#Matt's this balance of wanting to belong to someone but wanting someone to be his

[courtforshort15]

Chapter 4

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem reader

Word Count: 5,600

Summary:  It's a Wednesday when the sky quite literally opens up above you. The Battle of New York rages around you, and the only thing that gets you through is the stranger standing next to you. Matthew Murdock is more than he seems, keeping you safe in a city that is literally crumbling around you, and even once the dust settles, his hand is the only thing you don't want to let go of.

Trigger warning: This one has a fairly graphic description of something towards the end regarding death. 

Masterlist

Chapter Index

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

The small bookstore looks nothing short of a location where a bomb had been detonated.

It hardly resembles the haven you had run into a little less than an hour ago, dust-covered and shaking, head and body increasingly vulnerable with every second that passed by. When you’d entered the building, numerous bookshelves had been standing throughout the floor space, symmetrically and strategically placed for maximum efficiency and exposure, each one bold and welcoming in the face of new and experienced readers. Rows and rows of colorful books had been placed lovingly on the shelves, every single one of them looking ready and eager for someone to pull it out and bring it home. Displays and racks of reading materials ranging from cook books to self-help guides to religious texts, and it was as if each item was a swift and earnest reminder of New York City’s diverse population and their reading needs and enjoyments.

The small shop had likely belonged to a small business owner, their blood, sweat, and tears shed in its foundation, a testament to their love for the written word and the journeys it could take a person on. 

And it was just…gone.

“Jesus.”

His response is soft. “I know.”

“If you hadn’t pulled us into the bathroom, then we—”

“Let’s not go there, okay?”

Your heart aches as you take in the scene, and your eyes lock onto the lone bookshelf that had somehow endured the chaos. It’s as if it exists solely to offer some sort of twisted and miserable reminder of the way the shop had stood so proudly only minutes before. Books are strewn across the floor, and though some are relatively unharmed, there are others that are burnt with only the spine and a few pages remaining, nothing left but words that have turned into ashes. 

Glass crunches under your shoes as you leave the bathroom and walk slowly into what remains, a soft breeze drifting in from the large hole in the store that had once been wide, clear windows. Heat drifts in, too, the feel of it sweltering, and where it had once been the simple heat of a beautiful spring day, it’s now sticky and bitter and utterly unwelcome. 

Matt walks cautiously ahead of you, hand slowly dropping yours as he makes his way to the front of the store, dark head tilting here and there as if focusing intently on something before deciding to move on. He expertly navigates his way around fallen bookshelves, sidestepping piles of books that have fallen and huddled together, and you follow behind slowly, your feet instinctively taking you through the same path he’s seemingly mapped out for you.

When he reaches the space where the windows had once rested, he stops and situates his body so that he’s angled halfway between you and the street, head once again cocked to the side. He lifts a finger to his lips as if encouraging you to be as quiet as possible, but it’s a hard task to accomplish with the way your heels continue to press into the glass, and each step clinks far too loudly. Your shoe catches on something, and you can’t help the swear word that loudly leaves your mouth as you regain your balance.

Somehow you manage to make your way to his side, cringing as you take in the full view of the street. You don’t have words for the destruction, to be honest. A slowly burning car lies on its side up the block from you, the freshly planted trees and flowers across the street are crumbled and smashed into the sidewalk, buildings are torn apart, gaping holes yawning wide with heaps of glass and brick spilling onto the street. The sight is something you’ve never seen before, and each second you spend staring at it, the further it stains and bleeds into your memory.

You guess you’ve joined the millions of people who have witnessed a New York tragedy. It’s a club you hadn’t ever thought you’d have to join, the kind of club that offers memberships with PTSD as the recurring charge, and it rocks you to your core. 

“This isn’t…this isn’t something we’ll ever heal from.”

Though he only says it in a barely-there whisper, the tone that manages to seep in is solemn and grave. “No. No, it’s not.”

Utterly sick to your stomach, you turn your head to face Matt, needing to see something besides the trauma seeping out onto the road. The cut above his hairline is still bleeding, leaving a small line of red trailing down the side of his forehead, and in this lighting it seems to be more severe than you had maybe thought it was. With a wince, your hand twitches at your side as if you want to wipe it off, but you force yourself to remain still. He had seemed surprised when you’d tried to help earlier, and you don’t want to throw him out of whatever he’s focusing on.

Your eyes shift back to the street reluctantly, and you note that, for some reason, you’ve been instinctively waiting on his go-ahead to begin the arduous journey to the subway station. Opening your mouth, you start to ask him what he’s waiting for, but he interrupts you.

“I think we’re good to go,” he says as his head snaps back towards yours. His mouth is twisted in a grimace, and you can see the glimmer of fear that flashes over a face that’s just as weary and exhausted as yours. “I don’t hear anything nearby.”

You nod immediately, sucking in a deep breath. “Okay. Which way?”

His head swings to the side. “The subway station is a few blocks north and two blocks west, right?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Matt blows out a loud breath, and you watch as he steels his spine in front of you. “Then we need to go right.”

You don’t question how he knows, instead choosing to gather your strength and wits for a journey that would normally be considered a short walk. But four blocks feels like a marathon away, feels like you’re making the walk between the Shire and Mordor, the trek likely to contain danger and trauma and fire lying in wait at every twist and turn.

The whisper of your name pulls you back to the bookstore, and the tone conveys a softness that is at an extreme clash with everything going on around you. Your head turns so that you’re facing him head on, his body seemingly undaunted and thrumming with an energy you haven’t yet seen on him. It’s almost like he’s taken all the chaos around him and suddenly focused it into something even stronger, something more determined than the things flying around the city like they own it. 

“You ready?” he asks, his voice shockingly calm for someone who is about to leave behind the only semblance of shelter he’s had since this all began. 

It’s your last chance to back out, but you wave it swiftly aside. “Yes.”

His nod is almost curt in its movement, the jerk of his head brusque and determined. Without a single second wasted, he steps over the small wall of brick that had once held up the glass, only a foot or so in height, dress shoes making their way from the carpet of the bookstore to the concrete of the sidewalk easily. He turns back to you before he’s even finished stepping outside, wordlessly offering his hands to you to help you clear the brick as well, fingers grasping yours tightly to help you maintain balance.

Matt lets go of your left hand once you’re settled next to him and swiftly takes a right, pulling you along behind him for a few seconds as if to make sure you’re still by his side, before releasing contact altogether.

You can’t run, not without risking a major fall or sprained ankle, but you trail after him as fast as you can, walking briskly and jogging at random moments to keep up with him. He notices pretty quickly that you’re unable to keep the pace he has set and immediately slows, keeping himself just a few steps ahead of you. He’s somehow able to dip and avoid large pieces of fallen debris that litter the sidewalk, and you once again follow the path he’s all but laid out for you.

His coordination and agility is far beyond what you had anticipated, even far beyond what you would expect from someone who has perfect vision, and you’re left feeling both confused and grateful for his navigation through the wreckage.

There’s a haze that’s settled over the city, one filled with ash and dust that’s been both kicked up from the normally filthy streets and created through the destruction of concrete. You do your best to breathe through it, do your best to see through it, grateful that the lenses of your glasses offer some sort of protection from something getting into your eyes. 

You try your hardest to focus on the mission, focus on the goal of finding shelter, but you can’t help the sheer horror and sadness that hits you whenever you look up long enough to see the level of devastation present. Your heels feel more unstable than ever as you walk, and each step you take is clouded in fear and anxiety, even as you move as swiftly as possible with every ounce of determination you can drag up.

“You with me?”

“Yes,” you quickly reply, fleetingly puzzled, because surely he can hear your heels scraping along the concrete and the way you’d stuttered out the word fuck when a distant crash startled you. It only takes a split second to realize he hadn’t been asking if you were behind him, but rather checking in on you to see how you were doing.

What strikes you, perhaps the most, is how deserted the streets are. Or, at least how deserted these specific blocks are, though, to be fair, you aren't super close to the hole in the sky. It could be a completely different story closer to Stark Tower, which sits a few blocks south and a few blocks east, and you're exceedingly grateful that your little slice of Hell's Kitchen is just far enough away from the main action. But still, even once you turn the corner, there’s no one. You’re not quite sure how it's possible. The island of Manhattan is home to over one million people alone, and the number of people around the city doubles during the work day. It’s a place where people flood into and recede from daily, like some sort of tide that washes up and retreats.

You leave your answer at the yes you had responded with, figuring it’s easier to leave it there rather than explain the way your heart continues to drop with every step you take. You don’t expect to get to the subway station unscathed, there’s too much going on around you, and far too much out there that can cause you harm. 

It’s the city that never sleeps, but even with the crashing and the explosions and the police sirens, it’s never felt more quiet. 

Where the fuck is everyone?

You guess, you hope, that people have found shelter. The opening of whatever portal had appeared over Stark Tower had caused widespread panic, people fleeing for their lives, crashing into and around each other in an effort to get away and get inside. But it doesn’t explain why New York suddenly feels like a ghost town. 

He may not be able to see the streets, but you’re completely positive he can feel the emptiness of them.

You suppose the invasion, if that’s what this should be called (how could one word ever begin to accurately describe the chaos?), had first happened approximately forty five minutes ago, give or take, plenty of time for people to find somewhere to go to wait out the shit storm that’s reigning down. For a quick moment, it makes you suddenly second guess your decision to head towards the subway station when everyone else is staying indoors, and you briefly wonder if Matt is feeling the same way. 

But you don’t know how long this is going to last, and while the bookstore had been a temporary solution, it certainly had not been a sustainable one, and right now the focus needs to be on finding something that could outlast the onslaught for as long as possible. 

The first crosswalk lies not too far ahead, and some part of you slows as you would at any other normal instance, but he keeps moving swiftly, clearly aware that there’s no need to pause for traffic. Cars and vans and trucks have been abandoned and left for fate to decide what will happen to them, many of them already damaged beyond any hope for repair. Most have their driver side doors open, as if the drivers barely had time to exit their vehicles, much less worry about closing the doors. Some vehicles have crashed into others, and you’ll never know if it was purposefully as someone tried to escape, or if cars were thrown into each other from the force of various explosions and blasts.

But all vehicles, or at least the ones you can see, are empty of people. You’re grateful for that, at least, knowing it means that the people on this particular block were able to find relative safety.

It’s a pretty straight shot from one street corner to the one across the intersection, and Matt makes his way across briskly, you hot on his heels, doing your best to keep the pace despite the way your feet are throbbing with each and every step. He’s extremely patient even in the urgency of the moment, somehow knowing every time your foot catches on something, quickly turning around and placing a hand on your arm for balance. 

It happens more often than you care to admit, knowing that each tiny tumble, however miniscule, is delaying the progress to the subway station. 

You’re not too far past the intersection, crossing in front of an alleyway, when he turns abruptly on his heel and pushes you into the gap between the two buildings.

“What–”

But he’s shoving the two of you down behind a giant green dumpster before you can finish your question, and his body twists slightly over yours. You cling to his suit jacket for balance with one hand, and place your wrapped up hand on the brick of the wall for additional support, your quads burning slightly as you hunch over. His form may be covering you slightly, but your face is still turned towards the entrance of the alley, and your eyes are wide as they stare over his shoulder, waiting to see whatever had spooked him. Nothing happens, not for a few seconds at least, and it rattles your nerves, your body already anticipating another round of terror.

Matt abruptly shifts, moving as if to cover you more completely, and it momentarily pulls your attention from the mouth of the alley. But you don’t think his movement succeeds in his goal, largely because your head is still completely exposed, and it certainly doesn’t stop your eyes from suddenly tracking the things that fly past the gap of the buildings, some sixty or so feet above the ground. 

They come out of nowhere, sliding into your vision as quickly as they leave, too far away and too fast for you to get a clear glimpse, but you’re one hundred percent certain that it’s one of the things that had been standing outside of the bookstore when the glass had shattered, stalking down the street looking for people to kill in cold blood, no remorse or empathy for the humans who call Earth home.

“They’re too fast,” he mutters, the sound harsh even in its low volume. “I can’t–I hear them coming, but they get too close way too soon. Not a lot of time to hide.”

“Fucking hell,” you hiss under your breath, twisting your head so that you can see better over Matt’s shoulder. “They’re everywhere.”

Your eyes shift to the face that’s mere inches from yours. “You can hear–? How far away can you hear them from?”

He hesitates for just a brief moment. “Far,” he says before taking a large, shuddering breath. It almost sounds painful, as if his lungs are protesting the sudden intake of oxygen. “But like I said, they’re too fast. I hear them and suddenly they’re right on top of us.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” 

“I…yeah. That about sums it up.”

Matt stands up slowly, bracing his hand against the wall as he reaches up to his full height. You follow the motion, not bothering to cover the quiet groan that escapes you. Your body has been turned and twisted into far too many uncomfortable positions today, and you find yourself internally grumbling about the lack of effort you’ve put into exercise lately. Every muscle in your body hates you right now, and you don’t want to think about how sore you’ll be once the adrenaline has left your system.

“Are they gone?”

Head facing away from you, Matt takes a small step forward, his focus on something you can’t see or hear. You stay where you are, ready to duck back down the dumpster if needed. The ground is filthy, the pieces of trash that hadn’t made it into the dumpster littering the concrete, and you can’t help but allow yourself a moment of disgust. 

“It’s hard to tell” he finally says with a sigh as turns back to face you. His face is hard in its frustration. “They’re–they’re everywhere. Moving too fast to track sometimes, especially with so many of them. I can’t quite…I can’t be completely positive of where they’re at or where they’re going.”

Swallowing, you nod your head as if you understand, but you really don’t. “And you’re–you’re relying on your hearing to tell you where they are? From blocks away?”

“Yes,” he responds simply as he rolls his shoulders. The look he sends your way is as dry as it is nonchalant. “It’s not like I can use my eyes, so…”

You flush. “Right. Stupid question.”

Matt waves it off without much thought and places his hands on his hips. A loud bang sounds off from somewhere in the distance, far too close for your taste, and he flinches at the sound before straightening his shoulders. 

“So,” you say, resting back against the brick wall. Your voice is shaking, just a tiny bit, but the two of you don’t acknowledge it. “I don’t think the coast is ever going to be completely clear.”

He grimaces. “Agreed.”

“And we’re definitely worse off right here than we were at the bookstore. But we’re still a few blocks away. Do you think….? Should we just find somewhere else to go inside?”

“Then we keep heading north,” you confirm with a quick and decisive nod of your head. A bead of sweat trickles down the side of your face and you hastily wipe it away. “But we need to keep sticking to the side of the buildings. The alleys can help hide us if something comes our way.”

Shaking his head, Matt immediately rejects the idea. “There’s too much glass. And everything–everything seems so vulnerable here. They’re crumbling buildings so easily. We're so lucky that the one we were in didn't collapse completely when that thing landed on it. I still...I really think it’s safest to be underground.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s probably the best we can do right now.”

“Right. Ok. Let’s go.” You pass by Matt and make your way to the front of the alley entrance fully intending on taking a step back out onto the sidewalk, ready for this to be over and dreading every inch you’ll be walking. He walks up quietly behind you and appears at your shoulder, but somehow he must sense your reluctance because he doesn’t exit the alley.

The frown on his lips isn’t as severe as you’ve seen it so far, but it's definitely pronounced. “You’re hesitating.”

You deny the comment with a shake of your head, even though he’s partly correct. “No, I’m ready. It’s just…it’s a ghost town out here,” you remark almost helplessly, motioning towards the empty streets that he can’t see but can surely hear. “I haven’t seen a single person since we entered the book store. Where is everyone? Where did they go?”

Head cocking slightly, Matt’s quiet for a moment before answering a question that had been kind of rhetorical. “There’s people in the surrounding buildings.”

“What?”

“Yes, everyone has run inside at this point, I think.” He opens his mouth like he wants to say more, but he stops himself. Running an aggravated hand through his hair, he sighs and appears to give into what he was about to say. “But I…I think the glass makes them too vulnerable. People are standing too close to the windows, makes them too much of a target.”

“It’s a long story,” he tells you, and you watch as he sort of folds in on himself as if he’s let go of some sort of large secret he’s still not sure he should have revealed. But it only lasts a moment before he’s standing up tall again, head tilted up and mouth set in determination. “And I…I promise to tell you when we get through this. Alright?”

“How do you even know that?”

When. 

There were so many things to live for, so many things to keep fighting for as hell continues to break loose around you, but you’d be lying if you said that the thought of this man sharing something with you hadn’t just become one of them. You have a feeling it’s not something he’s shared with many, and you have the weird inkling that maybe he needs to tell you just as much as you need to hear it, if only to hold on to the thought that there could possibly be life after whatever the hell is going on in the city.

Not if. 

You stare straight at him, taking in the way he’s somehow managed to expose a vulnerability while also demonstrating his strength and determination. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

The smile he sends you is hesitant, clouded by the heaviness of the situation, but it’s there, and it’s beautiful.

“Deal.”

Things continue to boom and shake, sirens continue to blare, but you follow Matt out of the alley way without question, once again allowing him to navigate and lead you through the piles of debris. He stays a few steps ahead of you, black suit jacket covered in dust and tiny tears that must have been a result of the windows that had shattered. His hands are clenched fists at his side, and the haze that has fallen over the city does its best to pull him in, but you refuse to lose and be lost by him.

The sun is still bright up ahead, even through the smoke and the fear, and the sight of it leads you forward, wanting nothing more than to have the opportunity to live and feel it heat your skin on a day that’s not shrouded by terror.

This block is just as eerie, just as desolate, as the one you’ve already walked down, nothing but random empty cars and scorched pavement, likely from the blast of whatever sort of weaponry these things are firing around with little care as to who or what would be in its path. It reminds you of a post-apocalyptic movie, the kind where there’s nothing left to save except the gas from a gas station or non-perishables from a corner store. 

You do your best to stare straight ahead at Matt’s back rather than the disaster that’s been painted around you, but you can’t help but glance up and down, left and right, mind still struggling to link the peaceful Wednesday afternoon to where you are now. You’re in a constraint state of disbelief, some part of you still on that street corner with your iced coffee in your hand, lip curled as you send Brenda’s call to voicemail, nothing on your mind but your painful shoes, unfinished spreadsheets, and the warmth of a sunny spring day.

The loud screech and following crash from a few blocks over pulls you back into your body with a jolt, and it leaves you feeling bitter and broken. Your skin feels itchy with the dust, your feet throb with every step you take, but you’re here, and you’re alive, and you—

Out of the blue, Matt falters. 

He’s not facing you directly, but you can see that his face has lost its color. 

You almost crash straight into him, the speed of your body nearly too fast to avoid running into his back, but you’re able to swerve at the last moment, coming to a stop just slightly ahead of him. He hadn’t tripped on something on the sidewalk, but he had stumbled, his body briefly losing his coordination as his focus shifted elsewhere.  

��Matt?” you immediately question, alarmed at how pale he’s gone. His name leaving your lips is half a started yelp and half a demand for an explanation.

He whips his head toward yours, seemingly startled at your presence, and you take a quick step forward to rest one of your hands on his shoulders. Shuddering, he leans slightly into the contact, face still far too pale for your liking, and you don’t hesitate to take another step into his space.

“What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head, lips open and dragging in a panicked breath. “At the next intersection,” he begins, throat bobbing dramatically, and it sounds like he’s forcing the words out. You wince in pain for him, because whatever he’s trying to say doesn’t sound like it’s coming easily. “Not the one we’re about to cross, but the next one…don’t…don’t look left.”

Confusion floods through you, and your eyes can’t help but narrow. “What? Why not?”

Matt’s mouth opens and closes twice before he speaks again, body once again shuddering even as he tries to reel himself back together in front of you. “You shouldn’t–it’s not…” He swallows, and the motion almost looks painful. The sun hits his glasses just right, and from this angle and distance, you can see the eyes that shift and dance over your face and beyond your shoulder rapidly. “Just try not to look left, if you can help it. Okay?”

You frown, unable to stop the expression. “I’ll try.”

And you’re not lying when you tell him you’d try not to look left at the intersection, but in all honestly, you wish you’d tried harder.

The bus is turned over on its side just a quarter of the way down the block when you take your first few steps into the intersection, and its hulking mass out of the corner of your eye catches your attention unconsciously. Before you’ve even thought it through, before Matt’s suggestion has a chance to repeat itself in your head, your head is turning to look at it.

You shouldn't have. 

You really shouldn’t have.

It's definitely not the only vehicle in the street, definitely not the only one that's been completely destroyed by the disaster, but it stands out, for obvious reasons. The whole thing is covered in flame, dark smoke weaving its ways out of the pores left often by the shattered glass of the windows, twisting higher and higher into the sky. A giant hole is torn into it, leaving parts of the metal hanging by mere scraps, the tires sagging even without the weight of the bus riding on them. 

But the worst part is the sight of the bodies burning inside. Broken, shredded, diminishing.

There’s a scream tearing itself out of your throat, the force of it as scalding as the fire that’s burning not half a block from you, and it’s a sound that belongs in horror movies.

Matt is immediately moving in front of where you’re turned, effectively blocking your view. But it’s too late, the damage is done, and the scene is something that will be in the back of your head for the rest of your life.  “I told you not to look left,” he says in your ear, his voice every bit as broken as yours, layered with the same levels of fear and grief as yours. “You shouldn’t have—”

But you’re pushing past him before he finishes speaking, your mind suddenly overwhelmed with the thought that someone could be in there, someone could be alive, someone could need help, and–

It’s primal, this feeling of urgency to get there, this feeling of urgency to pry apart metal if you need to, scalding your hands until they bled if it meant that you could help someone. But it’s also irrational, because even in the back of your head, you’re completely aware that there’s no one who could have possibly survived whatever ball of fire had been thrown at the bus.

The bus had been full of people on their way to work, teenagers skipping school, men and women on their lunch breaks. It had never stood a chance, not when something had locked on to its location and found it to be a suitable destination for its rage and need to destroy. Something that had once been so full of life was now nothing more than a pile of metal, heat, and burning flesh. 

Before you can get more than five steps away, Matt’s pulling you back into him, body once again coming between you and the scene. You try to step around him again, but he blocks you, his own frame shaky and full of horror as he wraps his hands around your upper arms to keep you from moving forward.

It fills you with a sense of panic, his attempt to keep you from helping those poor innocent people, so you struggle in his hold, ripping your body left and right to help loosen his hands. But he’s far stronger than you, and so even while he keeps his hands loose enough as to not cause any pain, his grip is still firm and you’re unable to move more than a few inches in either direction. “Let me go, Matt.” 

“There’s nothing we can do,” he tells you quickly, and the words seem hazy in your mind, as if your head can’t process and believe he’s telling you to walk away. “We need to leave.”

“What? No!  No, there might be people in there, we can’t leave.”

Matt shakes his head rapidly, and the slow, single tear that trails down his face alarms you as it cuts a severe line through the thin layer of dust that has collected on sweat-soaked skin. “There’s not anyone to…there’s no one we can help.”

“How do you know?” you wail, voice high-pitched and panicked, still trying to pull away. “We have to—”

“Hey,” he says, stepping closer into your space, hand dropping one of your arms and instead coming up to rest on your cheek. The other hand soon follows, completely cupping your face between hands that are every bit as nicked and cut as yours. “Hey, look at me.” Your eyes move from the plume of smoke that continues to rise over his shoulder back to his face. “There’s no one to help. I promise.”

“But–”

“I promise,” he repeats slowly, gently, and the words are so full of sadness that you almost need to take a step back. “There’s no one in there that we can save, sweetheart.”

The name doesn’t even register, but the rest of the words do, the clear image of death settling over you, even as gently as they’re said. You bury your head in your hands, the frames of your glasses digging into the skin of your right palm and the tie wrapped around your left, the shock too vicious and blinding even for tears. 

Choking back a dry sob, you squeeze your eyes tightly shut, flinching when the sound of something exploding blocks away reverberates through the city. The sound is startling enough to make you jerk your head out of your hands, and the danger you’re in by simply standing in the middle of the street, nothing hiding you from view and covering your head, sets back in. You take it as some sort of terrifying sign to finally move, nodding your head in a jerky motion and doing your best to compose yourself.

