#I had to put these together for myself after referencing them all tiny in that one gifset with lucas and erica lol

[emblazons]

Matt Duffer definitely wrote the "we could play DnD and Nintendo for the rest of our lives" line, there is no question in my mind

(bonus points for his expression in the second gif) from: Beyond Stranger Things (+)

[darling-wendy]

rei and miri's physicality: a chronological analysis (part 2)

Part one is here.

I accidentally missed this one from episode 3, and I am kicking myself because it is such A Moment, so I'm putting it here since I maxed out photos in part one.

Miri insists that the whole family sleep together, and what are Rei and Kazuki gonna do, say no? This moment is later referred to by both Miri and Rei, so it clearly left an impression. I genuinely wonder if they ever did it again or if the one time was so impactful. Anyway, I die at Miri's tiny fingers being curled around strands of Rei's hair.

Episode 7!

I think this is the only time we see Rei carrying Miri to the outside of the apartment as they're leaving the house, and I don't think Kazuki has done it either, so it was probably him trying to save time by running down with her since he believes they're running late for daycare.

Just more of Miri casually climbing on Rei again. After Rei heeds her comment (by ordering fries lmao. Rei, you disaster), she beams and clings harder.

Side note, it's funny how the cat shirt is clearly an indoor garment for him. He was sleeping in it and stopped to change into the purple shirt to take Miri to daycare despite running late (or so he thinks). He then he changes back into the cat shirt after they return.

In contrast to episode 3, this time when Miri climbs in the tub to sleep with Rei, he lets her. She probably wanted company after Kazuki "abandoned" them (and perhaps Rei did too).

Miri nuzzles Rei's hand in the cutest, softest, and most heart breaking way when he touches her head and asks if she's sick, and I hate that I don't have a gif of it to put here.

Once again, Rei picks her up so carefully :<

And this time he doesn't change his shirt. He just wraps Miri in a blanket and runs to Kyu 🥺 Look at his face, he's so worried about her.

Kazuki returns and finds them like this and it's so soft. Rei fell asleep kneeling at Miri's bedside, holding her hand. That's not a comfortable position to fall asleep in, even for Rei. The doctors probably reassured him that it was a typical cold that little kids will often get, but he was so worried, he kept a vigil by her bedside.

Episode 9! A big chunk of the episode is dedicated to Rei getting comfortable to open up more emotionally and have more confidence in his ability to be there for Miri. And then it culminates in the parent-child race.

Little kids using their whole hands to hold a couple of their dad's fingers is a very specific uwu button, but it sets me off every time. Not only was this moment referenced in the OP, it's also one of the only ones that's a direct scene lift

I love that they writers had the two of them hold Miri by the hand and carry her. That's such a gooey parent thing and I love to see it. I always wondered if it wasn't technically cheating, but never mind that, Miri got her medal lol.

Side note, Rei and Kazuki simply looking at each other and knowing exactly what they're both going to do--and them dusting all the others despite having fallen well behind--is so dear to me. Partners in work and childcare.

Piggyback! Now Rei has carried her in all possible ways. Not sure why Kazuki apologised for having Rei carry Miri when the stuff he's holding looked way more cumbersome to me lol. I personally thinks Rei enjoys carrying Miri around, especially when she's sleeping. Just a hunch.

Episode 10! A bittersweet one. Though not in terms of physicality for these two. Rei doesn't hug Miri to hide tears the way Kazuki does. He instead just lets his sadness show openly (well, openly behind Miri's back).

But back on topic. We get yet another instance of Miri's favourite way to rouse Rei out of sleep lol. I know it's Rule of Funny, but seeing Rei get more flustered by a pre-schooler jumping on him than by him walking into a hail of gunfire is golden. It also makes sense given his upbringing.

These are from two separate scenes, but I'm putting them together since they're so similar. The first one in particular is so sweet to me because Rei typically has both hands in his pockets. Here it's like he left one out so as to let Miri still have an outlet for the skinship that she loves to initiate. She's always mentioned how cool it is that Rei is so good at games, but the second one has more pure adoration than any other time. And Rei, more open with his emotions, is soaking it up. (Lol poor Kazuki)

Episode 11! Miri and Rei don't have have contact in the actual timeline of the episode's events, but we do get one amazing flashback.

I've gone back and forth between deeming this a flashback of unseen events and as a representative image of a concept Rei was thinking about. It kind of has the same filter as one of the quick flashbacks Kazuki has later in this scene. So, fuck it. It's a flashback. They swung her around again because she loved it so much the first time (and they're enjoying it too).

Episode 12!

Ten seconds in, we get one final 'Miri jumping on Rei to wake him up' gag to play us off lol. Great work, guys.

Miri helps Rei cook French toast for breakfast again, and this time they get Kazuki approval. High five~

I'm spit balling here, but my read on this is that Rei thinks Miri is asking that Rei pledge he cut his pinky finger if they break their promise. That's a thing the yakuza still do for infarctions and the only other time I've heard 'kejime' come up in a similar context was Higurashi, when Shion was being made to rip off her fingernails in penance. And it would perfectly explain Kazuki's reaction lol.

Another 'people's hands feel warm' moment, I'm sure. Once again, look at the size difference between their hands! 😭

Into the future, they remained sleeping buddies. And it's all the more significant that he's letting her rest entirely on his left arm. Rei has gone from sleeping in the bathtub in paranoid fear of ambush to napping in the open with his only working arm being restricted and probably gone numb from Miri lying on it. They're free 🥺

[elementaldoughnut12]

"Second Chance With My Universe "

*This is the first introduction to my oc Max Hartwell! Please be nice! Also listen to "Don't You Dare (Make Me Fall in Love With You)" by Kaden MacKay cause that's what's referenced in here*

*I'm tagging @afterdarkprincess cause she's been excited to read this and cover art is by @switchbladebc whose oc Ashley inspired me to make my own oc fic!*

Mox got a text from Claudio saying something about them getting a new BCC member and if Mox is being honest...he doesn't think they need another young talent when they already have Wheeler ripping through the roster. Mox walked to the BCC locker room thinking about ways to scare off the new recruit when he opened the door and his heart stopped.

"M-Max!?!" Mox said while looking at the man whom he was crushing on for twenty years. It felt like opening a time capsule for Mox when looking at Max. Back then when he and Max went into wrestling together, Max was just this tiny little gym rat that cried whenever they lost a match and Mox had to comfort him in his arms. Now, Max was bulky and had facial hair. The only way he knew it was Max was by his long hair and the giant burn scar on his back.

“Looks like the guest of honor has finally arrived” Claudio says, which snaps Mox out of his shocked state. Max turns around and a big smile is spread across his face. “Jon!” Max says as he runs towards Mox and gives him a huge hug. Mox grunts a bit from the tight squeeze but wraps his arms around Max nonetheless. Max is 5’8 so his fluffy hair tickles the bottom of Mox's face a bit. Max even stills uses the same shampoo that gives off a mango scent which was Mox's favorite. 

“N-Nice to see you too Max umm I-I thought you were only working on Collision?” Mox says which earns him a laugh. “Yeah I was but Chuck wanted me to work with someone who I knew so he asked Tony to put me on Dynamite and on the same schedule as you! Can't you believe it? The “Lunatic Lovers” are back together baby!” Max says happily as he jumps a bit in Mox's arms. Mox thought his heart was gonna explode out of his chest with happiness after he heard those words. 

“You guys used to be a tag team?” Wheeler asks curiously. Mox felt cold when Max released from his embrace. “Fuck yeah we were! Kid, me and Mox started together in the independent circuit when I was fifteen and he was eighteen and we had the most hardcore matches ever! I called myself the “Canadian Cannibal” cause I was born in Québec until I got adopted by Chuck's family and moved to Ohio at ten. Moxie here was “Unscripted Violence” cause you never know what he's gonna do! We called ourselves the “Lunatic Lovers” cause we were crazy as hell and everybody always thought we were together. 

We traveled everywhere together and we even went to be a part of the Shield in WWE! We both left in 2018 and I worked indie shows all over the fucking map until my brother got me here!” Max says with enthusiasm. “Sometimes I had to hold him after we lost matches cause he cried” Mox says with a laugh. Max gasped and punched Mox in the arm. “It's ok to be sensitive asshole! Not everyone can be emotionless like you!” Max says with a pout. 

“Will bunking with me tonight make you feel better?” Mox says with a blush. “Yes it would! Plus you're cute when you get embarrassed!” Max says with a laugh. Mox was about to say something back when there was a knock at the door. The door opened and it revealed Max's older brother, Chuck Taylor. “Hey little bro you're going against Alex Reynolds in five minutes so get your little butt ready when I walk you to the ring!” Chuck said. 

“I'm thirty-five! I don't need my big brother holding my hand and besides I'm ready!” Max says while showing off his gear. He was wearing a pair of black trunks with red splotches on them to represent blood splatter. The trunks also had the BCC logo on the side and they showed off Max's bubbly ass which Mox tried to not look at. To top it off, he wore a pair of chunky black knee high boots with white laces. He also put on wrist tape similar to Mox's style which made him blush. 

“Oh yeah? Seems to me that you're chatting with your boyfriend” Chuck says with a smirk. “Fuck you! Besides aren't you fucking Orange?” Max says back with a laugh. “Yeah? Still doesn't help that you're still a virgin” Chuck says causing Max to blush with embarrassment. “Can we go to the ring now?” Max says quietly. “Sure, you guys better take notes cause Max is gonna murder this guy!” Chuck says, causing Max to jump with excitement. “Hell yeah I am! You guys make sure the little tyke doesn't get scared watching the gory parts!” Max says with a laugh.

“I'm literally only eight years younger than you!” Wheeler says angrily. Max looks Wheeler up and down. “Nah! I know a twelve year old when I see one!” Max says with a laugh. “Max is right Wheeler… you do look twelve” Mox says causing Max to laugh even more. “Moxie gets it! Ok, time to brutalize a sex cult member! You gonna watch me on the screen Jon?” Max asks Mox with a smile. “D-Definitely! Wouldn't wanna miss you for anything!” Mox says while blushing immensely. 

“Awesome! See you guys in twenty minutes!” Max says as he kisses Mox's cheek and walks with Chuck to the ring. Mox holds his face and is blushing immensely with a lovestruck smile on his face. “Why does everyone think I'm twelve?” Wheeler asks with an irritated tone. “I don't think that's the hot topic of the evening Wheeler” Claudio says as he motions towards Mox. “What are you… oh! Mox has a crush on Max!” Wheeler says, causing Mox to glare at him. “Yeah so what? It's nothing major” Mox says as he looks at the screen…

“The opponent! Accompanied to the ring by Chuck Taylor! He's from Québec, Canada and weighs two hundred and ten pounds! He's the “Canadian Cannibal”... MAX HARTWELL!” 

Mox watches on as Max and Chuck walk down to the ring as “Cannibal” by Kesha plays on the speakers. Max slides into the center of the ring and crosses his arms above his head. When the peak of the song hits he puts his crossed arms over his chest and makes a rock and roll gesture and sticks his tongue out. “Fucking dork” Mox says with a quiet laugh. “You seem to really like him, Mox” Wheeler says with a smirk. “You don't know the whole story Wheeler” Claudio says as they sit on the couch with Mox. 

“Love how you guys are talking about my love life when I'm right here” Mox says while not taking his eyes off the screen. “How did you guys actually meet? He said you guys went into wrestling together but how did it all start?” Wheeler asks curiously. Mox takes a deep breath and sighs. “Well, it started with me living in my car after my mom's latest boyfriend beat me to hell and kicked me out of the house. I did little house show gigs around the map to get by and shit. I was just a dropout who everyone assumed will never get anywhere.

One day, I was in a gas station bathroom in Québec getting ready for a show and I went outside to leave and I found him. I watched as his old man threw him out of the car and onto the snowy ground and drove away. I ran over to check on him and Jesus fuck, he was bruised up and had a giant cut above his eye. I put his bag in my car and put him in the front seat. I patched him up with a little first aid kit I had in my glove box and he just stared at me and asked me why I helped him. I told him that nobody deserves to get thrown out like trash. 

He just smiled at me and hugged me and this is the first time I ever met him and fuck, I fell in love with him at that moment. I took him to the show with me as a last minute tag team debut and our chemistry was perfect together. Shit, we even won that night! We took our winnings and ate at some crappy diner and we just talked. He told me that his dad was training him before he got kicked out and I asked him if he wanted to come with me and do house shows together. He agreed and he has never left my side since.” He finished with a nostalgic smile on his face. 

“How come you never asked him out or anything?” Wheeler asks confusingly. Mox's smile turned into a regretful frown. “I'm afraid that I'm gonna fuck it up again cause I didn't save him then so what makes him believe that I wouldn't just repeat what I did back then?” He says sadly. “Is that about the burn scar on his back?” Wheeler asks and receives a small nod from Mox. 

“We were in a deathmatch and our opponents handcuffed me to a corner of the ring and made me watch as they set Max on fire. I heard him screaming and crying and calling my name. They immediately stopped the match and uncuffed me and I went with Max to the hospital. I apologized for not saving him and he said it wasn't my fault but it was… IT FUCKING WAS! Maybe if I was more aware of my surroundings then it wouldn't have happened.” Mox says as he feels tears start to form.

Wheeler and Claudio look at Mox with concerned faces. “What is Max doing?” Wheeler asks as he points at the screen, trying to change the conversation. Mox wipes his eyes and looks at the screen. “He's about to do his signature move!” He says excitedly as he jumps out of his seat. They watch as Max gets on the top rope, jumps, does a flip across the ring and stomps right on top of Alex's head. He then goes for the pin and wins the match. 

“Fuck yeah! That's my angel!” Mox says then blushes when he lets Max's nickname slip. “What even was that? I've never seen anything like that!” Wheeler says in shock, pretending to not notice the slip-up. “That's Max's signature move! It's called Toxic Shock! He's been using that move since our indie days and it knocks them out everytime!” Mox says proudly. “I remember he did that move on me and it gave me a concussion” Claudio says, causing Mox and Wheeler to laugh. 

“Hard to believe that's Chuck's little brother but wait a minute… he never told us why he's called the Canadian Cannibal?” Wheeler asks confusingly. “Just watch the screen and see for yourself” Mox says with a smirk. They sit back down on the couch and watch the screen. The match is over but they see Max hovering over Alex. They see him put something in his mouth, grab Alex by the shoulders and bite into his neck. 

Claudio and Wheeler watch in shock as Max sinks his teeth into Alex's neck and causes him to scream. Max then proceeds to pull his mouth off of him, leaving a giant bleeding bite mark and smiles. They see Max is wearing a mouth guard that looks like fangs and is covered in blood. He then does his signature hand gesture and leaves the ring. “Holy shit” Wheeler says in shock. “That's Max Hartwell for ya! He always knows how to impress people…” Mox says with a smile.

“You gotta ask him out, Mox! You two are perfect together!” Wheeler says, looking at Mox excitingly. “I already told you Wheeler I'm afraid to ask him out cause I don't wanna fuck up again” Mox says as he turns of the tv. “That was a long time ago, Jon. Like you said Max never blamed you for his injury and he still cares deeply for you. It also seems to me that you still care deeply about him too. So don't let this second chance slip past you.” Claudio says to him with a smile. 

Mox looks at Claudio and Wheeler and sighs. “Goddammit, I hate when you're right. So how should I ask him out?” he asks expectantly. “You can slip a love letter in his gym bag!” Wheeler says excitedly. “This isn't high school Wheeler” Mox says with a chuckle. “Worked for me and Danny” Wheeler says embarrassingly. “Just tell him how you feel Jon. You never had a problem with expressing your feelings before. You've waited twenty years so I think you deserve to be with him. You do love him don't you?” Claudio questions him.

“With all my heart…” Mox says truthfully. “It's settled! Mox is gonna ask out Max and we're gonna watch from afar! Let's go!” Wheeler says excitedly as he pushes Mox out of the locker room. Mox gives a look to Claudio, which causes him to laugh. “He just wants you to be happy Jon” He says with a smile as they leave the locker room. Mox looks around the arena and spots Max talking to Chuck in catering. He looks back behind himself and sees Claudio and Wheeler failing to hide behind a wall.

Mox takes a deep breath and walks closer to Max. “Max!” He says to catch Max's attention. Max smiles and runs over to hug him. “Jon! Did you see me out there? Told you I would kick some ass!” He says excitedly as he lets go of Mox. “I think you gave Reynolds rabies Max” Mox says, causing Max to laugh. “He kinda deserved it cause he was talking shit about you! Nobody deserves to say anything bad about you!” Max says protectively, causing Mox to blush a bit. 

“You know you don't have to defend me all the time Max. I can handle myself you know” Mox says with a smile. “I care about you too much to not defend you Jon” Max says with a hint of blush on his cheeks. Hearing that from Max makes it even harder for what Mox is gonna say. “I actually w-wanna ask you something Max” he says nervously. “What is it Jon?” Max says, beautiful green eyes staring into him. Mox can feel his anxiety take over and does the unthinkable. 

“I-I'm sorry I gotta go!” Mox says as he runs away from Max. He runs out of the arena and makes it to his car. He leans against the side and feels tears start to form in his eyes. “GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!” he says angrily as he harshly kicks the tire of his car. “I had one shot to finally get with the guy I've been in love with for twenty fucking years and I fucking blew it” he says as he starts to cry. He takes out a pack of cigarettes and his favorite lighter. 

He leans against the trunk of his car and takes a drag of his cigarette. He wipes away his tears and looks up at the starry night. “Why can't I just say I love you to you Max?” he says with a sigh, not knowing someone is listening to him from afar. He stubs out the cigarette and pulls out his phone and pulls up a music app Wheeler helped him download and plays a song. He knows he's not a good singer but it always made Max smile…

“Don't you dare make me fall in love with you

Don't you dare enchant me with those eyes

If I fell through your skies,

There's no way you would catch me

There's a tear in my heart,

But your patch wouldn't match me

Being near you still adds to the size of my sighs,

There's still seismic events at hellos and goodbyes,

And I still need reminders of why it's unwise

To stare

So..."

“I always thought you had a good singing voice even if everyone else says you're shit” Max says, causing Mox to jump. “Max! How long have you been standing there?” Mox asks with a blush. “When you ran off I came to check on you. Do you really love me Jon?” Max asks curiously as he sits on the trunk of the car. “Yeah, I always did” Mox says as he lights another cigarette. “For how long?” Max asks as he inches a bit closer to Mox. “Since we met twenty years ago” Mox says as he takes a puff.

“How come you've never said anything?” Max says, causing Mox to sigh. “I was afraid I was gonna fuck up again” he says as he takes a drag. He was gonna take another puff when Max takes it and takes a puff instead. “Jon…” he says seriously, inches away from Mox's face. “The accident was never your fucking fault. You were handcuffed so you couldn't have done anything! You have been making yourself suffer for so long not even knowing that I felt the same way about you! Knowing that now… it kills me” Max finishes as he takes one last puff and stubs the cigarette out.

Now knowing that Max has felt the same way after all these years makes Mox feel like an idiot. “You know what? Fuck it!” Mox says as he leans in and kisses Max deeply. The feeling of his lips against Max's feels like he's floating in space. He puts his hands under Max's ass and lifts him into his arms, causing Max to yelp and wrap his arms and legs around Mox. He looks up to see Max crying. “I can't believe it took you this long to do that” Max says happily through tears. “I'm sorry for making you wait so long angel” Mox apologizes as he kisses Max's tears away. 

“You gonna ask me out or what? You only kissed me but you still haven't asked me out to make it official” Max says with a laugh, causing Mox to roll his eyes. “Max Hartwell, will you be my boyfriend?” he says with a gentle smile and a blush. “I thought you'd never ask” Max says as he dives in and kisses Mox. “Wearing tight ring shorts that rode up my ass to the ring all these years finally paid off huh?” Max says with a smirk, causing Mox to hold him tighter.

