certainty with which he'd written it. They would see each other before too long. And when she opened the door, he was there ready with a, “Welcome home,” and she seized his face and pulled him into their first real kiss in over a week.
iii.
“You know, when they say, you may kiss the bride—” She gestured to the white dress, smeared now with scarlet, and fixed Seb with a stern look. He, already lying in a hospital bed, had the good sense to look appropriately cowed before she hit him with her bouquet. “—They don't mean the fucking kiss of life.”
Another day, another disguise. This time, she'd roped him into it too. Mr. & Mrs. Smith-ing it. But the concern on her face was all Kate's own when, before she'd even made it down the aisle, he'd been shot. The bullet had pierced his spleen, which the surgeons had taken out, while she waited in the relatives’ room, looking like a bloodier version of Miss Havisham.
She thumped down onto the mattress beside him, rose petals spilling all over the floor, eyebrows impressively furrowed. Even when she kissed him, lips brushing his forehead, her expression didn't lose any of its severity. “Don't scare me like that again, do you hear me? Another near death experience and I'll kill you myself.”
iv.
His mouth was soft on hers, sometimes, but that never made up for how sharp his tongue could be. He kissed her now, fingers pushing her hair back, palm cup around her cheek, and it felt like he meant it, but how could she be sure? Kate remembered them standing in the living room, her alternately tight-lipped and screaming, holding a glass of wine, while he, coldly, clinically, reeled off a list of her faults.
“If that's all you have to say about me, that I'm two-faced and delusional, why did you stay so long?”
“Wishful thinking, I suppose. And you were convenient.”
It was not a word that would ever leave her.
She twisted her face away, put a firm hand on his chest to stop him from trying again. “We’re not doing this just because I'm here and you're here and you're lonely. Only kiss me again, Vastya, if you're sure you really want me.”
v.
He must have known, when he said she could choose the music, this was what he was going to get. Madonna. Whitney. Heart. He was marinating beef skewers in their kitchen ( God, how domestic life had become since that unexpected rendezvous in Paris ) while she did her best to distract him.
And when the night falls, my lonely heart calls.
She knew all the words, of course. Grabbed at his hands, fingers just missed by the sharp knife as he cut another cube from the joint, and dragged him into the middle of the floor. “Oh, I wanna dance with somebody. I wanna feel the heat with somebody …” Wicked grin, hips rolling up against his. Sebastian wasn’t much of dancer but he could always be convinced.
His hands slid round her back, pulling her flush against him. He lowered his head and kissed her, teeth scraping over her lower lip. He was hungry, she supposed; she had, after all, interrupted his preparations for dinner.
a meme i can’t find
for: @epiitaphs
verse: hydra
status: always accepting
Bucky looked at her int he darkness, and she would hear his arm whirring. It was almost soothing by now.
“ Y’know I named myself Alex. That wasn’t the one my folks picked. I fucking hated my name.”
It was more honesty that she had given anyone in years. A piece of her actual life, not the shattered glass remains hydra had tried to piece back together. She borrowed her brows a little remembering every time she had gone out of her way to correct people as a child. A stubborn streak that was all but gone now.
“ I hated my mum, really.”
Maybe she still did. It was hard to tell, the few good memories of an easy life clouding her judgement.
“ They took everything. Even the name I chose, they twisted it so that it hurt to hear my own bloody name. I don’t know if not knowing would have made it easier. It all seems to end the same either way.”
letters to the baby | discord letters with @epiitaphs
ALEX
Written in French with scrawled handwriting, parcelled with two intricate throwing knives. Sent 1815ish.
**
Child,
Hope you are well. Hope you are not too bored or missing us. Hope you haven’t lost your mind with the whiny woman yet. I saw these and thought of the kids, although they might be young still. It is hard to remember, time moves so differently.
I would say you are missed but that would be an exaggeration. I think the Roman is growing soft without you for sure. We spent some time moving through Waterloo, if you have room for us we might head towards you. The fighting has taken it out of the mountain, not that he will admit it.
Promise not to bleed on your carpet, although I can’t promise not to scare the children.
A
SEBASTIAN
written in light, almost spidery handwriting, though not cursive
1815
**
Celia and I are well, neither of us having lost our minds in our time here. It is very peaceful, as is what we desired. I cannot say I don’t miss the mountain or the rest of you, but it is not so bad that I wish to give this life up.
The gifts for the children are much appreciated, though they are far too young to use them. I will keep them safe until they are old enough to learn how to use them properly.