Even so, you can’t help the hiccup that escapes your mouth. “You’re…you’re sure? That there’s no one–”

His head falls forward slightly, his face displaying a sense of devastation that’s no doubt shared by all of the city. “I’m sure.”

Your eyes flutter shut as a shudder of grief wracks your entire body. “Okay,” you whisper in acceptance. It’s a painful acceptance, and a part of you still wants to run to the bus and check for yourself.  “Then we need to–”

“Yes,” he immediately agrees. 

“Okay.” You take a deep breath, one that scalds your lungs as the air moves in and out. You take a shaky step away from him and start walking, suddenly desperate to put as much distance between yourself and the bus that has already imprinted itself harshly in your head, forever scalded into your long term memory. You can’t let yourself stay here, you need to focus on what’s going on ahead of you and keep going, however anguished you feel about it. It wretches at your heart to leave those people so callously behind, knowing they deserve more than someone turning their back on them in their first moments of death. 

But you also know that you need to keep moving if you want to make sure you’re not added to the growing list of casualties, guilty of nothing more than choosing to live in the concrete jungle of New York. There will be a time for mourning, a time to scream and cry and wallow in a misery so large it would swallow you whole, but now is not that time.

And so, with one last look at the twisted kaleidoscope of reds and yellows and oranges bursting up from the overturned vehicle, you finish crossing the street, Matt just a few steps behind you.

[petertingle-yipyip]

MAD AT GOD - MATT MURDOCK

season 2b epilogue - sad, beautiful, tragic

tags: @americaarse @dusstory @ironprincessstranger @mayasaurus--rex @astrobees @johnmurphys-sass // six // masterlist // season 3

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader (past) / Billy Russo x Reader

Word Count: 3,854

Summary: Time drags on without Matt Murdock, though he still lingers in everything around her. Attempting to move forward, Y/N is pushed over an edge. (warning: short attempted drowning scene. written in red so it can be skipped)

Being back in the apartment after the police finally released you, it felt empty. Almost as empty as you did. Matt’s clothes were still laid about the floor, all over the bedroom and even the living room. The place still smelled like him, like his scent was soaked into the floorboards. You kicked the clothes into the closet, unable to bring yourself to touch them, worried they would disappear if you grabbed them.

The bed was too big without him, uncomfortable to be alone in. His side was too cold as you tried sitting on the floor with your back against it, your side was too warm when you did the same thing. You shoved yourself away quickly and felt your heart begin to race.

There were memories covering every inch of space that began closing in. Painted on the walls, sewn into the sofa, carved into the floorboards. Pinned to the fridge, tucked into books, saved in picture frames, hidden in every nook and cranny. Everywhere you turned, you could hear his voice as you were bombarded with instances that had made you happy. Now, you wanted to forget you ever loved him, made you want to burn the apartment down. Maybe then it wouldn’t hurt so bad if everything was gone.

Suddenly, it didn’t feel like that apartment was home.

You didn’t belong there.

It was supposed to be a home. A place born out of love and full of warmth, with a hopeful outlook for your future together. It was a place where two people tried to beat the odds and have a normal life. The lawyer- turned vigilante -turned lawyer again and the assassin- turned law student- turned vigilante- turned lawyer - turned security detail. It was supposed to be a home, where strength and tragic pasts met the idea of hope and redemption. Maybe not with a family made up of mini Y/Ns and mini Matts, but with the family you two found along the way.

But you felt like a stranger in your own place. You didn’t belong in Y/N’s home. That place was reserved for Y/N and Matt. Not whatever you were left with since a huge piece of you went down with Matt at Midland Circle just hours before.

You felt more like Exodus than you ever did before, angry and alone.

Maybe you deserved all of that. The agony. The loneliness. The guilt. The regret. The despair. The gnawing pang in the center of your chest that threatened to engulf you with every swelling breath.

Just days before, you were enjoying the balance you managed to find. You had someone to keep you in check, to force you to take a step back and realize what was going on around you. But now… Now you were left with nothing.

Now you were nothing.

How were you supposed to live like that? With that pain. With that crushing weight of knowing you didn’t save him. You didn’t save the man you loved. The man who loved you for you, who knew you long before you really knew yourself.

You went into your bathroom and left your mask, Bites, and belt on the counter. You started the water and pulled the tie from your hair. You didn’t care to fight your boots off so you stepped in with them on, seeing the water stain red with blood and the floor black with the grime of your boot soles. You sank to the floor and let the water soak your suit, hoping it could rinse the lonely feeling off your skin.

It didn’t.

You let yourself slide down until your were laying flat, water bouncing off your chest as your eyes closed. The moments replayed as soon as you did. Your foot knocked the lever to cover the drain and you felt the water pooling beneath you.

You knew you should get up. You had a life to get back to. If you fell apart after Daredevil died and Matt would coincidentally disappear around the same time, it wouldn’t be long before people put two and two together. That would connect you to Exodus. Everything you worked to keep secret would be brought to light and all hell would break loose without either of you there to serve as floodgates to take the brunt of the beatings.

But if Daredevil was dead and Exodus was dead… It wouldn’t matter if Y/N and Matt went missing or if people found out. There’d be no one to attack.

Those thoughts ran rampant as the water level rose, now enough to cover your arms.

Maybe the Bulletin would run a story that someone drowned you. Followed you home and snuck in, caught you by surprise as you were defenseless and getting ready for a shower. That’s why the boots were on but the accessories were off.

Now the water started covering your chest.

Hopefully Karen would write the story. You trusted her to create something that didn’t criminalize you or Matt.

You figured the water would eventually soak the floorboards and bother your downstairs neighbors. They’d call the landlord, who’d come in and find your body. Karen or Foggy would have to ID you.

Karen or Foggy would have to ID you.

The water had reached your chin when you realized that. You remembered what it was like when your office had to ID Elena’s body, how heartbroken Karen was. You remembered what Foggy felt when he realized one of his best friends weren’t coming back. Could you really do that to him?

The water was creeping up your nose when you made a decision.

You shot up so quickly that the water sloshed over the side of the tub and soaked your mat. You turned the water off and cleared the drain, sitting in the draining water while you coughed violently to clear the water from your airways.

You decided quickly that you wouldn’t tell anyone about that.

As days passed and there was no news on any bodies beneath the rubble, you truly gave up hope. You had lost everything. And everytime you woke up in that bed, the bed that would always smell like him, you were slapped in the face with that reminder. Every morning it made you scream.

One morning a few weeks of nothing, you thought there was somewhere you could go yet again. You knew it would be the same, that being there would change nothing. But still, your heart forced some hope into your thoughts.You told yourself that you could find comfort in this place, like you did before, because it was somewhere so dear to him. Somewhere maybe you could relish in his memory rather than be suffocated by it. Wearing one of Matt’s old college sweaters, one that still smelled like his cologne, you walked the familiar path to the church.

You sat alone on the bench outside, though if someone had asked you what was special about the church, you wouldn’t have had an answer for them. The building didn’t pulse with devotion anymore, despite patrons walking in and out. It didn’t feel warm or smell like cinnamon. Instead it was like abandoned ruins, like the fire inside was snuffed out after being used to tear it down. You turned to face the church and leaned against the rod iron fence, resting your chin against the hands you had folded over the metal.

“Little lonely out here, isn’t it?” Father Lantom asked as he came and motioned to the space beside you. “And cold.”

You scooted to make a bit more room but said nothing.

“Y/N, right?”

“Mhmm.” You hummed.

“You know, it’s much warmer inside. And my offer for a latte still stands, or just a conversation.”

You offered a weak, polite smile. “I actually think it’d be colder.” You said honestly. “I just…”

“Seal of confession applies to this bench.” He offered genuinely. “If you need it.”

You were quiet for a moment as you thought about it. You knew how Matt trusted Father Lantom, how he knew he would get honest advice from him. And if Matt trusted him, that still meant something. You let your head fall to the side and looked at the older man beside you, feeling like a lost child looking for someone to help.

“I miss him… Everyday I wake up alone. Every night I sit on my rooftop and wait for that damned suit. But I know it’ll never come. Then it hits me and everything is fresh again and I feel like I can’t breathe anymore. He’s gone… He’s gone but I’m still here.”

“And you blame yourself?”

“I couldn’t stop him…”

“I see… And you joined him in this other life?”

“I did..” You smiled softly, thinking of nights you and Matt spent running around Hell’s Kitchen in your vigilante suits. “And when we were out there, all night… It was like we were unstoppable. We had each other’s backs.”

“That’s why you feel you should’ve saved him?”

“C’mon, Father. You knew him.. He was a better person than me. Why did he deserve to die?”

“Y/N, no one deserves to die… When Matthew was young and struggling with his new life, I once explained to him that God’s plan is like a beautiful woven tapestry. But only He can see the true beauty of it. We see the frayed strings and messy stitches, and even that is just a fragment of the picture, so it doesn’t make sense. But what is planned for each and every one of us is truly remarkable.”

“I’m sorry, Father.” You sighed. “I know bringing in your big guy upstairs is the whole point of this place, but I didn’t come here to find religion. To be honest, God and I are never gonna be on the same page. That’s why I gave up on religion.. There’s not a single one that can save me.”

“Then what did you come to find?”

“A memory of Matt that didn’t make me feel like I was drowning.”

“Thought I’d find you here.” A familiar voice announced from behind you. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Billy. “You doin’ okay?”

“No different than yesterday.” You shrugged and got to your feet. “Thanks for the chat, Father.”

“You’re welcome here anytime, Y/N. Whatever the reason.”

That was part of your new routine for the next few days. You would wake up, go sit on your worn spot outside the church until Billy or Curtis found you. Sometimes they’d bring coffee or breakfast. You went to work and took it out on the new recruits. You went home and felt everything drain out of you, except on nights where you went to Curtis’ support group for veterans or beat the shit out of a punching bag at Fogwell’s. But most nights, you laid on your rooftop when the sun went down until the air grew cold and damp enough to make your nose runny. Then you’d climb into your far too big bed, sleeping on Matt’s side to make sure no one else dared to touch it, and fight through the night to sleep just to wake up in a daze.

You woke up confused why you were on the wrong side and reached over to find yourself alone. Then you remembered he was gone and you started the cycle all over again.

You started inviting Billy over after work instead of your rooftop isolation after about a week of waking up screaming for Matt and getting no response.

“Finally bringing me home to meet the mister?” He teased the first time you had him in your cold, lonely apartment.

“Nah, you wish… He’s gone, actually.” You said simply, trying to keep any type of emotion out of your voice. “Drink?”

“If it’ll get you to tell me what’s really goin’ on with you lately..”

“Since when are you so interested in my personal life, Mr. Russo?” You tried to joke as you sat beside him and handed him a beer.

The same beer Matt always kept on hand. It was cheap and tasted like it. You didn’t even like it that much but… Matt.

“Since the guys have been complaining about ‘the chick who takes her job way too seriously’. All of a sudden you invite me over while your guy’s away… Somethin’ isn’t adding up here, Y/N.”

“He’s not away, Billy. He’s dead… He’s been dead for a little while.”

“So that’s what happened…”

“Yeah.. I thought I’d be okay but it just hurts. And I’m tired of being alone…”

That was when you started sleeping with Billy.

It was a distraction. And it worked for a week, maybe two. When you woke up with Billy in your bed - on your side of course, you’d never let anyone else sleep on Matt’s side - you didn’t feel so empty. Until you realized you weren’t acknowledging it was Billy until you woke up fully. You went to bed and in those first few moments in the morning when you were still groggy and unsure, in your mind it was Matt.

The day you realized was the same night Foggy came over with something to say.

“It’s about time we finally talked.” You ushered him inside. “You’ve hardly said anything to me since you found out about Ex.”

“Can you blame me for needing some time?” He asked with a weak shrug.

“Couple days, sure. It’s been- What, almost two months?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t come by sooner.”

You shrugged. “Why are you here now? Wanna hear my tragic backstory or rationale for being a murderer?”

“No one said you’re a murderer.” He sighed.

“Y’know, Karen once told me what you said to her. I think it was about Fisk… You said ‘You can’t just run around killing people and call yourself a human being.’ So what, Fog? Am I not a human being anymore?”

“Y/N… I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Just say what you want.” You said flatly. “What did you come here to tell me?”

“That I’m worried about you.” He said softly. “I’ve never seen you shut down like this.”

“Yeah, well, Matt’s never died before. Has he?” You laughed bitterly. “Honestly, Foggy, I feel absolutely shitty every day that I wake up. I’ve never felt this horrible. I don’t even want to get up and go to work. I wake up and I remember that I was too weak to beat him. He kissed me and suddenly, that’s all I could think about. Next thing I realized, he uses my own discs against me and I’m being pulled to the elevator.”

“I will never understand what it feels like.” Foggy said softly, carefully stepping closer to you. “I wasn’t there. But Y/N, shutting down isn’t gonna help you process this grief. You need us around.”

“I don’t know how to grieve!” You shouted suddenly. You caught the small movement out the corner of your eye and you quickly realized what it was. “Did you just flinch?”

Silence.

“Foggy.. Are you afraid of me?” You asked carefully.

He sighed instead of answering.

You swallowed the lump building in your throat and nodded slightly. “Yeah, of course you are.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He tried quickly. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“C’mon.” You scoffed. “It’s practically dripping off you.”

“I know you wouldn’t hurt me.” He insisted. “We’re just worried about you, Y/N/N. I know losing Matt was hard for you.”

“Of course it was. It hurt like nothing in the world. If anyone gets that, it should be you.”

“I do, but we don’t think that this is the best thing for you to be doing.”

“And what exactly do you think I’m doing?”

“C’mon.” He scoffed slightly but you stared expectantly instead of answering. “Billy Russo?”

“What does it matter who I sleep with? It’s not like I’m cheating on anyone.”

“So it doesn’t bother you to bring guys into Matt’s apartment?”

“My apartment.”

“Into Matt’s bed?”

“My bed.”

“Either way. Sleeping with your boss-“

“He’s not my boss anymore.” You cut in. “I’m leaving Anvil. I have to report to Quantico for training next week.”

“Really?”

You nodded. “Dex called a few days ago.”

“That’s great.” He gave a small smile. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“When was I supposed to?” You have a small shrug.

“Do you think this is gonna help you feel better?”

“I don’t want to feel better..” You shook your head and laughed bitterly as you spoke a truth you hadn’t even admitted to yourself . “Because no one is ever gonna love me like that again! I don’t want to get over it! I want to sit with him in bed and I know it’s really fucking selfish but I’m so fucking lost without him. Someone loved me, Foggy. Someone actually loved me and I loved him, too! And goddamnit, I was worth something to him!”

“That’s what this about?” He pressed. “You want someone to tell you you’re worth something?”

“I earned something with Matt. Despite every odd being against us and everything that tried to kill us, we made it because we fought for it.” You said as you stared at the countertop, a cold sadness creeping into your chest that you tried to push away. “He showed me that I had the right to die, right to live. Just a right to choose, yknow? Me and him, we were both a trainwreck but also somehow making it. And I would do it all again.”

“You guys had something special.” He nodded. “I’d never seen him as happy as he was when you were around.”

“All my miserable life, I loved someone I barely knew.. I remember figuring out he was Daredevil and I felt absolutely gutted. It was like… Who was he? How had I not known sooner?”

“None of us knew, Y/N. He thought he was protecting us.”

“Yeah, you’re preaching to the choir here.” You rolled your eyes. “My point is that now he’s down there-“ You made a vague gesture towards Midland Circle. “-and I’m still here. What else am I supposed to do?”

“Not shut us out. Y/N, we love you! We’re here for you but you won’t talk to us!”

“Cause I don’t want to feel better! What part of that isn’t getting through? I want to rip the skies apart and fight God! I want to make a deal with any religion that’ll bring him back!”

“I want him back, too.” He tried, stepping to the opposite side of the counter.

“But it wasn’t your fault, was it?”

“I’m the one who brought him the suit! I brought yours! It’s my fault just as much as yours!”

“The difference is that we were going in there whether you brought the suits or we had to get them ourselves! He’s dead because I couldn’t stop him!”

“No one blames you!”

“I do! I wake up every day and when I wake up without him, I know it was because I failed him. I loved him so goddamn much and…”

“Y/N..” He said softly, reaching for the hand closest to him. Looking down at your palms that rested on the countertop, you noticed they were shaking. “You don’t have to put yourself through this alone… We all get it.”

“Then why is everybody not angry? Crying out? Screaming and cursing and acknowledging he’s gone?” You looked up to meet his worried eyes. “Why is everybody so happy in the sun like nothing happened at all? Jessica. Luke. God, Luke. He could’ve tried to stay. You don’t think the unbreakable man wouldn’t have had better luck surviving a falling building than a blind man in a devil costume?!”

He didn’t have an answer.

“But the same goes for Danny. Or Claire. Nobody has talked about it. You wanna know who actually called? Colleen. And I hardly talked to her! Everyone else shrugged it off that Matt Murdock is dead. He died for this city that he loved so much and this city doesn’t even know it!”

“Me. You. Karen. We all have matching wounds from what happened.”

“Do we?” You laughed bitterly and stood tall, pulling your hand away. “Matching wounds? Cause it seems like mine is still black and bruised and hurting, but you guys are perfectly fine.”

“Y’know what.” He sighed and stood a step back with hands up in surrender. “If you don’t want us around, you want to do the same bullshit lone soldier routine Matt did, go ahead. But if you get yourself killed, that would be your fault.”

He left after that and slammed the door behind him.

You stood in the kitchen for a moment, quiet as you processed what happened. Then you screamed in frustration and slammed your hand against the countertop. You winced and peaked down to see the split skin at the base of your pinky’s knuckle where it hit the handle of the fork you had left out from the morning. You groaned in annoyance before rinsing it in the sink as three quick taps sounded on your door before it opened.

“Hey. Saw your friend in the hall.” He announced his arrival.

“Yeah..” You said absently.

“You alright? What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Y/N.”

“It’s not your problem to worry about, Billy.” You sighed and lifted your eyes to look at him. “That’s not the kinda thing we have going here.”

He offered a slightly amused but challenging raise of his brows as he came around to your side of the counter. He put his hands on the counter on either side of your hips, caging you in as he leaned closer. You huffed quietly and hopped up to sit on the cool marble.

“Y’know you’re burning up?” He tried with a smirk.

“Yeah, tends to happen when I’m pissed off.”

“So what do you say…” His hands slid up the side of your legs and under your shirt, fingers dancing against your lower back. “… we burn off a little steam?”

The next day, you stared in your bathroom mirror after you woke up and left Billy in the bed. Your conversation with Foggy bounced around your skull all night but you kept coming back to one solid thing.

Everyone else was fine. They were done grieving and had accepted his death. You had to do the same.

You let your mind drift to Midland Circle, to the crushing memory of watching the collapsing building swallow the man you loved.

You watched the blue cloudiness fan across your eyes and you let yourself feel frozen until suddenly, your vision cleared and you felt nothing as you flicked away the single tear.

You weren’t happy. You weren’t sad. You weren’t grieving or angry or alone.

You were absolutely empty.

Maybe that’d be a better way to start this new chapter of your life. A few months away from the Kitchen, away from your grief and any sort of feeling might be what you need to find some semblance of who you used to be.

Or you’ll find someone new to be.

[themculibrary]

Gym Masterlist

And All The Lights That Guide Your Way Are Blinding (ao3) - Not_Crazy_Just_a_Fangirl T, 4k

Summary: 5 times Peter Parker met Matt Murdock + 1 time Daredevil met Spider-Man

AKA: some Post- No Way Home angst and Peter finding a new pseudo-parental figure in Matt

Another (ao3) - NotEvenCloseToStraight steve/thor E, 22k

Summary: Steve Rogers feels out of place, lost and lonely in a time period he never expected to live to see.

He spends his time drawing or working out until he can barely stand--anything to keep him from thinking too much, from dwelling on how he feels.

A surprise moment with Thor leads to an entire night with the Demi god and when it happens again and again, and Steve starts thinking he has finally found where he belongs.

When Thor leaves to visit Jane, Steve wants nothing more than to call him home and drag him into bed for Another-- another kiss, another embrace, another night spent loving each other.

But what if Thor doesn't feel the same way?

avengers tower gym (ao3) - silver_drip loki/tony G, 4k

Summary: Loki breaks into Avengers Tower to battle… Pokémon.

Breathe and Release (ao3) - exfatalist steve/tony, sam/sharon T, 15k

Summary: Since being honorably discharged from the Army after an injury sustained while deployed in Afghanistan, Steve Rogers has found a new center of balance as a yoga instructor at a small Manhattan gym. It just stands to figure that one day media crisis-plagued billionaire Tony Stark would come waltzing in and throw everything off. As he guides his controversial new student on the journey to inner peace, Steve learns to deal with some negative energy of his own, and finds something unexpected on the way. [ Non-Powered AU, Modern!Steve. ]

Darwin's Theory (ao3) - bakinglaw steve/natasha E, 2k

Summary: “You know, according to Darwin, men demonstrate their physical fitness to enthrall a mate.” Without breaking eye contact, she sat down on the bench press, her ass hanging slightly over the edge, and leaned back onto her elbows, spreading her legs to give him the perfect view of her pantiless sex. “Should we test your prowess?”

Easing In (ao3) - linguamortua steve/brock E, 4k

Summary: Brock Rumlow's just a man. A man with jackboots and a penchant for face-fucking. Poor, desperate, Captain America doesn't really stand a chance.

Float like a butterfly (sting like a bee) (ao3) - gottalovev steve/tony, clint/phil T, 19k

Summary: Steve Rogers is looking for a new Team and signs with Nick Fury in his quest to climb back in the professional boxing ranks after a 5 years break. When he realizes Fury’s gym is owned by Tony Stark, billionaire-playboy-entrepreneur and up-and-coming boxer, sparks fly and not in a good way. At least at first.

Gym Day (ao3) - howdoyousleep steve/bucky E, 19k

Summary: He sits up and rolls his neck, hands planted on either side of his hips on the wooden bench beneath him, focusing on his posture, and looks over at the man sitting with him.

Oh shit.

james and the giant peach (ao3) - wearing_tearing steve/bucky E, 6k

Summary: “Peach…” Bucky’s eyes widen in horror at himself. “It’s— I mean— Dude, guy, man, person in front of—”

“Peach?” Peach Butt grins, delighted, and then wiggles his brows at Bucky. “It’s because of my butt, isn’t it.”

keeping count (ao3) - ClaraxBarton clint/steve T, 2k

Summary: “Twenty-four,” Clint calls out.

It’s eight days later, and Clint is working out in the gym with Natasha.

Working out is the term Clint likes to use when Natasha is beating the stuffing out of him during their set-in-stone, much mythologized sparring sessions.

Steve has just entered the gym, dressed and ready to warm up for his scheduled work-out - with Bucky, who refuses to spar with anyone else except for Natasha, and only then if she is in a truly awful mood and needs to work out her frustrations on someone less likely to actually suffer injury than Clint is.

Steve stretches and waits for Natasha to pin Clint to the mat before responding.

“Seventeen.”

Clint gives him a triumphant smirk, and then groans when Natasha’s knee slips.

Leg Day (ao3) - Brokenpitchpipe steve/bucky E, 12k

Summary: “So talk to him,” Sam says.

“I can’t,” Bucky groans. “I can’t, Sam, I. He just.” He fluffs his hair up and stares at Sam, distraught. “I want him to bench press me.”

“Okay, so it’s serious,” Sam interprets. “Got it."

(Or: The one where Sam is Bucky's long-suffering roommate, Bucky is a hot mess of a millennial, and Hot Steve spends far too much time on the Lat Pull-Down machine.)

My Temperature is Rising (ao3) - spazzgirl steve/natasha E, 3k

Summary: sometimes sparring sessions can make sexual tension a whole lot worse

Push Ups (ao3) - NotEvenCloseToStraight steve/tony M, 2k

Summary: It started out as a joke.