 “Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?” Mox questions with a smile. “Am I still bunking with you tonight? Now that we're officially together I think you deserve all of me Jon” Max says with a blush. Mox just smiles and looks into his boyfriend's eyes. “I got a second chance with my universe didn't I?” Mox says truthfully. “You sure fucking did” Max says as he leans in for one last kiss. 

Mox is excited for what's to come later when he takes Max to the hotel but he's even more happy that he finally gets to be with the man he's been in love with for so long. He never thought Max would ever reciprocate his feelings for him but holy fuck he was wrong. He never wants to experience a world without Max ever again. So he's just happy he got a second chance with his universe…

[danggirlronpa]

After several months of forgetting, and then finally starting to get stuff together only to forget what day of the week it was: Merch Monday has officially become Merch Whatever-Day-I-Remember (Ideally Monday When Possible). But I AM finally back on it!

[Ko-fi to Support This Project]

And of the things that are overdue, the Chiaki Zine is having their leftovers sale, so it seems like about time for me to do a write up on it!

Firstly, the zine itself!

I love this zine. I don't consider myself a Chiaki stan, but this is one of my favorite zines I own. And while of course part of that is from a fantastic set of art and writing, a LOT of it is because of the theming. I had expected the video games to be a loose theme, but it was very tight - every single piece prominently featured a game, and the only repeats were in easter eggs like the Pokemon plushies in this Sims piece.

As someone who makes and loves video games, it was so cool paging through this and seeing all the references. They're all done with exceptional care. It takes a moment to figure out some of them just because of adjustments to match Chiaki's visuals (it took me a long time to figure out this was Sims because of the UI not being blue!) but most clock on sight.

There's a list of all the games referenced in the back so that you can check against yourself. The only thing I wished for was some sort of reference for which games were on which page, so that you could get the general sense of the ones you didn't recognize to investigate further. The theme makes this zine feel incredibly tight and well-crafted, in addition to the zine itself being high quality without any immediately noticeable defects.

This print is one of the things I was most excited for with merch! It has started to bend a bit now that it's been a few months, but not more than any other print I own. It's nice and smooth, texture-wise. And really cute!!

These stickers are very cute (for some reason I forget to get a picture of the larger Pokemon sticker sheet? Hopefully I'll remember to grab another one before this post is scheduled). The Smash Brothers are SO tiny!! That's not a bad thing, I just hadn't expected it. I picked up Sakura's Peach since she's my own Smash main (and namesake!) and Aoi's Daisy, and then my favorite fight girls. Part of me does want to order a couple more so I can get the super interesting concept of Mario Chiaki/Peach Sakura and my other main Isabel/Kaede. The stickers themselves are only 50 cents each, not counting whatever shipping!

And here is the keychain! (With Mario Chiaki and Peach Sonia this time! The tangled webs our Mario AUs weave.) This is actually one of the reasons it took so long to review the zine, as when I finally opened it up, it had a big crack across it. They got me a replacement more or less as soon as they switched shipping mods, and I had no trouble with the new one! I wasn't actually that excited about this keychain, but it's really growing on me.

I honestly didn't expect to love this zine as much as I do. It's so cute, and lots of love and care was obviously put into it. I have no significant complaints about it or its quality. I would definitely recommend grabbing it while you can!

[noa-nightingale]

Unsolved’s Last Episode

What a journey it has been. And now it is over and I have to find ways to deal with that. So I decided to do what I do best, which is rambling about things I love, finding meaning in them and trying to get that meaning across in a way that is probably way too earnest and too emotional.

Let’s take a close look at the last Buzzfeed Unsolved episode, Return To The Demonic Sallie House.

I watched this alone. I stayed away from tumblr, twitter and discord on purpose. It was midnight in Germany when the episode aired and it was about 1 a.m. when I went to bed. I decided to go to sleep immediately after I watched the episode without talking to anyone about it, and that’s exatly what I did.

I wanted to cry but I did not manage to do it. I just lay in the dark, stared at the ceiling and had a lot of thoughts in my head.

So, let’s unpack this.

The Sallie House! Where it all started! And the second demon ep of the season! They really decided to go out with a bang.

I don’t know why I thought I would be able to get through this without getting my heart broken - it already started in such a wonderful, beautiful, sad way. Shane reading what Ryan said the last time at the Sallie House. The handshake. The trip via plane and car (loved that tiny bit of footage of their journey there). Shane making Ryan say “And now I’m back” with confidence.

“What a weird mix of emotions, to be sad, happy and horrified.” Lord, that hit me in the feelings. Ryan, I hope everything you went through and everything you experienced was worth it to you. And I really hope you know how much it means to people.

(I have my own weird mix of emotions attached to that episode now - sadness, excitement, joy, happiness, grief, gratefulness, love.)

I loved how they kept referencing the first investigation without making this episode feel like “just” a copy of it. It’s an entirely different vibe, a strong, fantastic episode in its own right and a worthy goodbye.

(And I also have to mention that little conversation about Shane laying on the pentragram. Look. Listen. I am asexual as hell. I am the most asexual asexual who has ever asexual-ed. I have not experienced one single sexual attraction in my entire life. It’s just not part of my experience. But putting yourself on a pentagram in the basement of a demon house while yelling “Rock’n’roll buckaroo” at whatever entity might listen - that is, respectfully and platonically, friggin’ sexy.)

“It just occured to me, we don’t really talk on the phone to like, just see what’s going on, because we see each other every day.” Oh dear God, it’s still happening. ^-^ I was reminded of the several times this has been brought up before - that they see each other more than any other person, that they spend a shitton of time together, and that even during quarantine they facetimed almost every day. Idk it just made me even sadder - they made memories together, went on this journey together, got closer as friends, grew as people; and now this show is over.

I am beyond grateful that Watcher exists and that Steven Lim (because goddamn, I love that guy) exists and that new memories will be made, but I am still so damn sad.

“It felt like the right time to leave on our own terms.” I am gonna ignore for now that he said this to a demon - I am just happy for them. This episode is such a great ending for such a great show, and I am glad they could do it on their own terms.

(Although I am a tiny bit salty that they apparently could not promote Watcher the way they should have been able to. Having to cut parts from the postmortem etc. But I once again have to give kudos to the Watcher fandom here; I have seen many people promoting the hell out of Watcher, and that is a beautiful thing.)

Ryan: “If that actually is a demonic presence in here, or Sallie, the thing that says it’s Sallie, can you turn the light on?”

(light switches on immediately)

Ryan: “Oh fuck off.”

I almost laughed out loud (had to stop myself, did not want to wake my roommate or my cat) but he said that in such a genuine, emphatic way and it was funny as hell.

“An audio recorder left in this room would later pick up the musical mobile playing by itself. Making this evidence even more compelling is the fact that seconds before the mobile plays, a white orb moves across the top right corner, just near the mobile that is out of frame.”

This narration brought to you by Ryan “Not An Orb Guy” Bergara. :p (I am not gonna razz him too much though - we know he presents evidence (or “evidence”, if you are a Shaniac) and then let’s the viewer decide what to make of it. He’s just reporting the findings. And yeah, I think that is admirable. Also, I know it has been said many times before but hats off to those guys for not faking evidence. Best ghosthunters in the world indeed, and I mean that.)

I also love that Ryan considers Shane a ghost cage (and an organic ghost cage, at that). Shane Madej, organic ghost cage. Put that on a lower third somewhere.

I generally don’t get that scared while watching Unsolved but the little girl turning into the demon thingy - the visual itself - is a tiny little bit disturbing when you watch this stuff at midnight. (I still slept soundly though lol. Did not have any nightmares.)

A thing that is just really endearing (and a little bit funny) to me is Shane sitting on the counter in the kitchen, with his long legs. Compare that to Ryan sitting on the table, with his little legs. ^-^

Also, compare Season 1 Ryan to Ryan now. He would never have mocked a demon in its own house and now look at him, drawing that portrait of Sallie. Yeah, I know it is silly but I am so incredibly proud of the guy.

Aand into the basement we go. And almost six years later, they are still a package deal. *noises of ugly crying*

He’s on the pentagram! I repeat, he’s on the pentagram!!! Never thought I’d see the day. Like, good God, this guy. The character development. The courage. I am blessed to be allowed to witness it.

AND THE BOYS ARE SALLIE APPROVED! GREATEST GHOSTHUNTERS IN THE WORLD! I AM SO DAMN HAPPY FOR THEM!!

That’s some well-earned cheering right there. Genuinely happy for them. Loved this moment.

We have reached Shane’s solo investigation and I got, once again, punched in the heart when Ryan said “So long, friend”.

And I know I am “just” watching Shane doing what Shane has done for all this series - being rude to demons and ghosts, yelling at them, telling them to do stuff to him and to wreak havoc. But it’s the last time now and it’s difficult to watch. I am happy for him - he defeated Annabelle, he defeated the Goatman and now he defeated Sallie.

“You’re a big nothing! You’re powerless in the face of the ghoul boys!” Hell yeah!!!

And, for the last time, they are doing the little dance of Shane telling Ryan he heard some spooky stuff that he did not actually hear. My heart can’t take it, it’s too much, I don’t want this to end.

Really enjoyed how Shane admitted that it is a spooky house (always has been, always will be). Like, that seemed like a genuine moment he had outside by himself there.

And now, Ryan’s time alone in the Sallie House.

I adore how brave Ryan as gotten, how he developed as a person, how things that would scare him in earlier seasons do not scare him as much anymore - but I have to admit, the moment in the kitchen when he told whoever was there not to show itself was fucking delicious. The fear in his voice. I don’t want this to sound mean but I adored that little moment.

“I am not my fear. I am stronger than my fear.” We love to see it. Genuinely.

I had to giggle when he started laughing maniacally by himself. I am sorry, it is just too hilarious and endearing at the same time.

And he went into the basement alone!!! <3 <3 <3

Shane: “How’d it go?”

Ryan: “It’s over.”

Shane: “It’s over.”

Ryan: “That’s how it went.”

Shane: “You ended it.”

Just... let me cry in peace.

I had to stop myself again from laughing out loud when Shane lay down with the two dolls next to him, aaannnnddd the framed pic of the ghoul boys near where Ryan slept was just a very nice little touch, honestly.

And it is over. It is morning, the “the investigation is done” music starts to play in the background and the series is complete.

... And Shane killed the spirit box. That happened too.

Before I write the last words here like Ryan said his speech at the end of the ep, let me just say: I loved this. I loved this entire episode. And I love these guys. From the bottom of  my heart.

“You believed in us. And for that, I will always be grateful.”

I did. And I do. And many more people do too. And you made me cry. Thank you.

“And sure, we may have never definitively answered the question of Are Ghosts Real. But in the end, in perhaps fitting fashion for a show that finds resolution in the unresolved, all I can say is I’m sure glad we didn’t, because the pursuit and the friendship made along the way was far more fulfilling. I hope the ride was as joyous and full of discovery for you as it was for us. That being said, I ask you one last time: Are ghosts real? For now, and perhaps forever, the answer will graciously remain Unsolved.”

I hope you know how many lives you changed and how many joy and happiness you brought to people, both of you, and the rest of the team. I have seen many many people say how this show helped them through dark times, helped them make friends, made them happy, and was deeply deeply meaningful to them.

The same is true for me, I just never know how to adequately put it into words. This changed my life for the better. It was a light in dark times. It made me braver. It made me better. I can’t thank you enough.

And they could have ended it here, after the “Unsolved”. But nooooo, he had to say more heartfelt words and Shane had to say more heartfelt words and that was what truly made it real for me. It sank in at that point, that this is the end of an era and that this chapter of their life and this chapter of my life is over.

Ryan’s words just really touched me, and it also touched me how intently Shane listened. And Shane can’t tell me that he was not moved as well. Package deal, bond that can’t be broken, best ghosthunters in the world.

(And I would also like to report that while writing this, my dumb stupid eyes finally cooperated and I cried. Thanks for everything, guys. I will keep the memories with me forever while making new ones with Watcher, and I love you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.)

[cozy-the-overlord]

Happiness

Summary: A daughter of Thanos, Eija had grown accustomed to the isolated nature of life on the Sanctuary. Only when her father orders her to keep watch over an injured prisoner does she begin to realize how lonely it is.

Written for @lucywrites02′s Lucywrites19 Writing Challenge on prompt #6

Word Count: 4,078

Pairing: Loki (Marvel) x OFC

A/N: Lucy: *puts together a list of really nice, sweet, loving prompts that would make for some wonderful, fluffy fics* 

Me: And I took that personally

Honestly, this turned into more of a separate challenge for me to see if I could take a fluffy prompt and write an angst bomb. I can say I’m both pleased and thoroughly ashamed of myself.

Happy Birthday, Lucy! I hope you don’t hate me too much after this one ...

Warnings: Implied/referenced torture (it’s not super graphic, but it’s definitely there), blood/injury, character death

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @the-emo-asgardian @imnotrevealingmyname

If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :)

Read it on Ao3!

“Are you happy, child?”

It wasn’t the type of thing Eija had expected the hulking warrior to ask a street urchin like her, especially not after catching her wrist in his pocket. Really, she should have known better than to try to steal from someone so clearly capable of crushing her skull within his fist, but his golden armor had glistened so temptingly in the sunlight and besides, she had never been caught before …

When he caught her wrist and yanked her in front of him, Eija was sure that this was the end. The penalty for stealing was steep to begin with, but stealing from a noble (and certainly this man must have been a noble) could lose you your head. But he said nothing of punishment. Instead, he curled his purple lips into a smile and asked her that question.

“Are you happy, child?”

No one had ever asked her that before. No one ever really asked her anything—the most Eija ever got were the curses spat at her on the street, on the luckless days when pickpocketing had brought her nothing and she was forced to beg for sustenance. No one cared enough to ask after her.

No, she told the warrior-noble, no, she wasn’t happy. She was hungry and tired and cold, and she didn’t have money to buy food.

The towering creature laughed, caressing the brilliant hilt that hung at his waist. “I thought not. Come,” he said, stepping forward and motioning her to follow. “I have something for you to eat on my ship.”

…

Eija tugged at the laces on her boot. She had tied and untied them three times already, but she could think of nothing else to do in this tiny room, so she went in for the fourth. Besides her, the Jotun sagged against his braces in the metal chair, his labored breathing the only sound to break the stillness. He didn’t look very Jotun. Lord Thanos had explained that it was some kind of enchantment—the AllFather had magicked away his blue skin when he was a baby to make him look more Asgardian. Eija didn’t really understand the reasoning behind such an action, but she didn’t need to. Her job was simply to make sure he survived the night.

It was a frustrating assignment. Eija wasn’t a healer—she had no idea what she was supposed to do if death came knocking for the prisoner. Unfortunately, she wasn’t exactly an assassin either, and so unlike the rest of her adoptive siblings her role on the Sanctuary wasn’t considered to be of critical importance.

So here she was. Babysitting.

The Jotun groaned. It was a soft noise, but it was enough to rip Eija’s attention away from her shoes. He shifted against his restraints, but there was no force behind the movements.

“Hey,” she called. “Are you awake?” She shouldn’t have been talking to the prisoner. Somehow, she knew Lord Thanos wouldn’t like it if he were to find out. Still, the metallic room housed a lonely existence, and Eija was desperate for any kind of distraction.

Although the prisoner didn’t exactly seem to be the ideal conversation partner. He flinched at the sound of her voice, his feeble movement falling still as abruptly as it began. Perhaps she should have gone back to her laces, but Eija was intrigued. She left her stool to stand before the Jotun, peering down at him through his shackles.

“Are you awake?” she asked again. He didn’t respond. His eyes were closed, his head hanging limply against his shoulders, as if he hadn’t just been rustling about. The thought of some grand Jotun (Asgardian?) prince trying to trick her by playing dead was so comical that Eija had to bite back her laugh.

“Hey,” she said instead, trying to add some of that Black Order sharpness to her voice as she tapped his arm. “Knock it off. I know you’re awake.”

He looked up at her then, his movement slow and labored. It almost made her wince, just looking at the way he struggled to open his bloodshot eyes. Lord Thanos had allowed Proxima charge of the Jotun today, and she had clearly made the most of it—his face was so swollen that she never would have recognized the man Corvus had pulled out of the depths of space only a week ago.

“What do you want?” he whispered, voice low and hoarse. He was making a valiant effort to control his breathing, but Eija knew the look of fear when she saw it. She had seen it in the faces of almost everyone who found themselves in the presence of Lord Thanos and his children, although those faces were never focused on her. This must have been the first time she was the cause of such terror.

It was an odd feeling. Eija wasn’t sure she liked it.

She shrugged, dropping the serious tone. “I just wanted to talk to someone. It gets very dull in here.”

The prisoner only stared at her.

No, not the ideal conversation partner at all.

Eija sighed. It seemed she’d be returning to her shoelaces in short time after all.

“Can you tell me your name at least?” she asked. No one had mentioned it yet, and Eija had been afraid to inquire. Lord Thanos hadn’t been particularly happy when he gave her this assignment—his anger had been more directed at Proxima, for nearly killing the prisoner, but Eija didn’t want to give him a reason to turn on her. She wasn’t often the target of the Mad Titan’s fury, but the few times she was were enough of a lesson for a lifetime.

But the Jotun made no response. “Is this a trick?” he asked finally.

“No. I’m just curious.” A strand of black hair had fallen into his eye. Eija was tempted to brush it away, but she held herself back. “I’ll tell you my name, if it makes you feel better,” she offered.

She waited a moment for him to give some kind of answer. He didn’t.

“Eija,” she said. “My name’s Eija.”

He inhaled. “Did he send you to kill me?”

The question caught her off guard, although perhaps it was fair. “What? No, no I’m just— no,” she stuttered. “I don’t … kill people.”

He eyed her, unconvinced. “Why are you here, then?”

“To make sure you don’t die,” she said. “They were worried, you know.” Proxima had been quite proud of herself. Eija had overheard her bragging to some of the others earlier in the day about how she had the little prince calling out for his mother by the end. They had been laughing about it, how quickly he had succumbed to childish instincts, but the thought intrigued Eija.

She had never known her mother. Before Lord Thanos had found her, she had had no one but herself, scrounging up what food she could from what she stole on the street. She never cried for anyone, no matter how frightened she was. She had no one to cry for.

She wondered what it was like.

“Are you truly not going to tell me your name?” she asked. It was a bit disappointing. She had hoped he’d be at least a little more interesting than this.

He swallowed slowly, painfully. Whereas before it seemed he was afraid to take his eyes off of her, now he seemed unable to meet her gaze.

“Loki,” he finally whispered.

“Loki,” Eija repeated. The name made her smile, although she wasn’t quite sure why it would. “It’s nice to meet you, Loki.”

She asked him more questions as the night went on—questions about his home, his family, his childhood memories. At first, he wouldn’t answer any of them. He’d just stare at her blankly as she posed her queries or whip his head away as if he couldn’t stand to be faced with the words.

So, she changed tactics. She told him about growing up on Knowhere, before Thanos found her, about how when she was not yet six years of age the man she had known as her father dumped her on the side of the road and flew away into permanent obscurity, and about how she taught herself how to reach into another’s pocket and pull out exactly what she was looking for by practicing on the other unsuspecting urchins who lived alongside her on the street. It was strange, to relieve those stories before an audience. Because he was an audience, like it or not. He was listening to every word she said, even more so, she suspected, than he wanted to let on.

When she left that morning, after Corvus came to take over for the day, her throat was so dry she could barely speak. It was a nice kind of dry, though. The Black Order never demanded her voice anyways, so it wasn’t a noticeable inconvenience.

It was worth it.

“You again,” Loki muttered when she slipped into the cell the following evening. “Eija.”

“Hey!” she exclaimed. “You remembered my name!”

“You talked a lot.” He blinked sleepily. “You had a nice voice.”

Eija stopped. She wasn’t certain she heard him incorrectly. “What?”

He yawned. “You had a nice voice.”