Tell the Heathen he will see me again some day. Soon, if you come to visit. I have told Celia that you may come by and we will have room for you if you want it. I have heard of the fighting and am certain that if I was there, the wars would be less of a mess. But I want to try the quiet life.
Don’t scare the children too much, please. They are small still.
Be safe and well,
Sébastien
ALEX
Good. I’m glad. I don’t know about you but peace never felt so loud as it did when you spend so long away. Know that if you ever need an escape, I al sure the others would take you on in a heartbeat. I, however, would insist on a little more training to whip you into shape.
It would be smart to teach them sooner rather than later. Soon the fact you do not age will be noticed. I believe I lasted longer with the doctor for there were no children involved. Helped keep up the rouse.
I am not sure what the plan is. The Roman talked of finally seeing what is left of Rome, although I doubt he will be pleased. He is missing his other half again, so it seems we are in for several decades of distress on that front. It would be nice to have you around to take out some frustration.
Is the doctor with you?
A.
SEBASTIAN
I would hardly expect to spend time in your presence without receiving more than a little training from you. Will it ever be enough to meet your standards? I know how to use a firearm now. I am interested in seeing their development over the years, even if I am not there to use them for a while. But I will keep the offer in mind if I ever find myself losing interest in peace.
Undoubtedly it is. We are hoping, of course, that they will not need training, but once our oldest gets a little more coordinated, I will begin training. We will figure out what to do as they age and we do not, though the isolation of our home should give us adequate time to plan.
I doubt he will be. Even when I was young, the city was populated by ruins of the Latins and I cannot imagine that time has done well by those ruins. The ones that die and reappear are a great mystery to me. I do hope he is able to find who he's looking for, but just leave him with August if his mood disturbs you too much.
He is with us from time to time and has been a great help in dealing with the children. Do you have any messages for him?
Sébastien
ALEX
Good. Then you are well trained indeed. You will meet my standards when you die, and even then you will be a disappointment for being dead. Besides, if you die I will have to put up with a grieving gladiator and that will not do.
Firearms are something to be sure, but far too slow to beat a bow. I could have ten men dead to your three, if you were a decent shot. I cannot see them lasting.
Isolation is a pipe dream, you are too connected to your beginnings. The past is dead, let it die. Ghosts can drive you mad if you let them. If you intend to train them then I shall have to stop by and ensure they know better, of course.
I am hoping to sell him on a detour or I might have to abandon them altogether. There are rumblings of anarchy all across Europe, but I fear I miss london. I have been away too long.
I wondered if he might be. He does know the most about mortal lives, I am sure having him there is some comfort. Only that I hope he is well. He was always a delight with children, I bet he is enjoying time with you all. Far softer than I.
Watch your back with the girl. Peace changes you, and it is a fickle thing.
A
SEBASTIAN
Thank you, I will treasure the compliment for its rareness. I will treasure your next remark far less, but that does at least give me an idea of what I can strive for. It really will not do. If he is so old, how is he one of the most emotional out of us?
They are slow, it is true. But they do a lot of damage. They have also improved from my time to now, so I have hope for the future. I will track their development, I think. I am a decent shot. I have learned. I think they will last. We can wager on it, if you like.
We are living far from our homes in the north. It will be alright. My past is dead, but my home is still extant in the present. If you could check in on it sometime this century, I would appreciate the favor. You are all welcome to stay, of course. Of course - you are welcome to assist in their training, though I suspect Celia will want to keep them innocent a while.
I'm sure it would be quite alright to abandon them. Every single one of you is capable of causing trouble on your own, so I imagine that they would find their path quite well even without you. Do you plan to return to London any time soon? I hear it is much changed these days.
He does. And for that I am very thankful. I will pass on your wishes. It is nice to see him with them. They are comfortable with him. Far more than I have ever been around a doctor.
I know how to take care of myself, but thank you for your concern.
Sébastien
ALEX
I do hope that the Romans softness is not a factor that comes with age, although you are sentimental far far younger. Maybe it a a holdover from his first life, or simply the time spent alone until Morland found him. He had children I believe. He may be of more use to you than I.
I’ll agree to your wager, although I have a feeling your family might not appreciate the bodies we would leave behind in testing out my prowess.
For once, you are smart about settling. I shall check in on our route back potentially, I think we are likely to ride through France depending on which trouble we decide to cause. How old are the small ones now? I was raining with knives from my sixth summer, it has never done me any harm.
Maybe. I was last there before we sailed, I have not frequented it without the doctor. The last time I was there it was so different from the city I had known, although the blaze was breathtaking.
Good, I know he will be needed as they age.
I am aware you know, but that doesn’t mean you do. She is a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