“I can definitely do more push ups than Steve.” Sam said casually– oh so casually– over cereal one morning. “His muscles just look pretty, there isn’t any real strength there.”

“You can definitely do more push ups than Steve.” Bucky casually– just so fucking casually– agreed, studiously ignoring the way Steve was coughing milk out his nose and swearing about how badly Trix tasted coming up the wrong way. “Your shoulders can carry the weight of the world, Steve’s are only there to balance out them ridiculous tiddies.”

“Oh Sam can 100%, no questions asked, without even breaking a sweat, do more push ups than Steve.” Clint had to raise his voice over the ruckus Steve was making in the background. “Sams arms are like ebony pillars, Steve’s look like the supple limbs of an Irish milk maid who spends the afternoons staring at her reflection in ye olde river in the back of ye olde pasture.”

“I can definitely do more push ups than Steve.” Sam decided.

It started out as a joke.

Then Steve yelled, “SQUARE UP MOTHERFUCKER!”

Stumbling Home (ao3) - SidheRa clint/natasha E, 61k

Summary: or, Things to Do in New York when You've Been Injected with Sex Pollen

Working Things Out (ao3) - Ralkana clint/phil E, 10k

Summary: Clint is a personal trainer. Phil is his new client. Clint might be showing him how to work out, but Phil's got something to teach Clint about himself, too.

[bluesky88diary]

Thinking about you with warmth again. Your sunshine is my treasure.

Also want to share some thoughts I have. waiting so long for belong woman, sometimes it feels tough, sometimes it's easier don't even mention, don't touch those dreams and leave it away. But it doesn't work this way. Heart is designed to share it with someone special and the only woman. Thoughts like "I could be with this one or that one" doesn't have any value for me. Without dedication, faithfulness and loyalty impossible to build up reliable home. Also build it upon lucky chance or dreams is similar to fool who build up his house on the sand. However his house lasted for awhile, but only until difficult times came in. Thant's why I see no value in attempts to find suitable person. What do I mean by attempts? Modern look at dating, having sex before marriage, and other light minded actions, looking for pleasures instead of responsible steps and efforts to build up representative Christ alike character, which is balanced and in harmony with laws of nature, the way life is designed. No one can be good driver if first don't lean laws and regulation how to behave on the road, otherwise he more likely will cause huge damage to other people and self. The same family, it takes effort to build up suitable home for both. If emotionally rush in and let things happen, it will be the same as house build on the sand, and won't last.

The question comes, "how to build up house on the solid rock?"

“With men this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.”

Read Matt. 19:16-30. Very important to understand this principle how to build up upon solid rock, that is Jesus Christ. Love teaches.

The only happy marriages in bible when God brought to groom his bride, who was patiently waiting and faithfully working.

Psalm 127: Unless the Lord builds the house, They labor in vain who build it; Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, The fruit of the womb is a reward.

Thus I decided don't chase a chance to meet you, don't build up our house upon dreams or expectations, which will sink by time like in quicksand. Your reaches won't help us to build up happy family even a little bit. Instead, I will work hard using opportunities provided by God to lay the foundation for our house on the solid rock. I want our home will be reliable place for living and for love. Since I wasn't able to move further on, please, don't call me to be foolish, chasing for a lovely story between us, because I'm going to work hard and wait until God will bring you here to me. Maybe you have no idea how this is possible, but with God all things are possible.

For me you value much more that a glimpse of romance. Always sincerely love you, the one who feels like home to my heart.

[pastafossa]

IT WAS SO GOOD OMG EVERY BIT OF IT THE “I’m yours”’ BIT 😩

THANK YOOOOOOOOOOU! And the I'm Yours dialogue just... It was one of those moments my Muse!Matt in my head really wanted to have, and just kinda happened. <3 It just felt like something SO important to them and how they felt about each other. LET'S READ IT AGAIN BECAUSE I LIKE IT AND IT MAKES ME SQUISHY.

"I liked what you said, by the way.”

“Which part? I said a lot of things, mostly your name and ‘please’,” you mumbled back, raking your fingers lightly through his hair until he rumbled on top of you like a big cat. “Gonna have to be more specific, D.”

“That I’m yours.”

“Oh.” You reached up and scratched your nose. You hadn’t… really been thinking about it all that much when you’d said it. “Well, it’s true, so…”

“Say it again?” he asked softly.

You yawned and wrapped your arms around him tighter, too sleepy to notice the way he was holding his breath. “Mine. And I’m yours, obviously. But you’re mine. I’d fight someone for you if you needed it. And I’m one who generally believes running away is the best course of action, so you can take that to the fucking bank.”

He hitched a breath, his face still buried against your throat where you couldn’t see his expression. But his voice, quiet and full of bone-deep affection, spoke volumes. “And you’re mine.”

“…yeah. Yeah, I am.”

[stackthedeck]

You might have answered this already, but the SpideyDevil fans are so few and far between that I have to ask: how did you get into it and what are your favorite parts of their dynamic?

bestie this is so embarrassing but I got into it because of you. you know the ultraviolent series you wrote? yeah, that's what made it click in my brain. I was re-watching the Netflix daredevil show at the same time I was rewatching everything Andrew Garfield has ever done and I was like...okay maybe this could work? Like I had read their comics and was like oh yeah their bros. but the spideypool fandom has not been it for years now so I needed someone to ship Peter with so... maybe Matt could work. And most of the fics I read were just so out of character, but yours just clicked. Idk it's like I had a strong understanding of both their characters and was getting back into both their fandoms at the same time, it made me want to try pairing them together.

Okay but their dynamic! I think my personal favorite thing is that Matt allows Peter a degree of freedom and depth of character that other ships don't allow for. Matt and Peter are both vigilantes that don't kill, both dirt poor, and both covet their secret identities. They've got this mutual understanding, neither of them needs something from the other. But they do want to give something to the other. Matt's addiction to violence points out that Peter is in just as deep as him. Like everyone always oversimplifies Peter as this "friendly neighborhood" hero which isn't wrong but it's not finished either. Peter wants to be a hero, but he also wants to be a vigilante specifically. Like I look at Peter's character and he's angry all the time, he's tired and he wants to be able to get in one good punch. When he's with Daredevil, that couldn't be more obvious. When he's with one of the more upbeat heroes or a hero that kills and Peter is trying to stop that, he looks like just another perfect hero who's kinda sarcastic sometimes. The spideydevil ship is my personal favorite way of showing that Peter is in the hero life for the adrenaline rush, for the outlet, for the opportunity to sink his teeth into someone's throat. But also, Peter's pulling his punches. And when Matt's with Peter, he's also got to pull his punches, not fully give into the devil. Matt does have the ability to experience happiness on his own, but like I think Peter brings a lightness to his life, forcing him to focus on saving people rather than hurting the bad guy. They balance each other out because they already are equal. When either of them are paired with a non-hero, I feel like that love interest is always left behind and that's largely a problem with the writers under-developing them but there is this tragedy to the hero life that they can't fit in once they take off the mask. But when they're paired with other heroes, especially for Peter, they have to either rise up to their level or they're trying to get the other hero onto their brand of specific heroism.

But like the violence is so important to me. Violence isn't the right word, but like idk how else to describe it. They're a battle couple. Those kisses that are more clashing of teeth than a meeting of lips. The taste of blood on their tongues and they're not sure who it belongs to but savor it because it's sweet. Smut scenes that read with the same energy and tension as a fight scene. Pain and pleasure rolled into one because that's their lives and they wouldn't trade it for the world. I feel like spideydevil as a ship is a declaration that Matt and Peter chose the hero life and they don't want to ever give it up no matter how hard it gets because they wouldn't have it any other way.

Also the bickering and the banter! No one else is doing it like them!!

[honey-dewey]

Gold in the Summertime

Pairing:  Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/Reader

Word Count: 2,545

Warnings: Panic attacks, mentions of injury, stitches, and needles, but it’s mostly just that sweet sweet hurt/comfort

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Very few good things ever happen at three AM in the Urgent Care. Let’s make a short list of things that will definitely not fall under the category of ‘good.’ 1) Having a patient who has apparently injured himself but refuses to tell you how. 2) Said patient hyperventilating and panicking until he actually breaks something because you tried to give him a tetanus shot. 3) The same patient’s three best friends yelling at you. 4) Singing to still the same patient to calm him down so you can stick him with a tiny needle so he won’t possibly die of tetanus.

A/N: The song that inspired this fic is actually a favorite of mine called ‘Gold in the Summertime’ by Matt Nathanson. Not required to read the fic, but it’s a cute song. 

“Hey.” 

“Oh hell no,” you said, turning to see your fellow night shift nurse, Tori, standing in the door of the break room. “No, I am not dealing with whatever drunken fool walked into that waiting room. It is three in the morning and I do not feel like screwing around right now.” 

Tori raised an eyebrow. “Done?” 

“Done,” you said, standing and preparing for the inevitable. “Who’s the patient?” 

Tori handed you a file. You opened it, quickly scanning the information. F. Morales, forty two years old, in decent health, up to date with all his immunizations, served in the military, and was currently in the Urgent Care for a laceration on his left shoulder. 

“How bad is it?” You asked, closing the file and following Tori to the waiting room. 

“Eh,” she said with a shrug. “He isn’t gushing blood, so it’s not ER worthy. Probably just needs some stitches and a tetanus shot, depending on what got him.” 

You blinked. “He didn’t say?” 

Tori grinned. “Nope. Have fun.” 

Groaning to yourself, you opened the waiting room door. “Morales?” 

A man stood up, clearly the injured one in his group of friends due to the wad of cloth he was pressing to his left shoulder. “Yes?” 

“Follow me,” you said, tucking the file beneath your arm. “So, what happened?” 

The man grimaced. “Uh, I busted my shoulder.” 

“How?” 

The man was silent as you pushed open an exam room door and gestured him inside. “Well?” 

“Well what?” 

You sighed. “How’d you cut yourself?” You asked again, watching the man hop up on the exam table. You walked around to his back and slowly cut away the patch of his shirt that covered his shoulder. “And while you’re at it, you got a first name I could use, Mr. Morales?” 

“Please just call me Frankie, most people do.” 

“Most people?” 

Frankie shifted as you examined the harsh tear in the skin. “My friends, those assholes outside, call me Catfish.” 

You chuckled. “Military nickname?” 

“Yeah.” Frankie winced as you pressed a finger against the wound. 

A beat of silence, and then you had another question. “Is Frankie your legal name?” 

“No, why?” 

You smiled. “We need a legal name for the records.” 

Frankie shrugged his uninjured right shoulder as you continued to evaluate the messy scrape on his left. “It’s Francisco. And that shit hurts.” 

“Sorry,” you said, stepping back. “It needs a few stitches,” you decided. “But it isn’t horribly urgent so I’m gonna go grill your buddies outside to see if they’ll give me more answers about what happened.” 

Frankie nodded, watching you leave. 

“Would the party that escorted one Francisco Morales please follow me?” You asked, pushing open the waiting room door. 

Three men stood up, and you led them down the hall a ways, so your conversation would be private. “Alright. Spill. He won’t tell me what happened.” 

The man on the left snorted. “Unsurprising,” he said. “Fish is like a damn lockbox.”

“Benny,” the man in the middle hissed, nudging the man on the left. “Santi, you wanna take this? You saw it best.” 

“Excuse you!” Benny objected. “I was there too!” 

“You’re drunk.” 

The man on the right, Santi, sighed. “Frankie got into a fight outside the bar we were at tonight. Some guy made a horrible comment about how women belong in the kitchen, I dunno, I didn’t hear that bit too well. But Frankie managed to win the fight with minimal injuries, right up until the guy’s equally shitty friend clipped his shoulder with a ripped in half beer can.” 

You nodded, jotting notes down on Frankie’s file. “So what I’m hearing is that he was cut with a piece of likely filthy metal?” 

“Yep.” 

“Perfect,” You grumbled sarcastically. “You boys can head back to the waiting room. I’ll send him out when I’m done.” 

The boys left, and you swung by the supply closet to grab a suture kit before heading back into Frankie’s exam room. “Still bleeding?” 

Frankie looked up. “Yeah.” He had taken his hat off, fidgeting with the worn out brim. “Hurts.” 

“I’ll bet,” you said, coming up behind him and gently taking his hand off the wound. “Gonna pop some stitches in, disinfect the hell out of this, then get your height, weight, the like, and send you off with a tetanus shot just for good measure. That old beer can probably doesn’t have any kind of illness, but we have to be sure.” 

Frankie was silent, which wasn’t a good thing. You disinfected the wound, which sent him into a tailspin of hissed curses in your general direction, and before he realized what was happening, you were halfway done with the stitches. 

“And that’s the last one,” you said, tying off the last stitch. “The stitches dissolve after a while, so you shouldn’t have to worry about coming back to get them removed. But do take care to change the bandages twice a day, and do not use this arm. I don’t care what you have to do, please do not rip these stitches.” 

Frankie chuckled. “Yes doctor.” 

Finishing up the bandage, you grinned at Frankie’s current shirt situation. “Do you want me to grab you a new shirt? I kinda ruined yours.” 

“You did your job,” Frankie pointed out. “But yes, that would be nice.” 

You ducked out of the room and grabbed a spare shirt from the nurse’s lost and found. “No one’s claimed this thing for almost eight months. I think the guy who owned it quit,” you said, handing Frankie the old Jack Daniels whiskey shirt. You watched him struggle to put it on, helping him a bit as the shirt got caught on his shoulder. 

“Okay, follow me,” you said once Frankie was wearing a shirt again. He followed, just as asked, and you took his height and weight, texting both figures to Tori so she could prep a tetanus shot for you. In the meantime, you kept Frankie occupied, asking him questions about military things in the exam room. 

“What’d you do in the military?” 

“I was a pilot.” 

“Planes?” 

“Helos.” 

“Fun. I’ve never been in a helicopter before. Those friends outside, are they?” 

“Military friends? Yeah, mostly. I knew Santiago before all that though.” 

A knock at the door interrupted your bonding session. Tori opened the door, holding a tray with the tetanus shot and a band-aid. “Sorry. Those shitty kids band-aids were all I could find.” 

You shrugged. “Nah, it’s fine. I’m sure Mr. Morales won’t object to a Paw Patrol band-aid.” 

However, as you turned back to Frankie, you realized he’d gone white as a sheet. “Frankie?” 

Frankie shied away from you, despite you not moving. “Don’t,” he said, voice choked. “Please.” 

Your heart squeezed at the desperation in his voice. He was very plainly terrified. “Frankie,” you repeated calmly, holding both hands up so he knew you were unarmed. “Hey, deep breaths.” 

Frankie took a stuttering breath, and you sent a silent prayer out that he wouldn’t have a panic attack here. You sat next to him, keeping a few feet of space between you and him. “Do you want me to go get the boys?” 

Frankie shook his head, eyes wide. You tried to think. Distracting him would do no good. You’d tried that before with other people, and with patients who were this panicky, a distraction made it worse. Trying to sneak up on him was somehow an even worse idea. With his background, he was likely to know when someone was trying to surprise him, and he could definitely defend himself. The only thing you could think of was calming him down and then sticking him as fast as you could. 

It took a few minutes, but Frankie’s breathing returned to normal, and his muscles relaxed somewhat. You didn’t move, simply sitting there beside him and establishing yourself as a calm figure despite your reeling mind. “Frankie?” 

He looked up at you, not saying a word. 

“Are you ready to try?” You asked. “I have to give you the shot. I don’t want you to get sick, okay? Tetanus is a killer, and I don’t wanna see you dying in a hospital bed until you’re at least eighty, okay?” 

A slow nod. You stood, making your movements obvious as you put on new gloves and opened an alcohol wipe. 

“C’mere,” you said, gesturing Frankie closer. He scooted towards you, and you met him halfway. “This is cold, just a warning.” 

You rolled up Frankie’s shirt sleeve, exposing his left shoulder. He shivered as you ran the alcohol wipe across his skin, and kept his eyes anywhere but on you as you uncapped the tiny syringe. “Frankie?” 

Frankie whined, his breathing picking up again as his body barreled towards full panic mode. 

“Frankie!” You recapped the syringe and set it aside, turning your full attention to Frankie. He jumped away from you, eyes wide once more. You stood back as he curled in on himself, breathing quickening too fast. He was hyperventilating. “Frankie! Listen to me! You’re not-“ 

You cut yourself off as the loud, ragged breaths began to turn into animalistic screams, Frankie losing his balance and falling off the exam table and crashing into the sink before hitting the floor. The thud his body made scared you, but not as much as his current panicked state. 

“Tori!” You yelled, opening the door and yelling for your coworker. “Tori!” 

Unfortunately, it was not Tori who came to your rescue. It was Frankie’s three friends, all of whom looked incredibly concerned. Tori was behind them, shouting that they couldn’t be back here. Santiago simply pushed past you and immediately rushed to Frankie’s side, the other two joining him as he attempted to console Frankie. 

You, knowing your help wouldn’t be needed, tried to step away, but Santiago turned to call you back. “Come here!” 

Sighing, you hesitantly entered the exam room. “What do you need from me?” 

“What did you do to him?” Benny asked, clearly the most worried. “He hasn’t had an attack this bad in years!” 

“I just tried to give him a tetanus shot!” You defended. 

Santiago and the other man had gotten Frankie situated back on the exam table, sitting on his sides and keeping him upright as Benny rushed in and took his hands. “Fish? You with us buddy?” 

Frankie, who had thankfully stopped screaming, whined. Benny smiled, squeezing his hands. “There’s our Fish. Hey, hey, no, look at me,” he directed as Frankie’s eyes drifted to you in the corner and his breath hitched. 

Frankie’s head slumped against Santiago’s shoulder. He hummed uncomfortably, face scrunching as he shifted, trying to get comfortable. 

“His shoulder,” you guessed softly. “Someone’s touching it.” 

The man on Frankie’s right looked at his back. “Shit. Sorry Fish.” 

Frankie sighed in relief and turned into pudding against Santiago’s shoulder. Benny still held his hands, humming softly. The other man, whose name you still didn’t know, stood and pulled you aside. “Hey. Did he tell you?” 

“That he was trypanophobic?” You said, sliding your hands in your pockets. “No. But I figured it out pretty quickly when he went white as hell as soon as he saw the syringe. No one has a reaction this severe unless they have a phobia.” 

The man nodded. “Yeah. Benny was right. Fish is kinda stubborn about these things. He hasn’t had an anxiety attack in years though. Sorry Benny gave you shit about triggering one. I know it wasn’t really your fault.” 

“It was,” you mumbled, eyeing Frankie over the man’s shoulder. “It just wasn’t my intention.” 

“Yeah.” The man looked back at Frankie. “Is the tetanus shot necessary?” 

You nodded. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Santiago looked at you. “How good are you at singing?” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“It keeps him calm,” Santiago explained. “He used to sing to the helos whenever there was bad turbulence. Kept him level. We’d do it while you give him the shot, but none of us can sing.” 

Frankie made a small, strangled noise, and you almost freaked out until Benny smiled and you realized Frankie was trying to laugh. 

Smiling, you grabbed the syringe, a new alcohol wipe, and the band-aid. Santiago moved so he was sitting mostly behind Frankie, still supporting him. The other man, who you faintly heard Benny call Will, sat back on Frankie’s right. Benny took Frankie’s hands and stood to the side a bit so you would have room to work. 

“Oh, let’s keep this going, I wanna go all in,” you sang softly, repeating some cute and catchy song Tori insisted on playing whenever she could. “We’ll never be lonely in the dark.” As you sang, you opened the alcohol wipe and cleaned a patch of Frankie’s shoulder. 

“Rooftop in soho, Prince on the radio,” you kept going, uncapping the syringe and taking Frankie’s arm. “The city streets glow, gold in the summertime.” You quickly, between words, stuck Frankie and pressed down on the plunger. He whined, shying from the pain, but you just pressed the band-aid over the tiny puncture mark and kept singing. “Summertime, summertime, summertime, I gotta get that feeling.” 

Gently taking Benny’s place, you stripped your gloves off and put your hands overtop Frankie’s. “You did good, Frankie,” you said. “C’mon, let’s get you out of here so the boys can take you home.” 

Frankie wobbled to his feet, still nonverbal and a bit unsteady. You ended up needing a break in the waiting room, which was still empty. Giving Santiago a bottle of water for Frankie, you sat next to Frankie while the boys started the car. 

You absently hummed the song from earlier, mostly to fill the stifling silence. As you reached the part you’d sung for Frankie, you noticed, with a small jolt, that he was humming along with you. 

“You like the song?” You guessed, and Frankie nodded. 

“Here.” You pulled a pen from your coat pocket and took his hand. “Give the whole thing a listen,” you said, scrawling down the name and artist of the song on Frankie’s hand. “And then call me,” you finished, adding your phone number below the writing. 

Frankie smiled. “Meet cute,” he rasped, voice practically destroyed. 

You laughed. “This is more of a meet ugly, but sure.” 

Santiago came back, helping Frankie to his feet. 

“See you again?” Frankie asked, voice still pretty shot.

“Hopefully not,” you said, holding the door open for Santiago. “At least, not here.” 

Just like that, Frankie was gone. 

That sunrise, as you settled into bed, you got a text from an unknown number. 

Unknown Number: Song was super cute. Definitely adding it to my exercise playlist

You: Is this Mr. Morales?

Unknown Number: Just Frankie

Unknown Number was saved as Just Frankie

You: Okay Just Frankie. How’s your shoulder

Just Frankie: Hurts like a bitch, but I’ve had worse. 

You: I’ll bet. 

Just Frankie: Hey, wanted to ask you something 

You: shoot

Just Frankie: do you always work nights?

You: not always, but mostly. 

Just Frankie: cool. You free tomorrow at noon? I found this cool lunch place that has the best burgers ever

You: ever? I’ll have to see about that

Just Frankie: it’s a date then 

You: It’s a date

[kattwritesuwu]

Can I request a Clingy!monsterTom x Depressed!Reader? Maybe with cutting and suicidal thoughts?

I sure can!!! I LOVE angst!!!!!

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

Fandom: Eddsworld

Character: Tom

Reader: Depressed

Fic type: Comfort/angst

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING: This WILL heavily mention suic/de, blood, and perhaps other triggering topics, read at your own risk!!

Notes: People, I'm not trying to make depression and similar illness romantic, this is simply for comfort.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hate everything.

Well, not everything, but the majority, y'know? Everything just...sucks. Life in general, it's all terrible.

People are terrible. Sure, I've found a few choice people that aren't the bane of my existence, but even they have their flaws.

Am I saying that I'm some heaven sent angel? Hell no I'm not. I'm just as terrible if not more! I hate everyone, including myself.

Am I lying? Yeah. Do I have a crush on someone? Yeah. Am I gonna do something about it? Nope.

Why should I? It's not like I'll be here longer anyways...

I'm planning to kill myself.

Am I scared? Kind of. But at this point I don't care. I'm always scared anyways. Always on my guard around people.

Most people don't know the fear and pain of constantly feeling...numb.

It's not like I never feel anything, it's just so rare. My most common emotion is pain. I just want to curl up in a ball and die. But all I can ever being myself to do is cry, and even that's a rare occurrence at this point.

I feel so alone.

Friends? Yeah I have a few.... they're all a bit odd in their own way. Can't complain though, they're like family to me.

My real family? Not many immediate ones, plus, I moved to England five years ago. They called me everyday for the first couple of months. Nowadays, I can barely get a text back... I get that they have their own lives in their respective country, but man, it just makes me so cold-feeling...

I guess where I was going with this, is that I'm scared. Not of my inevitable death, but everything else.

I'm scared of anything and everything now that I think about it. I don't exactly mean common fears they talk about in elementary school, I'm talking real world problems.

I'm scared of failure, not sure why. I've failed enough in my life....it shouldn't even faze me at this point.

Im especially scared of people.