She felt a flush rising in her cheeks. It was quite possibly the kindest thing anyone had ever said to her, as ridiculous as it seemed. Eija doubted her siblings could even recognize the sound of her voice—if they did, it would have been to scold her for stepping so far out of line, certainly not to pay her a compliment.

“If you’d like,” she said eagerly, pulling the stool across the room so she could sit next to him. “I can tell you more stories?”

It became the part of the day Eija looked forward to most—the moments where she could talk for hours about anything she wanted, without the ever-present fear of her siblings’ mockery or the Mad Titan’s chastening. It felt … safe, in a way that she hadn’t felt safe before. Warm. She always felt so alone on this ship, wasting away whilst awaiting orders. There were points where even her own thoughts seemed to abandon her to the darkness.

But not here. Not with Loki.

He seemed to enjoy it as well. Of course, she held no illusions that he was quite literally a captive audience, but he listened. He remembered the things she said to him. On good days, he’d even ask her questions, add in thoughts and stories of his own.

“You said you don’t kill people,” he asked suddenly, on one such visit. “Did you mean that?”

Eija shifted uncomfortably. This had always been an awkward subject. “Yes,” she said. “I’m not an assassin. I don’t have the training.”

“What do you do here, then?”

She inhaled. “Steal things.”

“Steal things?” he repeated. “What kind of things?”

Eija shrugged. “Anything he wants,” she said. “Weapons, passkeys, precious gems—whatever.” She remembered that day, when Lord Thanos had taken her from the streets to his ship, what he had said as she devoured the soup his servant placed in front of her.

“I have more trained killers than I know what to do with,” he told her. “But perhaps I could use a sneak thief.”

Eija had agreed to everything he said— it wasn’t as if she was in any position to refuse him, and besides, anything had to be better than sleeping in a trash bin. And so, she became the Titan’s personal retriever, sneaking her way across the galaxy and returning with the treasures he coveted in her pockets. Her methods were straight and to the point. She was in and out before anyone even noticed her presence, and, unlike her adopted siblings, there wasn’t a trail of bodies left in her wake.

“But if your role is to steal things,” Loki asked. “Then what are you doing with me?”

Eija didn’t answer right away. Thanos had not ordered her to continue her night watch over the Jotun prisoner. He hadn’t said that she couldn’t, but she was fairly certain that he wouldn’t be pleased to find that she had. What was she doing here?

“I just like to talk to somebody, I guess,” she said. “Besides, somebody has to make sure you make it through the night.”

Although it became exceedingly clear with each passing day that such a task may be outside of her abilities. One night, she could hear his hacking all the way down the hall, rattling the walls as she rushed to his side. She found him sagging limply against his shackles, soaked in blood and sweat and goodness knows what else as he choked on his own breath.

Eija didn’t know what to do—she could only wipe the blood from his face and hold the bottle of water to his lips.

“What does he want from me?” he croaked, once he could finally speak. There were tears running down the creases of his face, although whether that was from emotion or pain Eija couldn’t be sure. “Why is he doing this to me?”

For once, she said nothing. She had no answer for him.

She tried asking Gamora once. It was no secret that the Zehoberei was Lord Thanos’ favorite—if he were to tell anyone his intentions for the prisoner, it would be her.

But the assassin gave her nothing. “He has a use in mind,” she said. “Don’t question him.”

“But,” Eija hesitated. “If that’s the case, why is he hurting him?” She gulped. “If he has a use for him, shouldn’t he be … using him?”

Gamora glared at her. “If he’s not strong enough to survive this, he’s not strong enough to do Thanos’ bidding.” Her tone lowered in warning. “Remember your place.”

Eija did remember her place. She was reminded of it with every passing moment—leashed to her lord’s beck and call, every day walking that delicate tightrope of anticipating his wishes without asserting herself too far in his eyes, living in fear of the day when the bottom finally fell through and he decided to unsheathe the blade at his waist.

Was this his plan for Loki as well? Torture him to death’s edge until it pleased him to make him yet another glorified slave? She thought of Loki, shackled to his chair, heaving and coughing up blood, sentenced to wither away until Thanos found use for him … for what? The mere crime of existence?

And here she was, letting it happen, watching as Thanos sucked the life out of him, simply using him as a receptacle to her own selfish need for attention.

She was just as awful.

But there was nothing she could do about it. Was there?

Unless …

The thought started as a hypothetical. Isn’t that how all treason began? A tiny what-if, buried under one’s daily worries? The hangers of the Sanctuary were hardly well-guarded. There was little reason to guard them, after all—few on this vessel had cause to sneak off of it, and those who did hadn’t the opportunity. And with the current position they had been holding the last few days, only a small way from the Krylor jump point, which could then take you down through one of the major galactical traffic-ways …

Stealing a ship would be almost too easy.

It wouldn’t work, she told herself as she stood amongst her siblings in Thanos’ court. The ship was one thing, the passenger was something else entirely. Loki’s chains were specifically designed by the Mad Titan to stifle the magic of that whom they held. They were the very definition of unbreakable. And the key—Thanos kept it on his person at all times, hooked to his belt alongside his blades. Any scheme was doomed to fail.

But sometimes, opportunities present themselves.

“And where are you going, child?”

Eija jumped out of her skin when she turned the corner and nearly collided with the lord himself. It took her a moment to find her voice.

“To watch over the prisoner, as you ordered, sir.”

He frowned. “That was weeks ago. You’re not still doing that now?”

She bit her tongue, so hard it hurt. “W-with all due respect sir, you never told me to stop.”

“Well, I’m telling you now. Such action is no longer necessary.”

“Yes sir.” She nodded. “Apologies, sir.”

Eija stood there shaking long after he had continued down the hall. Her heart felt as if it might pound its way out of her chest. He had to have noticed. In a moment, he’d come storming back up the corridor, grab her by her neck, and crush her skull against the wall.

But he never did.

It was just Eija, alone in the hallway, clutching the golden key between her trembling fingers.

There was little time. Her theft could only go overlooked for so long. She didn’t have the chance to question herself as she rushed to Loki’s cell—any moment spent in doubt was a moment wasted.

Loki seemed to be unconscious when she first arrived at his side, but he popped up with a start the moment she reached for his chains.

“What—" he gasped, eyes wild. “What’s happening?”

The key clicked in the lock. He heaved a breath, falling forward as the shackles fell open.

“You’re going home.” Eija’s mind was racing at a mile a minute. They couldn’t steal a Q-ship—it was too big; they’d would be noticed immediately … “Can you fly a pod?” she asked.

He gulped. “Possibly?”

“Good enough.” She pulled him to his feet. It was at this moment she became aware of the fact that she had only every seen him seated. Loki was tall. Much, much taller than her, and when he sagged against her it took all of her strength to keep him from tumbling to the metallic floor. For a moment she feared that he was too weak to even stand on his own and nearly panicked, because oh goodness how was she supposed to carry him all the way to the hanger—

But he managed to stabilize himself, gripping her shoulder so tightly that she lost feeling in it, but standing on his own. Slowly, she was able to walk him into the hallway.

The hanger was only a few floors above them, but the elevator ride felt like an eternity.

Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop …

If it stopped before they reached their destination, they were both dead.

Besides her, Loki’s breathing was labored. He hadn’t said anything since she had come to get him.

She squeezed his forearm, hoping he couldn’t feel how she was trembling like a leaf. “You alright?”

He nodded weakly. “I assume you have a plan?”

“The pods are lined on the far wall of the hanger.” She inhaled. “When the door opens, we run like mad and get you on one. And then you take off for the jump point, and don’t stop until you’ve hit traffic.”

Loki turned to her, brow furrowed. “What about you?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Me?”

“Yes. Surely you’ll not stay here?”

Eija gulped. There wasn’t time to think about that now.

The elevator doors clicked open to reveal a thicket of barbed shadows and twisted metal. The hanger was lifeless and barren this time of night, lit only by the glow of the cosmos streaming in through the glass. They made their way in perfect silence, the only sound being the pounding of her heartbeat behind her eardrums. Every dark shape seemed like a waiting figure. Now, it was Eija that clung to him too tightly, terrified that at any moment someone would jump out and rip him from her grasp. By the time they reached their destination, they were both wildly out of breath.

The pods were small, thin one-man transports. Calling them ships was really being too generous. They weren’t really meant for long term travel, but they could work for a few jumps—long enough to get to civilized airspace, which was all he needed. She helped Loki into the compartment, careful to keep him from hitting his head on the low ceiling. This damn ship had caused him enough pain already.

He sighed, leaning against the seat in one short moment of rest before turning back to her. “You still haven’t said what you plan to do.”

Eija hesitated. What could she plan to do? She had nothing waiting for her beyond this ship. As with all of his children, Thanos held a piece of her that he would never relinquish, no matter how far she flew.

“I’ll stay here,” she murmured. “For now, at least. They might pick up on something if too much is out of place.”

“But—"

“Please,” Eija hissed. “You remember what I said, right? Take the Krylor jump, and just keep towards Xandar.” She inhaled so deeply it hurt, trying to bury the aching dread building in her chest. “Stay with the crowds whenever you can—he won’t bother with you if it means he has to go through heavy populations.”

Loki nodded, but she wasn’t certain he was listening. There was a sadness behind his eyes that seemed to pierce her very soul. He squeezed her hand, pressing her knuckles to his lips in the lightest of kisses.

“Thank you, Eija,” he whispered. “May fate be kind to you.”

…

The alarm went off some hours later, when morning dawned upon an empty cell. They came for her only minutes after. Eija hadn’t been certain of what she would do—would she scream when they broke down her door? Cry for help? Fight for her life? But as the Black Order filed into her room with their weapons drawn, Eija felt only an overwhelming calm. It was good that they were here. The longer they spent with her, the more of a chance Loki had of getting away.

She went with her adoptive siblings willingly.

They took her to the same tiny room where this had all begun, shackled her to the same chair she had watched over so diligently. Eija barely registered it.

Surely, Loki was hundreds of star systems away from here now.

Surely he was safe.

When the pain did come, it filled every fiber of her being, burning through her body as if she were nothing but dry kindling. Her vision bled white. Her screams ripped her throat raw.

They asked no questions. She was relieved for that at least, because her every coherent thought shattered to pieces long before it could reach her lips.

She understood now why Loki had cried for his mother. She would have too, had she a mother to cry for. Instead, she just cried.

Eija wasn’t certain how much time had passed before he arrived. It could have been hours, it could have been months, but at some point when she dragged her aching head to look up she found Lord Thanos staring down at her, the stony weight of disappointment heavy on his features.

Gamora stood next to him. She spared a glance at her former sister, softer, sadder, almost sympathetic, before she turned back to her father.

“Sir, the Jotun is out of tracking range. There’s nothing we can do at this point.”

Out of range.

Eija thought of Loki, raven hair streaming in the breeze behind him as he pulled himself out of the craft, safe on some green, luscious, faraway planet that the Black Order could never reach. She smiled, blood dripping from her lips.

Thanos’ expression remained immovable.

“Well, child,” he finally said, looking down at her as he caressed the glinting hilt at his waist. “Look upon this mess. See what you have done. Are you happy now?” He reached out with his other hand, tipping her chin up towards him with a single finger, as if the mere thought of touching her disgusted him. “You look happy.”

Eija felt a laugh tickle her throat. It came out as more of a cough, blood and bile staining her tongue. Still, she could not bring herself to stop smiling.

“I am happy, sir.”

It was true. A beautiful warmth flooded her aching chest. She laughed again, closing her eyes and letting the feeling wash over her.

She was still laughing when the blade severed her throat. 

[huntergatherercreator]

The Takedown | Part Fifteen

Pairing: Mob!Tom Holland x Detective Reader

Summary: NYC has a new drug lord determined to wipe out any and all competition in order to grow his empire. You're going undercover to stop him.

Warnings: Maybe a teeny bit of violence?

AN: It’s been a minute since the last part of this series was posted. I haven’t written anything since then so fingers crossed this is OK.

Catch up here: Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve | Part Thirteen | Part Fourteen

Part 15 - 1,601 words

My apartment had already been too small. Now with Joe blocking the doorway and Holland practically breathing down my neck it felt tiny. Hunching closer to the laptop screen I tried to focus on the information scrolling before me. I’d pulled up the last three months worth of records detailing what cruise ships had docked and was whittling down the list slowly. There were ones we’d suspected that had already had a full background check but I couldn’t cross them off without raising suspicions.

“What’s this?” I stilled as Holland leaned over my shoulder, finger tapping at an entry. With his breath tickling my throat and the soft scent of shampoo emanating from his curls it took me a minute to focus.

“It seems like a shell company. I can try to trace it but it’ll take time.”

“How can you tell?” Suspicion was apparently his only tone tonight. I nudged out the chair beside me as an invitation. When it went ignored I twisted in my seat, intent on glaring at him until he relented, only to realise too late how close he actually was. My lips skimmed over his cheek. I could feel my colour drain as his breath caught. I made to shove back from the table but his hand caught my shoulder, holding me down.

“Trace them,” he murmured. Hands shaking slightly I pulled up a new search engine to start. Only when I started typing did he let go. Relief trickled through me but it was short lived. Dragging the offered chair to the corner of the table he slipped off his jacket and hooked it to the back before settling with crossed arms to watch me. I flicked a glance over his shoulder to Joe who threw me a wink before going back to staring out the window. Trying to shove back the humiliation I could feel creeping up my cheeks I pulled up as much as I could about the company, already knowing it’d come to a dead end.

After half an hour I read out the details I’d scribbled down, eyes firmly on my notepad as Holland questioned me. Then he chose another company. And another. On and on until we’d almost exhausted the list.

The smell of expensive coffee roused me from my notebook. I blinked and a takeaway cup appeared under my nose courtesy of Joe. I accepted it with a grateful smile and he gave me another of what was becoming his signature winks. Closing the laptop I shuffled my notes into order and put both on the counter allowing Joe to start emptying the paper bag of breakfast foods he’d bought. It wasn’t until I was up out of my chair that I realised how sore I was. Rolling my neck I rubbed at a tender spot on my shoulder with a grimace.

“Maybe you should take five to clean up?” Joe offered. My eyes automatically drifted to Holland for the first time in several hours. He looked as dishevelled as I felt. Hair unruly once again from running his hands through it every time I hit a dead end. I realised with a jolt that I was waiting for his permission.

“Good idea.” I mumbled. Quickly skirting past them both I headed for the bathroom locking the door firmly behind me. I cringed as I caught myself in the mirror. My skin was pale, tired. The tie that had been keeping my hair back had failed leaving long messy wisps falling around my face. Running the cold water I repeatedly doused my skin until I felt the last of the brain fog disappear. I needed to be on higher alert, more so than before. Holland wouldn’t keep accepting the trails going cold. There was only so long he’d sit patiently knowing Rivera was out there. I needed to find a solid lead but I wasn’t sure if I could on my own. As much as I’d learned about tracking down corrupt company details those had all been from tracing low level thugs, people who didn't have the knowledge or the money to properly cover their tracks. Rivera had both of those things. It could be damn near impossible to directly link him to anything.

A jolt ran through me. Wasn’t that exactly what Holland did? He made it impossible for anyone to get information about the next level because each of his men ran their own area. Quickly drying my face I threw open the door coming face to face with Holland.

“You and Rivera are the same,” I started the words dying in my throat as his mood visibly darkened.

“No. We’re not.” He stalked closer and it took me a second to collect my thoughts as replays of the day before hit me. My gaze flicked to the damaged wall. A reminder not to push him, no matter how much I wanted to.

“Let me finish,” I insisted, hands coming up to hold him off. “How did I find you?”

Confusion flashed before irritation settled on his face. “Stupidity, and luck.”

“No. It was through Arnold. The only way to you is through your men. It’s the same with Rivera, he-” He pressed his palms against the door frame either side of me, blocking me in.

“Why are you wasting my time? Rivera’s men don’t know where he is. If they did Joe would have gotten the information.”

“Stop interrupting me!” I shoved against his chest in frustration. He grabbed my wrists spinning me until my back was pressed against the cold tiles of the bathroom. Eyes boring into mine his jaw ticked, grip getting tighter.

“I am nothing like him.” Anger surged as we fell into the same dance we always did. Hooking a leg behind his I used his grip against him and put him on his back. A sliver of sympathy shot through me as he lost his breath but I let my anger chase it away, using it to power my arms into holding him down.

“I’m fed up with you thinking you can push me around and bully me. This,” I motioned with my head to the position we were currently in, “is the last time I have to do this. Understood?”

Eyes unreadable he nodded curtly. I cautiously let go, easing back to a sitting position, not ready to give up the upper hand just yet. When I was sure he wasn’t going to lash out I continued.

“We’re looking through the information for ties to Rivera himself. We should be looking for ties to the men we know he associates with. He’s using them as scapegoats. The companies are in their names, that way if anything goes wrong-”

“Then the trail ends with them” he finished, shoulders slumping as the realisation hit him.

“Exactly. And what better way to ensure your men’s loyalty. They’ll do everything they can to ensure their area runs smoothly because it’s their necks on the line, not his.” My smug smile was missed as he closed his eyes, hands coming up to scrub at his face.

“You didn’t sleep did you?” I asked gently. He let out a humourless laugh, his body rocking under mine. I planted my hands on his stomach to stop from falling onto him. Fingers splayed I could feel the solid muscles that made up his abdomen tensing as he shifted. The realisation of our position hit me. Mouth dry I tried to chase off the scenarios that my brain was throwing at me. I could control myself. Or so I told myself repeatedly.

“Care to let me up?” he asked, eyebrow raising as he looked pointedly at where I was touching him.

Sure he’d somehow been able to read my thoughts it took me a second to find my voice again. “It depends.”

“On?”

“Whether you can behave yourself. I meant it before, this is the last time. You’d never have figured any of this out without me.” I instinctively clenched my hands into fist. His t-shirt got tangled in my grip, tugging it up to reveal a small section of skin just above his waistband where the line of his hipbone slid out of sight. I was a hypocrite asking him to have decency when all I could think about was how much more I’d be able to expose before he stopped me.

“You’re right.” I almost lost my balance in shock at his admittance, eyes darting away from him.

“From now on you can take the lead but only when we’re alone. In front of my men you say nothing.”

I reigned in the urge to roll my eyes. Given who I was dealing with the conditions could have been a lot worse. I could handle letting him keep the facade of all knowing mob boss.

“Deal,” I agreed. “We have breakfast then I need you to get me the names of Rivera’s men. The higher their status the better. I’ll work on retracing the list from earlier and cross referencing it against them. And you, you’re going to get some sleep. It’s a waste of resources having you sit watching me. Joe can help in your place, he was the one that interrogated them anyway so he’ll know more than you do at this stage.” Reluctantly I released his clothing and pushing up to my feet. Instead of joining me he propped himself on his elbows.

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, deadpan. Spinning I left him on the bathroom floor as the heat that had been simmering through me peaked. Get it together, I mentally scolded myself.

- - - - - - -

Taglist:

@spideylovin

@lukesbabylon

@panicattheeverywherekid

@keep-bears-wild

@unbelievableholland

@tomholland-mcu

@whattheheckparker

@stargazerholland

@gorillaglue23

@marvelpeters

@weirdowithnobeardo

Part 16!

[korissideblog]

ok! so! this fic was getting a bit long for my tastes, so i decided to split it into 2 parts!

even though they don't show up, i'll be mentioning two lovely characters in this fic, Haru from the amazing @compoundhero and Jetsam from the outstanding @jetsam-kisa <3

and without further ado! here's part 1/2 of-

The Hedonist

“Welcome back.” Aito walked into the library, a dimly lit room draped in darker reds, softly lit by simple reading lamps.

“Where is the rest of the team?” he asked, looking to the only filled seat in the entire room, a plush settee with a woman in an overly large white mink coat lying across it.

“I sent them away. We do our best thinking when no one else is bothering us- isn’t that what you said?” the woman offered, sitting up a bit to look at Aito more clearly. “You play dumb, but I know there’s more going on up there. Am I wrong?” she asked, only to be answered with silence as Aito sat down in an armchair nearby.

“Will you ever tell me your name, Checkmate? I’ve told you mine.” Yua Sakura said, truthfully. “I think it’s only fair.”

“I’m a man of my word, Sakura san.” Aito responded calmly, settling into the chair and accepting the tablet Sakura passed to him. “I’ll tell you my name on my deathbed- only so you know what to put on the gravestone.” he chuckled, opening the tablet to find the plans already open.

Sakura rolled her eyes but dropped it quickly. This wasn’t the first time she’s asked for the man’s real name, and it won’t be the last. “I’ve already secured the bank’s blueprints. Consider our entrance my responsibility. If we’re in the vault, how would you plan our escape?” she asked, clearly still testing the newest recruit of their team, despite the fact that he’s been a full fledged member for almost a year now.

Aito looked over the plans with a critical eye, swiping marks onto the blueprint till she was satisfied, and held it up to present her idea. “The vents. If you can remove the screws while the rest of the team fills the bags, we could escape rather quickly.” Aito gestured to the woman’s hands, referencing her quirk.

And what an interesting quirk Sakura had. She had a form of telepathy, but the largest thing she could lift was a pencil. What really gave the woman’s quirk it’s bite, though, was the smallest thing she could lift. Her quirk let her quickly detach and lift tiny molecules, all at once. Aito once watched her deteriorate a man's fingernails in only the span of a handshake- and it was the most terrifying thing Aito’s ever seen.

“Interesting… Why the vents?” she asked, looking over the tablet carefully.

“Because-” Aito said, pointing to a shaded line going through the walls of the bank. “This is a gas line. If we set off even the smallest explosion…” Aito imitated a large explosion, which made Sakura smile wickedly.

“Oh Checkmate,” she giggled, clapping her hands together in glee. “Oh I just knew you would have the perfect idea! And they say blondes are dumb!” Aito’s jaw dropped in annoyance, touching her bleached hair in defensiveness. “Now now, don’t make that face, pet.” she laughed, waving off Aito with a flick of her wrist. “You know I jest. I’d never question a mind like yours, why, people like us- we just have to stick together.”

“People like us?” Aito questioned, setting the tablet down onto a nearby end table.

“Yes, People like us- us with quirks… predisposed for villany.” Sakura hummed, slumping further into her seat comfortably. “I mean let’s be honest with ourselves, once we’d gotten our quirks, we both must have known where we would end up. And it’s hardly our fault honestly- I mean how else would we have made use of our abilities?”

“I believe my quirk to be neutral.” Aito shrugged, mirroring Sakura’s comfort by souching into her armchair- and quietly wishing he had put on something with a bit more fabric. His usual crop top and biker shorts were of little comfort to him in the colder parts of the hideaway. “I really could have been anything with a quirk like mine. Hell, I could have even been a hero.” Aito quickly decided that sitting around wouldn’t keep him warm, and swung himself out of his seat to look over the books that surrounded them, still staying close enough to speak to Sakura.

“You don’t really believe all that, do you?” Sakura asked, her eyes following Aito like a panther watching its prey. Predatory, yet patient. She watched as Aito carefully touched the spine of nearly every book on a shelf, not answering, but still listening. “Why, maybe I could have had a chance but… your quirk in particular? Checkmate, what else could you have done except for villainy? I mean, I’d even go so far as to call your gift inherently evil.” and that… that seemed to still him.

Aito no longer pretended not to hear, her hand shaking minutely before she rested it onto the shelf and looked over his shoulder to Sakura. He took a book from the shelf and opened it randomly, wandering behind the settee as she looked over the text. It was some sort of book of mythology, and Aito’s fingers brushed over a small drawing of a little girl with a fox tail. She noticed Sakura reaching for her, but flinched away before her hand met his waist. One of the pros to wearing such little clothing was that most people didn’t want to reach for Aito, in fear of touching his skin. The awkwardness of human contact being the only thing that protected Aito from this villain’s grasp.

And Aito was sure that if she ever were to touch him, he would scream. And kick. And bite.

“Sakura san? Why did you become a villain?”

Sakura chuckled, pleased to have finally caught her partner’s attention. “I’ve already said it. I had little other choice, given my abilities.” she shrugged, looking up at Aito with a smile, and carefully laying a hand onto the book, their fingers brushing together softly. “And you, pet?” she asked softly

Aito’s eyes looked away from Sakura and to a nearby window, a small sliver of the starry night slipping between the thick velvet curtains, her eyelashes fluttering minutely as she thought.

“It was my love of strawberry ice cream.”

Sakura laughed, but Aito’s serious face gave her pause, calming herself before letting her partner continue. “Apologies, Checkmate, please continue.” Aito nodded, and flipped lazily through the book’s pages as she spoke.

“When I was a child, my mother would sometimes bring me to work with her. If I behaved myself, she would then take me for ice cream.” Aito started again, seemingly more involved in the book she wasn’t reading than the conversation he didn’t want to be having. “One time they were out of chocolate, so we got strawberry instead. I soon fell in love with the flavor, and got it every time we went.” Aito fought the smile that tried to crack her serious expression, but a ghost of it remained. “High school was hard on me. I was home schooled, and my high school had on campus boarding. Up to that point the longest I’ve spent away from my mother were the few hours when she would sleep, and now I had to spend an entire school year with only visits on the weekend.” Aito then snapped the book close, almost catching Sakura’s fingers between the pages. Aito barely blinked in apology. “I was homesick, and smuggled a bucket of strawberry ice cream into my dorm room. I ate the entire thing, and became sick soon after.” She then tossed the book into Sakura’s lap, not wishing to even touch it now that it had lost his interest. “I had to miss class for a day, and missed very important notes. After that I failed an important test, and my teacher started to worry for me. He asked another-more advanced-student to help me with my work, and we became close friends soon after.”

“What was their name?” Sakura asked, taking the book in her hands.

Aito was silent for a moment. “I called him big cat.” she finally responded, vaguely. Taking her turn to watch as Sakura opened the book. “After him, my other classmates seemed much more approachable.”

“This story isn’t about big cat, is it now?” Sakura hummed, looking from the book’s yellowed pages up to Aito, who was focused on the book with a deadly stare.

“No. it isn’t.”

“Who then, pet?”

Aito paused again, as if trying to find a way to describe her memories from her youth.

“He was a very nervous boy.” Aito started, her eyes fluttering shut as he tried to remember his friend as vividly as possible. “He’d be surrounded by clouds of this vicious black smog- his quirk, he would always produce the foulest smoke wherever he went.”

“You were irritated by him?” Sakura offered.

“No, never.” Aito responded quickly. “I had a habit of taking in the nervous ones. He wasn’t the first, and he wouldn’t be the last.”

“Oh, then I apologize for interrupting.” Sakura chuckled, patting Aito’s arm, which Aito gently pulled out of her grasp. “What drew you to him in the first place?”

Aito sighed, cursing his terrible memory as he tried to recall. “When not in uniform… he’d wear the prettiest clothes.” Aito explained. “One sweater in particular… it was pink I believe… It was softer than a cloud. I think I stole it from him- I probably wore it more than he did.” Aito said, letting the smallest smile show on her face as he touched his arm, as if he were wearing the sweater right this second.

“You tend to do that.” Sakura laughed, poking humorously into Aito’s side. “Remember when you wore one of my dresses to that charity gala?”

“I wore it better than you would have.” Aito quipped, immediately invoking another laugh from Sakura.

“Oh, you’re much too quick witted” Sakura giggled, wiping her dry eyes as though she had been laughing much harder. Aito nodded slowly, but kept his face flat.

“He… he’s the reason I don’t believe you when you say that our quirks can decide things for us.” Aito explained. “He was nothing like his quirk would suggest. Despite all the smoke, he was a pleasant boy.”

“Ohh… but, I asked you why you became a villain, pet. This boy, why do you mention him?” she finally asked, noticing Aito resting his hands on the back of the settee and carefully placing her’s onto his. Aito’s pained silence left Sakura a bit off guard, but she slowly came to a conclusion that… she could only hope her guess was wrong. “Is he… gone from us?” she asked, letting Aito assume her meaning.

“No.” Aito huffed, his grip on the settee’s back tightening slightly as she turned away from Sakura.

“What then? What could have happened that’s made you this upset?” she asked, her red eyes never faltering from her teammate’s face.

“He…” Aito finally turned away, as if even saying it out loud was too much. “He turned his back on me.”

“Oh… pet…” Sakura whispered, carefully patting his hand in an attempt to comfort him. “Loss can be hard… especially when the loss isn’t permanent… when it’s a choice someone makes.” Sakura hadn’t a clue how to ease this pain, completely unused to her teammate showing this amount of vulnerability around her. “If it’s any comfort at all… I’m thankful for you, the entire team is- you must know this by now.” Sakura suffered through another silence, wishing that Checkmate would just tell her how to help him. “What was… pet… what did you call him?” Aito looked back for just a second, his eyes trained on the floor as he tried to gain the courage to finally speak.

“Jetsam Kisa.”

[voiceless-terror]

Oooo 16 mixed with 39 w Jon for the fluff/angst prompts?

Hello there, anon! Can you believe, that in all of my whump fics, I’ve yet to tackle the bread knife incident? High time we corrected that. The two prompts this is referencing are- “Do you need to go to the hospital?” and “If you don’t rest you won’t get any better.” Had this written for a bit, but I spruced it up and decided to post as I’m working on reconstructing chapters. Hope you like!

“Jesus Christ.”

“I-It’s not as bad as it looks.”

Admittedly, it doesn’t look great.

There’s a trail of blood following Jon to the sink, a bloody handprint or two on the counter (and probably a few door handles), and his shirt is similarly stained, the rumpled white button-up painted with red. The slice (more than a slice, probably a stab) to his arm bled more than he anticipated and is probably still bleeding under the towel he’s currently using to stifle the flow. Jon’s swaying where he stands; the loss of blood has him feeling weak, and the dizziness and dull throb in his head leftover from Michael hasn’t abated. All in all, he must look a mess.

Judging by Martin and Tim’s expressions, this is probably a fair assessment. Martin immediately goes to his side, though Jon flinches away as he tries to reach for his arm. He tamps down the guilt he feels at Martin’s look of rejection. “It’s n-nothing, really-”

“Nothing?” Tim scoffs, slowly making his way over as he dodges Jon’s mess. “We leave you alone for twenty minutes and suddenly you’re finger painting with blood. The hell happened?”

“Did you reopen one of your wounds?” Martin’s hands are hovering above his arm, like he’s trying to approach a skittish animal. “I told you not to pick at them-”

“Uh, n-no.” Jon leans against the counter- his vision’s starting to go, he should’ve sat down instead of puttering about like a fool. “It’s-it’s a new one.” Sufficiently cowed by Martin and Tim’s worried stares, he gently removes the towel with a hiss and yes, it’s still bleeding profusely. Damn. 

Tim hurriedly pressed the towel back down, leading him over to a chair as Martin lets out one of his disbelieving squeaks. Tim’s always been good in a crisis and Jon wants to lean into the touch but something in the back of his mind rebels against it, whispering paranoid nothings in his ear. Wrong wrong wrong. There’s something wrong, something bad. Find out. So instead he flinches out of his hold as soon as he’s sat down, ignoring the exasperated look this gets him and putting pressure on the wound himself. 

“What did you do?” he asks but Jon doesn’t meet his eyes, instead looking down at his lap. “How’d you get that?”

“A-A sandwich.” He can feel Tim’s stare, practically hears Martin’s fretting. “I-I was-”

“A sandwich,” Tim repeats, his voice deadpan. “A ham and cheese stabbed you.”

“No!” Words aren’t making sense, they’re hard to put together. He wants to lay down, he wants to sleep, he wants to be far away from these people and what they’ve done and what they might still do to him. “I cut myself...making a sandwich. W-With a knife. A bread knife.”

“A bread knife.” Martin’s talking now, his voice high-pitched and concerned. “A bread knife did that.”

“Where is it, then?” He wishes Tim would let up, would just take the story and leave him be, let him bleed.

“I-I put it back. I cleaned it and I put it back.”

“Let me get this straight-”

“For God’s sake, Tim- that doesn’t matter right now!” Now Martin’s at his side, hauling him up out of his seat with a steady hand that takes the brunt of his weight as he lists to the side. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“I-”

“Why am I even asking? Of course you do.” Martin’s muttering, already dragging him halfway out the door. “I’ll get us a cab. You two will just bicker the whole way. Take care of all this will you, Tim?” He gestures with one free hand to the mess Jon’s made and Tim just sighs wearily, nodding his head. He throws Jon one last glare but it’s weak and more worried than anything. He feels the guilt bubble up again. He should apologize for the inconvenience, tell them what happened, who visited. But then the voice creeps up, starting its chorus in the back of his mind.

He stays silent. He doesn’t speak as Martin takes more and more of his weight and the world tilts around him. He’s in a cab. Martin’s hand is warm and should be comforting but it isn’t. His arm stings and Helen’s gone and Michael’s laughter echoes and he can feel the worms burrowing back in, and over this cacophony of pain is the miserable choir singing wrong, wrong, something’s wrong someone’s there someone’s watching, waiting until they’ve got you alone-

He struggles in Martin’s hold but its weak and must seem more like a squirm of discomfort, for Martin doesn’t let go, just keeps up his murmured reassurances and his touches that sting like a thousand tiny needles.

He doesn’t know how long they’re at the A & E for. He barely registers Martin dragging him inside or talking to the nurses. He watches dispassionately as the wound’s stitched up, his other scabs disinfected from constant picking. Nobody lectures him or says much of anything- one mention of the Magnus Institute shut them right up. Jon is as much thankful as he is discouraged. He really is alone. He feels it even as he’s shoved back into Martin’s arms with a disingenuous smile and a ‘get well soon!’ 

Martin’s eyeing him critically as they wait for the cab; Jon’s too tired to fight at the probing hands that inspect the bandages. “Still your story, then?”

“Hm?” The world is hazy, but Michael’s laughter is starting to fade.

“Bread knife.”

“Oh...yes, yes it is.” He tries for some defiance but his voice is small and weary. Martin sighs in turn.

“You know you can tell me about these things, right? Me o-or Tim, maybe Sasha-”

Jon snorts. “Tell you when I’m making lunch?”

Martin’s face remains serious.  “If that’s what you want to call it, sure.”

Jon doesn’t want to have this conversation so he nods in a clear dismissal, sighing in relief as a cab pulls up outside. Martin reaches for the car door, helping him in before hurrying to the other side. Jon’s about to tell the driver to take them back to work when Martin interrupts in a no-nonsense tone, rattling off an address with a please and thank you.

It’s Jon’s address.

How does he know my address? Has he been following me? He is the one who found Gertrude’s body, after all. What if- what if-

“I can see your mind going a mile a minute, Jon. What’s wrong?” He startles, moving as far away from Martin as possible and hitting the car door with a wince. Martin continues, his eyes betraying nothing but concern as Jon’s mind spirals. “You’re not going back to work. You just got stitches-”

“How do you know my address?” The words are meant to be an accusation, but they just sound like the bark of a small dog. Martin seems to agree with this assessment because he rolls his eyes, running a hand through his hair. It takes him a moment to gather himself, and every second makes Jon’s heart beat faster until it’s rabbiting in his chest. What does he know, what did he do?

“You don’t remember, do you?” Martin sounds sad, disappointed. It hurts more than Jon would like to admit.

“R-Remember what?”

“You don’t remember the three times I had to do this, back when you were supposed to be on sick leave?” Jon blinks.

He doesn’t remember much of that time. He remembers the pain, the paranoia, the fear- all of it tuned up to a fever-pitch. Trying to go back to work and being promptly shooed out by Martin, who took one look at his limp and still-bleeding wounds and shoved him back in a cab. Was he covering his tracks? Is that why he didn’t want me around? He has the faintest memory of arms scooping him unceremoniously from the trap door to the tunnels at night, this time accompanying him in the cab and making sure he got home, since Jon had exited the cab early and snuck back several times before. It’s embarrassing and disconcerting, these gaps in his memory. Gaps that Martin has to fill. Martin, who he can’t trust. Martin, who’s talking right now. 

“- really, Jon- if you don’t rest, you won’t get any better. Tim tells me you’ve been skipping physical therapy, skulking about-”

“I don’t skulk-”

“Well, it’s sure as hell not sneaking if you leave a trail of blood wherever you go!” Martin’s voice raises in frustration, though it immediately quiets as Jon flinches, again. He heaves a massive sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose as if fighting off a headache. “We’re worried, Jon. We’re all worried. About you, about Gertrude, this whole mess- but you’ve got to talk to us. You’ve got to let the police do their job. And for the love of god, let us help you. Because-” he swallows, his next words earnest and spent. “-because we’re scared too. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Martin’s worried. Martin’s scared. Martin found Gertrude’s body. Martin’s always outside his office. Tim’s tired, Tim’s getting angry. Sasha smiles when she shouldn’t smile. Elias is up in his office, telling him everything’s fine and to rest but something’s watching, something’s wrong, Gertrude’s dead and someone killed her and someone’s coming for you next-

The next thing he knows he’s standing outside the door to his flat, Martin at his side. The door looks like a normal door, but Helen went through a door and didn’t come out. She didn’t come out, and Michael laughed, and there’s a war coming and he’s so stupid, so ignorant-

“Are you going to be okay?”

Jon takes the key from his coat pocket with shaking hands, shoving it in the lock. He doesn’t want to go in but he can’t stay out here, not with Martin who found Gertrude, who knows where he lives. “Y-Yes. You can go. Thank you.”

He’s inside before Martin can protest any further, slamming the door shut and leaning against it wearily. It looks like his flat, he hopes it’s his flat. Martin’s talking on the other side, asking him to call if he needs anything. Jon’s not going to do that, of course. He waits for the inevitable sigh, listens until Martin’s footsteps fade away. He’s safe, for now.

He locks the deadbolt.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28073586

[buckleysjareau]

maddie and evan against the world

this is something i wrote for buckley siblings week that i never ended up posting, but i’ve been in a writing slump lately but i want to post something so here’s some sad pre-canon buckley siblings!

trigger warnings; implied/referenced domestic abuse, suicidal thoughts, description of a depressive episode, mentions of child death... i think that’s it, if i missed anything let me know!

Growing up, Maddie had mastered the art of doing everything quietly. Sneaking in, sneaking out, standing outside her parents’ door as they fought over the bills and how are we going to pay for this IVF, Margaret?

Quiet crying, quiet talking, quiet everything.

It’s a skill that comes in handy once she’s out of the house, carries her through nursing school and Doug’s accusations of cheating when her shift runs late and she’s not home at the exact minute Doug expects her to be home. It carried her all the way back to Hershey where if she even made the slightest sound, she’d end up with bruises scattered in places he knew were easy coverage.

She had to be quiet to survive her parents, but she has to be absolutely silent to survive her husband.

Her body aches and her eyes burn as she stiffly lays beside her husband, silently crying as the last two hours replay in her head. Doug’s hand tightening little by little around her neck the angrier he got, screams of rage echoing around the room that she didn’t put away the corkscrew.

You never learn! It’s not my job to clean up after you, Maddie. That’s the woman’s job. Do you see what you make me do to you? I don’t want to hurt you, Maddie, but you never learn.

Her phone lighting up on her bedside table—set to silent, thank god—pulls her out of her own head.

Evan’s smiling face is staring right back at her and it causes more tears to fall before she squints to read the time. Why was her brother calling her at two in the morning? Her heart drops to her stomach as she thinks the worst.

Evan

Missed call

Evan

Voicemail

Swallowing the fear in the form of a lump in her throat, she glances at Doug, counts his breaths to make sure he’s in a deep sleep and slips out of bed without making too much movement. She grabs her phone, makes sure to avoid the part of their bedroom floor that creaks and lets out a sigh of relief once she’s made it to the bathroom.