My friends? Yeah them too. What if I make a fool of myself and they think I'm an idiot? What if I make the wrong move, and they hate me? They probably hate me enough as it is...

That why I won't confess to Tom. He'll hate me afterwards. There's just no point in ruining something for nothing in return.

These were the thoughts that ran through my head as my arms and legs were sliced up by a blade driven by my own hands. It's wasn't like it hurt. All it really did was sting, I'm just that used to being hurt, I suppose.

As I was wrapping up my little 'session' I heard a knock on my door,

"(Y/N)! You in there? It's dinner time! I made breakfast for dinner!" A British accent leaked through my door.

I didn't scramble around at the thought of him walking in, my door was locked after all. It's not like I'm that stupid.

" I'll be there in a few minutes, Edd." I spoke back in a raspy voice, not bothering to yell. Edd has good ears, he can somehow hear a whisper from across the house.

It takes me a minute or two to get up and walk into the bathroom that connects to my room. I stumble a bit with the loss of blood.

Once I get in there I take a quick shower, just barely long enough to stop the bleeding and make it appear as if you just took an actual shower.

Once I get out of the shower, I slip on my (favorite color) hoodie.

That was an easy part of hiding my self abuse. Everyone in the house wore a hoodie of their own designated color.

I also slipped on a longer article of clothing to go onto my legs. Couldn't let them see my thighs either.

Once I finished the rest of my cleaning up, I headed out of my little bathroom, and in front of my door. I took a deep breath, put on a smile, and walked out.

I got about halfway down the stairs before a screech startled me, causing me to trip a bit,

" (Y/N) IS HERE! YAY!" The high pitch British scream could only belong to the narcissistic ginger known as Matt.

Once I got my balance back into my feet, I continued down the stairs and greeted Matt with a wave.

" Yeah she lives here, idiot. She's not going anywhere." A deeper voice had spoken, I turned around and Tom was there as expected. I smile shrunk a bit at his last comment.

" Sup (y/n)." You snapped out of your thoughts and responded with a casual 'yo.'

The three of us then heard a thick accent cursing in the kitchen, no doubt it was Tord,

" For jævla skyld! Just let me have the last piece!!"

Sure enough, when we walked into the kitchen, Edd and Tord were fighting over the last piece of bacon. I let out a sigh, and the two boys finally acknowledged our existence. That alone didn't stop their argument though.

I didn't even bother attempting to break up the fight, I never could anyways. Their little fuss always ends one of two ways. Edd steals the bacon from under Tord's nose, or vise versa.

I just grabbed a small portion of food, and sat down.

I knew I would be gone by the end of tonight...but I wanted to taste Edd's cooking one last time.

Something interesting happened, instead of one of the two boys getting the bacon, they halved it and sat down. Of all my four years living in this house with these people, they've never shared their bacon.

Strange.

Dinner wasn't as talkative as it usually was when we all ate at the table. Usually we'd all have a big group discussion about our day, or week. Tonight was quiet, giving me an opportunity,

" Hey, guys?" Each one of their heads turned to me, and Edd signalled me to continue,

" I just wanted to say, thank you." Their brows furrowed but I held out a hand to tell them to let me finish,

" You four have helped me with so much over the past few years. From when you let me live here when I couldn't find proper housing situations, to letting me borrow the car. I just wanted to formally tell you all how grateful I really am. You are truly the kindest people I've ever met." As I went on talking, I realized how bad of an idea this actually was.

I mean, will they get suspicious? I'm just showing gratitude right? It shouldn't sound like a cry for help or anything...

As I snapped out of thought for the fiftieth time today, I notice that all of the boys have some type of smile on their face, even Tom!

Edd was smiling like a proud mother,

Matt was smiling giddily,

Tord had a smug, 'cool guy' smile,

And Tom had the smallest smile that made my heart melt.

I awkwardly continued my fake smile, and sat down.

Conversation continued on as would on a normal night, with the topic being past pleasant memories.

I volunteered to wash the dishes, it was the least I could do. There was only one problem. For some ungodly reason, Tom had insisted on helping me.

I couldn't figure out why at first, untill it dawned on me that he probably needed something from me.

So as I scrubbed the forgetten food off of the ceramic plate, he rinsed and dried them. We did this in silence, aside from the running water. Tom's the first one to break the tension filled silence,

" So, how have you been?" It was such a simple question, I could have simply faked a toothy grin, and said that I was great. I could have thanked him for asking. I could have asked him back.

But I only did one of those things.

" I've been doing just as good as I always do." I reply with a small sad smile. I tear my eyes away from the dish water," How about you? You've been awfully quiet tonight."

He chuckles lowly," Just had a lot on my mind, trying to face some of my problems, that's all." I stop what I'm doing and look over at him,

" Do you want to talk about it? I think the others are asleep already."

Normally when Tom is having any type of problem, he comes to me for advice, or even just for someone to listen to him rant when he's drunk. I even gave him a spare key to my room if he ever needs me while I'm asleep. He's offered the same for me, but I told him that I have a counselor. I try not to lie to my housemates all the time, only when necessary.

He simply shakes his head in response," Nah, this is one I have to deal with on my own," I sigh,

" Alright then, but keep my offer in mind. Just try to remember to see me before I go to bed, I'm...going to bed early tonight. I have something to do tommorow." He nods in understanding.

After we finish the dishes, we say our goodnights,

" I'll see you in the morning, (y/n)." I give one last fake smile,

" Same to you, Tom. Sleep well." I see him nod and walk down the hall as I close my door and lock it for the final time.

I walk into my bathroom and look into the mirror. All I see is a monstrosity of a person glaring back at me.

The bags under my eyes had only gotten worse after the sleepless nights I spent writing my suicide note.

I decided to skip reading over it one last time, I want nothing that could alter my decision at hand here. If I read my dying love letter that's written to Tom, I might stop myself in some kind of silly hope that everything could be okay again. It was too late for all that now.

So, I grabbed my blade that had served me well over the years, and stepped into the bathtub. I didn't cry, I didn't shake in fear of what I was about to do. I sadly smiled instead. As I took my hoodie off, revealing a tank top that no one knew I owned. I set my hoodie softly onto the floor, and turned on the hot water.

I took a deep breath in, and sigh, grabbing my blade and getting to work on my first artery. It took me a couple tries to find it.

But once I did, it started the red tint in the once clear bath water. I took in a shaky breath, adjusting to the dizziness of loosing so much blood so quickly.

At this point I couldn't even hear the bathwater running, everything was muffled.

I reached to turn it off, and a hand was placed onto mine. It takes me a good second to register that there was someone next to the tub, yelling my name right next to my face.

I try my best to focus on who could have caught me. Yet it's so difficult to take in my surroundings at this point.

So as I stare at the person beside my bathtub with fading eyes. I feel pressure on my wound, and see something being wrapped around it.

I start panicking, trying to say no, to let me die.

But I just can't. I just watch as my life is saved against my will.

Suddenly I can see that I'm moving, I can't figure out how until I notice the arms carrying me bridal style to a soft surface. That's when I lost consciousness for the next hour.

I didn't exactly 'wake up' more like fazed into existence. It's like I just gradually became aware of what was around me.

I became aware of the sobs coming from my bedside, and of the pressure squeezing my hand.

I forced my eyes open and tried to sit up. Yet I instantly regretted my decision, pain shot throughout my body. I glance over to my hand and up the....purple arm....

Who is this? Or perhaps I should say, what is this?

It's some kind of...monster? Hybrid? It looked kind of human... I could only see the torso and up. Even then, the arms grew bigger the farther down the arms stretched, and turned a deeper and deeper shade of purple. Horns poked out of the head laying slightly onto my shin, poking me a bit.

" Am-" I hold my throat. That hurt. I clear my throat of the mucus and start again as the unknown monster wakes up,

" Am I dead?"

The monsters head shoots up, and I can't help but recognize the 'eyes' that I've grown to love.

" T-Tom..."

He tries to smile for me, but it twists into a sad frown as his black orbs start to water,

" (Y/n)....(y/n) you're...y-you're okay! You're okay..." He said this over and over again as he cupped my cheeks with his transformed hands.

I grab onto his forearm to steady his shaking. This was starting to scare me.

I had never seen this man shed a tear in front of me, yet alone bawl into my shoulder like he was doing now,

" Tom, it's okay, I'm right here." I whispered this, and many other reassurances into his ear. Confirming to him that it was going to be okay and that, to my displeasure, I wasn't going anywhere.

He seemed to get angry after a few minutes, he ripped himself away from me and took hold of my shoulders,

" WHAT IF YOU WEREN'T RIGHT HERE? WHAT IF I HADN'T OF WALKED IN!! WHAT THEN HUH? YOU WOULDN'T BE RIGHT HERE!!! YOU'D BE GONE!! I would have...lost you..." He slid down the side of my bed as he finished his outburst. He sat crying into his knees.

I didn't know what to do. Is he mad at me? But despite the questions, I acted without thinking.

I began to run my fingers through his hair, almost brushing it. He seemed surprised at first, before he leaned into my touch.

" I'm sorry Tom. I didn't think it would effect you like this..." All was silent for a few moments. Until,

" Why..?" He sniffled a few times before I could respond.

" Why? Why what?" He looked up to me,

" Why would you try to leave me?" I couldn't even bring myself to say anything after that. Tom seemed to sense the frog in my throat, and continued,

" You don't realize, (y/n). You don't realize how special you are. To your family, your friends. I mean bloody hell (y/n)! What about us?! Edd would be heartbroken! And how are we supposed to explain something like that to Matt?" I avoided the possible eye contact and twidled my thumbs in my lap,

" What about me (y/n)? How am I supposed to go on living with myself if you, the love of my life, killed herself?" My mind went blank. He took my hand in between both of his,

" I know this isn't the greatest time for this, but if it'll boost your self esteem even a little bit, I don't care about embarrassing myself. (Y/n) (L/n), I am deeply in love with you, and have been since you moved in. I've loved you since you helped me to bed when I came in drunk all those years ago. I've loved you since you beat my Pac-Man score at the arcade, I acted so mad, but you were just so cute so excited like that... (Y/n)... Please let me help you love yourself by loving you..."

By the time he was done with his speech, I was in tears, a small frown on my face. He seemed to get the wrong idea as he instantly dropped my hand and got up,

" I got the message, I'll just uhm... I'll just g-" I grabbed his hoodie strings and pulled him in for a kiss.

We could both tell that there would be many more to come.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm sorry if it's extremely long, I just love to write angst haha...

[its-my-little-dumpster-fire]

Let it Burn ( t w e n t y n i n e )

Billy Russo x Reader, 6.7k

A/N: I don't know what to say about this one, just that it's been a long time coming and I'm equal parts excited and terrified of being this close to the end. So if even one person asks for a nice interlude, I'll friggin do it, because there aren't many sweet moments left. Not that there are any in this chapter? idk. You decide.

Warnings: Death. Talks of death. Violence. Poorly written fight sequences (I'm sorry @the-blind-assassin-12).

Summary: Billy's past comes knocking and you're thrown head first into a future you weren't expecting.

“I’ll get the car,” Matt volunteered the second your little group exited the bar. He was quick to turn away, leaving you with Noah and Libby on the sidewalk. The air thrummed around you with bass tones from leaking out onto the street. Combined with the alcohol in your system, you felt warm despite the chill in the air. Noah had his arm looped around Libby, holding her close and holding her up as her head lulled sleepily into his shoulder. Her hand stuck out, blindly grasping at the air behind her until you caught it in yours and she turned her face to smile. It was good to be with friends. Shocking, how normal it felt to be with people who knew you in college. Libby was there in your dorm room, laughing mercilessly at the sharp tingling in your legs after sprinting through the snow in shorts. A boy at the gym tried asking you out and your eighteen year old brain only came up with the dumbest responses to his flirting, prompting you high tail it out of there before pulling your sweats back on. Matt was there the Thanksgiving after you turned 21, carrying you on his back after too many spiked ciders, when you needed a break. Noah… well thankfully you hadn’t done anything remorseful in front of him that week, a sign you were getting older, but his presence in the group was a welcome one. Even if some days you looked at him and half expected your brother to be in his seat again, rubbing the back of Libby’s neck and calling Matt an asshole for wearing a Tom Brady jersey in public. It struck you that someday soon, these friends would have to move on from you too, keeping you and your brother as memories and nothing more.

Unwilling to let another string of macabre thoughts could kill the lingering comforts of the evening, you glanced up and down the street mindlessly taking in the city you once called home. It certainly wasn’t New York, but it had its own pulse. You couldn’t help wondering if it was the last night you’d ever get there and wanted to soak up every second. In your reverie, you floated away from Noah and Libby, kicking the pavement gently, eyes closed and heart content. Dying girls are allowed to romanticize whatever they want, you reasoned without paying attention where you were standing. It was your own fault that you were nearly knocked over by the broad shoulder of a passerby.

Noah hollered out in your defense, telling the man to watch where he was going, but one look up into familiar black irises told you the “stranger” was watching his step… and yours apparently.

“Sorry about that,” he whispered, a smile growing under rounded cheeks and puckered pink lines torn by glass.

You tried and failed to school your features into something slightly less glowy, but your soulmate’s hands were on you, steadying you, just feet from your friends. If you closed your eyes again, it might feel like a normal night out. A double date. Billy propped up against the wall, his arm stretched out over the plastic seating of a diner booth. You next him, stealing french fries off his plate and apologetically kissing his cheek after he slapped your hand away. Noah and Libby would be on the other side of the table, being their own kind of adorable, sharing a milkshake or something like it was the fifties. Oh god, you shivered, imagining Billy Russo in a leather jacket, driving you home after parking over in some poorly lit part of town, where his hand felt completely at home under your sweater.

“You okay, ma’am?” he asked, squeezing your arms and angling his face away from your friends, so only you could see or hear him.

“Yeah,” you sighed, disappointed your soulmate wasn’t a greaser, but still amazed he made such a brazen attempt to see you before you went home with your friends. “I’m swell.”

Billy chuckled at that, catching the sound in his throat so all that escaped was a huff. He nodded and licked his lips, looking down at the pavement between your shoes. Your eyes were still on his face, darker under the hood he’d pulled up, but you felt the toe of his boot nudge yours affectionately. “Swell, huh.” You nodded. “Alright,” he nodded in the direction of your friends, already releasing you and pushing you back toward them. “Keep your eyes open.”

“Thanks,” you called out, backpedalling until Libby caught your arm again and Noah stared down the stranger like any tough guy should. It wasn’t his fault that he had no idea who he was glaring at. If he did, he certainly wouldn’t linger.

“Russo!” you heard someone yell and immediately your blood ran cold. Libby and Matt were still trying to herd you away from where you’d been so rudely bumped, but you were immovable.

You heard Billy’s hissed ‘shit’ as the man with the thick black beard stalked over from the bar’s entrance. Shit, you repeated in your head, had this guy seen Billy in there and followed him out?

“You got the wrong guy.”

“Nah,” this man shook his head, “I don’t.” A terrifying smile appeared on his face as he approached Billy. “I’d know that fucked up mug anywhere.” He looked your soulmate up and down, all too satisfied with what he found. “Thought I was seeing a goddamn ghost,” he announced, before lowering his voice considerably. “Last I heard, they dragged your ass out of the river…” he scoffed. “Guess not, huh?”

In the presence of a rising conflict, Noah and Libby turned away, tugging you along with them. Your body followed them toward the lit yellow circle under a streetlamp to wait for Matt and the car, but your senses belonged to Billy. Always.

You had to believe that he was armed and clearly more than able to defend himself. Even strolling along the Adriatic, where time moved slower and the locals cared more about their afternoon cappuccino than the scarred face watching the water over your head, Billy had been prepared for the worst. There wasn’t a cell in your body that feared for him in these moments, but the second his name was spoken out loud… there was a new fear. Your life over the last 6 months was not safe anymore, Billy was not safe anymore. Everything you knew up until this point relied on anonymity and that was gone. Your soulmate could survive a street fight, but could he live beyond one where his ability to remain invisible was compromised?

The argument over your shoulder escalated and when you turned back to observe them again, what you found was more startling than a simple scuffle.

Billy was evenly matched and that alone was enough to scare you. He’s Billy Russo. Any conflict that comes his way should be easily snuffed out. He’s been fighting his entire life. First with broken broom handles and the grace of a boy who hadn’t grown into his limbs, but abandonment and terror look a lot like rage against hungry cheeks. No matter how “pretty” he’d been, there was a fight in Billy begging to come out. Surely the fight enticed a young Billy into service. The power, the training, the knowledge that he’d never be a victim again once his fists knew where to strike. With a scope, he could fight without getting his hands dirty. With a Ka-bar… he didn’t seem to mind that either. And you knew first hand that the fight followed Billy home, where his enemies were chosen for him and in exchange, he maintained his power. That Billy shouldn’t have equals, but somehow on this street, an equal had found him.

“They’re all dead,” the man spit then shouted, feet shuffling as he and your soulmate circled each other. “Geno, Todd, Bobby, Moke.” He lunged forward and Billy’s hands came down on his wrist, blocking the blade out in front of him. At first, you hadn’t noticed the black carbon steel in the dark, but when Billy took hold of his wrist in one hand, it was clearly visible under streetlights and gasps skittered through the small crowd gathering outside the bar.

“That’s on them,” Billy ground out, keeping his attacker’s arm straight up over their hands as he went for the knee with his other hand. Off balance, the man was forced onto his back and Libby’s audible gasp pulled your attention at the same time her hands were pulling back on your shoulders. Completely unaware of your own posture, as you stumbled backwards a step, you realized that you’d been moving closer to the fight since it broke.

“You pissed off the Punisher, Russo.” At the mention of Frank Castle, you turned back again, watching Billy’s hand come down on the man’s neck and jaw. You cringed at the way his voice gurgled and strained, but he kept taunting. “Jake’s dead.”

“He’s a fucking tweaker who didn’t know when to quit,” Billy insisted, struggling to dodge a knee to the liver while still pinning his assailant. The knife finally fell from the man’s hand, but neither he nor your soulmate lunged for it as you expected. Two men as deadly as this needn’t concern themselves with a sharp edge when their bodies were well honed weapons. You assumed this man must have been military too, with the pace at which they were anticipating the other’s movements, blocking and striking with disturbingly natural ease. He never would, but a part of you, a very small part, wished Billy would just run.

“Castle wanted you, Billy! Wanted to crush what you started!” Another series of punches that sounded painful. Everytime Billy drew blood, you noticed more of his own, a cut over the eye, redness that would bloom into dark purple before tomorrow. “You were a coward, Russo. Leaving everything you built,” the man was winded and you hoped that meant he’d slow down, but neither of them had that kind of quit in them. Not when face to face with an enemy. “We kept going, we could have run that city! But your buddy Frank Castle wouldn’t sleep until every of the boys was dead. Spunk, Manny, Vincent.” The man spit blood from his red stained teeth as he seethed through the names of fallen comrades. “That psycho went after Jimbo, that dumb kid didn’t stand a chance. I never thought I’d get my chance with Billy Russo…” he laughed, a little manic as that confident veneer he’d worn just a minute ago was broken. “But here we are, Billy. You and me.” He was using Billy’s name frequently and loudly. His eyes were as black as Billy’s and you watched them dart around to the handful of cellphone cameras pointed directly at the scene. The smirk on his face was unsettling and suddenly you knew what was happening. This man didn’t care if he died as long as he took Billy down with him. Billy, observant, but ever the predator was more concerned with eliminating the physical threat than his name going viral. The man wasn’t down for long before sweeping Billy’s leg and rolling away. Knife forgotten and fists flying into every inch of tender flesh, just like they were trained. Behind you, Noah described the scene in alarming detail while on the phone with local dispatch, making sure an officer en route knew exactly where they were needed and everything you were certain of two minutes ago was in jeopardy.

“Borrowed time, remember?” the man seethed, hunched over a heavy breathing Billy Russo who’d just taken a shot to the ear. “It was always gonna end this way.”

Falling from the top bunk and breaking your arm. Graduation. Your parents’ funeral. Your brother and Libby’s wedding. Meeting Billy. Standing outside a building that erupted in flames from the inside. The oncologist sat before you with a sour expression. Waiting for Billy in every new country, wringing your hands as if he might not come. So many life changing moments and yet, they were all a blur. This moment, however, was painfully clear.

You felt the tension in your toes as heeled feet moved toward the fray. The burn in your legs as you squatted after a day standing to accept goodbyes followed by a night of dancing poorly. The knife’s weight in your palm as you adjusted your grip to something that felt more solid. You’d bought cans of soup that were heavier than the blade wrapped in your fingers and that surprised you. No wonder these looked like an extension of Billy’s hand when he wielded them. Despite the relative lightness, you looked awkward holding on to it. Not like Billy. Through the blood rush behind your ears, the heavy throb of your own pulse drowning everything out, Libby’s voice screamed your name. Billy looked shocked, a marvel in itself as it seemed so little could surprise him, to hear your name and his eyes landed on yours, wide, but narrowing as the blade sank into his opponent’s side.

The man wheeled back quickly, his elbow landing hard in your chest and knocking the wind from you. Someone Billy’s height would have doubled over groaning after a shot to the gut, but when you hit the ground, no sounds came out as you tried to call out to Billy. He acted without your cries and while you stared at the ground spinning between your knees, the sound of the fight grew louder, more urgent. As unseen hands guided you back to your feet, your legs shook at the sight of blood splattered on your hands and bare shins. In your struggle, the knife remained in your grasp and the sight of it, shimmering red in moon and street light, made you feel dizzy.

It was Billy to say your name next, loud and strained. When you looked back toward him, he was on his back, thumbs digging into the man’s cheekbones as his head thrashed. The scars on Billy’s face seemed to give way to the veins bulging in his forehead until they were all you could see, evidence of his struggle to take in breath with hands pressing down on his windpipe. The last time you were in this scenario, Billy hadn’t struggled at all. Your attacker was a bum compared to the marine and when your soulmate sliced his fingers clean from his hand, you didn’t even stop to wonder if you’d done the right thing assisting Billy. As if a practiced dance, you approached again with shaky steps, to drop the knife in Billy’s outstretched hand. You watched as a red faced Billy Russo lifted the knife and plunged it directly into the side of the man’s neck. Blood flowed from the artery when Billy removed the blade and struck him again and again. He shoved the man from his body and rose with a face, reddened by blood splatter instead.

The world slowed to a stop as you fell forward and Billy caught you, widening his feet to adjust your body against his so that you both stayed up right. His whispering disappeared into your hair and you heard nothing that was said, until a new voice cut through the night.

“What the hell?!” Matt called your name, wide eyed and confused by the blood covering both you and the man that held you. He’d only been gone a few minutes and everything had gone to shit in his absence. At the sound of sirens just around the block, your eyes flew from your friends back to Billy’s, dark and conspiring as the next few seconds proved most pivotal.

Clutching the front of Billy’s jacket, you jostled him until his eyes fell upon yours. “Don’t you leave me here, Russo,” your head shook desperately, as did your voice. “Don’t.”

Without saying a word, Billy’s jaw tightened and he was off, all but carrying you toward Matt and the car that couldn’t have come at a better or worse moment. Your friend, too noble for his own good, stupidly resisted the man on a mission and Libby shrieked when Billy’s fist landed against Matt’s cheek. He shoved your friend toward the sidewalk where his sister cried and got into the driver’s seat like it was his plan all along. Libby tried to pull you back with them, insisting it was self defense and you didn’t have to run, but one look and she knew.

The second your door shut behind you, Billy pulled away, blessedly unnoticed by the blue lights approaching from the opposite direction. You were shocked when your getaway driver stopped the car after only a few blocks, slipping into an open spot in front of a fire hydrant and stepping out of the car without explanation. He opened your door and pulled you out when you didn’t immediately follow, dropping Matt’s keys in your seat before slamming the door behind you. A half turn over your shoulder and the blue from the responders’ lights bathed the buildings on the corner. You were far too close to be safe, but Billy pressed on, walking so close behind you that his chest moved you forward more than his hands. Around one more corner and it all made sense. There was already a plan in place, a car stowed safely within walking distance of the bar meant to carry Billy away before he was jumped and his identity exposed.