She doesn’t know what she’s expecting of his voicemail but she’s not even two seconds into listening to it and her heart breaks at the gut wrenching sob he lets out.

“I need you,” Evan all but pleads. “I can’t–I can’t do it anymore. Everything is too much and I’m not enough, and I miss you, Maddie, I miss you. I need you, Mads. I–I wish I wasn’t alive. It’s all too much.”

Maddie has to put her arm over mouth to stifle the sob that’s ripped from her throat. She tenses, scared the noise would wake Doug up. Once she’s in the clear, she opens her texts and sends up a thank you to whatever higher power there is that Evan still has his location on.

I’m on my way.

She sends out the text and starts her descent down the stairs, walking on her tiptoes to make sure she doesn’t get busted before she has the chance to get to her brother.

She slides on a random pair of shoes by the door, grabs the keys to her Jeep, and before she knows it she’s on the road, following the directions given from Find My iPhone.

I can’t–I can’t do it anymore.

I need you, Mads.

I–I wish I wasn’t alive.

Everything is too much and I’m not enough.

The voicemail keeps replaying in her head and the guilt of ever leaving him grabs a hold of her throat and she can’t breathe through it.

He has to be okay. He’s going to be okay. She’s gonna be there for him like she should have been before.

It’s snowing when she reaches Penn State. In itself, it’s not a shock that it’s snowing in Central Pennsylvania in the middle of December. What is a shock, though, is that her brother is out in the middle of it in only basketball shorts and a Penn State hoodie.

“Evan!” Maddie shouts once she’s parked and out of her car.

Evan spins around at the sound of her voice and the way his face just crumbles is something she would probably never forget.

“You came.” He chokes on a sob, seemingly desperate to maintain some level of okay but it’s plain to see, he was anything but.

Maddie does nothing to stop the tears that steadily stream down her face. Instead, she reaches up to cup her brother’s face and wipes away a few tears that fall. “I’ll always come when you need me.”

The invisible thread that seemed to be holding her brother together and upright breaks from the power of the storm raging inside of him and he collapses into her arms and falls apart.

Her brother has definitely grown since the last time he’d fallen apart in her arms when he was fourteen and terrified of his sexuality. She tries to hold him up and comfort him for as long as she can but the bruises on her back ache and she can only carry so much of his weight.

She clears her throat and fights back a wince. “Hey Ev, why don’t we get in the Jeep, out of this cold, yeah? You’ll feel better in the heat.”

Hiccuping and borderline hyperventilating, Evan can only nod.

The second Evan is in the passenger’s seat, he pulls his legs up close to his chest and rests his head on his knees. He looks small, which is not an adjective Maddie would use on her brother nowadays given his 6’2 frame and the muscles he gained as Quarterback.

Maddie gives herself a minute to calm down before she drives the four miles to the twenty-four hour diner her parents had taken her to eat after she toured Penn State ten years before.

“C’mon, let’s get you some chamomile tea and some food in you.”

Evan sniffles and Maddie is reminded of her five year old brother learning how to ride a bike. Daniel’s bike, she can’t help the heartbroken feeling in her chest at the thought of her older brother she never got to mourn.

Once they’re seated with hot beverages to keep them warm—and in Evan’s case, calm— Maddie breaks the silence.

“What’s going on, Evan? What happened?” She asks, resting her hand on top of his.

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he fidgets with the utensils on the table and rolls up the paper from the straws. Maddie doesn’t rush him, she knows not to. She knows he’ll talk on his own time.

“I–Maddie, I’m not–”

“Take your time.”

Evan meets her eyes, closes his own and then looks down. “I’m not okay, Mads. I haven’t been for a long time a–and it’s gotten so bad I can’t get myself out of bed. I’m on academic probation, if I can’t get my grades up–” Evan’s voice cracks and so does Maddie’s heart. “I’m gonna get kicked out of school, and I–I don’t– I can’t face mom and dad if that happens and I try, Mads, I try so hard to get myself together again but I feel like my body isn’t attached to itself a lot, and I lose time, and I’m just a waste of space anyway– fuck, I want to die, I don’t want to be alive right now and I don’t know what’s wrong with me!”

Maddie is on his side of the booth and instantly pulls him in. Evan lays his head on her shoulder as Maddie runs her hand through his unruly curls much like she used to when Buck was young and tiny. The position is a bit awkward but neither want to leave the comfort of each other’s arms long enough to adjust their positions.

“It’s okay, Ev, it’s okay. We’ll figure it out, okay? We’ll figure it out together, I promise. We’ll get you help.”

Evan lets out a sound Maddie could only describe as wail. His whole body is shaking with the force of his cries but, without lifting his head or moving anything else, he holds out his pinky.

Maddie half laughs, half cries and links it with his.

Maddie and Evan against the world.

Ten years later, when Chimney shakes her awake and tells her Buck needs her after receiving a similar call, she doesn’t have to worry about walking on eggshells just to be there for her brother.

Ten years later, when Buck hits that low point and feels like he has no one, Maddie is there to show him that’s not true. He had her. She had him.

They always had each other.

[link4eva]

Kiro’s Satisfaction Date Translation (完满之约) [CN] Part 1/2

Hey, everyone! I have a couple of short but important notes to give before reading.

I don’t actually know any Chinese so this translation was done through the power of Google Translate.

This translation contains spoilers for Kiro’s 2021 Birthday Date in the CN server. So if you wish to not be spoiled, please don’t look below the cut. There is a R&S to go along with this date which has been translated by the lovely @keliosyfan​ . I’ll put the link to it here! I definitely recommend reading that first before reading this date.

I tried posting this date earlier but Tumblr doesn’t seem like it can handle all the Kiro goodness in one go. So, this date is split into two parts to try and manage that. You can find the second part here! The call that comes with this date can be found here!

Hope you enjoy!~

*Spoliers for future content below!*

The melodious violin sound filled the lecture hall.

Kiro closed his eyes and the tip of his left finger pulsed gently on the strings of the violin, pulling out beautiful notes.

I stood behind the cameras in the last row of the lecture hall. As I was looking at him through the camera, I couldn’t pull my gaze away.

Kiro’s birthday was finally here, but this year, it is a bit more special.

He was invited by his high school alma mater to come to California for a special performance on his birthday.

And this also happened to be the site of Kiro’s special live birthday broadcast.

Kiro: I am very happy to be back today. I know that you must be very sleepy listening to the song just now, so….  

Kiro raised the corners of his mouth, turned his head back and nodded slightly to the pianist on the side, and then lightly plucked the strings with his right hand; a crisp echo coming through.

Kiro: Let’s be happy. 

The brisk piano sounded, and “Canon” flew in through everyone’s ears between Kiro’s fingertips and the plucked strings.

The students sitting in the lecture hall opened their eyes wide; it was almost as if the notes were like tiny birds flying around in the soft sunlight. *Took some liberty here.*

But this was just the beginning.

Whether it is “Caprice 24”, “Carmen Fantasia”, and other classical pieces, or adaptations of popular songs--

They were all under the influence of Kiro’s fingertips, full of vitality.

It seems that the light of the entire world is focused on him at this very moment, bright and dazzling.

The last piece performed seemed to be a little different from the ones previously. Kiro looked a little cautious. He looked at me from a distance and a smile slowly appeared on his face.

Kiro: The last piece is one that is special to me. It’s a bit rusty as I haven’t played it for many years. 

Kiro: I hope you don’t mind.

He raised the bow, quietly stood still for a few seconds, and then began to play the first few notes.

The tune of this piece is very slow. It seems a bit lonely without the piano accompaniment.

Perhaps no one knows the meaning of this song except for Kiro. We are all his sharers, listening to him tell a story with only a melody.

Listening to this piece, I quietly looked at Kiro’s face and thought of the gift I had prepared for him. I fell into deep thought.

Soon, the piece was over.

Kiro bowed very formally and finally sat on the edge of the stage amidst the applause with his legs swinging in the air, holding the violin and looking at the audience in front.

Kiro: In fact, your principal invited me to come, hoping that I would tell you about my experience and give some advice.

Kiro: But I think you guys don’t want to listen to all that! After all, when I was a kid, I didn’t really like listening to other people’s suggestions. 

In the end, his mumbling was infinitely amplified by the microphone, and the students sitting below laughed together.

Kiro: It’s everyone’s first time coming to this world. Just be happy and be yourself. 

Kiro: I never felt that I was such a special person. Although, everyone would laugh at me when I said this.

Kiro: But I always think, I just have the most love and precious things in my life for me.

He lowered his head and looked at the violin in his arms then hummed a song and looked up in the direction where I was.

Kiro’s whole body seemed to be bathed in the sun, and his smiling eyes met mine.

Kiro: I don’t know if you have encountered it.

Kiro: For me, it has always been with me in countless moments of silence. 

Kiro: It illuminates me and gives me the courage to keep going forward. *Took some liberty here.*

Kiro sat there quietly, peacefully, and sincerely.

Kiro: Today is my birthday. Thank you for your blessings. I also want to share this blessing with you.

Kiro: I wish you all find what you love the most, and stay true to yourselves.

Kiro: I wish that you will always be yourself.

[Second Part]

Kiro: MC, how did I do just now!

After making sure that the students had left, Kiro jumped off the stage and rushed to me.

The bangs on his forehead were drenched with sweat and they stuck together, revealing those bright and beautiful blue eyes.

MC: It can only be said that it is better than the best. As expected of Kiro! 

After hearing my compliment, his eyes curved with a smile like a bear eating honey. He wiped the corners of his mouth with satisfaction.

Savin contacted the school club week, filming and other activities that Kiro participated in during this California trip.

I calculated Kiro’s limited time and pulled him into a corner.

MC: Happy birthday, Kiro!

Kiro: You wished me so early this year. And it also seems that you have something secret to show me.

MC: Actually, I did prepare some special birthday arrangements ahead of time.

MC: But after seeing your performance just now, I suddenly changed my mind.

Kiro was taken aback when he heard me and blinked in confusion.

MC: Last year, you used the treasure map to let us relive all the precious times together. (MC’s referencing Treasure Hunt Date which will be released April 6 on the ENG server)

MC: So now, I really want to ask what Kiro wants to do on his birthday today.

MC: This time I’ve come back to visit the school where you studied. Here are four years’ worth of your past and memories.

MC: Is there anything that Kiro did not realize at that time, or what Kiro wants to do here?

MC: I can help satisfy you. 

Kiro stood firmly in front of me with the bright light hooked onto his face, quietly showing the heedfulness and expectation in his eyes.

Kiro: ….Really?

MC: Of course! Today is your birthday, so naturally, you are the most important on your birthday!

MC: So, I will accompany you in whatever you want.

Kiro smiled.

He tiptoed backstage and took out his violin bag. After exchanging glances, we looked towards Savin and retreated towards the door.

As soon as he stepped out the door, Kiro took my hand and staggered out of the lecture hall.

(Cut to outside)

I didn’t know where Kiro was taking me. But as long as he is holding my hand, I am willing to accompany him wherever he goes.

Kiro ran ahead of me, turning his head back with a smile.

Kiro: Actually, when I first came to California, I was not used to many different things.

Kiro: So for my first birthday here, I was very impressed with all the choices. At that time, I had a lot of things I wanted to do. But in the end, I didn’t do them for various reasons. 

Kiro took my hand and pulled me around the corner across from the playground on the campus. He pushed away a tree branch that was casting a shadow and came to stand under a high wall at the edge of the school.

Kiro: First, I wanted to do this--

In my confused state, Kiro stretched out his right hand pretentiously and raised his palm in the air.

Kiro: Skip class. 

The air seemed to stand still for a few seconds. I looked at the high wall, then turned my gaze back to Kiro who was eager to try and couldn’t help laughing.

Kiro: Okay, I know it’s a little immature.

Kiro: When I was in class, the school was super strict. When I made a wish on my birthday, I had one wish in mind--

Kiro: “Ah! I really want to skip class.”

MC: Have all the big stars ever had this idea?

Kiro: Kiro was not a big star back then, and that big star was also an ordinary person. 

Kiro looked at the high wall with excitement, the scattered sunlight fell on him through the lush green leaves.

I seem to be able to see Kiro, who was 14-years-old, laying his head on the desk, looking at the sky.

The sky is so wide; it seems like you can go anywhere.

MC: It seems a bit difficult to climb but we can try.

I was about to try. Kiro had already stepped on the small holes of the wall, stretched out his arms methodically, and climbed onto the wall in the blink of an eye.

MC: ….?!

Kiro: Sure enough, it’s not as difficult as I had imagined. I will teach you! 

While talking, he jumped back down silently and came back to me.

He pointed to the hole in the wall and demonstrated it again in front of me.

Following his direction, I stepped swiftly on the wall like a clumsy gecko.

Kiro: Miss Chips, give me your hand.

I raised my head and habitually stretched out my hand in response. In the next second, I felt that I was being strongly pulled and I fell into a warm embrace.

MC: Why were you so scared of skipping class?

Kiro: This is just the beginning.

The distant school building faced Kiro’s back. He raised the corners of his mouth and winked his left eye at me.

I suddenly thought of myself; 14-year-old me and 14-year-old Kiro.

I’m in Loveland City and he is abroad in California.

I dozed off at my desk in the warm afternoon, and he was probably humming a gentle tune among the stars.

At that time, we hadn’t become adults and we were separated by a distant time; like two parallel lines that would never meet at all.

But these two lines seem to overlap at this moment.

Kiro: I’m ready to climb.

He whispered in my ear, and before I could react, he gently pulled me towards him and hugged me.

MC: Kiro! Kiro, you….! 

Kiro: In fact, I have imagined skipping class many times.

Kiro lowered his face and the sun was behind him. A golden outline was drawn on his body.

Kiro: But none of this is what it is today.

As he lightly pushed his foot, I couldn’t help but hug his neck tightly.

At that moment of flight, the whole world was silent, leaving only two intertwined heartbeats with similar rhythms to be heard.

Kiro: Sure enough, MC’s existence can revive my imagination. 

[Third Part]

Kiro: The next thing is-- 

In an empty fast food restaurant, Kiro bought two “actually real” meal sets and sat with me in front of the window facing the street.

Kiro: Eat junk food! 

MC: Pff, why are all the things you wanted to do so cute?

Kiro: It’s okay, just laugh if you want, hmph.

Kiro: Since I debuted, I hadn’t touched any junk food. Potato chips were the first things I had finally eaten when I first met you many years later.

MC: Well, what did you do when you were craving junk food?

Kiro: Restrain, hold back, pretend there was a gun to my head. *Translation came out a little weird here so I hope this is right.*

He muttered, opened his mouth and took a bite of the burger, and sighed particularly contentedly.

MC: Why don’t you restrain yourself now then? 

Kiro: It’s different now. 

He answered without hesitation and quickly finished the burger.

Kiro: Because you are here.

MC: Are you trying to say that I seduce you into committing food crimes? 

Kiro: That’s right!

MC: You!

Kiro: But of course it is more than that.

Kiro: Because you are here, it’s okay to indulge a bit. 

He propped his head with his right hand and looked at me sideways. A spot of light fell on his defined eyelashes like he had a secret full of mischief.

With a straw in his mouth, the soda gurgled. As it gurgled, it seemed to have filled my heart at the same time.

MC: Then I will help you sneak some more snacks in next time?

Kiro: Although that sounds very exciting, I still want to have more opportunities to be handsome in front of you.

Kiro: Compared with “snack-loving Kiro”, I’d rather you have “handsome Kiro” in your heart. 

He snapped his fingers, his eyes gleaming.

Looking at him like this, I subconsciously followed along and laughed.

MC: Of course you are the most handsome Kiro in the world!

We were sitting in front of the shop window; I was eating a burger and Kiro was telling me about his time in California.

Some difficult lectures to sit through, baseball games he had to participate in, exquisite violin decorations, yellow balloons from children….

He traced the past for me, like an old movie that spans over a long period of time.

Under the immersion of time, with some nostalgia mixed in, the pictures in the memories appear more vivid and beautiful.

After leaving the restaurant, Kiro rented a car and waited on the side of the road. 

(Cut to the highway)

We are cruising along the highways of California and the endless highways spread to the distant sky; it was almost as if we could reach the edge of the sky.

I suddenly thought of a memory from when I first came to California a long time ago and Kiro seemed to think of the same memory as me.

Kiro: I have checked the car, again and again, this time. It will definitely not break down! (He’s referencing his Los Angeles Date which is a sweet and funny one. Definitely recommend. It’s been released on the ENG server already.)

MC: Are we going to Santa Monica this time?

He shook his head mysteriously at me and jingled some special keys in his hand.

Kiro: This time, I want to take my dazzling pearl to another dazzling place in my heart. 

The scenery along the highway was quickly left behind by us. It also seemed that the time that was always moving forward quickly and impossible to stop was left out of the scenery.

The tides rolled on the coast and the seabirds used their wings to draw a neat arc in the air, in the sea and the sky.

There is a boat anchored quietly by a small port beside a bay.

(Cut to beach)

After getting out of the car, Kiro took the girl by the hand and moved towards the coast. The sea breeze blew her hair gently. He had never felt that his heart had been so at ease.

Here, the excitement is like a flood. And with it is more peace of mind. *Translation came out wonky here.*

The girl stood in front of him, watching him quietly.

At that moment, he seemed to see the blossoming of his dreams.

Many years ago, he had seen himself on a stage amongst the stars.

And now, it is once again full of his entire world.

The third thing is--

He said softly in his heart.

Bring my favourite person in the world to my home in California.

I watched Kiro raise the corners of his mouth, the brilliant light fell into his smiling eyes, but he didn’t speak.

MC: Is coming here the third thing you wanted to do?

Kiro: Bingo! The third thing is-- 

Kiro: Come to this bay with you.

MC: Liar, you didn’t know me at the time, how could you think of coming with me?

Kiro: Of course it is because I reserved a place for you very early on.

MC: Then I am really honoured! Let me guess, this was your secret base in high school, right?

I looked at this “secret base expert” confidently, but he shook his head unexpectedly.

Kiro: This is my home. 

Here is Part 2! 

[anika-ann]

The 5 Times Steve Felt Betrayed - bonus

and the 1 Time He Felt Like He Was Betraying You

Type: mini-series to a series (part 1 & part 2 & part 3),  Avenger!reader AU.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader       Word count: 3400

Summary: Steve might have abandoned you and his friends in Germany, but Steve Rogers does not give up on people. Do you?

Set shortly after the rescue from the Raft.

Warnings: mentions of violence and fights, mentions of the Raft, language...fluff

A/N: This part of Melting Hearts’ verse follows the events of CA: Civil War, sometimes only referencing them and kinda expecting the readers to know what’s up ;)

Posted in double chapters (1st & 2nd time, 3th & 4th, 5th+1... and the bonus, because my brain clearly doesn’t understand the concept of 5+1)

Previous part

────── ·❆· ──────  

Seeking Shelter, Finding Home

Clint had been kind enough to replace Steve in the pilot seat – with a significant look sent your direction. You were sitting away from the others, watching your hands as if you couldn’t quite believe they belonged to you. Steve’s lips automatically press a thin line at the sight – you still looked so small as you had when he had found you in the cell.

Just the memory of The Raft made his stomach turn over. The prison was just inhumane – the way a power-restricting collar had been pinned around your neck, your hands trapped in a straitjacket just in case you would somehow manage to remove the collar. And then there had been the tiny thing in the straightjacket, ready to deliver an electric discharge if you would have left your cell despite all the barriers.

Sure, Wanda had been in the same… outfit, and it was sickening, but seeing you crumbled in the corner of the cell, tied and broken like that – it had made him unable to breathe in or out, his chest just too constricted. And knowing you had gone through all this because of him made it even worse.

Now, you were at least free of your cuffs, in a comfortable hoodie that was two sizes big for you, and yet you seemed absolutely lost.

He approached you hesitantly, his heart jumping to his throat and making it almost impossible for him to speak.

“Uhm… hey,” he greeted you softly and you immediately raised your head to him, a faint unsure smile appearing on your lips. Your absent eyes found his, missing its usual spark. He beckoned to the seat next to you. “May I?”

“Of course,” you whispered, apparently a bit baffled. Steve sure as hell didn’t like the resignation in your voice. “This is your jet.”

He shrugged, seating himself by your side. Your shoulder almost brushed his and it was as pleasant for him as unnerving. So close and yet too far.

“You helped me steal it.”

You eyed him timidly, fumbling with your fingers nervously. Heavy silence fell and for several moments; he just stared into your eyes, drinking in the feeling of being able to do that again. To look into your soul and see all the emotions playing in your head; until you lowered your gaze again, hiding from him.

He sighed, not knowing how to even start, not knowing how to talk to you; you had barely exchanged few words about Bucky’s whereabouts since the rescue from the prison and it had been… awkward, to put it mildly.

God, where should he start? He wanted to apologize. He wanted to ask million questions and most of all he just wanted to wrap his arms around you and hold you close, not saying a single word, because words only made things messy.

That was if someone bothered with forming them – or receiving them.

He gulped and pulled out the folded envelope. He would swear he could hear your heart skip a beat as you drew in a sharp breath.

“Uhm… I didn’t read it. I’m sorry. I… I was angry with you, disappointed. I thought… I thought you left me in a lurch and then you were just… trying to make it better with few words. And after, I didn’t want to… to waste any time. I wanted to find you, all of you, because I left you behind and I knew you suffered for it. And…” he took a deep breath, setting the letter aside, taking your restless fingers in his hands. You looked up at his face, your eyes wide and glassy. It made his throat even tighter. “And I was hoping you could just tell me what you wrote. That you could tell me everything.”

You pressed your lips together, blinking your tears away as you avoided his gaze once more. It was driving him insane, but he couldn’t say he blamed you.

“There’s not much to tell, Steve. I… I agreed with the Accords. With someone watching over us, maybe to be held responsible for--- but all I wanted was someone watching over me. Because I can do so much damage-“

He grimaced, a cold hand squeezing his guts as you stumbled over your words. Forever and always guilty. He underestimated sometimes how deeply your guilt ran.

“That’s not-“

“-and… I hated we couldn’t agree on that. But I never got myself to sign it. Didn’t really have the time and after what they did to Wanda – I couldn’t, it was just wrong. So wrong to hold her prisoner, throwing her under the bus. She made a mistake, yes, but we all did-- and… it wasn’t right. It was when I decided I couldn’t do it.”

“Why didn’t you come with Clint then?” he asked, confused. He was recognizing you now, the motivations you had had suddenly feeling much more like you than he would expect.

You smiled wryly.

“I couldn’t. It was… I figured that maybe at least I could make myself useful. I knew where that was heading. I had to stay with Tony to know their plan.”

Steve closed his eyes, exhaling shakily, your hands in his weighting a ton all of sudden. You had really been playing double agent. That had been such a stupid and reckless move. And kinda brilliant, but that was implied.

“God, Snowflake…”

You freed one of your hands to wipe the tears from your cheeks; Steve gripped your other hand tighter, so you wouldn’t get the idea of stopping touching him for a goddamn second.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry about the arrest too, but I saw what kind of a task force they sent after you, Steve. You would stand no chance, there was no way you could escape. The heavy guns, Rhodey, snipers, helicopters. It was-“

Steve’s eyes snapped open at the realization.

“You were trying to protect us,” he whispered incredulously.

Oh god. Had you gone completely insane? Had you lost your mind? Had you lost the last pieces of self-preservation somewhere along the way?

“I’m sorry. I know it wasn’t my call and I swear I was waiting until the last moment, I waited until I was sure that they would get you anyway. And I am— I’m so, so sorry for--- for-”

You hand was shaking in his, your voice cracked and you were now wiping the tears uselessly, because new ones were coming constantly. You weren’t able to finish the sentence, but Steve knew exactly what you were trying to say.

And it made him snap.

He threw away stupid ideas like approaching you carefully and wrapped his arms around your trembling form, cradling your face to his chest to hush you. He was taken aback when your weak fingers grabbed the edges of his leather jacket and you melted into him. He tightened his embrace.

“Hey, I know. It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m sorry you had to use your powers against me. I’m sorry,” he mumbled into your hair and you stiffened, you breath hitching.

“What?”

He caressed your back, his previous certainty wavering. “You hated it, didn’t you? You hated it so much, but you did it anyway, because you thought it was the only way to keep us from getting shot.”

You didn’t speak up, unable to find your voice, but Steve could feel your furious nods. He inhaled deeply through his nose, wishing he could just take the feeling tearing you apart away.

“You did the right thing.”

“Right things suck.”

Steve huffed out a surprised laugh and pressed a shameless kiss into your hair. “Yeah. Sometimes they do. But you did it anyway, which makes you the bravest person I’ve ever met.”  

You stopped shaking by then, and you fumbled with his jacket this time. Your face was hidden in the crook of his neck, but Steve would swear your face felt hotter even when he couldn’t see your cheeks. It was a little piece of happiness for him in this huge mess and he couldn’t be more grateful for you being here with him – finally in his arms.

“Can I ask you something?”

He wanted to slap himself the moment you tensed in his arms again. You nodded stiffly anyway.

“After… after Nigeria. Why— why did you start going to Matt? What happened? Were you… were you disappointed in me?”

You retreated, escaping his embrace, and Steve scolded himself for being so stupid. Why had he poked you again? Words always made things messy…

It was only a little comfort that you were still holding onto his jacket. Your baffled face confused the hell out of him – but at least you didn’t seem angry.

“Why would I be disappointed? What… what?”

“Uhm… well… because I froze. I didn’t handle the situation-“

“Jesus, Steve,” you choked out, shaking your head, your eyes finally finding his willingly. The look in them warmed Steve’s heart even when he wasn’t sure what exactly it was supposed to mean. “Is that what you think? That I was… disappointed that you didn’t perfectly keep your cool when Rumlow mentioned Bucky? Did you think I was… thinking any less of you? Judging you? Oh god, Steve. How could I?”

The sincerity of your voice struck him straight in his gut and he was honestly feeling like an idiot in an instant. Of course you hadn’t judged him. You weren’t one to judge people – you hadn’t said a word against Wanda after she had messed up. The only person you ever had been hard on was yourself. How could he have believed anything else even for a second?

Jealously, whispered the intrusive voice in the back of his mind and he shushed it angrily – mostly because it spoke the truth.

“But… why did you go to— uhm, to Matt then?”

You arched an eyebrow inconspicuously and Steve felt a blush creeping up his neck. Yeah, he had been jealous and wounded at the time and it was stupid, okay?

“Because I needed a lawyer,” you explained hesitantly and it was Steve’s turn to be perfectly shocked. Again. What? “A good one. A smart one. An outsider too, at least to certain extent. I wanted to ask him about the possible consequences of the Avengers messing up. I wanted to know his opinion and I didn’t want to ask him over a phone. He predicted the Accords with scary precision, by the way. And he said hi on several occasions, but I never got the nerve to actually deliver the greetings, because I was afraid you would pry why I was going out.”

Steve’s jaw went slack, his eyes widening in awe. That— that was pretty much the only thing he hadn’t seen coming. Shit. You-- you were incredible. You had been thinking ahead. So much. You had been afraid of the consequences so you had gone to a lawyer to be prepared.

Yes, you had sought out the one friend, who had happened to find too much liking in you, but… while he and Wanda had been figuring out their guilt – and Steve was still sure you had taken some of the blame too in your head – you had sprung into action. And his ego had been too wounded to see it.

He tilted his head back, pleading heavens to give him strength.

“Oh god, I am such an idiot…”

“No, you’re not,” you protested immediately, finding his hand to cover it with yours. Oh, how quickly your roles reversed, you soothing him now.

He looked at you, still not quite believing you had done all that. His eyes scanned your form, your face still damp from the tears you had shed, your eyes red-rimmed from crying, dark bruising under. But regaining at least a little of your confidence, you had grown right in front of his eyes. You were incredible. How had he ever doubted that? How had he ever deserved you?

“Really? Because I was being jealous instead of asking what was the visit about, my ego was hurting and I was hurting, and I was too blinded by my petty feeling of betrayal to see what you were doing. And then I honestly thought you just left me – that all we had meant nothing to you all of sudden. I thought the worst of you and I was too damn proud to comply with the single wish you had. I didn’t even read your letter. Which part of that does not make me a complete idiot?”

You bit your lip, lowering your gaze to your joined your hands, caressing it softly. It made Steve’s heart grow in size – but it still didn’t make him less of a jackass, it actually made him feel worse at the same time, because it wasn’t your place to offer comfort to him, it was supposed to be the other way around.

“The part in which feelings aren’t petty and make us human,” you whispered hoarsely, a tiny spark appearing in your eyes, disappearing all too fast. “I wanted to drop it all – the moment you looked at me when I-- when I froze you and the… the look in your eyes at the airport. It was the worst part of it all. You thinking… thinking that I’m a scum.”

Steve had never shaken his head so abruptly as the moment you called yourself a scum. His hand slipped from under yours, only to frame your face with his palms, making you look into his eyes. He was the one feeling like a scum at the moment, because… you hadn’t been that far from the truth and he didn’t think he had ever felt so ashamed for his previous thoughts like at this very moment.

“No. Hey, look at me. You— I was-- I wasn’t thinking straight. I was hurt and felt betrayed and I was disappointed, yes, but never ever-” he emphasized, staring into your eyes as if there was nothing more important in this world. And it wasn’t. “-have I thought you were--- that. And I’m sorry that I doubted you for even a moment.”

Your eyes turned glassy again under his intense stare, so many emotions written in it. You couldn’t bear it, you wanted to look away, but he wouldn’t let you, holding your gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated firmly and you finally managed to close your eyes to escape.

It was when he did one of the boldest moves ever. Without a single hint of permission, after your relationship had suffered an enormous hit and with him not having a clue how you felt about him now, he pressed his lips firmly to yours, stealing your breath away.

He didn’t know what he had expected, but the hesitant response turning into an eager one within few seconds was not it. Your hands flew to his hair, interlacing in them and pulling him closer, your mouth opening for him almost immediately. He sighed at the unexpected sensation, a shiver of excitement running through his body. Your mouth was hot and wanting against his, one of your hands trailing down his chest; when it stopped above his navel, he found himself silently groaning in disappointment.

It was also when he realized where the hell you were and how much audience you had. His fingers twisted in your hair – god, he missed that – and he withdrew just slightly, setting a slower pace and putting some distance between you two. You seemed to get the memo, because you gently caressed his abdomen over the fabric of his t-shirt, separated from his lips and rested your forehead against his. You were both out of breath, panting.

Steve opened his eyes first, only to see your lips kiss-swollen and parted as you fought for a little air, your eyes still closed as if you were trying to regain some composure. His lizard brain whispered more and he listened, kissing you one more time; but at least wary of keeping the kiss socially acceptable this time. It was next to impossible to part again.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed out and Steve looked at you, once again confused.

“For?”

You licked your lips, the movement utterly and unfairly distracting. He retreated and your eyes snapped opened as you cleared your throat.

“I honestly don’t know where we go from here – and now I mean… like… the two of us, but… I’m sorry. They took all of our personal belongings,” you whispered, embarrassed and pissed off a bit.

Steve tilted his head to side, not following. Yeah, he knew that. Why were you pointing it out?

“…okay?”

“All of it. Including… including jewellery.”

“Oh,” he let out intelligently, his heart expanding in his chest with hope.

Really? Was it possible that-… really? Sure, the kiss you just shared was nothing sort of loving, you had cleared things out and maybe it should hint him, but…

“I mean... I know you're probably angry with me-“

“Would you still want it?” he breathed out, astonished. He was trying to fight the euphoria creeping into his voice, no doubt showing on his face, but he couldn’t help it. “After what happened? After I... thought you turned your back to me, after I left you behind even when knowing you actually didn't? After I became a criminal?”

“I am a criminal too, Steve. And… I told you to go. You didn’t want to, because you're not leaving people behind. And you came back. I… I love you. Of course I’d still want it.”

He felt his lips curl up in a smile that mirrored only a fraction of the surge of joy in his veins. You didn’t seem to follow why. The declaration alone would be enough to make him feel like this, but… well. At least the little delay in the rescue had been worth it.

“Why are you smiling like that?” you asked him warily, hesitant raise of the corners of your lips lighting up your face as well.

Steve reached into his pocket, drawing a thin chain with a ring out, holding it out between the two of you. You gasped in awe, watching the chain you had bought to protect your ring while fighting wide-eyed.

“How-?”

“When I asked the guard about it, he looked at me as if I was crazy. Maybe I am,” he explained with a shrug and you chuckled incredulously, biting your lip.

“May I... may I wear it?”

Steve had honestly no clue how you could be asking such a stupid question. He observed your features that seemed to come alive, finally back to your usual self – the sunshine in even the darkest place.

And that thought gave him a stop; he was in a pretty dark place at the moment and he didn’t think it would get any better any time soon.

“I… I’m in a terrible mess, Snowflake. I’m probably the most wanted criminal in the world now. Are you sure?”

You cleared your throat significantly. “Steve, allow me to remind you that I am a fugitive too. That’s the first thing. The second thing… you’ve done nothing wrong – the whole criminal thing is just a word, a label someone gave you. And the third thing… I know what I’m signing up for. I knew you were trouble – for a good cause – when I said yes the first time. I knew you were trouble long before I fell in love with you. So yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

“God, I love you so much,” Steve murmured before he could even think of anything else.

As he freed the ring so he could slip it back on your ring finger, you held out your trembling left hand for him. It wasn’t fear – it was excitement all over again. Too many emotions to contain. Steve felt the same. He was stunned, moved, and felt so incredibly loved and strong with you by his side that there weren’t any better words to say anyway.

He enclosed your hand in his when the ring was on place, bringing them to his lips only to plant a kiss over the thin metal. It made you smile like a madwoman.

From the corner of your eyes, you saw Sam Wilson fist-bump with Scott Lang. You hid your face in Steve’s chest with silent laugh.

You had no idea what the future held for you now – you could only guess that it wouldn’t be exactly pretty. But as long you were not about to face it alone, you were ready and determined to fight all the battles coming your way.

────── ·❆· ──────  

S.R. masterlist

Hell Froze Over (next in the series)

────── ·❆· ──────  

Thank you for reading!

Someone once told me that fluff is my default setting. They weren’t wrong. I know mini-series was a bit different and with shorter chapters, but hopeflly, you enjoyed nevertheless.

Sequel ahead, this one a longer one! Title’s Hell Froze Over... I can promise you a new enhanced on the scene, some fluff, some angst... the usual :-*

[thetravelerwrites]

Ravadhi (Part 9)

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationship: Female Human x Male Half-Orc Additional Tags: Exophilia, Half-Orc, Monster Boyfriend, Interspecies Romance,Angst, Slow Burn Content Warning: Domestic Violence, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Alcoholism, Drug Abuse Words: 4148

Holly finds out what her mother left for her in the deposit boxes. Afterward, she and Ravadhi settle into a comfortable routine until it's suddenly shattered. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

Holly arrived at the bank only ten minutes after leaving, which was not at all enough time to mentally prepare her for what she was about to find in the deposit boxes, left for her by her dead mother.

She waited in the line anxiously, her fist clenched around the keys that Tonri had given her and her chest tight.

“I can help the next guest,” The teller called. Holly knew him distantly from school, he was a Ratfolk man name was Auro. The two of them hadn’t been friends or really even spoke to each other, but like everyone at school, he knew who she and her dad was, and speculated along with everyone else. Despite that, he hadn’t ever bullied her or ignored her existence out of guilt.

“Hello, what can I help you with today?” He asked as she approached

“Hi, I inherited the keys to safety deposit boxes--” She checked the paperwork she’d received from Tonri. “F152, F153, F154, and F155.”

“Okay, I’ll just need the keys, a photo ID, the death certificate of the decedent, and inheritance letter?”

“Uh, yes, right here.”

She handed the documents to Auro, who took them and scanned them briefly, stopping on the name and glancing up uncomfortably. It was a well known fact that Holly’s mother had disappeared when she was young, but she guessed the news that she was dead hadn’t made the gossip rounds yet.

Auro cleared his throat. “Of course, right this way.” He left his desk and led Holly to a private room. “Wait here a moment and the boxes will be brought to you,” He said.

“Okay, thanks.”

She waited tensely for about five minutes. Then, Auro returned with the four boxes, setting them on the table in front of Holly. He also left a large bank bag on the table.

“Would you like privacy?” Auro asked.

“Yes, please,” Holly replied in a small voice.

He nodded and smile sympathetically, then left and closed the door.

Feeling tears prick her eyes, she sat in front of the four boxes, steeling herself to look inside. She picked the one on the right and pulled it toward her. With shaking hands, she turned the key and slowly opened the lid.

The first thing she saw were the pictures. Hundred of them. Pictures of her, of Holly as a baby, of the two of them smiling and happy and together.

Holly cried softly. She thought all the pictures had been destroyed. She spend a long time looking at the photographs of her and her mother. As she shuffled through them, and envelope fell out from the pile. She picked it up and examined it, and on the front, in her mother’s handwriting, was the word, “Holly.”

Sniffling and attempting to stem the flow of her tears, she carefully slit open the envelope and took out the contents. It was a letter. It was dated seven months before Holly’s mother disappeared.