You settled uncomfortably in the front seat of a sedan that -under any other circumstance- would make you laugh to see Billy behind the wheel of it. “We can’t travel like this,” you gestured down to your short dress and blood stained skin. The man next to you made a disgruntled noise, but flipped on the turn signal all the same when you pointed out Libby’s street upcoming.

Billy stood watch at the large front windows, peeking through the curtains suspiciously and giving you commands from the other room. There wasn’t time for you to change clothes, which you hated, but you were allowed 5 minutes to grab whatever you’d need so you shoved what belongings you didn’t have to dig for into a bag, flying from every corner of your guest room. Job’s excitement at seeing you and Billy, together and walking through the front door like you’d been invited rather than pillaging through the flower bed for a false bottomed rock, lasted only the length of the entry before even the dog decided that your frantic packing was too much for him. With your bag slung over one shoulder, you scribbled the quickest apology onto a pad of paper in Libby’s junk drawer, hoping she wouldn’t find it until you were long gone. You trusted she and Matt and Noah to do the right thing, to tell the truth about what they saw. You weren’t sure what to expect of the bachelorette party that watched like a herd of scared sheep, phone out and backs hunched as they gasped and gawked at the death befalling tiny screens. There was time to spare one final glance toward the refrigerator, normal clippings and wedding announcements and grocery lists. Your friends would slide back into their normal lives soon enough. They’d feel the need to mourn again, despite attending your funeral just hours ago, but they’d be forced back into work, obligations, other friendships.

You had no such luxury. There was no normal from here on out. Whatever you thought you’d been running from in Europe was soon to be clawing at your door. It was impossible not to recognize that your journey with Billy so far had been easy compared to what was coming next. He was going to be hunted, while your dying slowed him down, dragged more like. The humble bag of belongings over your shoulder suddenly weighed a thousand pounds and the strap dug into your skin. In your haste to be close to Billy, your desperation to stay with him, you hadn’t stopped to consider what a cruel fate you were damning him to. Libby lit the spark, a guilty smoldering in your chest, thinking about Billy losing you the way your best friend had lost your brother. She was broken and changed, but you couldn’t fathom what Billy would do once you were gone. Torn between wanting to spend every waking second with him until your last and letting him run without you there to complicate his survival, you didn’t notice him moving through the house to find you and hurry you along.

“Let’s go,” he said sharply, urging you with his eyebrows and an extended hand, but his other hand was not empty and it amused you more than it should.

“What are you doing?” you asked, seeing the answer for yourself without addressing it. Billy shook his head and furrowed his brows like he didn’t know what he meant. You nodded at his hip, but he ignored the gesture completely, passing Job’s black leather leash from his left to his right hand, and walked out.

“Time’s up,” he announced again without further explanation and the dog behind him was more than pleased to be included. Job had no idea where he was headed or the dangerous circumstances that had brought his two favorite people back to him and for a moment, you allowed yourself to be like Job. You fought back your amusement and nodded solemnly, following Billy and his beast out of your friends’ home, apology tucked into a drawer and bag drawn up over your shoulder. Just before exiting, you stopped at the front door to kick off your heels and slide your bare feet into a pair of Libby’s walking shoes. She wouldn’t miss them and you were in greater need at the moment. This way, you hoped, she’d know you were safe upon entering, even before finding the note with half assed explanations. With the door closed behind you and the hide a key back in its place, Billy loaded Job into the back seat while you settled into the front. It could have been the start of a road trip, if you let it. Man, woman, dog, all piled into a car and headed for the next adventure.

Billy leaned over and you didn’t even try to hide the tears tracking down your face, overcome by the idea that your only normal moments would have to be imagined from now on. Usually one to prefer silence in these complex situations, you were surprised when Billy started to speak. Jose was the man’s name. He’d been involved with Billy’s tiny army, plundering New York City and taking back what they felt was owed to them after sacrificing so much in service. Jose, Billy explained, was the only member of their gang that questioned his decision to leave the game when he did. He didn’t explicitly say it, but her name hung in the air anyways.

“A lot of people died because of me…” Billy continued and you turned to face him in your seat. His eyes were forward, occasionally drifting toward dark mirrors, but never toward you. “Frank… if what Jose said is true… Frankie’s on a fucking spree.”

“Is that any different than before?” you asked honestly. You didn’t know Frank that well, or at all, minus a handful of meetings that always left you feeling nauseous before, during, and after. He was the Punisher, famed for clearing the streets of those that crossed him or his moral compass. Watching the Boondock Saints with your brother was one thing, knowing someone with twice the training and fire power was loose in New York with your soulmate’s name at the top of his list was something else entirely. Billy wasn’t the good guy in this story, you loved him, but your brain hadn’t disintegrated that much yet. Given another opportunity, Frank Castle would end Billy’s life without pause. That wasn’t a fact easily forgotten, or forgotten at all, but knowing that even one person blamed Billy for Frank’s less than judicious behavior was terrifying.

The steering wheel squeaked under the tight flexing of his fingers. You knew him well enough to know that Billy didn’t feel responsible for their deaths, not really. He was smart enough to draw conclusions about how they ended up on Frank Castle’s hit list, but he wouldn’t lose any sleep over them either. The only thing that worried you was if Billy was looking for a reason to fight Frank one more time, this would be as good a reason as any. You reached over to touch his arm and as awkward as it was to hold onto his elbow when Billy made no moves to reciprocate or accept the touch, you left your hand where it was. Only when Job’s snout shot up from between your seats and bumped the back of his arm did Billy react, dropping his right arm to trap Job’s face between his arm and his ribs. He looked up then, meeting your eyes for the first time since getting into the car. His expression was unreadable in the dark, but you disregarded the voice in your head that told you not to push him. “You’re not going after him are you?”

Billy’s eyes drifted purposefully back to the road ahead and you expected your question to linger without ever being answered. An unspoken confirmation of your worst fears. “I’ve got other shit to do,” he answered suddenly, releasing Job’s head from its hold and sliding his arm through your hand until your fingers fell in the spaces between his. Billy tightened his hold, fingertips digging into the back of your hand, then let go completely, switching hands to steer with his right. His elbow rested by the window and he cupped his own chin, covering his mouth with his forefinger as if deep in thought.

You. You were the other shit to do. You had to be.

On the one hand, overlooking his choice of phrasing, you were encouraged. He’d planned to keep you around and knew he couldn’t be with you while successfully hunting Frank Castle. That was… nice. In a way. There was a time when Billy’s feud -if you could call it that- with the Punisher took precedence over you and the trust he placed in you. Somewhere over the last year, Billy learned of your importance to him. Of course he didn’t share this as he was discovering it, but the night he held you and forced you to look at the passports he’d secured for you both before blowing Anvil to the ground, he’d laid it out clearly. You meant something to him and without his memories, he had to be sure. Once he was sure, he was all in. Or so he said.

Which made everything else harder. How could Billy Russo be all in when he had no idea what was coming next? A few months in Europe away from the US government and the Punisher, your brain was changing, but that was nothing compared to what he’d have to deal with soon. You and your doctors had discussed end of life expectations, but how much was Billy ready to shoulder. Would he regret his choices when you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore? When you couldn’t get to the bathroom by yourself? When your throat rattled with every labored breath? When you weren’t sure where you were or who he was? How much of your dying could Billy stand before he took Job for a walk and never came back?

You’d meant to talk to him about it back at the bar- god, could that really have been an hour ago? Hearing Libby’s heartbreak as she talked about losing your brother was too much already. How much worse would it be when the goodbye was drawn out and by the end, he was so sick of caring for you that your departure was more of a relief than a loss?

“Billy, pull over,” you demanded suddenly.

He ignored your warning, but the churning in your stomach wasn’t waiting on your soulmate.

“Billy!”

“We gotta- SHIT!” You felt the car slide over to the shoulder when you lurched forward, hand over your mouth too late as the contents of your stomach emptied through your fingers and onto the thick rubber mat between your stolen shoes. When the car finally stopped, you were quick to exit, heaving twice more before falling backwards. Your butt hit the damp grass and your body slumped into the slope of the ditch until you were flat on your back. Slow breaths pushed whatever was left back down and when you were feeling brave enough to open your eyes again, you focused on a familiar cluster of stars to keep the rest of the galaxy from spinning away. The archer was facing back the way you’d come stumbling, taunting you, daring you to rise and face Billy Russo after throwing up in his getaway car. He could wait a few more breaths. When the sticky sweet scent of alcohol soaked soil wafted up into your nose, you frowned, wiped your wet hand in the grass, and stood, not really ready to face him, but unwilling to lie out in the cold smelling your own sick any longer.

Billy was watching you, one arm bent over the hood while he stood between the door and the driver’s seat. He didn’t strike you as the hold your hair back guy, but seeing him out of the car at all was a surprise. Your embarrassed shuffle back toward the vehicle was met with silence, only the thud of the door closing behind you and the click of your seatbelt broke it. Billy pulled himself back in once you were situated and in a matter of seconds, you were rolling again. The puddle by your feet was even worse than the wet ground you’d left in the ditch and Billy didn’t hesitate to roll every window down. The wind whipping through the front seat did little to cover his scoffing.

“Smells like death.”

“Get used to it,” you murmured back and waited for Billy to reply with something smart. The rebuttal never came, but he sat straight up after it, left fist clenched against his thigh while his right hand kept the car steady. He heard and you knew you’d need to talk to him again, seriously, but the adrenaline was well and truly worn off and the sickness wasn’t exactly invigorating. What a mess. You briefly imagined what Kathleen would say about it all before remembering that your phone was safely tucked into your purse, dropped at Libby’s feet in the middle of the night’s chaos and with it… shit.

“The address,” you said quietly. Billy’s eyes flitted up to the rearview, without responding. “The address you gave me, we can’t go there. Libby has it.”

“I put it in your bra,” Billy stated, already sounding frustrated.

“I put it in my purse so I wouldn’t lose it and…” you gestured vaguely. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time you were holding it. Maybe when Billy bumped into you on the street? Once the fight broke out, your attention was not on your belongings.

Billy took a deep breath through his nose, shaking his head as he dug his own burner out of his back pocket. He nodded to the backseat, “gimme that blue pouch back there.” You turned onto your left hip and opened the duffle he always had with him. Along the front side of the bag, you felt a leathery pouch.

“With the zipper?” Billy hummed and you pulled it out for him. Job whined quietly from the backseat, clearly not pleased that you were rummaging around in his space without even petting him. While Billy had the pouch between his legs, looking for something, you stayed turned toward Job, reaching out to run one of his ears between your fingers. He relaxed again, laying across the bench seat, so you rested the side of your head against your seat to watch him sleep and within seconds, you too were out cold.

Before you knew it, your eyes were flying open at the gentle vibration of the trunk slamming shut behind you. Looking around, it was impossible to tell how long you’d been out. The sky was just as black as it was before, but nothing outside the windows looked familiar and you were definitely in the car alone.

Billy was loading his bags and yours into a gray pick up that was so comically large you weren’t sure his long legs could pull him into the cab, let alone yours. You could make out at least two more men from their silhouettes, black against the glare of the truck’s headlights, exchanging words and something else with Billy before he turned back toward you. Unsure what was happening or who the men were, you waited in your seat for Billy to retrieve you, which soon enough he did. You hadn’t even noticed his jacket draped over your front until he slid it off your chest, placing it back around your shoulders once you were out of the car and standing with him. He didn’t touch you much, didn’t even wait for you before starting his march back toward the truck. You followed awkwardly, dodging the uncomfortable stares from the men he’d just been talking to and helped yourself into the passenger seat with about as much difficulty as you were expecting, especially in a short dress that still had tiny, but pungent vomit splatters on it and needed to be burned. It was probably a faux pas to wear the dress you wore to your own funeral anywhere else and you weren’t worried about missing it. Billy spoke with the men once more, pointing to the car that had gotten you here. The men weren’t interested in the car, stealing glances through the windshield at you. One had the audacity to wink before rolling his neck to smirk at Billy. You watched your soulmate’s face lift in one of his signature snarls before taking a total 180 into a similar sadistic sort of smile. He tilted his head toward the windshield, not even really looking at you before turning back and saying something that made the men roar in laughter. Through the thick glass and over the loud engine, you could hear their response and you were thankful you couldn’t hear what he’d said to be so entertaining. Instead of watching them through the windshield, you turned a bit to look in the backseat. Job was stretched comfortably across the bench, his big block head supported by Billy’s duffel bag, which left his snout right in between your seat and the driver’s. You scratched his head, amazed that the dog seemed to be adapting to this on the run business much easier than you were. He trusted you and he trusted Billy. The details weren’t anything for Job to be concerned with, so he nodded off again without trouble. You could stand to learn a thing or two from the mutt.

By the time Billy was back in the driver’s seat next to you, you had surpassed uncomfortable and settled well into ‘about to throw up’ territory again. The way the mean leered at you was chilling, but the way Billy let them, almost encouraging them, was ultimately what made your insides crawl. His head hit the seat behind him with a thud and he waited until the men, driving the first car away, were completely out of sight, not even the faint red spot of tail lights on the black highway ahead of you.

You had questions. Loads. Who were those men? Where were they going? Whose truck were you in? Where were YOU going? What did Billy say to make them laugh? Were you in danger? Was this always the plan or was Billy really so resourceful to pull off this swap all while you slept next to him?

And yet, none of them came out.

“Billy…” his head lulled to the side, looking at you dutifully without moving any other part of his body. “We need to talk.”

Billy’s huff was clearly annoyed and he straightened immediately, reaching for the gear shift and ignoring you.

“Billy-“

“They were guys from Anvil,” okay one answer. “They’re going ahead to set up a place for us in Buffalo. It’ll take a couple of days, but they got connections to get us across the border. Anything else you need to know?” His stare was hard. Impatient.

You swallowed and nodded. His nostrils flared but he didn’t say anything, so you continued. “Can we trust them?”

Of all things. That made Billy Russo smile. He licked his lips before answering. “Not at all,” he said, finally shifting into drive. “That’s why we aren’t going to Buffalo.”

The relief you felt at his words was enough to put you right back to sleep, but suddenly you felt wide awake. You even sat up a little straighter, turning a bit in your seat to look at Billy easier. The truck was pointed West, the ugliness of the night left back in Philly. Your poor friends would be left to pick up the pieces of the evening and you suddenly remembered why you’d run off on a grand adventure in the first place. Dying just left so much trouble for the ones left… which reminded you....

“Billy, we still need to talk.”

“I didn’t tell them who you were,” he assured you, derailing your thoughts entirely.

“Who did they think I was?” You asked.

Billy shrugged. “A hooker.”

“And that was believable??” Billy’s annoying smirk said it all, but he took a moment to look you up and down, lifting his eyebrows once his eyes made it back up to yours. “Ugh,” you whined. “Don’t answer that.” You tugged the hem of your dress down over your thighs as far as it would go. You were still in his jacket, a little black dress that stunk of sweat and booze and vomit, boots that didn’t belong to you. You hadn’t had a good look at your hair or makeup since before Billy fucked you in an office and there was no way your makeup had survived an evening of drinking, dancing, Billy’s rough kisses, manslaughter, and throwing up on the side of the road. The little pull down mirror above your head wasn’t even tempting at this point and Billy’s smug chuckle next to you was bad enough. You shrunk down, wedging yourself firmly between the back of your seat and the door, and Billy glanced over barely containing his amusement.

“Aw, c’mon baby, don’t be like that,” he teased in that thick accent of his and you glared at him from your little corner, pulling his jacket tighter with your crossed arms. He reached out across the console between you and unfortunately you had nowhere to go. His fingers wrapped around your shoulder and he barely had to tug before you were shifting in your seat to lean closer to him. Billy dipped his hand into the back of his jacket, rubbing your neck as you leaned further in. At his gentle kneading and pulling, you finally relented and let your head fall into his shoulder. It was an uncomfortable angle with the wide center piece between you, but totally worth it when you felt Billy’s lips brush your forehead. “You smell like a 4, but I know you taste like a 8.”

“I’m a 10,” you argued and he laughed above you. His arm was all the way behind your neck now, holding you against him as he maneuvered the giant vehicle with his left hand.

“Mmm,” he hummed. “I dunno about that. How bout we find you a shower and some toothpaste, then I can have another taste, just to be sure.”

You shook your head in complete disbelief. How dizzyingly quick could he switch from hardened criminal on the run to this flirt. Too fast. Hard day behind you and hard conversations ahead, but both forgotten for the time being. The ride was quiet and you were bound to fall back asleep before too long, Job’s snoring behind your head as comforting as Billy’s long fingers rubbing your scalp. Just before consciousness evaded again, you felt Billy turn his face into your hair, mumbling something too low to be understood.You hummed a bit to question it, but were out before hearing him repeat it.

YEAH WE KNOW BILLY. ITS ONLY MOSTLY YOUR FAULT.

Idk how y'all still put up with me and this story. Its too long. You can say it.

General Tags: @something-tofightfor @the-blind-assassin-12 @gollyderek @suchatinyinfinity @fific7 @beautifuldesastre @elanor-of-imladris @actuallyazriel @malionnes @pheedraws @commanderlola @mariaenchanted @the-blind-assassin-12 @gollyderek @suchatinyinfinity @fific7 @beautifuldesastre @elanor-of-imladris @actuallyazriel @malionnes @pheedraws @commanderlola

Let it Burn/Billy Russo: @elenarogersbarnes13​ @19avocado-high51 @songtoyou @disengagefrmreality @christinawxxx @stories-you-wont-hear @lexxierave @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @thesumofmychoices @ofheroesandvillains @charmed-asylum @bugboy-and-icegirl @thefinalexperiment @lysawayne @operation-spot @ilkaeliseb @littlemermaidprobz @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mathle0matle @a-dorky-book-keeper @blackbirddaredevil23 @elenarogersbarnes13 @19avocado-high51 @songtoyou @disengagefrmreality @christinawxxx @lexxierave @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @thesumofmychoices @ofheroesandvillains @charmed-asylum @bugboy-and-icegirl @thefinalexperiment @lysawayne @operation-spot @ilkaeliseb @littlemermaidprobz @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mathle0matle @blackbirddaredevil23

[laceandhockeyskates]

Stay with me ft. Matthew Tkachuk

Request: none except for me

Author’s notes: I’ve been thinking about this for awhile so I’m sucking it up and actually writing it for myself I guess.

Warnings: some cussing

Word count: 5.3 k

You had known the Tkachuk family for as long as you could remember; after all you were only three when the two loud and obnoxious boys had moved next door. There wasn’t a memory that you had that didn’t include at least one of the Tkachuk family member. Although there certainly were more that involved Matt than the others.Since they entered your life they filled it with a lot of yelling, fighting, and playing; but also more love than you could ever truly process. It was a breath of fresh air for you according to everyone that surrounded you. There was something about about the boys that drug you out of your quiet shell and instilled a certain level of confidence that you carried with you through everything. With the love of Chantal and the encouragement of the boys you knew that there wasn’t anything you couldn’t accomplish. Although much to your mother and Chantal’s dismay that often meant reckless dares and ending up with a new bruise or scrape, not conquering the patriarchy; at least not yet.

There was a connection between you and Matt that went beyond words despite how crazy he tended to drive you. Even as children he knew just how to get under you skin, but he was also the one who knew how to comfort you. He was the one that tugged on your pig tails, but also was the one who comforted you when you were sad. The relationship you had was the balance you needed in your life.

Your childhood was mostly spent at a hockey rink when you weren’t in school or at your own sports practices. Between Keith’s own games and the boys’ tournaments there was never a shortage of hockey in your life. It was what shaped your entire life after all it was impossible not to when it felt like everything was centered around a hockey schedule, or three. Those were some of your best memories though. After all nothing quite beat sitting near ice level while swaddled up in a blanket with Taryn during the long weekends, especially watching Matt winning.

As teenagers you may have bickered back and forth with Matt constantly, but he was your knight in shining armor on your worst days.  The day you had your first heart break it was Matt who wrapped you up in his arms and held you while you cried wondering why you hadn’t been enough for some teenage boy. What you weren’t aware of at the time was just how much it broke his own heart seeing you so hurt, and he had sworn then and there that he would never be the one to break your heart. He would just be the one to figure out how to piece it back together.

Somewhere along the way your heart had become a melted mess for your curly haired best friend. You knew better than to believe that boys like Matthew Tkachuk would ever end up with a girl like you though. It was simply how the universe worked. You could be happy with your friendship though, because at least he was yours in some way.

The day that he left for Calgary was the day he had ripped your heart out clean from your chest and took it with him. Of course you had known it was coming long before it had actually happened, but you still couldn’t help but be scared about what it meant for your friendship. On one hand you were overjoyed for Matt getting to live out his childhood dream, but on the other it was the most distance between the two of you that you ever had to deal with. 

During the seasons while he was in Calgary you kept busy with college since you weren’t as lucky as he was to have an insane talent to fall back on. For the first time since you had met you were living completely different lives. It was a terrifying change and you were sure that within a year he would have moved on from your friendship.

Except he never did.

Instead every Saturday you both fit in a facetime call with each other, making it a rule that the two of you held onto tightly. Of course you tried to fit in any other phone calls that you could and text messages were constantly flowing between the two of you. But once a week you needed to see his face just as much as he needed to see yours. Your heart still ached for the physical contact during the season, but you made up for it through out the summers and whatever short trips you could manage to make happen during the season.

Three and a half years of your life slipped past your fingers before a pandemic hit the world thrusting everything in your life into chaos. With mere weeks until graduation it suddenly looked as if everything you had worked so hard towards was going to be ripped from your hands. Of course you were going to still graduate and have your degree, but it wouldn’t come along with the entire graduation day you had planned. You wouldn’t get to see the emotions of your parents, or have Matt twirl you around in your cap and gown, or see Keith trying to play off his own feelings about your accomplishment, or even having to deal with Chantal shoving you and all of the siblings together to get as many pictures as she could manage.  

Yet there was Matt. He answered every call that first week as you felt as if you were losing your mind. Once he was home though you had basically moved in with the Tkachuk family. Before you had always been welcome in their home, but with quarantine came your parents constant fighting and you couldn’t live under the same roof anymore.Without a question they took you in and made you feel at home just like they always had. Matt being there had just been an added benefit to help keep you sane. 

-----

Growing up movie nights had always been a weekly event between the two households. More often than not you ended up pressed between Matt and Taryn a fact that at least you and Matt had never grown out of despite the many nights of side glances from your families or the chirps that came your way. But nothing could have stopped your tradition, after all it was where you felt complete.

Quarantine brought what felt like nightly movie sessions after a long day of competitive games held between the siblings and their father. During which you and Chantal tended to be on the deck sipping on a drink during the mid afternoon summer sun. Being around the Tkachuk family meant there was constantly some form of a game going on just so they could prove who was the better brother or son, since you all knew that Taryn was truly the best Tkachuk. At least you were never bored and always entertained.

Movie night had always been a favorite of yours, but now there was something just---different about the time you spent in the Tkachuk family room. Perhaps you had missed the way it felt to be pressed against Matt’s side as you felt the way his fingers played in your hair. Or perhaps it was just missing the feeling of family. Something that had been lacking in your own family the last few months. Or it could have just been the fact that you missed it all. This was where you belonged after all.

The night had started out with both of his siblings spread out along with the two of you on the floor but through various movies they had both wondered off to their bedrooms leaving the two of you alone in a comfortable silence.

“I have to go back to Calgary,” Matt whispered to you as he moved to wrap his arms tightly around your middle in order to hold you tightly against his chest. You had known that it was coming since it was all Keith could talk about, but you were ignoring just how soon you would be without your best friend again. His words were a blow to your heart still even with the heads up.

You had turned your head slightly in order to look up at him taking in the way his jaw was set and the way that his hands ran along your side. It was clear in his body language that it wasn’t something that he wanted to discuss yet. Which was probably why he was distracting you with the way he was touching you, there was no way he didn’t know that it would cloud your own judgment. Although it was nothing out of your normal with him, it still set your skin on fire.

If only there was a way for you to know that Matt was having his own reaction to you. You had always been his best friend that he happened to be in love with even as a teen, but something had shifted and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hide it. A fact that often terrified him because he always knew that he would never be good enough for you, but he knew he couldn’t live life without you tucked by his side. Even the thought of ruining the connection the two of you shared was enough to freak him out. Could he truly live with someone else sweeping you off your feet either?

You sucked in a deep breath wanting to reign in your own emotions as you tried to piece together the words that rushed through you head. Something had shifted between the two of you, but you were afraid of him going back and things changing again. Your hand reached down to grab Matt’s hand as it ran along your side as you moved to wrap it completely around you settling your focus on the wall across from you. “When do you leave?” You asked him quietly unable to look at him. You knew if you took one look at him that you would break.

“Monday,” You heard him huff quietly causing your hair to stir a bit. You didn’t even have to see his face in order to know that he was pouting. It was almost second nature that he seemed to always pout when he had more on his mind than he was saying. You supposed that you could play his game for one day instead of giving him any issues about it. 

Sighing dramatically yourself you shifted to turn in his arms so that the two of you were now face to face so that you were able to see his face fully. It was then that you had noticed just how closely that the action had put you though, but you weren’t going to back down. “Okay Mr. Dramatic what’s going on in that head of yours?” You asked him quietly wanting to help him any way that you could.

Seeing Matthew going through any struggle was difficult on you. All that you wanted was to ease any burden on his shoulders that you could. After all it was exactly what he did for you. Every single time you had needed him he had made sure to force you to talk about your problems so that he could find the solution that you were missing yourself. Now it was your turn.

You felt Matt’s hand reaching up tugging gently on the ends of your hair as his eyebrows furrowed together. What you wouldn’t have given to be able to read his thoughts in order to make it easier on him since he seemed to be struggling. “I just don’t want to leave you again. We have always spent summers together, it feels as if everything is changing now,” he admitted as his steely gaze flicked up to meet your own eyes.

You understood what he had meant though considering you felt the world shifting around you as the days dragged on, and it terrified you. This was suppose to be your last summer of freedom before you settled into an adult job that meant no more long summers with your best friend. However all of those plans were being ripped from you thanks to a global pandemic. You had spent the last few months trying to recreate your exciting summers. There had only been so much that you could manage to do though. Now you only had a few days before it all came to a close and he was back in Calgary.

“I’m guessing that there’s no change in keeping you here is there?” You asked him already knowing what the answer was. There was absolutely nothing that would stop Matt from being with his team and chasing the cup. If there was a sliver of a chance he could bring it home he would be there working his hardest. It was just another thing that you loved about your best friend.

You watched as he pursed his lips close seemingly lost deep in his own thoughts for a moment. His hands dragged his hands back down your side to settle on your hip before he let out a quiet breath that he had been holding. “Or you could come to Calgary with me,” he suggested quietly as he didn’t dare to meet your eyes. 

You had visited often during his seasons whenever school had allowed you to, but this would be different. This wasn’t an offer for a long weekend. Instead you knew that it was going to be a few weeks, but it was a few weeks with the boy that you were hopelessly in love with, and probably the last time that it would happen. 

“Okay.”

It was a simple response, but it had pulled a smile from him that seemed to be brighter than any you had seen in the last few months. You knew that you had a lot to figure out but for now you were simply filled with excitement about what the next few weeks could bring the two of you. 

------

The last few days in St. Louis had sped by in such a flurry that you had barely had time to even catch your breath. Before you could completely process what was happening you were sitting beside Matt on a plane heading towards his home in Calgary. You knew that you would be stuck in the apartment considering there was still a pandemic going on in the world, but at least the nights would be spent with him. You had been so excited about your time with him that you hadn’t even taken a moment to consider how much more difficult this was going to be on your heart. Living in such a domestic situation was bound to get your heart twined up in more even more than it already was. Considering how long you had been in love with him though you knew that even that was saying a lot.

You had been lost in your thoughts when you felt him leaning over the armrest in order to get a better view of the word search that you had been working on since you had taken your seats. “Are you bored of my sparkling personality already? Because I have some bad news about how long the next few weeks are going to be for you if you are,” his laughter had your heart soaring in your chest.

You weren’t sure if you could ever be tired of Matt, but out of everyone you knew specifically that his ego didn’t need to be stroked more than it was. You shifted in your seat to look fully at him as you rolled your eyes unable to hide the amused smile that pulled on your lips, “I could always go hide at Elias’ I’m sure.” You knew that you had won the battle when he pouted to himself pulling back with a murmur about the game not being fun anymore. You hadn’t won the war though, and you knew that. 

The flight had been fairly uneventful considering that almost as soon as you were in the air you felt your best friend dropping his head on your shoulder before dropping off to dreamland. You were fairly use to it by now, and while your heart strings were certainly being tugged you never felt more content as you moved to watch a movie during the flight so you wouldn’t risk moving him even slightly.

You found yourself being practically drug across Calgary International Airport with your hand in Matt’s since he had taken it the moment you had stepped off the plane. There was something about his excitement that fed into you. He was home, and now he got to make it yours for the foreseeable future. Although if he had his way it would be just as much your home as it was his. One day at a time though he knew it would be a long battle to get there.

It took longer than you had wanted to get through customs, but once you were free and had your uber on it’s way you noticed Matt turning his attention to you as he took you in while he ran a hand through his unruly curls. The smile he flashed you had your heart playing pitter patter against your chest. “I’m happy that you decided to come with me, Y/N.”

------

The first few weeks had passed in a blur as you had settled into the guest room at Matt’s apartment. You knew that it was difficult for your best friend to not be able to drag you around the city to show you the place he called home, but risking the process to get to the playoffs wasn’t worth it even to you. From the parts that you could see though you knew that this wouldn’t be the only time he would have a chance to show it all to you the way he truly wanted to. Maybe you could even see Calgary as your home at some point.

The two of you had settled into a comfortable pattern together. Both of you waking early enough to have breakfast together before he would have to rush off to practice. You would spend the time apart cleaning the apartment no matter how much Matt argued with you about just enjoying your time, and not supposedly picking up after him but it was your mess too. When he would get back the two of you would make dinner together and settle in for a few more episodes of Gilmore Girls. A fact that you were still happy about being able to con him into binging with you.

And even if he wouldn’t admit it to you he would have watched anything if it meant seeing the contentment on your face. All he could imagine while he held you on his couch was just how much happier he would be if this was his entire future. He knew that you were all that he would need to be happy, but he would have to get his head of his own ass soon if he were to make it happen. 

Unfortunately time passed far too quickly and before you were ready you were standing on the tarmac hugging Matt as tightly as you could manage while you kept your head buried against his chest. You already couldn’t wait for him to return to you, but you also knew that you wanted him to stay in Edmonton and win a cup. You would survive a few weeks without him by your side.

There had been a debate about going back home to St. Louis while he was gone, but given everything happening in your own family dynamic you had decided that staying in Calgary was the best plan at least for now. Being on your own at least gave you time to clear your own head, and it wasn’t as if the Tkachuk family would ever allow you to be on your own. Facetime dates were a daily occurrence with Taryn and Chantal during the day, and every evening you fell asleep on the phone with Matt.

This day was harder than the others had been, not because you were alone but because you missed having him there with you constantly. You hadn’t realized just how much you relied on having Matt to hold you together until he was hours away. You had curled up in his bed simply wanting to feel closer to him while you watched the game with every intention of moving back to the guest room where you had been sleeping.

You just hadn’t realized how tired you were. Before you knew it you were drifting off to sleep midway through the second period. It wasn’t until your phone started to ring to alert you to an incoming facetime that you even stirred. Your brain wasn’t processing what was happening as you hit accept and adjusted yourself in the bed to actually look at your phone. The shit eating grin on Matt’s face was the first sign that was something was up. You rubbed at your eyes tiredly knowing unable to put together what was happening until you realized just where you were. The room wasn’t strange to you, but it certainly wasn’t the room that had become yours. 

“So how comfortable is my bed?” He asked finally as he fully took you in. The tired look on your face, the fact that you were wearing one of his shirts, and you were tucked into his own bed. It was almost as if you were trying to kill him, but at least it would be a blissful death.

You knew that your cheeks felt warm you just hoped he couldn’t read your embarrassment too easily on your face. You knew that you were kidding yourself though because he could read you easier than anyone else had ever been able to. “I missed you,” it came out as a grumble but you knew that he would hear it.

You watched as his face seemed to melt at your words, but you weren’t sure if you were reading too much into it. “You could have just taken over. I’m not there after all someone might as well enjoy it and you look adorable in my shirt too.”

You knew that he was teasing you. There was no way that he was even trying to be flirtatious with you. You were now sitting up holding the phone in one hand and playing with the hem of the tee shirt you wore with the other when you heard Matt trying to get your attention. “Pretty girl, what’s going on in that head of yours?” he asked giving you his full attention. 

God how you wanted him to be yours. For his shirt on your back to be marking you the way you wanted it to. For his sheets wrapped around your body to be the same sheets you shared every night. But you knew that you’d never be the girl to get him.

“I was just thinking about how weird going home to St. Louis is going to be after being here for so long now. It almost feels like Calgary should be home now.” 

You weren’t sure what spurred your words, but once they were out there was no taking them back. They were there between the two of you, and you knew that it was probably too much.

Instead he shocked you as the widest smile you had seen on his face took over. “I mean you could just make it official and move in,” The offer was there for you to take, but it was too generous. You already knew better than anyone else what it meant for you to move in. If you thought for a moment that Matt would even consider splitting the bills you didn’t truly know him. And you were an independent woman that wanted to pay for your fair share of everything.

“Would you actually allow me to pay any bills?” You asked curiously even if you knew the answer. Of course not. 

He didn’t bother hiding an eye roll from you as you took him in.”Okay but you would be cooking and taking care of the apartment. It’s only fair if I’m the one paying the bills! Come on, Y/N. You know it would be fun.” 

It would be fun for some time. But then there was the concern of how you’d react to him bringing girls home. You knew you would be jealous no matter how little of a claim you had on him. It was just asking to ruin your friendship.

Everything in your heart told you to say no, but one look at the hope on his face the words suddenly seemed stuck in your throat unable to be forced out. “We can at least talk about it,” you caved watching the victorious look on his face knowing he would try everything to convince you to stay.

-------

After that first night it became habit for you to curl up in his bed while you were on facetime with Matt until one of you fell asleep. There was something intimate about those nights and those conversations that seemed to continuously creep closer and closer to a line you can never uncross once you were on the other side of it. You were terrified about what it all could mean, and if you would lose him all together. But you also couldn’t stop yourself. You wanted to be it for him in the same ways that he was it for you. 

The playoffs were short lived however between Matt’s own injury and an early round exit you felt your heart crushing in your chest. You knew that he was upset with himself, and could never blame his teammates for what happened. Instead he put that blame fully on his own shoulders. 

You hadn’t expected a facetime that night, but before you were able to completely drift to sleep your phone began to ring and without hesitation you answered the call knowing that he needed the distraction.

Still nothing could have prepared you for the tired look on his face as he laid in the hotel bed trying to keep it together as he smiled weakly at you. “At least I’ll see you tomorrow,” he offered up and it was clear that he was reaching for any positive in the situation.

“It’s okay to be upset, Matty. I don’t care what the media says you’re allowed to be hurting over this.” You could strangle the media for always poking at players whenever they showed any emotion. God forbid that grown men were upset when they fell short of their life long dreams and had normal emotions. You just wished that he was home with you.

Because Calgary was home. You weren’t sure how you were going to make it work, but you were going to somehow. You just didn’t know how to tell him until he was back and you had time to piece together your best friend again.

“Y/N,” he whispered quietly causing you to raise your eyebrows. “Thank you for always listening to me. I don’t know if I could do this without you.”

“I’m always going to be here, Tkachuk. You can’t get rid of me that easily,” seeing the tired look in his eyes tugged at your heart. You knew they had an early flight home, but he wasn’t going to be able to sleep. 

Tiredly you decided to sit up in the bed committing yourself to staying awake as long as you could to try and make the night easier for him in any small way. 

You weren’t sure when you had fallen asleep, but the bright sunlight finally woke you hours later. You had barely begun to stir when you heard the front door opening. You felt your heart begin to race wondering if you had a reason to be afraid, but before your mind could wander too far Matt came into the bedroom.

You watched as he kicked off his dress shoes, and slid his jacket off before sliding into the bed beside you not bothering to change. You weren’t complaining though as his arms came around you in order to pull you against his chest. 

“Thank you for still being here,” he murmured quietly against your hair as he nuzzled his face against the top of your head. You weren’t sure if he could get any closer to you, but you didn’t mind. You wanted to be there for him.

You did your best to rub your hands tenderly over his back in order to comfort the best way you knew how since you were both children. “I can’t imagine being anywhere else. I can’t even imagine being in St. Louis now,” it was a quiet admission that held a lot of weight in the words.

You felt the way Matt’s body stilled for a moment as he seemed to process the words before he pulled back to look at you watching the way his smile lit up warmly. “Are you saying what I think you are?” He asked you as he raised his eyebrows.

You weren’t sure you could vocalize what you wanted to say when you saw the look in those eyes you loved so much, but you were able to slowly nod your head. You were going to be a Calgary girl, and he was going to be stuck with you.

There was absolutely no hesitation on his part as he leaned in pressing his lips against your own. Nothing felt more like coming home than kissing Matthew Tkachuk. It didn’t take more than a few seconds for your brain to catch on to what was happening, and if you only had this one kiss with him you wanted to make it truly count. You leaned in returning the kiss eagerly. 

Your skin felt on fire as he moved to slip his hands underneath the tee shirt you were wearing. You could have completely lost yourself in his touch, but you forced yourself to pull back in order to look up at him studying his face trying to get a read on what was going on in his head.

You had crossed the line and you needed to know what was going on with him. Any other guy in your life you could do the friends with benefits thing with them, but with Matt you were already so in love with him that it wasn’t a possibility. 

Matt could clearly see the gears going in your own head as his face melted into a tender smile. “I’ve only wanted to do that for about ten years now,” he admitted effectively causing your heart to stop completely for a moment, “I’m in love with you, Y/N. You’re the only one that I ever want to come home to. I want you to stay with me.”

You didn’t even have to think about it. This was everything you had ever wanted. There was a lot to discuss but for today you could focus on the man before you and helping him heal from his disappointment. You’d have time to discuss all the details.

[c-is-for-circinate]

Y’all this episode had everything I could possibly have wanted and things I never even knew to wish for.

How did one episode start with Henry Crabgrass, the most glorious and beloved NPC of my heart, and end with mother fucking Avantika, with so much awesome shit in between!!!  How!!!

Okay I am making a list of shit I absolutely loved tonight, in approximate chronological order:

Y’all I just love Henry Crabgrass so much.  I don’t even have smart things to say about that fact, just a warm glow in my heart.  May all the light of Melora’s grace smile down upon them and leave Henry as the toughest, most unkillable patch of crabgrass in all Exandria.

Vess and the Tombtakers, so many questions and so few certain answers, so many things to wonder, so many dots to connect!  I really do feel like the crew are connecting them at this point, and while I’m sure in some places they’re far from the map, the general outline really is starting to emerge.  What, exactly, was in the book the Tombtakers tried to claim without showing it to Vess deRogna first?  What did it do to Lucien?  And, if Vess has the book--what are they trying to find now?

So okay, let’s talk about Yasha and Beau. As someone who has had a lot of feelings about the intense relatability of Beau’s crush on Jester, I have now fully committed to also having a whole lot of mostly new feelings about these terrible awkward disaster lesbians with no fucking idea what they’re doing.  I saw a post the other day mention how this whole relationship is about the feeling of discovering you can have this, that you can actually be happy, that you get to have this kind of relationship with someone.  I’ve written about that.  And I feel it so, so hard, every time I see them interact, when every bit of bravado leaves both of them. It’s so easy to be off-putting!  It’s so easy to have crushes on wonderful people you kind of wish would look at you but you’re absolutely sure never will.  It’s so hard to actually know what the fuck to do in the face of wait shit this might actually be a thing I could get for real? how? wait, how???

Also let’s talk about Jester in that scene, who ships Beauyasha harder than anything in the world???   Because yes, right, some of it is just that Jester loves romance, and some of it’s that Jester gets very invested in the happiness of her friends, but that is a lot of investment there.  And I can’t help wondering if there’s a little dimension of...she wants to see True Love and Happily-Ever-After work.  And she’s delighted to see it work for her friends who she loves, and when it comes true they’ll be happy and she loves that, but also I don’t know that Jester’s ever actually seen two people fall in love with each other and enter into a healthy, happy relationship before.  But hey, all of her books say this wonderful magical thing exists, and now it seems to actually be showing up for her friends?  Of course she wants to see it.  Of course she wants it to be just as magical and wonderful as in all her stories, even if it’s not for her. (And maybe especially if it’s not for her, but I think that’s a whole separate post about Jester and her very high passive insight and all the people who are in love with her and the very specific ways she treats each of them.)

I love Yeza.  Don’t we all love Yeza?  He’s trying so hard.  It’s always great to see Yeza for that kind of wide-eyed outsider POV on the M9 shenanigans, and I love it.  He made a comment this episode about meeting goblins while living in Rosohna, and everything that’s happened to him really hit me in a while new way.  Usually I think about how he’s had his life turned upside down by all of this, but man, just think how much he’s seen that he never in a million years would have begun to expect to experience!  This smalltown alchemist from a pastoral little farming city in the middle of the Dwendalian midwest has lived for a significant amount of time as a housekeeper in the capitol city of the Krynn Dynasty.  He must have gone to the markets and met the neighbors and learned the streets and the food, and who had he ever known in his whole life who could say such a thing?  He lived with the Ruby of the Sea in Nicodranas by the ocean.  He’s been to Zadash, now, and it’s only a matter of time before he sees Rexxentrum.  How much farther will he go?  (Man, I would love some good Yeza fic once this campaign is over.  I think it’s going to take that long for me to really know how his story arc ends.)

Someone was posting earlier this episode about witnessing Vess scare Yeza so badly, and insight into how the Nein are starting to run in circles that really outstrip the people they used to know.  Watching Pumat in the wake of being Informed By Lady de Rogna That He Would Put A Rush On That has really hammered it home.  They remarked, in their very M9 somewhat idle vaguely ridiculous way that they wanted the icebreaker, and one tiny snowman later Vess had pulled rank and money and rerouted the ship’s entire passage for them.  She’s scary--and with her, the M9 have the kind of power that’s scary, too. And that’s always such an interesting moment.  The M9 are used to thinking of themselves as people with very little, who have to fight and scrap and get lucky for their own survival all the time.  And yes, they’re utterly careless with money--why not be, when it comes and goes and almost none of them have ever really seen it help or last?  And yes, they’re prone to violence and sometimes pretty rude.  But before now, it’s always been a situation where the M9 acting loud, rude, and demanding could be chaotic underdogs scrapping to get what they needed or wanted from people who had the option of saying no.  Suddenly they’re in a position where the balance of social situations is biased in their favor instead of against them. There’s such a difference between ‘please accede to my unreasonable request because I have a high charisma and will pay you lots of gold’, and, ‘you’re going to accede to my unreasonable request because otherwise my Cerberus Assembly boss may or may not have you assassinated’.  The M9 have never been on this side of that before.  I’m very curious to see how much they notice that they are now.

PALADIN OATH PALADIN OATH PALADIN OATH!  I was not paying nearly enough attention when that scene started, so I am going to need to watch it again and also make extra sure to read any available source material on this specific homebrew oath, because it’s probably not exactly the same as the Oath of the Sea homebrew you can find on google.  There’s some overlap between the abilities there and the ones Fjord already have, and the vows don’t quite match up, though some of them are close.  Ugh, mostly I’m just so glad it has happened and Fjord has promised and he means it, he means it so much.  He rest-of-his-life means it, and my heart belongs to Fjord who couldn’t even imagine the rest of his life as a thing separate from the monotony of his first thirty years, so very recently.

I actually always really love when CR has episodes at sea?  Obviously the M9 have done it the most, but Vox Machina went sailing a time or two as well, and it’s just always so great.  It’s often days of down time in a way that overland travel isn’t, and the party fills it with so many good little moments.  Matt always gives them such cool encounters.  On boats, spending a week at a time getting from one place to another, so much of the chaos of rewriting a plan seventeen times in an hour gets stripped away: they’re headed towards a destination, sometimes something comes up to deter them, and they have to find a way to deal with it.  There are always crew members and the structure of a boat itself to take into consideration in any combat that pops up.  It’s just such a nice tone, and I also love that the ocean itself kind of hates them now because it adds really delightful additional risks, and anyway heck yeah ocean voyage.

WHICH ENDS IN UNDEAD AVANTIKA ATTACKING THE SHIP WITH A TRIO OF CRAB-MEN AND WHO KNOWS WHAT ELSE HOLY FUCK.  Look, I think M9 becoming pirates by accident and then trying to figure out wtf might actually be my favorite arc of this campaign so far, and every time it comes back I get so so happy.  I’ve got some feelings about this showing up in the same episode as Fjord finally taking his full oath to the Wildmother. They are going to have to kill U’kotoa before this campaign is through.  They are going to have to, because Fjord will never be safe on the ocean again if they don’t, and Fjord has bound himself by vow and will in service as the Wildmother’s paladin of the open sea.  She hasn’t asked it of him, not specifically, but it’s his job.  It’s going to be his job.  In part it’ll be because it’s poetic justice, Fjord taking down the cruel demigod who (in some ways) made him.  Mostly it’s just that killing U’kotoa is a job that needs to be done.  To protect the oceans, the life they hold, the people who sail upon them, it’s going to need to be done.  It’s Melora’s domain to do this, which means it’s her paladin’s job, and Fjord is her paladin of the sea.  It’ll be him sooner or later.

I am so fucking delighted at the massive pile of fireworks on the deck of this ship, and I hope to god these Chekhovian bottle rockets go off before the end of this combat encounter, because this is, in fact, all I ever wanted the minute Beau put them in there.

[silversatin2105]

Shaman King fic: Can you help me ?(Akina Asakura (my Hao’s daughter FC) Asking for directions to the Asakura house) CH 2

Akina and the other Asakuras talked for what felt like hours, She explained herself and that she is the daughter of Hao Asakura, She told them of her fathers wish for her to become a stronger shaman and that of her dreams of fire, She then explained that her goal is to defeat the fire not join it despite her destiny to become one with it and tip the balance out of sync, She assured the Asakuras that she would not drag humans into her fight and that she simply wants to help others.

When all was said the only one not convinced was Anna, She could sense that the girl of Asakura blood was an unknown variable, Still she did not want to pass quick judgement as she thought how would she like it if people mistreat her own child, She had agreed to stand down for now till more proof of the young shamans intent was known, Innocent until proven guilty as they say.

Yoh had agreed to let his niece stay on the grounds that she be monitored for anything suspicious, Akina agreed to this condition on the grounds that she be at least allowed time for bathing on her own, To which Yoh said was a given, Yoh also said he would be letting the extended family know of the situation and will also be calling in the help of a few friends who had dealt with Hao in the past.

Tamao was the only one who came to trust Akina after that meeting, She could sense the truth of they young shamans plight, Although she did not voice this support she said shed make sure that anything Akina needed would be provided and that her belongings had been retrieved and put in a room with a lock.

Akina also agreed to follow the house rules and to assure them that her spirit ally will follow these rules as well, On the first night Akina dined in her room away from the other Asakuras as Yoh now being the head of the family thought it best to not cause any more friction, It was a lonely night as she got dressed into her nightwear.

“I can understand your reasoning to agree to their rules Mistress, But know this if any of them harm you I will act accordingly, I promised your father to keep you safe and that is a vow I will not take lightly” Yuko spoke to her master as she took guard by Akinas room door.