            My baby girl,           I’m so, so sorry.        If you’re reading this, it means that son of a bitch actually killed me and my attempt to escape with you has failed. I’m sorry. I tried. I tried so hard, but he was always one step ahead of me, no matter what I did.        You once asked me, when you were very little, why I was with your father if he made me so sad. I couldn’t answer you then, because you were too young to understand. I was hoping to tell you this story in person one day when we were free of him, but it looks like that day will never come.       Abusive relationships never start out that way, you know. Your father started out sweet and kind and affectionate, and I was fooled. By God, was I fooled. He spent the first year of our relationship waiting on me hand and foot, doing anything I asked, lavishing me with gifts and attention. I was so struck by his attentiveness and loving nature that I fell for him very quickly. Looking back, I realize it was too quickly. I didn’t realize that his attention was manipulation, or that a pattern of dependence was beginning to develop.       The change was so slow that I didn’t even see it. It started with comments, off-handed observations. “Your mom was kind of rude to me today and your brother doesn’t like me. We shouldn’t go over there as much. Your friends talk about you behind your back. You should dump them and get better friends.” He began to drive a wedge between me and all of my relationships, until he was the only one left. He’d convinced me that my family hated me, that my friends were jealous of me. I started cutting ties with people who I loved dearly, and when no one was left, all I had was him. Which is exactly what he wanted.       Then there were sudden negative criticisms about my appearance or how I cooked or cleaned. I was gaining too much weight and wasn’t as pretty as I had been when we first started dating. I was spending too much time at school or work and not enough time with him. He began questioning where I went, how much money I spent, who I was with, why I was out so long. Whenever I protested, he simply said he was worried about me and that he didn’t want anything bad to happen to me, that I was careless, even reckless sometimes, and that I could get myself in trouble. I started questioning myself and actively avoiding things that would upset him. I thought he got angry with me was because he loved me. I didn’t realize he was trying to control me.       Before we got married, he had been pressuring me to leave school, saying that it was too expensive and he couldn’t afford it. I told him I could apply for grants and scholarships, but he wouldn’t hear a word of it. His temper was getting shorter and shorter by the day, and before I knew it, it seemed like he was always angry. He started drinking not long after we were engaged. But I loved him, and I figured it was just stress because of money. It was easy to dismiss the emotional and psychological abuse as stress or concern, but now I know it was never any of those things.       The physical abuse started shortly after we got married. By then, I wasn’t speaking to my family or friends anymore and we had moved to Willowridge for his work, so I was completely isolated. We had another argument about school, and it was the first time he laid a hand on me. He slapped me so hard that he knocked me to the floor, and I was shocked. Looking back now, it’s almost comically obvious that the relationship was heading in that direction, but at the time, I was terrified and so very confused. I was a smart person; smart people didn’t get into abusive relationships, it wasn’t possible. And now that I had alienated all of the people who could have helped me, I felt powerless.       My mother died, and I wanted to go to her funeral and patch things up with my family, but your father convinced me that my family didn’t want me there. They hadn’t called me, after all. There had been no invitation to attend. So I didn’t go. Then my father died, and shortly afterward, my brother took his own life. Suddenly, I was without family and it was now too late to reconnect with them. I dropped out of college due to a mental breakdown, which was what your father wanted. It was then that the abuse became extreme.       He would beat me for any small thing. I had no money, no friends, no resources, and I was now living in a town of which I wasn’t familiar. I felt trapped, but I also felt like it was my fault for falling for it, so perhaps it was what I deserved. I developed an eating disorder, lost a lot of weight, stopped leaving the house, and fell into a deep depression. I always felt anxious and sick. I didn’t even realize I was pregnant with you until I went into labor.       You were a month early, and so tiny. I hadn’t been to the doctor since before our wedding and the eating disorder made my period stop for months at a time, so I had no reason to believe I could have been pregnant.       When you were born, everything changed. I may not have been able to get out for myself, but for you, I would move mountains. I made a deal with your father; you know what it was. He wouldn’t let me work, so I had to scrounge and save any way I could. I was the weirdo who took all the coins from the “take a penny, leave a penny” tray. I dived into wishing fountains and scooped up handfuls of quarters. I’d lie to your father and say I lost the receipt when I went to buy groceries and couldn’t remember what the total was. It always earned me a beating, but it was worth it if I could manage to squirrel away even five dollars. I even sold my wedding and engagement rings. I expected to tell him I had lost them and get a beating, but he never asked about them. Someone who controlled every aspect of my life for years didn’t care that the proof of our marriage was missing. Fitting, I suppose.       I’m not sure how much I’ve managed to save; I’ve never had the chance to count it. I’ve also put away all of my jewelry, collectables, and any small thing I thought might be valuable sentimental or otherwise. I hope beyond hope that you’re free from him as you read this, but if you’re not, I hope I’ve saved enough to give you a chance to get away and live a better life. If there’s only enough for you to buy a bus ticket and get out of this godforsaken town, it’ll have been worth it.       I love you, Holly. I love you so much. If any good thing came out of that miserable bastard, it was you. You were a surprise, but once I saw your little face and your tiny hands gripped my finger, I’d have done anything to keep you safe. I’m sorry I fell short. If you hate me, I understand. But please, never doubt that I loved you. I only wish I could have been a better mother and protected you, and I hope you’re not too disappointed in me.          Forgive me. Forgive me.                    Mommy

There were tear stains on the paper, old ones from when it was written, and new ones as Holly read it. Holly held the letter to her chest and wept bitterly.

“I don’t hate you,” Holly sobbed. “I don’t.”

It took several minutes to compose herself. When she’d sniffled to a stop, she turned her attention to the other boxes. In the first, she found jewelry, coins, stock certificates, and the proof of purchase on the house. In the second, there were trinkets she’d saved from Holly’s childhood, like her footprint, her hospital bracelet, and the blanket in which she’d been wrapped in. In the third was a single item: a bank account card.

Holly took all of the items in the boxes and stepped out of the room, walking back up to the teller’s desk.

“There was this account card in the box,” She told Auro. “Do I have access to this?”

“Yes,” Auro said. “Your name is on the account.”

“Oh,” Holly said, surprised. “Can I check the balance?”

“Of course,” Auro said, entering the number into the computer. His hands stilled and he stared at the screen.

“Well?”

“Right,” He said, clearing his throat. “At present, you have $53,640.35 available in your account.”

“Fifty-three…” Holly trailed off. “That’s… mine?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Auro said. “You can use it whenever you like. I can give you a checkbook before you leave, and have a debit card mailed to you within the week.”

“Yes, please,” She replied faintly.

She rode home in a numb fog. When she arrived, Ravadhi and Sarah were sitting on the front porch as if waiting.

“Are you okay?” Ravadhi asked, immediately pulling her into a hug. You accepted it gladly. As soon as he wrapped her up in his arms, she started sobbing again, unable to stop, and started to collapse, her legs crumpling underneath her.

“Hey, it’s okay,” He said softly, moving to sit her down on the porch. Sarah sat on your other side and rubbed her arm.

“What happened?” Sarah asked.

“She left me some things,” Holly managed to gulp out, pulling some of the things from her bag to show Sarah

“Are these you when you were little?” Sarah said. “I’ve never seen pictures of you as a kid.”

“Dad got rid of them all,” Holly replied, shuffling through them to show her. “Or, I thought he had. Mom managed to save some.”

“You were really small,” Sarah said wonderingly. “Even smaller than me.”

“Mom said I was a month premature. I didn’t know that before,” Holly whispered.

“You’re mom said?” Ravadhi asked.

“Oh, she wrote me a letter,” Holly replied, pulling it from her pocket. She began to read the letter out loud to Sarah and Ravadhi. As private and emotionally charged as the letter was, Ravadhi and Sarah were the only two people in the world who Holly felt she could share it with, and because she could, she did. Not only that, she knew they would understand it in a way that no one else would.

“Do you hate her, like she said?” Sarah asked.

“No,” Holly told Sarah. “No, I couldn’t hate her if I wanted to. I wish she had been your mom, Sarah, she was such a good mom. The best.”

“Dad tricked her,” Sarah said, looking up at Holly sympathetically.

Holly nodded. “Yeah.”

“He didn’t trick my mom,” Sarah said bitterly. “All he had to do was pay for her drugs and vodka.”

“I’m sorry, Sarah,” Holly said. Sarah shrugged.

“So you own our house?” Sarah asked, changing the subject. “Are you going to kick mom out?”

“No,” Holly said. “It doesn’t matter what my feelings are for your mom, I will always make sure you have a home to go to, no matter what. But I think it’s best if she doesn’t know I own it, so maybe keep it under your hat.”

Sarah nodded knowingly.

Holly sighed heavily, wiped her face, and stood up abruptly. “Well, I am absolutely starving. Do you guys want breakfast?”

That night, Holly lay in bed, unable to quiet her mind. She had decided to keep the news about the money to herself until she knew what she wanted to do with it. There were a million possibilities bouncing around in her head, and she couldn’t pin one down. She could fix up the house for Sarah, put it away for Sarah’s college, put a down-payment on her own house, go back to school, anything. But deep down, Holly was worried.

Ravadhi had said at the beginning that she was to stay with him until she got back on her feet, but now they were dating. Would he want her to to find her own place since, she had the money to do it? She liked living with Ravadhi. It was the healthiest environment she’d ever lived in and she didn’t want to have to start all over again on her own. Was that co-dependent? Maybe, but healthy co-dependence was better than depressed, anxious solitude, as far as she was concerned. She didn’t want to leave, and she didn’t think he would just kick her out. But, as her mother’s letter had taught her, you could never be truly certain of a person’s motives or intentions. Ravadhi had been nothing but kind and caring toward her, but… people can change.

What if she could get custody of Sarah? That would be amazing. If she could prove Diane was an unfit mother, would they even let Holly get custody? She knew that they wouldn’t let Sarah live with a convicted felon, though, so if she could get custody, the matter of continuing to live with Ravadhi in his house would decide itself. As much as she cared for Ravadhi, Sarah was her first priority.

What if she lost the custody case and they put Sarah in some kind of group home? Ravadhi’s tale of being in a group terrified her and she’d never subject Sarah to it. Was it best to leave her in a neglectful environment where at least Holly knew she could take care of herself and be safe? Or try for custody and run the risk of losing her in the system?

Maybe she could ask Sarah. She had a good head on her shoulders and could make good decisions for herself. A lifetime of neglect from her own parents as well as having to take care of her beaten and bloodied sister on a regular basis had aged her prematurely, so she was used to it. Unfortunately.

There had been another thing that had been weighing heavily on her lately as well, even before learning about her inheritance: she and Ravadhi had been officially dating for about a month, but they had both cared about each other longer than that. Would… he be expecting sex? Even if he did, she didn’t think he would be the type to pressure her into it, especially given his history.

Eventually, she fell asleep, wondering if she should ask him about it. A few days later, when they were alone with each other and just sitting down to dinner, she broached the topic.

“Ravadhi?” She piped up shyly. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course, anything,” He said, picking up his fork and getting ready to tuck in to his pork stirfry and rice.

“Do… do you want to have sex with me?” She asked.

He immediately began to choke on the first bite of his food, and Holly rushed to get him some water in alarm.

When he was able to speak again, he asked, “Before I answer, is that an inquiry or a request?”

“An inquiry,” She replied.

“Okay,” He said, taking a deep breath and bracing his hands on the table. “Okay.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Holly said, wincing.

“No, no, it’s okay,” He replied, clearing his throat and taking another sip of water. “I’m glad you feel comfortable enough with me to ask. That’s really important to me, that you feel safe and comfortable.” He knitted his fingers and took a second before answering, pondering the question over in his head.

“The short answer is: yes, I do, because I care about you in both a emotional and a physical way, and part of that is wanting to be intimate and sexual. The long answer is: yes, I do, but.”

“But?”

“Yes, I do, but… I know that it scares you and that you’re not ready. Yes, but I never want to do anything to hurt you or make you feel unsafe. Yes, but I’m willing to wait as long as it takes until you feel the time is right, even if that never comes. I’m here for you because I love you, not because I want to have sex with you. Your happiness and well-being is more important to me than that.”

Holly blinked and her mouth fell open. She stared at Ravadhi in silent shock.

His brow furrowed. “What?”

“You said you loved me.”

His cheeks darkened. “Oh. I… well… yeah. I do. Love you, I mean. It’s okay if you don’t or don’t want to say it.”

Holly’s heart raced and she felt confused. “Give me some time?”

He nodded. “Yeah, absolutely.”

She nodded in return, relieved. “Thanks. And… I appreciate you being cool with everything. It may not seem like a big deal to you, but it means a lot to me.”

He smiled fondly at her and continued eating.

The school semester came to an end, and Ravadhi passed all his exams, despite working two jobs and having taken Holly in during the month when he needed to study the most. Now that school was over for the summer, he took some more time to work on the house, which he hadn’t been able to do for a long time. Holly was happy to help him, and it became a new bonding activity for them both. Sarah slept over often since it was summer break, and the three of them were happy.

It was becoming easier for her to be physically affectionate with him, holding his hand and giving him hugs and kisses more casually, which was a huge step for her. He never brought up sex or being more intimate, and Holly appreciated it.

Ravadhi still had the plumbing and overnight security job, but now that school was out, he was able to take more shifts. Holly would stay up and text him until at least his lunch break at eleven P.M. to help him stay awake.

On a warm Thursday evening as the sun was going down, Holly sat on the back porch overlooking the closed-in backyard and watched some videos on her phone while texting Ravadhi back and forth. He was bored, like he always was during his shifts at the power plant. He worked alone at the front lobby and watched the cameras, which Holly was sure was nothing short of riveting. At least he was allowed to listen to music.

>What have you got playing? She asked.

>Sevendust. It’s my go-to band. Very effective at keeping me awake.

>I bet. Do you listen to any female fronted metal bands? I think you’d really like Epica and Otep. Epica has got a great opera vibe. Oh, and Sister Sin is a really good hard rock band. Great vocalist.

>I haven’t heard those bands. They sound awesome.

>I’ll make you a playlist.

>Nice. What are you up to?

>Enjoying the nice evening. I was going to clean up the kitchen before I went to bed, but I was tired. I’ll do it tomorrow after work.

>Going on rounds. I’ll text you back in a minute.

Holly switched back over to watching true crime videos on YouTube. She blinked, and when she opened her eyes, suddenly the sun was completely down. She looked at her phone and realize she must have fallen asleep: two hours had gone by. She went over to messages and texted Ravadhi. He hadn’t texted back yet, which was weird.

>Sorry, I fell asleep. Find anything?

Holly decided to go inside and actually clean the kitchen. By the time she was done, Ravadhi still hadn’t texted back.

>Everything okay?

Ten minutes passed and there was no response. Holly began to feel uneasy. With a pit in her stomach, she dialed the power plant’s main line. Ravadhi had to answer that phone, it was part of his job. The phone rang and rang and rang. Ravadhi never picked up.

Holly’s breath stalled in her chest with panic and she called the sheriff’s department.

“Sheriff’s department,” Holly heard.

“Hi, um, look, my boyfriend is at work and he’s not answering the phone, which is part of his job, and I’m worried something may have happened to him,” Holly said in a rush.

“I’m sure he’s fine, ma’am,” The deputy said dismissively. “He’s probably in the bathroom or something. I’m not sure this warrants a welfare visit.”

“I’m telling you, something is wrong,” Holly insisted. “I haven’t heard from him in hours. That’s not something that happens.”

“You’re probably overreacting,” He said. “Just calm down--”

“Who am I speaking to?” Holly asked, getting angry.

“Deputy Reynolds.”

“Well, Deputy Reynolds, my name is Holly Stevenson. Do you know that name?”

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end. “Yes, ma’am, I know who you are.”

“Then you know you owe me. You owe me.”

The deputy didn’t respond.

“The least, the very least, you can do is make sure the person who saved my life is okay. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” The deputy replied. “I’ll send an officer right away.”

“You do that,” Holly said. “And I expect a call when you get there.”

“Yes, ma’am,” The deputy said.

Holly hung up the phone and waited anxiously, biting her nails and pacing. A full thirty tense minutes later, she saw red and blue lights outside. She rushed to the door and threw it open. The sheriff himself stepped out of the car.

“What happened?” Holly asked.

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Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[sadclearance]

summer

pairing: suwa hiroto x male!reader x naruse kakeru from orange

summary: summer is here again.

category: fluff(?), angst(?), hurt/comfort(?) idk i suck at categorizing

warning(s): implied/referenced suicide

word count: 2013

key:

there's a flashback, but the start and end of it is signified with "*"

s/t - skin tone

summer is a time of warm sunny fun. the sky is clear, the air is hot--there's nothing stopping the group of old high school friends from gathering.

"do you think y/n's almost here?" naho asks, seeing as everyone from the group has finished with their brunch meals.

"if he is, he better have eaten beforehand. no way i'm staying any longer. i wanna get to the beach already!" azusa throws her head back exasperatedly.

"i'm sure he's on his way," saku says, voice steady but mind not confident in his own answer.

"y/n just texted me," hiroto sighs, and everyone already knows what it's about. and nobody's surprised.

"let me guess," azusa leans her face against her palm, "he's got another paper."

"yup," hiroto nods, revealing the screen of his phone to his friends.

"this is summer! who has papers during the summer?" azusa frowns.

"y/n always has papers during summers," saku notes. "maybe he's just working really hard."

"do you guys even know what he's studying?" hiroto asks.

"if you don't know, none of us would," takako says.

"what?"

"haven't you noticed?" azusa's eyes go wide. "are you dense?"

hiroto pouts, "that's not nice."

"y/n hasn't talked to any of us since high school," saku says.

"what? that can't be true. you're exaggerating," hiroto shakes his head.

"nope. not one text. not one reaction," azusa puts her pointer fingers together to create an 'x'.

"do you guys think he's holding up okay?" naho asks with a quiet voice. "i barely even saw him in high school after..."

and they all know what the next words were supposed to be.

but summer is a time for warm sunny fun, not a dark topic like this.

"let's go to the beach," azusa jumps from her seat and grabs her bag.

"yeah"s are heard throughout the group, and they all get up and follow her lead.

and the day is just the way it's supposed to be. the sun is bright, the air is hot, and the splashes of water that they playfully send each other's ways are cold.

"oh, you're so gonna get it!" azusa yells after saku dumps a bucket of water on her.

"hey! be careful," naho scolds. "you're gonna knock down my castle."

"sorry, sorry," azusa sends her a wink before going back to chase after saku.

it's fun like this. it's fun being with his high school friends. so fun that it makes hiroto miss high school.

but missing high school came with reminiscing memories of high school. memories that weren't always so fun.

and now hiroto feels like he can't move his fingers. his eyes can't focus on anything, and his view of the beautiful blue water is blurry. he wants to clear his mind, but he's trapped.

his heady is foggy, yet the past moments whizzing around inside his brain is painfully apparent.

*he doesn't feel the cool breeze of the ocean anymore. he feels the warm air of the blazing fire that was lit in y/n's tiny backyard. probably a fire hazard, but who could think about that when his best friends were smiling so big?

a black-haired boy that usually wears such a painful expression is now laughing heartily alongside the owner of the small place, letting his arms rest around his waist.

and warm s/t hands are pulling hiroto towards them.

"c'mon! join the party!"

there's so much laughter and warmth, even on the cold winter night.

hiroto thinks that it's the best night of his life.

the same hands that pulled him closer are now pointing at both sides of his cheeks.

the brunette and the raven laugh more before they decide to say "fuck it" and give into a little peck on the cheek.

but right before lips meet cheeks, y/n pulls his face away, and the lips are pressed against each other.

a cheery beautiful laugh resounds throughout the cold air as grey and brown eyes stare into each other, wide with realization.

when they pull away, hiroto expects kakeru's face to twist in disgust, but it doesn't. there's a small smile playing on his lips instead.

"your loss, y/n. kakeru's lips are sweet," hiroto playfully sticks out his tongue.

"then i guess i should get a taste for myself," y/n grins like a goof.

this view is so pretty and hiroto would never trade it for anything.

but then suddenly, kakeru's feet are off the ground, and y/n's body crumbles because kakeru is--*

"what--" hiroto gasps when cold water soaks him from head to toe.

"you were off in your own little dream world," takako says, putting the bucket down on the coarse sand.

"stop thinking so hard. that's never been a strong point for you," saku jokes before getting splashed by azusa.

"finally got you!" azusa celebrates, prancing around the low water in glee.

"you're on, takako!" hiroto says with a new burst of energy. he doesn't want to bring down the mood.

"it wasn't a challenge, but if you really wanna lose..." takako grins.

he's tired by the end of the day. takako was right. he lost.

"meet up at five for the festival tomorrow?" hiroto asks before parting ways.

"yup!" azusa nods aggressively.

"keep that up and you're gonna break your neck," saku flicks her head with his pointer finger.

"yeah," takako laughs.

"should we text y/n about tomorrow's plans?" naho asks hesitantly.

"i'll let him know," hiroto says after no one responds.

"you will?" naho asks with hopeful eyes.

"how could i ever say no to you?" hiroto ruffles her hair, trying to make the air less tense.

"don't be late tomorrow!" azusa yells at the group before going her own way.

the walk back to his house is quiet. he doesn't want to be alone right now. his mind is too much to handle alone, and he just wants something to distract him from these memories forever.

before he knows it, his feet have carried him to the l/n family house's door. the house that had been empty since y/n left for college.

he wonders if y/n's even there. probably not, considering how y/n's working on the paper for his project.

but he still needs time to work up the courage to ring the doorbell.

the simple task of lifting his finger and pressing the button takes some time and way more effort than it should, but he eventually gets it done.

"you in?" hiroto asks after a while. he knows his voice is weak, and that even if y/n was home, he wouldn't have been able to hear, but he can't find it in himself to raise his voice. his energy is suddenly drained, and he feels like he can barely keep himself up straight.

he leans against the door for support. "please."

he feels like a drunk, but he hasn't had anything to drink. it's pathetic and sad and ugly. all sides of him that he doesn't want to show anyone.

but he desperately wants to see y/n.

so, he continues.