“Thank you Yuko but you really need to keep your head down, If things don’t end well we will simply go on our way and not bother them with our mission, Its no big deal” Akina assured her spirit ally as she heard a knock at the door.

Akina got up to answer the door, When she did she was greeted by a blonde haired boy who was wearing a black shirt on, he stood by the door and looked up at the moon as Amidamaru joined him, Both looked at her and her spirit ally.

“So you’re the reason mother and father had a fight earlier, you don’t seem dangerous but if mother doesn’t trust you that’s not good, I would recommend you try to get into her good books if you want a quiet life here “ The boy suggested whist taking a stretch and looking at his spirit ally.

“Thanks for the advice, My names Akina and I guess were cousins” Akina greeted herself to him, He looked at her with a small smile and shook her hand as their spirit allies conversed.

“The names Hana, Its nice to have someone my age around here, It could be fun and I want to spar with you, Im curious as to what has my mother so worked up and I have been bored lately” Hana smirked looking at his cousin before sitting down on the outside step.

With that Akina and Hana talked for a few hours, each talked about their hobbies and interests as well as their tastes in music, After that Hana got up and headed to bed and agreed to talk to Akina on a nightly basis, Something to which Akina was delighted it felt nice having at least someone talk about her not as a bringer of calamity but as a normal kid who just wanted to help those she cares about.

Amidamaru and Yuko came to a middle ground too, He agreed to the fact that the female archer wanted to keep her master safe and that he wouldn’t hold it against her if things went south however he did say that if that came to pass that all friendship was off the table as his loyalty was to the Asakura family.

And after that the night passed, Everyone had fell asleep and the place was quiet, only the crickets sang in the air, Akina had her usual nightmare of the flame in front of her, “soon it will come, the time for the cleansing of the humans” it spoke as Akina shook her head and replied “No I will not follow your plan” and with that she awoke in a panic, She was relieved for a second until she noticed that there was scorch marks on her bedding and that her tatami matt had burns on it too, She was afraid as Yoh entered the room and grasped her into his arms almost as if he could sense her distress.

“Its okay Akina try to be calm” Yoh assured her as he looked into her panicked face as he calmed her down, After ten minutes he managed to calm her and sat by her.

“Its over now your safe “Yoh spoke looking at her as she looked at him crying and shaking her head.

“It won’t be over until I can stop the future from burning in flames” Akina responded.

[wrenhyperfixates]

Of All the Places

Chapter 4

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: Washing up in a small town in Oklahoma was definitely not part of Loki’s plan when he came to conquer Midgard. There is one good thing about it, though: No one recognizes him as the one who just wreaked havoc in New York. So, Loki plans to recover from the battle and move on with his life. The only problem? He’s not sure he can leave you. Chapter Summary: Loki continues to struggle with his emotions as he tries to figure out his bond with you. On top of all that stress, he finally learns what the rest of the world is hearing about New York. Chapter Warnings: long, angsty, and fluffy A/N: Woohoo! Fourth chapter is here! Totaling almost 5,000 words, the longest thing I have written to date. Any comments, questions, or predictions? I’d love to hear them and chat with you! Well, guys, gals, and non-binary pals, hope you enjoy :) Updates every Friday.

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiantfavs​ @lunarmoon8​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​

✥ Start at Beginning ✥ | ← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

Disclaimer: Gif not mine 

Loki hadn’t slept well in days. Between nightmares and dreams of you, his mind was a constant hub of activity. He didn’t need as much sleep as you mortals did, but after the whole ordeal with Thanos, the lack of rest was taking a toll on him. You were the first to notice, and started hovering even more than normal, something Loki was reluctant to admit he liked. In his final days on Asgard, he’d made himself a complete loner, going so far as to isolate himself from Frigga. It was nice to have some companionship again. That was as far as Loki ever let his mind wander, though, cutting himself off before he could deeper analyze the constant pull he felt toward you. Certainly there wasn’t even anything else to analyze anyway, he convinced himself. You were, after all, only human.

Before he could get lost in thought again, Loki refocused on Matt’s caramel blonde hair as he chased him between the barn and the house. The boy’s light curls were the only thing he’d inherited from his father and looked almost exactly like Ana otherwise. It made Loki wonder how he never guessed he was adopted, seeing as he looked nothing like either of his parents. This fresh air was really starting to get to him, he decided, because he was continuously going down these deep contemplative paths in his mind. It was a constant loop of his feelings for you, his true heritage, and how he was taking advantage of your family. Then again, it may have been the traumatic, near-death experiences and hours of torture that was doing this to him. That was the one thing he always liked to forget about.

“Tag, you’re it!” Loki cheered as he tapped Matt.

The challenge in this game, for Loki at least, was not to overtake Matt’s strides too quickly. It was the perfect balance of fake chasing and finding just the right moment to execute the tagging. Still, he was having almost as much fun as the child was.

“Now you’re it!” Matt declared a few minutes later when Loki let the boy catch up to him.

If there was anything to admire about the kid, it was his tireless energy. Loki was glad to have found someone to keep pace with him as far as that went. His mind, too, was kept plenty stimulated by late-night talks with you. Ever since you’d showed him the creek a few days ago, you seemed to talk into the wee hours of the morning. He’d never noticed before just how deep and intelligent mortals could be. It was quite the accomplishment that you were changing so many of his opinions in such a short time. Then he realized he was thinking of you yet again and cut off the train of thought before it could persist.

“Loki. Matt,” Ana called, waving at them from the front porch.

After scooping the boy up in his arms, Loki jogged over to where she was standing. Matt was happily transferred to his mother’s arms as he was carried into the kitchen for snack time. The God of Mischief looked out over your land, trying to give in to the feeling of contentment he was so close to achieving. If only he didn’t constantly have that voice in his head telling him he was a monster, he didn’t belong here. Maybe then he could be happy. A part of him wished he’d lost his memory for real.

“Oh, there you are,” you said, walking out of the house. “I’m heading into town if you want to come with me and see if anything jogs your memory.”

“Yes. I would like that very much.”

As the two of you made your way to the car, you repeatedly tossed and caught your keys in a nervous pattern. Loki held the door open for you as you got in and quickly hurried around to the other side. He stared at a weird strap by his seat as he sat down. You saw his look of befuddlement and couldn’t help but let out a little laugh.

“Do you not remember how to use a seatbelt?” you asked kindly as he nodded his head yes. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you came from an alien planet.”

Then you reached across his seat to buckle him in. Unfortunately, it was a bit farther than you realized, and you fell into Loki, hand splayed on his chest, his hands immediately reaching out to steady you. For a minute, the only sound in the vehicle was your pounding hearts. You cleared your throat in embarrassment as you finished your task. The air between you held a distinct awkwardness, and Loki realized that this was the first time you’d been truly alone since the creek. It sent a thrill down his spine, even as he tried to ignore his racing thoughts. Determined to look anywhere but in your direction, his eyes landed on Mama, scowling in the window. She’d made it clear that she wasn’t keen on him spending so much time with you and Matt. If he was any smarter, any braver, he would listen to her and just leave already.

“So,” you began, clearing your throat again and driving off, “how are you feeling today?”

“I am quite well, thank you. I do believe I am fully healed.”

“Promise to still take it easy, ok?”

“Alright.”

You lapsed into silence as you cruised along the road. Loki stared out the window, hoping to find some clarity in the scenery streaking by. You were a mortal, he should not have felt any sort of attachment to you. Then again, he hadn’t spent time with one since the Middle Ages. It had all been so dreadfully dull back then, but things had changed. You and your family were so exuberant, so captivating. But he was a god, and he should not concern himself with that. In fact, he should be on his way of this planet, which was maybe not so miserable, after all.

Before long, you reached town and pulled into a small parking lot of a building with a sign that said “24 Hour Convenience Store” and had many light-up neon signs, declaring they were open. You got out and Loki followed suit.

“Anything look familiar yet?” you asked. “I know you don’t live here, but maybe you passed through.”

Lying was his specialty, and it’s what he should have done now. He could hear himself in his head, his silver tongue weaving a tale about how things were coming back to him. Then he could pretend to contact someone and create an illusion, so you believed he had a happy reunion with his family. It would be prefect; he would leave and you wouldn’t worry about him. He truly wanted to believe it would perfect, anyway, but it wasn’t. Not if he never saw you again. There must be something special about you, he decided, and the Tesseract brought him here so he could figure it out. That was it. That had to be it.

“I am afraid not,” he replied. “Perhaps I came from the other way.”

“Yeah, maybe. Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out,” you comforted him with a hug, mistaking the reason for his sadness.

His body went stiff in your embrace. He hadn’t been hugged in centuries. Granted, that was in part his fault because he was afraid receiving hugs from his mother would hurt his carefully crafted image. Now here you were, holding his body against your warm frame. Once his mind cleared a bit, he awkwardly hugged you, too, and gave your back a few uncertain pats. He should not have been encouraging this behavior, but he was. Maybe if he caused some mischief he’d feel more like his old self. Or maybe he didn’t want to be that person anymore. It was all too much. He was exhausted by the incessant back and forth of his thoughts. He untangled himself from you and gestured to the store.

“After you,” he said.

You pushed open the glass doors and were greeted by the cashier as you walked in. Loki followed you to the back where the refrigerator section was, and he chivalrously held the milk that you’d come to pick up. You also grabbed some coffee grounds and then proceeded to checkout. After setting down the items on the counter, Loki turned over a chocolate bar in his hands, feeling like a child as you took it out of his hands and put it down with the other items. You grabbed a few other bars too, flashing a smile at Loki and keeping up a conversation with the clerk all the while.

“And who’s your new friend?” the cashier, whose name tag said Mr. Berkeley, asked you.

“This is Loki. He’s staying with me until... Well for a while,” you finished, not sure how much Loki felt comfortable revealing.

“Where’re you from, sonny?”

“Unfortunately, I cannot remember. It seems I had some kind of horrid accident,” Loki explained before you could fret anymore. He was very tired of being called son by people when he was a thousand years their senior, though. “I was very lucky to have found my way onto their farm.”

“Well, that’s quite a story. You should talk to the newspaper, get the word out.”

You shot an “I told you so” look at Loki to which he responded with one that said, “We’ll talk about this later.” Before either of you could say anything, though, the news came on the TV which Loki hadn’t realized was on.

“Do you have cable back?” you inquired as Loki began to panic. “It’s still out on the farm.”

“Nah. I got a satellite on the roof. Just got it set up again this morning.

You nodded along as the anchors began the next story. “New York is still reeling from damage, but the group of superheroes, going by the name of the Avengers, is leading clean-up efforts. The perpetrator has still not been caught-”

Loki discreetly turned the TV off with his powers before you could hear any more. He’d have to make sure the satellite took significant damage before leaving.

“Dang it. I just fixed that damned thing,” the cashier said.

“What was that all about?” you asked, completely bewildered by the sudden influx of information. “What happened in New York?”

“I guess you missed it in the paper last week,” Mr. Berkeley explained. “Some crazy group of aliens attacked, led by some power hungry god. Supposedly it was Thor’s brother, but they haven’t disclosed that information yet. Reckon they want to wait until he’s caught, avoid a panic.”

“Oh my god. That’s terrible! Gosh, you miss one paper,” you laughed, trying to keep the mood light.

A dark cloud passed over Loki’s features, even as Mr. Berkeley laughed along. Despite those SHIELD agents covering this up, word had still gotten out in some capacity. He had to be careful, or else he was going to get caught, and then you’d be in danger. He cursed under his breath. Your safety should be the last thing he was worrying about, and yet it was the first thought to come into his mind. A little kindness thrown his way should not make him into the mess he was. Of course, there were so many other things to like about you, too, and he kept finding more. He didn’t want to, he didn’t want any of this, but the Norns were punishing him for something. What would have happened, he wondered, if he’d listened to Thor and just held on that fateful day? If he hadn’t let go of the staff and fallen to what should have been his ultimate demise?

“Sonny, are you alright?” Mr. Berkeley asked as you laid a hand on his arm.

“Fine, but I think we should be going. I’ll meet you outside.”

He jerked away from your touch before you could do anything else and stalked outside. At least the satellite was hanging half off the roof with a huge dent in its side. He opened his door and got into the car as you unlocked it and raced over to him.

“Loki! Loki!” you called as you hurried over. “What was that? Are you ok?”

“Nothing! Nothing at all. Can’t you see I’m fine?” he snapped, struggling with the seatbelt. “I’m fine,” he whispered again.

“Hey, look at me,” you soothed, filled with compassion and placing a hand on his cheek. “Whatever it is, just let me know. I’m here for you. Talk to me.”

Loki’s eyes fluttered shut as he enjoyed the warmth from your palm. He let go of the seatbelt and took a few deep breaths, just like his mother had taught him. A part of him wanted to hang onto this anger, knowing that it might finally drive him to leave. He knew from experience, though, that acting in moments of blind rage would never lead to anything good.

“Is it New York? Did you remember something?” you gasped. “You had felt it was important in some way.”

“Perhaps,” he said after one last steadying breath. “It may have triggered something. But really, I am just a little tired. Maybe I am not as healed as I thought.”

He turned his head away and rested it against the window as your hand dejectedly fell into your lap. It’s not that he wanted to pull away, but he knew it’s what was safest for you.

“Ok then. We’ll go home.”

Loki whispered his thanks and succeeded in buckling up. He closed his eyes as the car started and a wave of emotions crashed over him. When you said home, he immediately pictured the farm. He knew he shouldn’t, but he did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loki holed himself up in his room for the rest of the day, working through the new information he’d learned. He pretended to be asleep when Ana came to bring him some dinner. Notably, you had not been the one taking care of him, and he cursed himself for pushing you away. He didn’t even bother trying to convince himself it was for the best; he knew it wasn’t. After so many years on his own, he finally had a friend, and he drove you away. Why he expected anything less from himself, he didn’t know.

At some point, he fell into a restless sleep. The food from last night was still on the bedside table, but it was now joined with the Snickers bar you’d bought for him yesterday. Someone had also come and tucked him in. Maybe he hadn’t lost his friend, after all. He opened the chocolate and took a bite, delighting in the sweet and nutty flavor. He polished it off, then waved a hand over the rest of the food, causing it to disappear. He wasn’t much in the mood for eating it, but didn’t want you to worry. He nearly ran into John as he walked into the hallway with the empty tray.

“There you are!” John exclaimed. “We were getting worried. Do you need the doctor?”

“No, I am quite alright, thank you. I think I just needed some good sleep,” Loki lied.

“Only if you’re sure. Take it easy today, though, ok?”

“That’s an order,” you said, appearing behind your brother-in-law and taking the tray from Loki. “Are you hungry? You missed breakfast, but I can heat up some leftovers from you.”

“I am fine,” Loki began, but noticed you frown. “Though, I suppose I could do with a small breakfast.”

“Great!” you said a little too brightly. “I’ll meet you down there.”

“Loki, can I talk to you for a minute?” John asked, pulling him aside. “What exactly happened yesterday? We heard about New York, but it seemed like there was something else bothering them.”

Loki felt a pang in his chest at the man’s words. As if the news weren’t upsetting enough, he’d been rude to you. He could only imagine how you would feel if you knew he was the one who had caused the mayhem. He wanted to pin the blame on someone else, but the blood was on his hands and he knew he had to take some responsibility. Doing that would help him change, which he recognized was absolutely necessary after all that had happened.

“I fear I may have upset them,” Loki started, shedding his old ways by telling the truth. “I was not feeling quite right, and I turned them away. Now they clearly blame themself for it. I deeply regret it, but I am not sure there is anything I can do.”

“Just talk to them. Apologize.”

Loki did his best not to look shocked, but the last time he said sorry was when his parents caught him playing tricks on Thor, and even then it was done begrudgingly. He wasn’t even sure he could make it sound sincere.

“Listen, I’ve got an idea,” John said. “We’re heading to the city today if you want to tag along. They’re off to get some gifts for Ana while I’ve got a few potential distributors to meet with. I’m sure they would be thrilled to have your company. Unless you’re not feeling well, of course.”

“No, I’m feeling fine. That is a great idea. You have my thanks, John.”

“No problem. Now, you’d better head down for breakfast before we both get in trouble,” he laughed.

With a final nod of gratitude, Loki took off down the stairs. His light footsteps went undetected as he neared the table, once again giving him the opportunity to eavesdrop on Mama’s suspicions.

“I know something else must’ve happened yesterday. You weren’t upset over nothing.”

“It’s just the New York thing,” you replied. “I’m fine. Really.”

“You tell me what that boy did right now or so help me I’ll kick him out of this house myself!”

“Mama! He didn’t do anything wrong. I get that what happened with James hurts, believe me I do, but you can’t let it run your life. You have to be able to trust others, to trust me,” you pleaded.

“How dare you drag your brother into this,” Mama shot back, her voice cracking. “How ’bout you trust my gut when it tells me that boy is trouble. I swear-”

She was cut off by Loki doubling back and thudding down the stairs, making his presence known. He’d heard more than enough of that conversation and wouldn’t allow you to feel any more hurt than you already were.

“Good morning,” he coldly said to Mama as he walked in, nostrils flaring slightly before he regained some composure. “I am not interrupting anything, am I.”

“Only our entire lives. Why don’t you go to the police, huh? And what about the missing person ad? Why haven’t we gotten that out yet? I don’t know what game your playing, but when I figure it out, believe me you’ll be sorry.”

“Fine! You want to know what I am doing here? I do not know. I have no idea why I ended up here or why I have stayed as long as I have. So when you ‘figure it out,’ by all means, please let me know.”

“Fine!” Mama shouted as she stormed off.

Loki was comforted by the fact that in his little outburst, he hadn’t technically told any lies to you. Half-truths? Most certainly, but no outright lies. Now that he was left alone with you, though, he felt embarrassed he lost his temper. He cleared his throat before speaking.

“I am sorry,” he said, not looking at you.

“Loki, you don’t have to say sorry for defending yourself. I understand.”

“That’s not what I’m apologizing for,” he confessed, now looking into your eyes. “Yesterday I was not feeling quite right, but I should not have snapped at you nor pushed you away like that. For that, you have my sincerest apologies.

“It’s really ok, it happens to everyone. I just care that you’re feeling alright.”

You stayed where you were standing, still hesitant to move toward Loki out of fear of being rejected again. So, it fell upon Loki to close the distance between you. He took your hand in his and placed a kiss to your knuckles as a light blush coated his cheeks.

“Thank you, darling. I assure you, I am feeling more than alright now.”

Whatever was about to happen between you next was cut off by the beeping of the microwave. You finished putting together his breakfast before sitting with him at the island. Though your relationship had been repaired, the conversation was still a bit choppy and awkward as you found your footing in the friendship again. John walked in just as you were cleaning up, whistling a happy tune.

“Ready to go whenever you guys are,” he said as he leaned against the doorframe.

“You’re coming?” you asked Loki, feeling worried for his health. “Are you sure you’re up for that? I can even stay behind with you if u want.”

“Please, do not change your plans on my account. I am in a great condition to go.”

You still seemed reluctant, but agreed he could come as long as he let you know the second he started feeling unwell. He conceded, and you went to fetch your jacket with the promise you’d be back in a minute. John gave Loki a thumbs up, to which he replied with a very self-assured smile, bolstered with confidence by your latest exchange.

A few minutes later you were all piling into the car, with Loki insisting you took the passenger seat and that he’d ride in the back. He was very pleased to get the seatbelt buckled on the first try, and the two of you shared a laugh at the little inside joke. His cheeks burned slightly, remembering how you’d fallen against him. Over the next few hours, you passed time by talking, laughing, and singing along to the radio. Just as you were entering the city, a troubling thought occurred to Loki; the people here had heard the news. Even if it hadn’t been officially announced that he was responsible for New York, those rumors about him had to have included a description. Sudden inspiration struck as John parked the car.

“You don’t happen to have a hair tie in here, do you?” he inquired.

“Yeah,” you replied, reaching into the glove compartment. “Ana keeps some in here for emergencies.”

Loki thanked you as you passed it to him and quickly put his hair up in a low bun. When he turned his attention back to you, you were staring at him, and he gave you a charming, lopsided grin that had you ducking your head in embarrassment.

“Ok,” John said with a clap of his hands once you were all on the sidewalk. “We’ll meet here in, say, about 5 hours.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you agreed, before waving goodbye.

Now it was just you and Loki again as you took off towards some stores to look at some baby gifts for Ana. It would still be half a year before the baby arrived, but you were always indecisive when it came to purchasing gifts. On the way, Loki ducked into a small shop and bought a pair of sunglasses, furthering his disguise. Between that, the new clothes, and the different hairstyle, he felt pretty confident in his ability to blend in.

After two-and-a-half hours of shopping, you’d found a bunch of things to maybe get, but hadn’t decided on anything. You would go back and look some more, but you were bone tired after all the walking around. The fact that you were so exhausted made you concerned for Loki’s condition, too, not entirely trusting that he would tell you if he was feeling ill, despite his promise to.

“How are you holding up?” you cautiously asked, afraid of a repeat of yesterday if you pushed too hard.

“I am doing quite well. You, however, seem to need to stop for a spell. Come, let us rest for a minute.”

He led you over to the food court of the mall you were at and pulled out a chair for you to sit in. He glanced around at the options and, though there was nothing there that appealed to him, there was certainly something that you liked. Besides, he didn’t need to eat, but your frail mortal body would need some sustenance sooner rather than later.

“Can I get something for you to eat?” he offered.

“How about we go see a movie instead?” you proposed, eyeing up the nearby theater.

“Only if you eat something.”

“Wow. Look at how the tables have turned,” you laughed. “Fine, but you have to also.”

After a minute’s debate, you and Loki agreed on a comedy starring your favorite actor. It wouldn’t have been Loki’d first pick, but after all the stress and angst of the last 24 hours, he figured he could use a laugh. You also convinced him to try some popcorn and Pepsi. He wasn’t much a fan of the soda, but the snack was tasty enough. Though, you did end up stealing half of his after finishing your own, which was fine with him. The best part of the whole experience, though, was getting to hear your laugh over and over again. Loki thought it might be the most beautiful sound he ever heard. Well, perhaps the best part was actually when your arms brushed each other as you both went to put them on the armrest at the same time. Loki filed away all these little mental notes to dwell on at a later date. Or, if he were lucky enough to rein in his hurricane of thoughts, never again.

“Well, that killed a lot of time,” you said after the movie ended and you were stretching out, aching from having sat for so long. “We’ve still got some left though. What do you want to do?”

“I believe there was a library over by where we parked. Let us go there,” he said, quickly thinking up a plan.

By the time you walked over, there was only about twenty minutes left for him to complete what he needed to do. He hurried over to where the computers were, and though he wasn’t particularly adept with modern Midgardian technology, the directions taped to the wall were clear enough that he was able to look up a book. He sent you off to get it, claiming that the title had just popped into his head and that he was certain he used to love it, and that he wanted to check on the status of a few others. You obliged, hoping that seeing the book would bring back some more of his supposedly lost memories.

Once you were gone Loki quickly searched for information on what he learned was being referred to as the Battle of New York. Thankfully, there was as little information about him circulating as Mr. Berkeley had said. Mostly, it was just speculation and stories from people claiming they’d been there. A great number of posts and photos had been deleted, too, and Loki assumed that they were ones with more valid claims and information. Knowing how SHIELD is, Loki was sure it was all removed almost immediately, so he felt relatively safe but decided he couldn’t be too careful.

“I found it!” you said, setting the book down as Loki closed out the tab he was on.

“Wonderful! Thank you,” he replied, flipping through it. “Most unfortunately, the other books were checked out.”

You leaned over shoulder to look at the book in his hands. “That’s too bad. What about this one, though? Triggering any memories?”

“Well, I think I enjoyed reading. Other than that, I am afraid not.”

“That’s ok. We’ll keep trying.”