"please, y/n. open the door," hiroto weakly knocks against the door.

he doesn't know how long he's been there, but he knows he needs to pick himself up and get to his own place.

before he leaves, holding the naive hope that y/n's on the other side of the door, he says, "we're gonna go to the festival tomorrow at five... it'd be nice if you came. i'll wait for you by the park that ka--..." this part is hard. he has to harshly swallow down the lump in his throat. "that we used to hang out at."

he couldn't keep his promise.

he had been waiting since four, but it was half-past five. he couldn't keep his friends waiting any longer.

"come on, hiroto," naho says with a painfully feigned smile. "it's okay."

"yeah," azusa tries to help. "we'll just catch him next time."

"we have all week to see him," saku eventually just grabs hiroto's arm and pulls him with them.

"okay, okay," hiroto forces out a laugh. "i can walk on my own. let's get a snack."

naho's as pretty in that kimono as she was back in high school, but hiroto can't find it in himself to be interested. he realizes that the things that used to excite him don't mean anything to him anymore.

it makes him feel hollow inside. will he feel like this when--if he sees y/n?

the thought haunts him for the rest of their time walking together, looking at what the different stalls and booths had to offer.

he doesn't remember when, but at some point, the sky had turned dark. he's sure the fireworks will start any time now.

"let's find a nice spot!" azusa says excitedly.

"you guys go ahead," hiroto says, pulling away from the group. "i need to go to the bathroom."

"hurry back! or you're gonna miss it!" naho says with a certain desperation in her voice, and hiroto knows it's because she can't afford to lose another friend.

"don't worry," hiroto reassures with a little smile. "i'll be back."

he knows it's silly, but he wants to go back to the park. it's stupid and illogical to even hope for y/n to be there because hiroto's not even sure if y/n was in the house when he said those desperate words.

but hiroto can't help but yearn.

he makes it to the park, and he sees a figure sitting on a bench--their bench.

it could be a random stranger that just happened to coincidentally sit there, or it could--

"y/n..." hiroto says softly when he gets close enough to confirm the identity of this person.

"hiroto..." y/n greets back. he's in casual clothes, nothing like what people normally wear to a festival. it's clear that this wasn't a thought out idea.

he hesitantly takes a seat next to y/n, leaving more space than necessary between them.

"i didn't know you were in town," hiroto says because as much as he's been longing for this moment, he doesn't know how to continue.

"then why did you come last night?" y/n doesn't look up.

"i..." how's he supposed to answer a question that he himself doesn't know the answer to? "i was hopeful."

the silence between them is unbearable, and hiroto wishes that seeing his high school best friend wasn't this awkward. it used to be so easy to talk to each other. why was it like this now?

"do you come back often?" hiroto asks.

"no. i've been too busy with stuff at school."

"you can't lie to me."

"then why ask?" it comes out harsher than y/n meant it to. "sorry..."

hiroto waits it out this time, and it works.

"i... i come back every summer," y/n lifts his head, but not to face hiroto's. his gaze passes the brunette and goes straight for the skies above.

there's tears building up in his eyes, and he tries to blink them away as fast as he can, but hiroto's already seen them.

he tries to think of his next words very carefully, but saku was right. thinking really hasn't ever been his strong point.

so he instinctively grabs y/n's shaking hand with his own and pulls him into an embrace.

"hey, y/n..." hiroto steadies his voice. "you're still reliving that summer alone, over and over again, aren't you?"

the only response he gets is trembling arms around his waist.

"as long as we live, summer will continue to come around..." hiroto tightens his embrace and hopes that his words are the right ones. "but the same summer will never come again."

"i miss him, hiroto," y/n chokes on a sob.

"i know. i miss him, too," hiroto buries his face in y/n's shoulder.

"and i missed you," y/n cries.

"i missed you more," hiroto whispers. "i love you."

he wonders if y/n could hear him over the loud popping of the fireworks.

but more than that, he wonders if this summer, they can finally start anew, as kakeru would want summer to be a time of warm sunny fun.

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

a/n;

messy half-vent fic. idek if it makes sense. inspired from a manga that i forgot the name of but it was this younger guy who was chasing after an older guy, and the older guy had a deceased boyfriend that died in a car crash in the summer.

[becasbelt]

in light of some recent headcanons of mine

@anastasia-93-daybidaylove requested that I write up one of my headcanons from this post, so I present you with:

The reason Beca does that (belts sexily) in "Cheap Thrills" is because she got all miffed by Emily doing fancy vocal layover stuff during "Sit Still, Look Pretty" and wanted to prove to everyone that she was still the Baddest Aca-Bitch™

(She still made Chloe validate her skills after the fact, which of course Chloe was more than happy to do)

* * *

“I mean, it was alright,” Beca says, shoving against the rickety door of her, Chloe, and Amy’s single-room apartment. She immediately starts wrestling off her jacket as soon as she passes the threshold, irritation making her movements jerky. “It was a good arrangement, I guess.”

She’s referencing the Bellas’ – the new Bellas’ – performance at the aquarium. She’s not lying, it was a good performance, but Beca can’t say she was really all the impressed. So what if they were young, fit, and shiny? Beca had been there. Beca was still shiny. Big whoop.

Chloe hums as she enters after Beca, decidedly much more sober than an hour ago, Amy following closely behind. “It was a good arrangement,” she agrees, moving to take off her heels. “Nice sound, too.”

Beca makes a noncommittal noise from their clothes rack as she finally gets her jacket off.

“Yeah I agree with Ginger,” Amy pipes up, already rifling through their tiny refrigerator for snacks. “I think Legacy might have you tied for aca-arrangement skills, Shawshank.” She pulls out a Tupperware container filled with God-knows-what and sniffs it. “And as much as I hate to admit it, the kid has some pipes.”

Beca whips her head around to stare the Aussie, eyebrows pulled tensely together. “Well of course she can sing,” she says, watching as Amy decides the leftover food in her hands is safe to eat. “Would I have let her into the group if she couldn’t?”

“Technically you weren’t there when we decided,” Chloe points out. Beca turns to glare at her, only to feel her face flush instead when she sees that Chloe is in the process of changing out of her Bellas uniform.

She looks pointedly away from Chloe. “Still, if she sucked I would have done something about it.”

Amy snorts a laugh. “No need to sound so jealous, Beca. You had your time to shine. So Legacy can belt a little? It’s not like all of us can possess those skills- except, for me, of course. You bitches are nothing compared to what I’m capable of.”

The room is filled with Amy’s singing a moment later as she decides to demonstrate those “skills,” the microwave heating up her food providing a strange harmony underneath.

Beca looks over at Chloe for backup, forgetting about her state of undress. “How long does it take someone to get dressed?” she barks, face burning as she pushes through the clothes rack into Amy’s side of the room to find some semblance of privacy in their tiny apartment, the start of a headache already blooming.

* * *

A sigh of relief escapes Beca as her body hits the soft bed in she and Chloe’s hotel room. Why was it that things could never go smoothly for any of them? Beca liked to think they’d worked off their bad karma from Fat Amy flashing the President by now, so why was the universe still intent on making their lives a living hell?

Maybe “Taps” cutting of their performance was symbolic. Maybe it was time to let the Bellas die once and for all.

The mattress dips as Chloe flops face-down beside Beca, neither of them bothering to change out of their performance attire. They lay in silence for a moment, just sulking in their bad feelings.

“Well that sucked,” Chloe says plainly, voice a little muffled by her positioning.

And Beca can’t help but laugh at that, because yeah, that pretty much sums it up.

“I think the universe is telling us to move on,” Beca says, only half joking. She pushes a hand through her hair, not caring about the fact that it’s all done up anymore. “Amy was right; we had our time. I think this was a mistake.”

Chloe rolls onto her side to face Beca. “Excuse me?” she says, and Beca flinches at the alarming tone of her voice. “Is that quitter talk I hear? Because if that’s quitter talk then I’m sorry to tell you that I have to put an end to it.”

Beca shakes her head with another sigh. “It’s- look, okay, it’s not quitter talk, alright? I don’t really mean that. This is just…” Beca searches for the right word. “Discouraged talk.” She turns her head to look at Chloe lying next to her. “I’m sure by the morning I’ll feel better and all of this will have been forgotten.”

Chloe’s face starts to do that concerned thing where her brow crinkles up and her lips turn down in a small frown and Beca has to look away, sure that if she keeps looking she’s start doing something ridiculous like crying.

“It’s okay to feel bad, Bec,” Chloe says softly, running a hand up and down Beca’s arm. “I’m not happy with how tonight went, either, but I guess…” she trails off, her fingers tapping absentmindedly somewhere around Beca’s wrist. “I guess I just want to make the most out of this last adventure with the girls, you know? Because I don’t know how many more adventures like this we’ll get.”

And that makes Beca turn back to look at Chloe, because Chloe has always been so good at grounding Beca and reminding her what truly matters.

She tries for a small smile. “You’re right,” she says, reaching for Chloe’s hand still on her arm and giving it a squeeze. “We’re just here to spend time with our family.”

Chloe squeezes her hand back, leaning over to give Beca’s cheek a quick kiss before pushing herself off the bed. “Everything will figure itself out, I promise,” she says assuredly, and Beca can do nothing but believe her because Chloe has never broken a promise. “You alright if I use the bathroom first? I need to get out of these pants before they permanently fuse to my legs.”

Beca laughs and assures her that she’s fine to use the bathroom, pushing herself up into a sitting position. She watches Chloe gather up her pajamas with an easy smile, but a small bit of insecurity still lingers in the back of her mind. Just as Chloe is about to exit the room, she speaks up.

“Hey, Chlo?” she calls, and Chloe pauses in the doorway with a curious hum. “Um, I sounded okay tonight, right?” Beca asks, suddenly feeling very shy. “Like, I didn’t embarrass myself or anything?”

Chloe eyebrows wrinkle in confusion. “What? Of course you sounded good! You always sound amazing! What would make you think otherwise?”

Beca shrugs a little. “I don’t know, it’s just… Emily is, like, young and talented and fresh and all that,” she mumbles, avoiding eye contact. “I just want to make sure I can still keep up.”

Chloe smirks a little. “I can promise you,” she starts slowly, the look in her eyes forcing Beca to meet them again, “that you still have the absolute sexiest voice I know.” Beca blushes at the compliment. “And what you did tonight?” Chloe closes her eyes and sighs in a way that makes Beca shudder. “Yeah, I’d definitely say you can still keep up,” she finishes, shooting a wink at Beca before disappearing into the bathroom.

Beca thinks through Chloe’s words and bites her lip, trying to keep her grin in check.

Yeah, she’s still got it.

[beholdme]

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 18

Chapters: 18/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17]

They cook, they feed him, they chat away about inane things. Their presence soothes Martin and their voices fill him with the warmth sucked away by his unexpected encounter.

Gerry helps him make tea after dinner, and they all sit at the table together, even the cats sleeping nearby, cuddled up into one big, grey and black fluff ball.

"I think," Martin begins, voice croaky, "That I would like to tell you now."

"We're ready to listen if you're ready to tell us." Jon offers softly. Gerry reaches over to take one of his hands, turning it over to kiss the palm sweetly.

Martin talks, voice quiet and even.

"In the beginning, it was just a normal relationship. Except for the fact that he was almost twenty years older than me, and about a million times richer. I didn't know that at first, of course. He was just a middle-aged man I met in a gay bar, who didn't seem to mind that I was trans. I felt secure in our relationship, if not exactly nurtured or adored. I had never felt very secure before, and it seemed like enough, you know?

"He took me out, brought me a few things in the beginning. He was very dominant, sexually, but I was a lot less sure of my own preferences back then and I thought it was fine. He never even blinked at my trashy flat or cheap clothes, and I didn't even realise just how much money he had for a long time. Maybe I just can't really comprehend that much money, even now.

"When I was twenty-two, my mother died, and…" He huffs out a shaky, emotional laugh. "Well, I was a real mess. I lost my job, and almost my flat. Peter started paying for things, my rent, clothes, meals. He said that I needed somewhere to live and had to eat and look presentable, and it was his pleasure to provide those things for me. It made me feel a bit gross, but I struggled to find another job, and so I accepted it."

Martin hesitates here, before continuing. "The problem started when I wasn't interested in sex one night."

"He forced you?" Gerry interrupts to ask dangerously, threat explicit in his quiet words. His eyes seem to glow faintly in the growing dark of the room, as the sun sets. He wishes, more than ever, that he had helped Jon kick the shit out of Peter Lukas, instead of stopping him.

Martin sighs, eyes pressed tight closed for a second. "Not exactly. He simply pointed out that he paid for me to exist. So I made myself interested."

Gerry's hands tighten into fists and he moves them under the table where Martin can't see them anymore. Jon suddenly looks very pale. They share a look, neither able to see much difference between 'forcing' and what sounds a lot like financial abuse to them.

Martin pulls his legs up to his chest, curling around them as he goes on. "Our relationship became a lot more transactional after that night. I disengaged whatever feelings I had left for him and simply drew all my emotions down deep into myself. I wasn't ashamed to be getting paid for sex, but I felt like I had lost my own consent in the matter. Peter honestly seemed like he had gotten exactly what he wanted. Money was nothing to him, and he had someone to take out on his arm or shag whenever he wanted, without the work of a real relationship, or the complications of unfortunate attachments.

"So, if I needed something, I told him. He set a date, took me out, fucked me. He gave me however much I needed."

Martin shrugs, looking down at his hands. "I honestly hated it. Not because of the prostitution itself, sex has always been very nurturing for me, and I sometimes caught the idea that it was only another way to care for people, and being paid for that is perfectly fine, if you're doing it for the right reasons. The real issue was Peter himself. He had this way of making me feel… bereft and hollow, even before the money came into it."

A few tears track down his face, although his face remains rather blank, in a numb way. It's only as he admits the next words that his voice breaks and the heartbreak works its way out again.

"I was very foolish. Looking back, I can see that I was still a child in a lot of ways. I put myself into a situation that damaged me, but I accept the consequences of those actions, both then and now. I- I-"

"Martin," Jon whispers, warm love clear in his voice. It's nothing but an offer of support, one that he desperately needs right now.

He presses his eyes shut, forcing away the stutter and the lump of tears. "I knew I wasn't going to be able to get out of it, even if I got a crap, minimum wage job that I was qualified for. So I started applying for any work that was available. I made every application exactly what they wanted, and I hoped for the best. When Elias offered me the job at Magnus, I took it happily. Since then I found out that Peter knows him, and probably arranged the job for me, but at the time I had no idea. Looking back, I know that it's a miracle that I got out of it at all. Peter could have chosen to make my life a living hell. Instead, he accepted the several firm rejections I offered him.

"He promised me that we weren't done, that I would be back, but he left me alone. I was done. I moved on with my life, even if I had to lie to do it." Martin sighs, shakes out his shoulders, the most difficult part over now.

"I had always planned to be open about it with my next relationships, but they were so fleeting that it never even came up. By the time I fell for Jon, it had become a secret, one I was loathed to dig up for a relationship I was convinced wouldn't last. I thought to myself, 'Why ruin something that makes me happy?' I assumed it would fall apart anyway, and it was easier to allow it to be in the past.

"But I am sorry. I'm sorry that I never told you. I'm sorry you had to find out from him. I'm sorry that we've been together for more than a year and we basically live together, and I've put you in this position. I love you both, very very much."

"When did you eventually decide that our relationship was going to last?" Jon queries, genuine curiosity in his voice.

There's a beat of hazy silence at the abrupt change in tone and topic.

"Oh, ah-" Martin stumbles over his words, unsure how blatantly honest to be. He chooses the real truth, no matter how unfortunate. "The day that I got Luna was the first time I really accepted that you both loved me."

Jon simply raises an eyebrow, completely unconcerned. "What about you, Gerry?"

"With you," Gerry responds easily, "at the hospital in Morden, when I was so panicked that I couldn't decide if I wanted to kill you or handcuff us together for the rest of our lives. With Martin-"

He breaks off with a laugh, colouring slightly. "It was the day we dyed my hair purple."

"The first time we had sex?" Martin asks, surprised at such a hedonistic answer.

He laughs again, more confidently this time. "No, actually, although that was spectacular. It was afterwards, when you braided my hair for the first time. That was the first time anyone had ever braided my hair. It made me feel so… So honoured. Like I was the most precious thing to you."

"Gerry, you are the most precious thing to me. You both are." Martin whispers, tears creeping back into his voice.

"Good, because the feeling is mutual, and we desperately need you around to keep us in line," Jon tells him, voice unusually firm and confident.

"What about you?" Martin remembers to ask him, at risk of floating away in his post confession haze. "When did you know?"

"With Gerry, it was when we were teenagers. I kissed him for the first time, and he laughed at me. I just knew he was my soulmate." Jon rolls his eyes at this, but his voice is full of blatant affection. "With you, Martin, it was- Well, to be quite honest with you, there was no one special moment. It was a million tiny moments, all of them special and perfect to me. Every cup of tea, every frown while you were writing poetry, glasses pushed haphazardly up into your lovely hair. The easy, glorious look on your face the day you met Gerry for the first time, as if you weren't even capable of not falling in love with him, just as I hadn't been. It was especially the days that I would come out of the library and find you waiting for me after work. This weight of total surety would fill my chest and leave me gasping, needing you."

Jon sighs, his own eyes a little bright. "I suppose it was really the night you kissed me in the rain, and every soft moment since then has only affirmed the way I knew you were it for me."

Jon smiles at Martin so beatifically that he forgets to breathe for a moment.

"We love you too, Martin," Gerry tells him, reaching out to grasp a hand. Jon takes the other. "And we wouldn't want you any other way."

***

The next morning, Martin wakes to find Jon eyeing his phone intently. Gerry is asleep on his other side, and he feels warmly cocooned between them. Gentle cloudy light fills the space, encouraging the comfortable cozy atmosphere of their bed.

"What's wrong, love?" Martin asks sleepily, snuggling into his side.

"I got-" Jon pauses, utterly flummoxed. "I got paid a bonus."

"What?" Equally perplexed, Martin takes his phone, squinting as he tries to read the screen.

The banking app is open, and there is indeed a deposit there, Jon's normal salary amount, but on completely the wrong date.

In the purpose box, it simply reads 'Entertainment Value'.

"You don't think," Jon starts, hesitant, "that Elias paid me…"

"For hitting Peter Lukas?" Martin finishes, "His own husband."

They blink at each other, bewildered.

"Does that seem… slightly cursed, to you?" Jon whispers as if Elias might hear him. Even worse if Elias could hear them, and would probably enjoy being accused of having a cursed relationship.

"Yes, completely cursed. What is up with those two?" Martin looks as if he's smelled something bad.

"We absolutely cannot spend this money, right?" Jon asks. "Lest we are cursed with their relationship dysfunction."

"Correct," Martin responds firmly, shuddering. "Can we donate it to the animal shelter?"

"I think that's a wonderful idea." Jon's relief at this resolution is palpable.

He does it straight away, as if even having the money in his bank account might ruin their lives.

They let out a simultaneous sigh as the transfer goes through.

"That is wild," Martin mutters as he snuggles back down.

Jon tosses his phone away, no longer interested in it. Instead, he wraps his arms around Martin, burying his nose in his lover's hair. It smells of bergamot and tea leaves and the ocean in winter, just like Martin himself, and Jon luxuriates in the moment.

"I love you, Martin K. Blackwood." He whispers into the soft air.

"Even if I don't actually have a middle name?" Martin whispers back.

"Especially because of that." Jon chuckles.

They lay together, the gentle moments of the morning flowing around them. Later, they get up and shower together. They drink tea in front of the big windows in the living space. Martin reads a book from Gerry's shelves, his own books still packed, and Jon wanders off to play his piano where it is randomly set up, right in the middle of Gerry's typical painting area.

Gerry himself appears downstairs, still sleepy and bleary-eyed. He curls up with his head in Martin's lap, listening to Jon fill the flat with gentle music.

It's the soft sort of moment that each of them had been wishing for all their lives, full of love, and family, and a home of their very own.