Your hand slowly drifted over to rest on his, and he gave you a brilliant smile. It made him wish he’d found a friend in the universe far sooner than he had. Then maybe he wouldn’t have ended up in the hands of Thanos, committing atrocities against his family and strangers alike. Then again, if none of that happened, he never would have met you. He was torn over which he preferred.

“There you guys are,” John said, walking up to where you were. “Ready to head back whenever you are.”

After putting the book back on the shelf, you were ready to leave. Loki hung back with John as you exited.

“Your plan has worked miracles, my good man. You have my sincerest gratitude,” he said.

“No problem, dude,” John said, patting Loki on the back. “Glad to bring a happy couple back together again.”

Loki’s steps faltered. Between his companion’s smirk and teasing tone, Loki knew it was meant as a joke. Mainly, anyway. John really was very off the mark, though. He and you were merely friends, nothing more. And surely that was just barely so, seeing as you were a human. There was no way you meant anything else to Loki. Right?

It wasn’t until you were back on the road, and Loki couldn’t stop looking at the back of your head, that he even began to realize just how much trouble he was in.

[lynyrdwrites]

Turn off the Lights

This is written for the request from @goldcaught. Remember that Black Eyed Kid/Adult AU I mentioned to you?  This song is perfect for that, so this takes place in that, as of yet, undeveloped AU. 

---

If you wanna take a bite

Wanna see the dark side

C’mon, turn off the light

 No one else seemed to notice her.

Klaus walked into the Grill and looked around, and for a second even he must have overlooked her. Then, suddenly, it were as if she appeared out of nowhere, sitting at a table tucked into the back of the bar. She watched him, drinking something purple through a straw.

Klaus ignored the quarterback who was glaring at him from the bar and made his way over to sit across from her.

Caroline.  That was her name.

“You’ve been looking for me,” she said after a beat of silence.

“I’ve been looking for my brother,” Klaus replied, lying easily.  Elijah had, of course, been pushing him to find Finn… but Klaus couldn’t say that was the driving force for him.  As Kol was wont to say, Finn was the boring sibling.  Truth be told, Klaus tended to forget he was even missing until Elijah reminded him of such.

“No you haven’t,” Caroline replied coolly.  “You don’t want him, so he’s mine now.”

That made Klaus narrow his eyes.  Because while it was true he might not particularly care about Finn, the idea of any of siblings belonging to someone else was… rankling.

“He’s not yours to own, Love.  He’s a vampire.  One of the oldest, in fact.  Do you really think you can control him?”

“Do you know how long my kind has been around?” Caroline asked instead of answering.

“I don’t particularly care,” Klaus replied.  When Caroline just stared at him, still sipping her drink, he gave a mock sigh, as though the whole thing were an irritant he didn’t care to bother with; it wouldn’t do for her to know how curious he was about her.  “Why don’t you enlighten me?”

“I don’t know,” Caroline replied with a shrug, pushing her glass aside as she finished the drink. She looked over to the bar, and the quarterback startled, as if just noticing she was there.  She waved for another drink.  “I don’t even know how old I am.  Old enough that this world sometimes seems incredibly foreign.  But younger than humanity.  I think.”

They both went silent as the drink was delivered.  When it looked like Matt might say something, Caroline just stared at him.  He froze, but didn’t immediately leave.

Then her eyes went black, and she smiled.  

The boy all but fled, and Klaus realized that he hadn’t noticed her eyes, not before that.  But they had been black the whole time.  But it wasn’t until that moment that he’d become aware of them, as he’d been aware of them when she’d come after Finn.

What are you? The question demanded to be asked, but he couldn’t.  He couldn’t let her know she had the advantage of him in that way.

“Finn doesn’t belong to you,” he said instead, forcing the words off his tongue slowly, one by one. Caroline smiled at him, the same way she had at Matt, the same way she had earlier.

Yet it wasn’t fear that filled him now.  

“You’re playing a dangerous game, vampire,” she said, the smile slowly fading as she met his gaze. “We don’t… work, the same way you do. The same way humans do.  We are… broken.”

“Are you?” Klaus asked, raising a brow.  “What some call broken, others simply call… unique. You still cannot have Finn.”

“You don’t want him,” she pointed out again.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I want you to have him either.”

“Maybe you’re broken as well,” Caroline mused.  She looked at the drink that had been delivered, and then wrinkled her nose, as though it had lost its appeal. “What you want doesn’t matter anymore.  You lost him, I found him.  I don’t give things I’ve found back.”

“No? I suppose we’ll see, then.”

Her brow furrowed, as if she didn’t quite understand him.  It made Klaus finally feel on solid ground again, as if he had gained some ground on the mystery that was Caroline, and her odd black eyes, and her smile that seemed so sweet… and so very not.

He blinked, and she was no longer in front of him.  He looked around, trying not to appear shocked, though he knew some of it must show on his face.  

A napkin floated down in front of him, and he grabbed, it, turning his head to meet that black gaze once more, just before Caroline left the bar.

The door closed behind him, and Klaus looked at the napkin. There was writing on it, in a carefully precise hand.

One question. To be asked, if you dare.

And Klaus smirked, realizing he wasn’t the only one left off balance by a surprise.

Send me a song + a ship

[numbah34]

Wolf’s Bane

That she’d gone out on a night like tonight; sheer lunacy. Practically a death wish.

For months the town had been up in arms about the wolf, setting curfews, nerves on edge. It hadn’t taken long for the more superstitious of the villagers to put it together.

Attacks only happened on the full moon.

At first it had only been livestock; a pig gone missing, puffs of sheep’s wool scattered about a field, the feathers of an errant goose floating on the breeze… The thief, so it appeared, was thorough, leaving practically no trace behind.

Until two months ago. Old Man Myzax had gotten sick of his livestock being taken. He had armed himself with his shotgun and gone hunting for the thief. The next morning, for the first time… evidence had been found.

All in all, Lance felt it had been a terrible time for his family to have moved to the village. In the year they had lived there, people had been generally cordial to them, but when the attacks had started almost a month later, well… that was just plain bad luck. Some seeds of distrust had apparently been sewn.

The town gossips seemed to have gone into overtime. Perhaps it was his family’s slight resemblance to the clan of gypsies that lived not far from the village? They weren’t at all related, but there were those that would take one look at them, see “different,” and believe whatever they wanted. Lance’s father and mother had scoffed and rolled their eyes.

Unfortunately, there would always be people like that, his father had said.

Be your best self and give them no reason to doubt you, his mother had said.

The only family in town that offered their friendship freely and proffered no judgment was the Holts. Scientifically-minded to a fault, they simply refused to believe what the gossip mongers in town threw out, and chose to get to know their new neighbors instead.

They had two children themselves, who also took an immediate liking to Lance and his brothers and sisters. While his older siblings got on with the older son, Matt, for Lance there was no one more interesting than the younger daughter, Katie. When no one else in the small schoolhouse would pay him any mind except to glance at him with their parents’ unfounded suspicions, she had sought him out and claimed him as a friend right away.

More often than her given name she was called “Pidge,” a nickname she had received from her brother when she was a baby. Someone had commented that she was just a “pinch of a girl” (as she was so small); later, Matt had told someone else that she was just a “pidge of a girl.” The nickname had stuck.

Pidge hadn’t minded. She liked different. She thought different. She, herself, was different.

And Lance found that he also liked different.

Pidge had been bothered by the attacks; more and more each month, as more theories were discussed and things began to take a turn for the… supernatural. Lance thought it might be because she couldn’t explain the supernatural with science. Pidge had said that was part of it.

Another part was how Lance was being treated. People would say things under their breath, mutter prayers as he and Pidge would pass them in town. There were even a couple busybodies who took it upon themselves to visit Pidge’s parents and suggest that they shouldn’t let their daughter associate with the likes of Lance.

Sam and Colleen Holt had politely but firmly shown them the door.

While all of that was bad, the worst was after Old Man Myzax’s… incident. That’s when some people had started throwing things as well. He and Pidge never saw who did it, but it was hurtful. Especially when no one would stand up for him.

No one but Pidge.

More than once he had cried, Pidge’s arms wrapped around him, tears rolling down her own cheeks at her best friend’s despair. He had talked about running away. Pidge pointed out that would only hurt himself and the people who care about him. Not to mention the naysayers would all assume they were right all along.

And she could not abide that.

He had buried his face in her small shoulder, and she had reached a tentative hand up and stroked his hair until the fresh wave of tears had subsided.

She was strong for him when he needed her to be, but it seemed like it was taking its toll.

Every month when people were fretting about the latest attack, she seemed more and more tired. Lance was as well.

The fate of Farmer Myzax had exacerbated it. Pidge finally gave voice to everyone’s dark mutterings.

A werewolf.

Attacks only happened on the full moon, right?

Maybe… maybe someone should catch it. Or…

Lance had stayed silent, watching her with horror.

Why… how could she suggest such a thing?

Perhaps someone should try silver bullets.

Pidge… what are you saying?

As the night of the full moon approached, Pidge seemed to grow more and more resolute. Someone had to catch the wolf.

Fear laced together with Lance’s concern. Why…? What was she planning?

The eve of the full moon, Matt had come riding over, frantic. They couldn’t find Pidge. He was worried she had gone out on her own.

Lance’s parents hadn’t seen her. They promised to keep watch, in case she turned up at their house. They had glanced worriedly at each other. They wished there was something more they could do.

What was she thinking?

Lance had excused himself to go get ready for bed. Upon reaching his room, he had stuffed clothes under his quilt, snuffed out the candle, and quietly snuck out the window.

He ran into the wooded area that surrounded town, bordering all the farmlands. He carried no torch; he wouldn’t need it as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, lit only by the pale silver moon hanging innocently in the sky.

Innocent. Innocence. They had talked about those very words just earlier.

What was she thinking?

The woods were dangerous on a night like tonight.

Lance ran as quietly as he could, save for the twigs snapping and dry leaves crackling under his feet. He had to find her…

He had to find her before…

Before something else did.

And it would be his fault. Because she was trying to protect him.

Pidge was in no way stupid, but this was by far the stupidest thing she could have done.

He slowed to a walk as he neared the area he’d been running towards. Countless days of exploring the forest told him he was just outside the farmland belonging to the late Old Man Myzax. This would be one of the first areas anyone looking for a wolf would check.

His breath was quick, and he tried to quiet it. He needed his ears to be keen. In the dim light of the full moon, he would rely on them to hear the wolf before he could see it.

He didn’t have to wait long. A howl split the quiet of the night, sending a chill through his very blood. He turned his head slowly from side to side, eyes wide, willing himself to see better. Where could she be?

A puff of hot air hit him on the back of the neck. He jumped away, turning to find a pair of molten eyes, burning an unnatural gold, pupils narrowed to dangerous slits and focusing solely on him. Slowly, with a calculated grace, the monster emerged from the shadows.

The werewolf was impossibly big, far bigger than Lance could have imagined. It bared its teeth, stepping toward him, a low growl escaping its lips.

He took a few steps backward, then felt his heel snag on a hidden root. Unable to catch his balance, he toppled, landing hard on his tailbone. He yelped as the pain shot up his back, momentarily closing his eyes on reflex. He jerked them back open nearly as quickly, and found the wolf had moved closer… much closer.

He stared into the snarling, slathering muzzle. He could not believe his luck.

The light brown fur of the wolf glistened in the patch of moonlight. The bushy tail swished side to side in agitation.

Lance swallowed, forcing the fear down. If he was going to have any hope of surviving this encounter, something told him he would need to maintain his cool. He would only get one shot at this.

Keeping his eyes glued to the wolf’s, he slowly extended his hand and spoke softly. “Shh…” He worked to keep his breathing even, even as he saw the wolf tense on its haunches, preparing to spring.

—————Many, many moons ago...——————

“Mama! Mamaaaaa!” A six-year-old Lance had come running, sprinting for his mother. His mother caught him, letting out a soft “oof” as her youngest son hurled himself into her, hugging her tightly. She took in the panic in his eyes, then scooped him up in a protective hug and carried him to their old, creaky rocking chair.

She rocked back and forth, smoothing his hair with a practiced hand and murmuring quietly to soothe him.

When his gasps and sobs had calmed so that the rocking chair’s rickety squeaks were the loudest sound in the room, she gently pulled him back and wiped the stray tears from his cheeks.

“What’s wrong, mijo?” she asked.

“M-Marco and Luis,” Lance hiccuped. “They told me they got bit by a werewolf, and that they were gonna turn into werewolves, and that they were gonna bite me and turn me into one, too.” His eyes widened. “And they showed me the teeth marks!”

Lance’s mother looked nonplussed. “Were the marks on their arms?”

“Yeah! How did you know?” Lance gasped, then looked at his mama warily. “…you’re not one, too, are you?”

“No, mijo, of course not. Werewolves are just an old tale. Your brothers bit their own arms and were just playing with you.” She frowned and muttered, “…though why they thought that kind of teasing would be okay, they know what an imagination you have…”

Her expression softened as she looked her youngest in the eyes and said, “Werewolves are creatures that exist in stories. But even if your brothers were wolves, there is an old werewolf story that’s my favorite. Would you like to hear it?”

He nodded, eyes wide with interest more than fear now. She continued.

“They say that if a werewolf is called by name by a person who loves and trusts them truly, the wolf’s curse will be broken and they will turn back to human.” She smiled. “You love your brothers, don’t you? You could just turn them back.”

Lance looked thoughtful. “I love my brothers… but I don’t know if I trust them not to bite me.”

Lance’s mother laughed. “Trust is an important thing! It’s a good thing that I trust that you are all good children.” She gave him a tight hug and added, “And it’s a good thing werewolves aren’t real.”

——————————

He spoke firmly, confidently. “It’s time to come home, Katie… Pidge.”

Werewolves, Lance had found, were very much real. And as his best friend sprang at him, he closed his eyes and opened his arms and hoped with all he had that, even if his mama had been wrong about werewolves existing, that her story had at least been right.

Because he trusted Pidge.

Completely.

…And he loved her.

Whole-heartedly.

How could he not?

The large, furry body he had expected to slam into his chest never came; instead, he felt a pair of lean arms wrap around his shoulders as he caught a slight form in his own. He embraced her tightly, relieved that his speculation had been proven correct.

She shuddered as he set her down, averting his eyes and removing his jacket to let her cover her modesty.

“Lance! What… Why… What are you doing here?” she trembled. “I could’ve… I could’ve…” Tears filled her hazel eyes, their shine a welcome change from the dangerous golden glow those same eyes had held moments earlier.

“But you didn’t.”

“But all those other times… and Mr. Myzax…”

“You couldn’t help it. It wasn’t you, it was the wolf.”

“But everyone… they all thought… they all think it’s you,” she half-whispered.

“Pidge.” He said.

“I thought if they caught me… I could save you. They’d know it wasn’t you.”

“They would’ve killed you,” he murmured, no doubt in his voice.

She looked at him, not saying anything, only meeting his gaze and looking resolute. He wasn’t saying anything she had not already figured.

He sighed and pulled her toward him, holding her snug against his chest. He rested his cheek on top of her head. She brought her arms up to encircle him and return the hug.

After a moment of silence, he spoke. “Pidge… don’t you know… I don’t want to be saved if it means living in a world without you.”

She pulled her head back and gazed up at him, the answer to her unspoken question in his eyes.

“Oh,” she said softly, stepping back. In the moonlight, Lance could just detect a faint blush coloring her cheeks. He smiled, and offered his hand.

“Let’s go home, Pidge.”

She took his hand and they started back in the direction of the Holt’s house. As they walked, she pondered for a moment, then finally voiced the question she’d had since she found herself being held in his grasp, the light of the once-dreaded full moon shining on her but no longer controlling her. “…Lance… How did you turn me back?”

He felt his cheeks color slightly and cleared his throat. “See, Pidge, there’s this old story about werewolves…”

This fic and art are part of the @langstron​ Halloween exchange. It was so fun participating! The fic will also be available on my ao3.

@sakarrie​ - Surprise! I was your gifter for the 2020 Langst Halloween Exchange! I hope you enjoyed your fic and art (I was a little extra, I couldn’t decide on just one😅). Happy Halloween! 🎃👻🐺

[kaleidescope-writes]

Heart of Audrilluria- Chapter XVI; King

Modern Fairytale AU

Prince King!Tom Hiddleston x Thief! Reader

Warnings: Angst, King POV, suspense

“So I believe that in the future, the alliance between our countries will continue to grow and both our people will prosper now that you are king,” the older earl concluded. Thomas was dragged into a conversation that droned on for the past ten minutes. A conversation that was in no means urgent and could have waited for after he spent his precious time convincing the love of his life that they should pursue a relationship. It was painful. “You make an excellent point sir,” Thomas said politely, desperately hoping to end the conversation there and then. He needed to get back to her. He needed to be with her. “Thank you, your highness,” the earl smiled proudly, “I see your eyes wandering. I’ll let you enjoy your party. After all, it is your night.” Thomas thanked him quickly before making his way through the crowd, eyes always searching her. 

He walked around aimlessly, looking for Y/N’s face in the sea of guests in the ballroom. Every Time he made eye contact with someone, he was disappointed that the eyes he met weren’t hers. He continues to search for her, growing more frustrated as the time passes by. Growing more frustrated each time he looks around the room unsuccessful. Thomas stopped for a moment, standing near the bar. He began to look around the room from a still position. After a moment, he realized he wouldn’t find her standing still. He resumed his pace around the room, considering going up to the balcony in case she was still waiting for him up there. 

It’s been about twenty minutes, he thought, surely she must be down here by now. Maybe she was talking to Amelie. Maybe she was outside because she felt that it was too stuffy in doors. Wherever she was, he needed to find her. Wherever she was, she needed to know he lov--

Thomas’s thoughts were interrupted by a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Augustus and Charles giving him proud smiles. Strange proud smiles. “Your majesty,” Charles bowed playfully, Augustus following his lead. Thomas gave them a heavy sigh, turning back to continue his search for Y/N. “Not now, I’m a bit occupied at the moment,” he replied bitterly. Charles and Augustus looked at each other in confusion. “But you called for us,” Augustus almost asked. Thomas perked up at his words, turning to his friend in confusion. He never called for them. He never even thought about having someone find them for him. 

“I did not,” he muttered in confusion. The men exchanged confused looks as they tried to figure out what happened to cause this. “You asked the footman to fetch us because you wanted to talk,” Charles said, trying to understand what exactly was going on. “I haven’t spoken to anyone but one of the earls,” Thomas explained, still not understanding why they thought he asked someone to call for them. “There has to be some mistake then,” Augustus reasoned. “Who told the two of you I was looking for you?” Thomas asked, wanting to get to the bottom of whatever was going on. First Y/N disappears, now this? “It was a footman,” Augustus spoke, looking around to find and point to the footman that led him in Thomas’s direction. He was unable to find said footman and his confusion grew. 

“Well, whatever is going on, help me find her,” Thomas dismissed. He began to walk around again, this time with Charles and Augustus following close behind. “I thought that you would have convinced her by now,” Charles questioned, struggling to keep up with Thomas’s pace. “I was going to, but right as I was leani-- I was interrupted,” Thomas explained, eyes searching the room to see that emerald dress and loose curls. There weren't too many people in the room, and rarely anyone wore green. This shouldn’t be as hard as it was. Unless she wasn’t in the ballroom. 

Thomas stopped suddenly, turning to face both men following him. “Where were the two of you when the footman approached you?” he asked in an urgent tone. “We were near the door facing the driveway,” Augustus explained, “But why does that matt--” “Was there anyone else there?” Thomas interrupted. “No,” Charles confirmed. Thomas looked away for a moment, thinking of all the places he didn’t look. 

Upstairs. Thomas rushed out of the ballroom at an even faster pace, with Charles and Augustus barely able to keep up with him. Reaching the stairs he brought Y/N to earlier in the evening. He began the climb up to the second floor, Charles and Augustus still following close behind the hurried man. Once he’d reached the top of the stairs, he made his way down the hall to the office where he thought she would be waiting. 

Thomas stopped his fast paced trudge when his eyes caught a group of security guards and footman surrounding the door of the guarded room. Bewildered by this strange occurrence, he approached them cautiously. “What happened?” he questioned, looking to one of the security guards. “The guards assigned to the room abandoned their post,” the guard explained to him. Thomas gave him a look of horror. “Do we know who it was?” Charles asked, having listened to what the guard told his cousin. “We are not sure, but the replica is missing. We’re in the process of locking down the castle,” he declared. Thomas began to walk to the door of the room, reaching to turn the doorknob and walk in. He began to examine the room, noticing nothing other than the replica’s absence. He walked deeper into the room, still examining everything he could to see if anything led him to a suspect. Charles entered the room after Thomas, walking past him to the furthest side of the room. Thomas was in a partial shock. He’d originally came up here to look for Y/N, but what he found was something he’d hoped would never happen. 

“Thomas,”Charles began, catching his attention and causing him to turn to where Charles stood in front of the desk. “They left a note. And something else.” Thomas hurried over to where his cousin stood. Looking at the note scribbled onto a small piece of paper that looked to be tor from a bigger page. He picked it up to open it, causing the item rolled inside the note to slip out. 

It was the sapphire heart copy from the replica. He took it in his left hand while still holding on to the paper in his right. Thomas unfolded the paper and read the message inside. Suddenly, he dropped both items, losing his balance and having to lean on the desk for support. No, it couldn’t. SHE couldn’t. He looked back down at the note, reading it over and over in his head. No matter how much he wanted to be delusional, no matter how much he wanted this to not be real, he couldn’t change the words written on the small slip of paper. 

“Real or fake, this shouldn’t belong to me.” 

Thomas felt like he couldn’t breathe. All that time, trying to convince her they were good together. All that time promising he would be there for her. All that time, and this is why she was here. This is why she stayed with him. Not because of anything she felt. But because she wanted to steal from him. His heart stopped beating for a moment. The entire time he knew her, she was only here for the necklace. 

“Thomas!” Charles called to him, “What is it? What does it say?” Thomas didn’t look up at him, he didn’t speak, and he didn’t look away from the note. Taking in a few breaths, he slammed his hand onto the note and harshly slid it in his cousin’s direction. He couldn’t be in that room. His emotions were starting to betray him. 

Suddenly, he stood up from his position and stormed out of the room towards the balcony. He didn't stop when the guards called to him. He didn’t stop when Augustus asked what was wrong. He just kept walking towards the one place he needed to be. Once he reached the door to the office, he swung it open powerfully. He stormed inside and made his way to the door leading to the balcony. He opened those doors in a similar manner, walking inside and looking down at the railing. Thomas let the majority of his weight fall unto his elbows as they settled on the concrete. 

This couldn’t be happening. This was a misunderstanding. He would see her later tonight and she would have no idea of what was happening. She was completely innocent, she had to be. As much as Thomas tried to convince himself that this was some funny coincidence, a part of him deep down felt like he’d already known the truth. She’s a thief, a part of him thought, she just used you to get what she wanted.

She never felt the same for you.

Thomas let tears fall freely down his face. How could this happen? Why would she do this? The only woman he ever truly loved and she betrays him like this. Why? Was he not enough? Did she not feel anything for him? Was she ever interested in him? 

Thomas shook his head, allowing more tears to fall from his face. She used him. And he let her. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to confront her. A part of him wants to know the truth from her side. But another part wants to never see her again. Even if it hurts him more than this. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N:........ I’m so sorry!! I promise it will get better soon, you just have to wait a few more chapters. Anyway, I love you guys so much!! Thanks for all the support!! What did you guys think? Feel free to send me feedback as it is both welcomed and encouraged. I love you all, stay safe out there, and I’ll see you tomorrow for Chapter 17!!!

Taglist is OPEN

@ladyblablabla​, @tvdplusriverdale​, @pipolaki​, @myraiswack​, @shockwavee​, @harringtonb-blog​, @cynic-spirit​, @little-moonbeam-666​, @ochizokulevy​​, @swifitiedaylight​, @blue-honey-bee-from-france​ @scorpionchild81​,  @imnotrevealingmyname​ @whathefuckrichard69​ @frostedgiant​ @falling4uke​​ @accio-boys​